This is the place

I don't know if this will ever see the light of day. It's October 27, 2018 and I woke up to the news of a mass shooting at a synagogue 6 miles from my apartment. Truth be told I had never heard of the "Tree of Life" synagogue until this morning, despite having done several walks through Squirrel Hill and Shadyside both with friends and for the annual ten commandments walk.

I say all this because this shooting didn't directly impact me. I say all this because while it had nothing to do with me, it's greatly impacted my city, some of my friends and my nation. There's something incredibly surreal about seeing every major news outlet you follow talk about streets you've walked in relation to a horrendous tragedy.

Today I walked the streets of Downtown quietly and mostly kept to myself, because the feeling I got this morning was eerily similar to a feeling I felt the morning after the Ariana Grande concert bombing in Manchester, England. If you're unfamiliar, I was on a 10-day workshop with the University of Salford Manchester and we were just wrapping up our stay when the bombing happened two miles from our hotel.

That bombing had nothing to do with us, or any of the lovely people we had met during our stay, but nonetheless we all mourned for this vibrant, cultural town where tragedy struck.

I said to several Pittsburgh outlets when they interviewed us - despite contributing nothing to the actual story - that Manchester is a lot like Pittsburgh. Manchester is at the tail end of a transition from industry to media making and culture. Pittsburgh has shifted to a meds-and-eds economy in a similar fashion.

In the case of the Tree of Life shooting this morning, this was a targeted hate crime by a wacko terrorist. Unnecessary, loud and senseless. There are similarities in both instances, but they were completely different motives, and different results.

I talked a lot in Manchester about how resilient the people there are, and how amazingly homey it felt in only 10 days. I drew all manner of parallels, but I did resolve that that was something I could leave. Horrible as it may sound, that was something I could isolate in my mind as a particular time, place and stage.

Pittsburgh, however, is and always has been my home.

Reading through Facebook today has been an exhausting venture. Both Pittsburgh natives and converts standing on a pulpit preaching about this political agenda or that personal grievance or what have you. For my part, I haven't posted anything beyond a Facebook profile frame thing, and marking myself "safe" for family that lives too far away to understand that Pittsburgh isn't just one big ol' street.

I'm not going to preach politics to you. I will, however, say what I said to my roommate this morning: I don't get it. I simply can't wrap my mind around how someone is able to completely disregard and devalue life due to religious or ethnic traits.

I feel as a society we are failing to recognize peoples' complexity. Your neighbor and your waitress and your mailman have real hopes and fears and loves and goals and heartache. All too often we reduce people to their actions or words in our presence, or worse yet - box them into a single, jaded stereotype.

I don't care where you're from or where you're going, but I want you to know that you are loved by somebody. This world of ours is dark, but through the perpetual clouds of Pittsburgh shine a bright light with bright, lovely people.

I'm reminded, especially as people share the "Pittsburgh Strong" image everywhere, of a poem that a writer in Manchester penned in 2012. He read it at the vigil in St. Albert's Square following the concert bombing and it's called "This is the Place." While it's written for Mancunians and some of the cultural differences are, well, out there, it's comforting and it's strikingly relatable.

We will rise. This city of ours. Because it's what we always will do.

Let's See How Far We've Come 2017: The Year in Review

I just wrote all the birthdays, anniversaries and school schedule on my mother's large kitchen calendar, which must mean we're approaching the end of yet another year. With the change of  calendars comes my my annual year in review post.

Believe it or not, this is my fifth year-in-review post. I lamented last year that I didn't write much here in 2016. While I resolved to rectify that, apparently my unconscious took that as a challenge to write even less. I did publish my five letters from the editor here, but the blog was fairly neglected. I had decent excuses for myself - 2017 was incredibly busy for me personally - but at the end of the day, I like to look back at this site to remind me of what all happened and how I felt in the moment. But enough about my shortcomings - here goes nothing!

I rang in 2017 with my parents at home - any and all plans with friends had fallen through and frankly I enjoyed the quiet. At the stroke of midnight, I became editor-in-chief of the Globe, began my junior year of college, and embarked on what will go down as one of the craziest years so far. I continued my work as a resident educator on the 16th floor of Lawrence Hall. Bobby and I rebooted NewsNight into its current, nightly-news style program. At that point, we were doing the show every other week in the Center for Media Innovation.

The first edition of the Globe in February brought with it an editorial that changed everything. Shortly after publishing, the university president called me into his office and we talked about tuition increases. I'd like to think at this point we have a good, professional relationship and I would say it started there. February brought with it the 50th anniversary of the Globe, and a campus-wide celebration including a Snapchat filter and throwback logo on the front page. On the whole, February was a lot about continuing what I started: NewsNight began ramping up, the paper was in full swing. It was also about looking ahead: we had meetings about taking a trip to the university of Salford Manchester slated for that May.

March began with spring break and the Intercollegiate Broadcast System Awards in New York. I'm proud to say that the previous September's interview with Sarah Koenig brought me, Vinnie and Brandon a win. The conference was enlightening, but the night we won the award was a whirlwind: I began the day standing in a line in Times Square to get student rush tickets for Sunset Boulevard alongside Kayla Snyder and a girl named Trillium. After winning and taking pictures, I bolted the 13 blocks or so from the Hotel Pennsylvania up to the Palace Theatre in a suit. IT WAS COMPLETELY WORTH IT. March also brought the Globe's 50th anniversary celebration in the Lawrence Hall Lobbies. There's so much to say but suffice it to say: we invited as many people as we could think of, and 121 people came out to celebrate the history of our little paper.

April brought with it several conferences, the first being the Society of Professional Journalists conference in Detroit, Michigan. I didn't win anything myself, but our paper took home several accolades and I was a finalist for two Mark of Excellence Awards. I turned 20 in April, the day before Eastern Orthodox Easter. Emily Bennett and I went to New York City to participate in the New York Times Editor workshop. That Thursday evening we went on an adventure that became my radio production final, Night Court. As much as I would love to link you to Night Court, I'm also super hesitant because it's a dramatized version of actual events, and I haven't actually the permission from the subject to publish it. For what it's worth, though, it earned me an A and featured the voices of Kris Chandler, Bobby Bertha and Carrie Reale. I finished my work as a Resident Educator, and ended the 2016-2017 school year.

May began my summer and my foray into public radio with an internship at WESA in its newsroom. It also brought with it my whirlwind trip to Manchester, England. It was billed as the trip of a lifetime, and it certainly was. I spent 10 days in Manchester, and met some amazing folks like Adam Roberts, Megan Hayward, Megan Hornsby, Callum Phillips, Fay Toulios and Tom Hinkley at Shock! Radio, Siobhan McAndrews from BBC Radio 6 and Geoff McQueen who was our lecturer for the week. It was a crash-course in UK radio and capped off by - several things. The course itself was capped off by an on-air show with Wythenshawe radio, but there were several other adventures within it including a bar crawl that ended with me being cursed, there was a concert in the basement of a place called the Soup Kitchen, and countless other mini-trips.

As I said earlier this year, the trip was most noted by the outside world by the Ariana Grande Concert Bombing on 22 May. In retrospect, I had been able to sample in some way, shape, or form the culture and art of Manchester before that. It'd be irresponsible of me to say that I got to know the place well, but it certainly felt like it by the end of the trip. I say that because thinking about the bombing - it's heartbreaking to think about such a vibrant, cultural place to become the target of a terrorist attack and have to deal with the aftermath of tragedy. But if I've learned anything about Mancunians, it's that they move on. Be it World War II, the fall of the textile export industry, or even May's heinous act, they come back strong.

June brought with it my experience at WESA-FM, Pittsburgh's NPR News Station as well as my summer job at Forsythe Mini Golf. To tell you the truth, June, July and the first part of August kind of blur together for me. At WESA, I was lucky enough to be a part of several stories and learn the workflow of a full-fledged public media operation. I was able to do a 3-minute feature on noise in Pittsburgh and some other odds and ends throughout the summer. I also learned the trick to South Side Parking: don't. I can unequivocally say that Forsythe was my favorite job to date. I got to be outside, help people and use my inner whimsy to operate a mini golf stand. I had fantastic bosses - Sam and Kristi are not only great bosses but I'd like to consider them friends. It's a true family business over there - when I had to head back to school in August, they hosted all three of their employees for dinner at the family homestead. I have a whole playlist of music that I played over their stereo in the Golf Shack, and every once in a blue moon I'll play it to reminisce.

August brought back the rush of school. I finished my internship and my employment with Forsythe and moved back to Point Park - this time to the boulevard apartments. Greg came down and we watched the solar eclipse in village park. The full time professor union struck their first-ever contract with the university, and the Globe broke the story. I began a new semester of classes and we were full steam ahead with a new semester of the Globe. On the first day of school I made two dumb decisions and had a meeting with the president. Ultimately, all three of those things were resolved. But it's funny looking back at it all to see what worked out and how it all ended up working out.

September brought with it the full insanity of the school year: we launched the Pioneer Public video series for the Globe, I took on 5 classes, and apparently made it my mission to work as many hours as possible to make myself sick. We began season 2 (really 3 but we can't count that one pilot as a season) of NewsNight and I returned to work at the Post-Gazette for high school football and basketball season.

October felt a lot like September - too much work and not enough me to go around. I had to make a mid-semester hire for our Arts and Entertainment section, and we began using both television studios on campus to produce NewsNight - an adventure in ridiculousness and coordination. At the end of the month, I made a point of stopping the constant spin. Alongside Vince and Beth and some friends, we rounded out the month with a trip to Hundred Acres Manor and watching the Great Pumpkin in the apartment. It was in October that things got a little rough, but also when I decided to take some time to spend more time with friends and be more **festive** with my life.

November was an entertaining undertaking - I spent a weekend in Carnegie shooting a video press kit for the Andrew Carnegie Free Library alongside Nick Kasisky and Robert Berger. It was also in November that I started trying to figure out what's next after the Globe.

And so this is Christmas. Well, New Years. December was insanely frontloaded with finals and such. After that were several short, quiet Christmas festivities. I was informed earlier this week that I was named General Manager of WPPJ for the spring semester. So that's what I'll be occupying my January, February, March and April with. But as with the past two Decembers, I slowed my 120 miles per hour year to a more manageable 60 or so...

I could honestly copy-paste last year's ending to this year's post. At the end of the day, I'm incredibly excited to see what the future holds. This year has been a great amount of work but I'm glad to have done it all with some of my favorite people in this world. I've traveled across the mid-Atlantic and to Manchester and all sorts of places. I've played miniature golf, attended an inauguration, celebrated the 50th anniversary of a paper as its editor, and it's hard to believe that this is the "start" of my life, but it's easy to see how these are some the greatest moments in my short life thusfar.

As for what the future holds - I don't know. I know this much: I'm greeting 2018 with optimism and some new energy. I hope I can have half as great a year as this one moving forward.

So here's to you and yours - have a happy, peaceful and pleasant new year! Go fight win!

A Reason to Live and a Reason to Grow

It's been a while since I last posted here. Quite a while actually.

I've been so hesitant to openly express myself since the whole Carlynton clarification debacle, and it takes quite a bit of time for me to sit down and actually write outside the conventions of journalism and broadcasting and essays and the six other types of  writing we're expected to do in college.

So why now? I'm in a transition period. As I said in my kind-of-out-there letter from the editor this week, I've been so obsessed with the bookends of life that I sometimes forget that life is the culmination of a bunch of small turns and moments and interactions.

I've learned quite a bit this semester about my craft, about the world and about myself. I'm transitioning my way out of one of the wildest stretches professionally I've worked within: the job of Editor-in-Chief of the Globe.

I can't say I was surprised by the amount of work that went into it - it reminded me a lot of being Senior Patrol Leader mixed with the journalistic training that I've been working on in some way, shape or form since I was in fourth grade.

What I did find surprising, and perhaps this is my own naivety, was the mixture of ego and apathy that I encountered - both among writers (or lack thereof) and the editors. I hired some fantastic folks to edit the paper, and I feel like that showed this semester. However, an inherent apathy towards collaboration frustrated me to no end. I had huge plans going into this semester and for a plethora of reasons, those never came to fruition.

It seems things start getting bad for me personally in October. This October I started feeling the effects of taking on as many jobs as I had, and for the first time that I can remember, I met that feeling with an allowance to be human for once. Have my grades suffered? Probably. Do I mind? No, because I can't - unlike so many folks I've seen before me - say that I'm burned out.

Burning out is significantly different than being exhausted. I will readily admit that I am incredibly exhausted being a full-time student, full-time editor, part-time television producer, part-time studio technician and ten thousand other things I usually forget to list.

Being burned out is getting to a point where you no longer want to do what you do - and have no motivation to change that feeling. Being burned out is laying down and resigning yourself to mediocrity. Being burned out is handing yourself over to vices and distracting yourself from facing the reality that you don't have any motivation to continue.

At least that's my rough colloquial definition.

At this juncture in my life, I still want to be a journalist, but I feel far more confident in my ability as a producer than I do as a reporter. I feel far more confident in my ability to craft, manage, write and produce content like the WESA noise story and the Carnegie-Carnegie VPK than I do crack open some wildly investigative thing. That's not to say I can't do it (because I can and would like greatly to do so), that's to say that I feel most comfortable working within a news/feature genre. I digress.

I've learned that pretending to be a social person results in being asked the same question over and over. In high school you're asked what college you're planning on going to. As you start college people ask - and still do - what you're studying. If you're particularly unlucky, you get the question: so what are you going to do with that? I'm almost a year out from graduation, and let me tell you, the closer the months get the more nervous I am of what's on the horizon.

Lately, however, the question my friends have been asking me is if I will be involved with the Globe after my term as EiC. While it makes sense to ask, I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to be doing. That's a combination of choices by Emily Bennett (the next Editor) and me (I applied to be news editor because I love laying out pages). But, as Gregory Alan Isakov's song says, "Time Will Tell."

A final letter from the editor

Author's Note: this originally appeared in the December 6, 2017 edition of the Globe, which marked my last letter as that paper's editor. 

I’ve always been far more interested in the bookends of life than I have been with the in between bits. It makes sense for my chosen field, I guess. After all, journalism professors encourage you to seek out anecdotes about turning points in your subjects’ lives.

The downside to being so preoccupied with the major twists in life is that you forget to look at the moment you’re currently in unless it’s a moment of transition. I’ve personally challenged myself this semester to not look at what will eventually be, but rather, what is actually happening in that moment.

I can’t say I’ve had much success with living in the moment, but there have been some amazing moments these past 12 months. We celebrated the paper’s 50th anniversary with an incredible gala. Our staff survived the great Lawrence Hall flood and #globetastrophy of 2017. We documented the full-time faculty union forging their first contract. We brought you stories of triumph, heartbreak and everything in between.

Week after week, I am impressed with how creative our staff is, in both finding stories and designing this paper each week. Editors have kick-started our Pioneer Public video series, an Arts and Entertainment Section and countless other flairs that have consistently raised the bar for our publication.

Have we fallen short? Sure. I personally messed up last week’s front page headline, we still have no on-the-record idea of when the Starbucks on campus will open and I’m waiting to hear back on the status of touring the Playhouse, but all in all, I would say this has been a fantastic run.

I’m continually grateful for the staff here at the Globe, my supportive friends and family and the folks who actually read the paper every week. I cannot tell you how many hours I’ve spent in 710 Lawrence Hall, but I can tell you there’s no group more talented, creative or bizarre than the people who put this paper together every week.

I would be remiss without thanking Kristin Snapp, Josh Croup, Anthony Mendicino, Dave Grande, Gina Catanzarite, Dr. Hallock, Dr. Dorsten, Dean Paylo, Caleb Rodgers, Lou Corsaro and the countless others who have helped me grow as both a journalist and administrator this year.

The impossible thing about collegiate newspapers is that this paper must be a teaching tool and a tool to inform. Our staff are all at once editors, students and teachers. We’re in a unique position in that the turnover is ridiculous, but without fail, and sometimes out of sheer spite, the Globe keeps on going. We prove every week that a volunteer army can achieve incredible things. And I’m thankful for that.

Call me crazy, but I believe we’re headed in a positive direction as a field. I feel like this campus, region and country are hungry for a group of journalists willing to go an extra mile to share the truth with the electorate, and I hope what we’ve been able to accomplish in 2017 demonstrates that the next generation of journalists are here to meet that challenge.

I’ve thought quite a bit about this bookend in my life – and while I will miss the rush of leading a team of talented individuals, I look forward to rejoining as a writer with the perspective of the whole. In the end, legacy means next to nothing at a college level.

To my incredible staff – I wish you the absolute best. You’ve taught me so much about this paper, this campus and myself. To my fourth floor Thayer sister and our next chief, Emily Bennett – I wish you calm winds, following seas and to be blessed with an amazing staff like I have been.

To Point Park – Keep fighting the good fight.

Go. Fight. Win.

Thanks for reading,

Outlook is everything: A welcome back letter from the editor

Author's Note: this appeared in the August 30, 2017 edition of the Globe. 

“We shouldn’t have to chase the ghosts of the future.”

That’s what I told my roommate a few days back with regards to his anxiety over running into someone again with the start of the new school year. The story isn’t relevant, but the advice is.

Let me be probably the 50th person to tell you: Welcome (back) to Point Park University.

By now you’ve probably had most of your classes. If you’re lucky you’ve made some great friends or reconnected with some of your favorite people. That said, a lot of unknowns lie ahead. I can’t tell you if you’ll be cast in a show or how midterms will go or if that cute girl you met in the elevator will agree to go out with you.

Here’s what I can tell you: a lot of that depends on your outlook.

Growing up, I was a really anxious kid when it came to the start of school. Even in my senior year of high school, I was nervous as to how classes would go and if I would successfully do all the quintessential “senior year” things.

What I failed to acknowledge in those moments were the opportunities that lie in a new day. Yes, you have no idea what life is going to throw at you. But the future has not been set yet, and you should use that to your advantage.

I’m still an incredibly nervous person (ask anyone on this staff), but I have learned that the best approach to the unknown is to acknowledge it and react proactively. Plan for the future, but be willing to throw that plan out the window if it doesn’t fall into place.

If you’re holding a copy of the Globe today or reading us online, that means we did something right. We’ve had major issues with the technology that we rely on to lay out the paper. All the writing was done over the summer break by our volunteer writing army. And of course, news broke that changed our coverage plan. With so many moving parts, at one point last week I wasn’t sure we would get the paper out.

Again, I forgot possibility in the mix, and the power of the team we’ve assembled. Over 50 people banded together – designers, writers, photographers, delivery folks and editors – and made this edition not only possible, but a beautiful testament to student-run and student-driven journalism on campus.

From the very first edition of the Globe, we’ve been looking for contributors from all perspectives. As we have since 1967, we relied on volunteers to contribute to us in order to put together this paper each week. If you’ve been waiting for a chance to get involved – consider this your invitation.

On my last first day of high school, Coldplay’s “In My Place” was the song playing on my car radio as I pulled up. The anxiety that had filled me that morning melted into a determination to seize the year that lie ahead.

So take this start (or restart) as an opportunity to find your place and embrace the unknown in all of its uncomfortable, quirky forms.

Thanks for reading,
Alexander Popichak

I've come to look for America...

I feel like the Simon and Garfunkel song they're currently using in Volkswagen commercials fits my bizarre mood at the moment - it reminds me of a wanderlust and paranoia that I don't actually possess but kind of want. Well, more the wanderlust than the paranoia but I digress.

It's been a while since I last wrote here. I've tried a few times to take a crack at writing again, and while journalistically I've been fairly successful, the personal writing that I used to have a good groove at I've gotten decidedly, well, rusty. So here's hoping that draft number 5 sticks!

I count myself incredibly lucky. As much as I despise long stretches of active travelling (being on a physical plane, bus or train for 6+ hours), I do really love to travel. I've been able to do a lot of that recently. I've been to Washington, D.C. twice (for inauguration-related things), New York City twice (WPPJ and the Globe),  Detroit, Michigan (the Globe) and most recently, Manchester England. 

I've learned an awful lot about travel and myself these past few months. For one: I don't much mind living out of a suitcase at this juncture. 

Also, if I travel with a camera I take a lot of pictures. Hundreds. Only about 10% of these ever see the light of day, and travelling more has built a backlog of images, but nonetheless they exist for me to mess with as I see fit. 

I don't remember how I got into photography, but I do know that I've been getting progressively better and smarter with it. I prefer landscapes to people (which shouldn't surprise anyone who knows me well) and I prefer vivid color and depth to brightness. 

There's a fine line between documenting a trip and actually experiencing that trip. There is no way to non-intrusively document a trip. For the most recent trip to England, I attempted to do so by isolating my intense photography to two days and keeping a personal audio recorder with me to record little things like the tramlines and the behind-the-scenes of a radio show.

I should probably explain why I was in Manchester. I was in a group of eight Point Park students (3 animation students, 5 broadcast students and 2 equally displaced and confused professors) and went to study radio in the UK as well as seek a cultural exchange. It was a ten day trip most noted by the outside for day 8 when some soulless fellow decided to detonate a bomb outside an Ariana Grande concert. 

I've said my peace in the media swarm that followed, and I maintain that I personally don't add anything to this story. To me, my 10 day stint in Manchester was a wonderful cultural exchange where I met some amazing people - like Tom Hinkley who works with Shock Radio, or Samantha Potter who was on a two week intensive with the BBC, or Geoff McQueen, a fascinating lecturer from Scotland who served as our general guide throughout the Manchester Experience. 

I consider myself incredibly lucky: I've been afforded the opportunity to travel to some amazing places for minimal expense (DC both times, NYC the second time, and Detroit were completely paid for by the University). I'm now working a summer job with Forsythe Mini Golf as well as at an internship with 90.5 WESA, Pittsburgh's NPR News Station. 

And I'm not satisfied, or remotely comfortable. Which I consider a blessing. A wise man once challenged me to get out of my comfort zone. Never too far, but far enough that it's something new. In that case, it was camping with the scouts. Which led to a New York City trip 8 years ago. And I have kept moving forward since. 

I have this philosophy on life wherein if I'm comfortable either I'm not trying hard enough or there's something amazing about to happen. 

I consider myself lucky: I've created two radio shows, a television show, planned four floor events as a resident educator, and a 50th anniversary event for a newspaper that I have no business heading just yet but am anyway. 

I start getting super introspective during the summer, because for once things slow down a little. I've always had trouble properly relaxing, but I feel like I'm getting a little better with that.

I'm not sure where I'm going next, but frankly I welcome that unknown. 

A letter from the editor: “To give the news without fear or favor…”

Author's Note: this originally appeared in the April 19, 2017 edition of the Globe.

I read an editorial in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette over the weekend about how a high school newspaper uncovered the past of their newly-hired principal. The story goes that a group of high schoolers wanted to introduce their readership to their new principal. When students researched the background of their new principal, they discovered that authorities in Dubai shut down the school she had just come from.

What struck me most about the Post-Gazette’s editorial, though, was the acknowledgement of the crucial, and at times difficult, position school-sponsored papers face when it comes to editorial choice.

I particularly appreciated this line: “There are those who think student journalists should be controlled so they don’t say anything upsetting. But trying to be inoffensive is not journalism.”

The statement is quite true – journalism is the craft of presenting important, pertinent information to an audience. In presenting the goings on of Point Park, it’s important to approach the news without fear. This is true for both journalists and their readership.

In the 1980s, our masthead had with it the quote from Adolph Ochs, the longtime editor of the New York Times, “To give the news without fear or favor…” I don’t know why we stopped including that in our masthead – it was long before my time at Point Park – but I know that that same sentiment rings true in the Globe newsroom.

Crucial to that fear and favor is giving accurate news, and owning up to your errors. We strive every week to give you exactly that – accurate student news. Have we fallen short? Of course, but every time it’s a factual error, we run a correction both online and in print.

I feel honest, transparent and accurate journalism is the most critical thing to provide to the public. Every week I am thankful for the editorial freedom this university allows us. Other than our editorial staff and the kind folks at the Tribune-Review printing facility, no one sees the Globe until we’re published on newsstands Wednesday morning.

Along with that, I appreciate the access we’ve been given by administration. Our front page story on the tuition increase is evident of the most extreme case of that. I’m thankful because as I learned two weeks ago, there are some colleges where the president has not spoken to their student press in a decade.

Could it be better? Of course. But having an open dialogue between student media and administration is crucial, because without communication how can we begin to understand one another?

I can’t help but think of the first edition of the Globe and how concise and precise then-editor Susan Trulove was in articulating the place of this newly-established student outlet. In a blurb on policy, Trulove writes, “GLOBE is also a faculty and administration ‘voice.’ Trite but true is the belief that a sufficient quantity of correct information quells rumors.”

This semester, among other accomplishments, we celebrated 50 years of covering the world of Point Park news. We’ve tried new things – briefs in the news section, graphics in our opinions section and a staff of several section editing rookies that have stepped up to the plate and impressed me.

It’s a tradition at the Globe for the editor to write a letter to our readership at the beginning and end of every semester. I look at the class of 2017 and realize just how much I’ve learned from this group of students.

On this staff alone, two current and three former staffers are graduating. Eddie Trizzino started at the online desk and has served as a feature editor for the past three semesters. Julie Griffith works as layout editor for the past three semesters. If you’ve picked up a copy of the Globe since we went to a standard five-column layout or seen the ripped paper motif that became the look of our 50th anniversary celebration, you’ve seen her handiwork.

Karly Rivera served as a features editor for two semesters and Iain Oldman served as news editor last semester.

Kristin Snapp, who took a chance on me as a freshman to join the news desk, served at the sports desk and as the Globe’s first year-long editor-in-chief in 2015.

I can’t offer much in the way of advice to our graduates other than to keep a healthy dose of skepticism in your
everyday life – don’t be afraid to question everything.

Who knows, you could think of something as simple as a Google search that sheds light in the middle of uncertain darkness.

Thanks for reading,

A letter from the editor – Celebrating Point Park’s other stage

Author's Note: this originally appeared in the February 8, 2017 edition of the Globe. The letter appeared as part of the 50th anniversary edition of the paper. 

This week’s edition marks exactly 50 years to the day the Globe was first distributed on campus. Since then, the Globe has been a part of the start of countless journalists’ careers and students have sounded off on international, national, local and Point Park-related issues.

In researching the content for the special section in this edition, we’ve rummaged through years of editions chronicling everything from race tensions to fears that Point Park would merge or close altogether.

The first edition ran with an explanation as to why the group of students answering the need for a student voice on campus named their publication  the Globe.

These students drew their inspiration from Shakespeare’s Globe theatre. The Globe’s stage  was lit using only daylight, raised so the audience could see it and was completely exposed on three sides to the audience. There was nothing separating the players from its audience and the two shared an experience rather than having a division between observers  and participants.

The idea behind the name, in essence, was that the student publication Globe would work within and for the students of Point Park. Much like the Globe theater’s openness, the collegiate journalism of the Globe was and is on display for the students of Point Park for review and critique.

Whether conscious or not, my read of the Globe’s archives has proven that the Globe has kept that same open attitude and that connection with its audience.

Most of the source material of our special section comes from the 1997 edition marking our 30th anniversary.

That edition had with it a commentary from the editor-in-chief and managing editor that gave me chills: “Maybe in 20 years, permitting that the school has not been turned into a parking lot, some editors will want to celebrate the Globe’s 50th anniversary in much the same way we are currently celebrating its 30th.”

I assure you this much: the school hasn’t become a parking lot.  In fact, if there’s anything that Point Park lacks, it’s a parking lot.  In March we’ll celebrate the 50th anniversary with a reunion of sorts that is open to current staffers and alumni.

Newspaper has this tendency to yellow as it grows old. In the grand scheme of things, 50 years isn’t that long of a time, but to a constant turnover of students, 50 years of continuity is pretty dang impressive.

You get that feeling with how frail some of the first editions of the Globe in our archives are – these copies are yellow, crumbling at the edges.

If we only looked backwards, yellow and frail would be our fate. But with each successive editor we’ve produced new editions and reworked ourselves with students always at the forefront.

I don’t know what the next 50 years holds. Honestly, I don’t know what the next 4 years holds, but I assure you this: we at the Globe are looking forward always and striving to keep our stage as large as our title implies and as intimate as its namesake.

Thanks for reading,

A letter from the editor (my first one)

Author's Note: this post originally appeared in the January 11, 2017 edition of the Globe as "A letter from the editor"

I’ve always been a fan of maps.

I can’t put my finger on what fascinates me about them, but I’ve always enjoyed the way maps look and the patterns woven within them.

Maps are physical representations of the world. The world is tangible but only as far as the horizon line allows you to see. With a map, however, you can see as far as you want – scale willing, of course.

The closest thing I’ve had to experiencing that same sense of depth a map produces was a flight to Chicago the month before I started at Point Park. Cruising at some great height, the patchwork parcels and veins of the country come into focus. In that moment you realize how small a space you personally occupy. The most striking thing in that moment is the scale and the perspective you occupy – even for an hour-long flight.

My name is Alex Popichak, and I’m going to be the editor-in-chief this year, and in case you missed the ad at the end of last semester, Feb. 8, 2017 marks our 50th anniversary. We’re excited to celebrate 50 years of award-winning collegiate journalism, and I hope that shows in the coming issues. All the while we are going to strive to keep producing the same quality content, and I hope that shows, too.

In coming up with the ideas driving the 50th anniversary celebration, I have been inspired by two things: newspaper clippings and road maps.

The concept of a road map is much the same concept as a newspaper. Maps show you not only where you’ve been but where you can go – and our pages show you where students, faculty, staff and administration have gone and where they are going.

Each story we tell or accomplishment we document is like a dotted city in a map. They’re scattered about by the club or team or office they’re involved in. Each journey to get there is either a back road or highway. In the end they’re all roads and in the end they’re all the stories that make up the Globe.

We’ve assembled a great staff of people – names both new and familiar – that have a passion for the stories they tell and share a want to help connect the dots for you, our reader.

That’s the approach we’ve set out for ourselves – within the frame of the past we’re building a picture of the future of Point Park.

From the very first edition of the Globe we’ve been looking for contributors from all perspectives. As we have since 1967, we rely on volunteers to contribute to us in order to put together this paper each week. If you’ve been waiting for some personal invitation to contribute – consider this your call to action.

This year, resolve to use your own map for whatever journey you want to take – and the Point Park Globe will be right here to document it.

Let's See How Far We've Come 2016: The Year in Review

Here we've come to my annual tradition here, the year in review as marked by old Matchbox 20 lyrics. I did something similar, but with a lot more links, last year. This marks my fourth year in review post. The trouble with this year was that I didn't write all that much. On record, this is my weakest year since I began blogging in 2009: This is post number 8. Among my resolutions for the new year is to blog more.

So why did I miss so much this year? I was working like crazy in radio, television, print and online. My resume on my shiny new website is incredibly full and I did more work for my career than I did myself. That said I hope to work on some more passion projects moving forward: longforms for NewsNight, work with the Globe, and keeping some semblance of regularity here. So anyway, here goes nothing!

I rang in the new year with some friends and continued to work at the Post-Gazette until school started back midway through the month. I began a rather strange semester that included an art class (taught by an artist who refused to use anything except her own 35mm slide projector) and the dawn of my favorite radio project, On the Horizon. We also started airing Globe Live as a show co-hosted by then-Editor-in-Chief Josh Croup and I wherein we talked about what went in the paper.

February brought upgrades and changes. I interviewed and was subsequently selected as the Editor-Elect for the Globe. I also interviewed for a position as a Resident Educator (and yes it was the same day as the Editor-Elect interview). Later that month I had the opportunity to interview the one and only Rick Sebak after a screening at Point Park. I wrote a blog post about meeting Sebak and explaining the Editor Elect position back in February.

March brought with it a heck of a lot of meetings organizing my life according to my calendar. It also brought the celebration of Pittsburgh's bicentennial - which I am proud to say I covered as a one man band as one of the only college media there. March also began my foray into political coverage when Bernie Sanders came to Pittsburgh March 31. Sanders held a press conference prior to the rally, which I was able to attend. And that was pretty neat. To say that my first political coverage was thrilling is an understatement - for the first time I felt like real live reporter, and for once felt like I was impacting people's everyday.

When it rains, it pours. In April, Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump came to Pittsburgh to rally prior to the April 26th primary. Those, too were interesting events - neither held a press conference. Clinton held her event in a gym and Trump held his in the Convention Center. Clinton's felt more like a fight against Donald Trump than Sanders (which was warranted to a degree, seeing as Clinton beat out Sanders in both Pennsylvania and nationwide) while Trump's felt like an odd pep rally. I turned 19 on the 15th in a very quiet weekend spent up north out of cellphone range because frankly that's the way to do it. April also brought along with it my (I think third?) trip to New York City. I rode a train up and wrote while I went. This time it was with Josh Croup for a conference held at the Harvard Club. Impressive, whirlwind tour and I loved most of it other than the Greyhound back in the sleet. And for once I have pictures up on my Flickr account.

May brought with it the end of my first year of college and the start of my first summer job - working as an intern at the Trib's digital trendy website thingy venture upgruv. May was, with little exception, boring. I drove to work, did work, returned. I got paid for what I did - scour the internet for what was #trending and occasionally build some cool dodads. It was too repetitive for my taste, but hey, that's how the "real world" works.

June was much the same as May. I got to go to a Pirates game with Lexus club seats (best seats I've probably ever had... except I prefer section 20. June also brought the Pens' fourth Stanley Cup title and our coverage of the parade. That win forged my miniature legacy at upgruv: the Stanley Cup tracker. I also got my first glimpse of the Center for Media Innovation.
Oh, and this:

I call it the prom picture

July was uneventful with exception to my trip to Westfield New York with family. It was a glorious adventure that involved lighthouses, treks through the woods, beaches, side trips, and some Tim Hortons doughnuts because why not. 

August began my sophomore year adventure. Unrelated to that, I finally got to see Coldplay live at the Consol Energy Center with my mother, aunt, and - strangely enough - Josh Croup. Shortly thereafter I began training to become a Resident Educator, and I took on a wild courseload. It also brought my two-cent clarification in defense of the Carlynton School District. I'm immensely proud of that argument and how it's held up. I'll continue to fight for education with perspective moving forward. Because it's important.

September is, as it usually is, when things started getting crazy. I went in search of the giant rubber duck, found it, watched it deflate and was sad about it. September brought with it also the start of what became Point Park NewsNight and the longform story we did on the Slippery Rock University/APSCUF strike. I have to say I'm immensely proud of the journalistic work we did. We had no guide or rule, we just made it happen. September also held the opening of the Point Park Center for Media Innovation, and I was able to interview Sarah Koenig. 

In October I went to a Penguins game, continued what became the semester from hell, and we debuted Point Park NewsNight. I changed my major from journalism to broadcast production and media management (one major) and declared journalism as my minor. I took a trip to Washington D.C. with some friends who head up Point Park media in an attempt to scope out places for the Inauguration. My October was incredibly busy for no particular reason. In one day I was able to interview both Attorney-General-Elect Josh Shapiro and his then-challenger John Rafferty for WPPJ. The feelings from April covering the election rallies all rushed back. 

November was dedicated to building the Election Show and its aftermath. I hosted what ended up being like 6 hours of live radio and appeared on television when I took a radio break. I did some voiceover work for Josh Croup that ended up being the main theme and intro to U-View's election coverage. So that was fun. I also started interviewing people for positions for the Spring staff of the Globe. November was also when it finally began to hit me just what I was taking on the Globe as its chief executive. November also brought with it an interview with Diane Rehm, perhaps my favorite high-profile conversation to date. 

In December we learned our interview with Sarah Koenig made us finalists for an award from the Intercollegiate Broadcast Service. It brought the end to the semester from hell, a semester I somehow managed a 3.79 GPA. Cumulatively I have a 3.84 - but who's counting? I ever so quietly attended a wonderful Straight No Chaser concert at the Benedum with my mother. December brought some work with the Post-Gazette rounding out the year's basketball tournaments. December was when things started to quiet down and the transition at the Globe began to take its full effect. In December I slowed my 120 miles per hour year to a more manageable 60 or so...

I didn't write a Christmas letter this year - I stayed a week longer than I had last year and this year I had to close down the dorms. It got me thinking a lot about what's next - frankly this whole break has got me thinking about what's next. I know it's kind of ridiculous, even with the body of work and speed with which I've approached everything, but I can't help but look even further. I graduate in two years (which is honestly quite terrifying). 

I'm excited for the future honestly and truly, and what 2017 will bring. It will bring a whole new start to some things (like my reign of terror on the Globe and the start of working towards a new major) and the evolution of others (we're rebooting NewsNight and reinventing On the Horizon as a podcast). Things are exciting and weird and uncomfortable and all at once wonderful. 

People have been complaining that 2016  was a horrid year. And yes, if you only look at political leaders and celebrity deaths it hasn't been the best - but in so many ways it's been a wonderful year. There's a great (albeit corny and sappy) quote floating out there that states an arrow can only be launched by first pulling back. So yeah, this has been a 5 steps forward 3 steps back kind of year. But progress still happens and I can't wait to see what this new year brings. 

So here's to you and yours - have a happy, peaceful and pleasant new year! Go fight win!

Transition

[I realized shortly after posting this that I had a prime opportunity to call this To Everything: Turn, Turn... but apparently my memory for using songs as blog titles is not as spry as I thought]

It's been a while since I last posted. To be completely frank, I'm not sure who I'm writing to here. Not that I was writing to anyone in the first place, but for a while there I had a fairly consistent gig going.

I've been thinking a lot about transitions. Naturally so, I guess: come January we'll have a new president, come June my brother will graduate high school, and on a hyperlocal note, January 1st I begin my term as editor-in-chief of the Point Park Globe.

With the passage of time go, sometimes unnoticed but other times not, smaller, minute changes. For example, this being the first Christmas in memory that we not only left our house for family up north, but also that Christmas felt a bit more sentimental and a bit less - dare I say - magical.

Here's what I mean by this: we had to plan out our 25th. My brother had decided to work early on Boxing Day, so out outing had to be brief. Our aunt and uncle didn't come over because, well, reasons. Here's what I'm getting at: This is the first Christmas in which I truly felt like a full on adult. Not that I personally did anything (in fact I royally messed up and forgot to get anyone anything for Christmas. I only sent out my annual Christmas cards.).

I'm coming to grips with the world fully treating me like an adult, and frankly I don't like it. It's almost as if in the past year a switch flipped and people started taking me seriously. And I know I've been wanting exactly this for some number of years now, but I felt comfortable resigning myself as someone who has had to, for lack of a better way of putting it, prove themselves time and time again.

Let me be clear on something: I still feel that need to prove myself as an Editor and as someone attempting to "do it all," but I feel like for the first time in a long time I've met less resistance on the other side on that.

I'm not sure how I feel about it. Usually here I just rant about things I dislike, but this is something I'm quietly trying to sort out for myself. I say quietly because if I do it too loud, the folks around me look to help. Not that I don't like that, but it's this weird balance where if I ask for help, I'm cashing in one of those hint things to get ahead. It's not entirely logical but it's my dumb up-by-the-bootstraps mentality - mixed with a heck of a lot of stubborn Serbian blood.

Today I embarked on one of our quiet, annual traditions - I meet up with three guys I was in scouts with and we wander through the woods of Settlers Cabin Park. The hike today trekked for about 5 miles, and we realized just how out of shape #collegelife has left us. We've changed since we first did this last year (and since we were last all in scouts together), but honestly it's always good to catch up with folks who share a unique experience - and are willing to organize.

I've always found a warped solace in wicked winter weather. I don't like bundling up in some ridiculous amount of layers, but I do enjoy (and that may be my own twisted self view) just how quiet it is out there. With 27 degree and snowing, we were the only ones in the park other than some wayward deer.

The wind whistled through the barren trees with whispers unlike anything I've heard, making the branches clank against one another. We saw a frozen lake barren but for some cattails on the shoreline. It was nice, it was quiet, and I couldn't shake the feeling of not only how small I was but also how this wilderness (surrounded by formless subdivisions and office complexes) was owned by us in that moment. And how for once, this world was ours.

I like the outdoors for that reason: there's at once a freeing feeling, at another point a superiority all the while a humility overwhelms you. The woods aren't alive in a traditional sense - life flocks to it. I enjoyed catching up and for once (for the first time since August) becoming one with nature. And yeah that's hokey but it's true.

I have to then say that for as much uncertainty that lies ahead - there was always uncertainty. We write our own futures and shall continue to do so. We transition always, for we are alive. Without seasons giving way there is no turning and without catalysts there is no progress.

Hello World. It's me, Alex.

So last time I posted here it got, well, heavy. I can't say I was told to post what I had posted, but I can say that I felt severely judged in the wake of the original post so I was motivated to write something to counter it. The original narrative was that I was trying to save a job but to be frank, other than some individuals the district didn't bat an eye. But I still wrote a piece I completely stand behind. That piece just happened to end up being ridiculously long.

That aside, I stand behind what I say. But I do have to say, I spent a week writing that and have been incredibly hesitant to post here since. Being careful about every written word is draining when all you started with was a hobby. Frankly, I haven't done that for that reason exactly. That and the fact that I haven't had a lot of free time.

I don't want too much of a following. I write this stuff for the 3 or 5 people who care what I personally have to think, and I've let some stupidity get in the way of that. So here's what the past several months have been like:

It's been nearly half a year. In that time, I began a job as an RE, resumed my job at the Globe, visited Washington D.C., hosted a radio election night show, interviewed Sarah Koenig, John Rafferty, Josh Shapiro and Diane Rehm, and no doubt have done some other things I'm forgetting.

I feel like it's my senior year again, you know? Running a thousand miles and hour and everything at once feels like it's on fire. And if I've learned anything this semester, it's that it's completely okay to have everything be on fire, as long as you yourself are not actively on fire.

What I mean by that: your grades don't have to be stellar, you don't have to be producing the best journalistic work of your life, you don't have to be producing a lot of journalistic work at once as long as you can keep yourself going. As long as you can keep yourself able to do that work.

I've also been in the process of transitioning myself and the Globe around me for the new semester. I have an incredibly tough act to follow in Josh Croup. He's made a good person to shadow but the expectations with an all-star staff have produced something unlike anything I've hoped to see.

This past Monday was the last layout meeting of the Chief Josh Croup era. And sure, people were sad and moping but I was sitting in the corner uneasy for what this next year holds.

You see, I'm an incredibly nervous person - not for any particular reason, it's just within my countenance to be so. I'm incredibly confident in the staff I've assembled and I think they're going to do a bang-up job bringing enthusiasm and grace to this paper. But there are unspoken pressures that we work through: in 50 years we've never once unintentionally missed an issue. More than half of my section editing team have not been section editors before.

That all said, I need only look a year back - there was no way in hell I should have been a news editor. A freshman? Come on. Let alone Editor-Elect. But I got there because I decided to take on a challenge. And I feel like if nothing else, that's what I can bring to the table here: don't psych yourself out because of a challenge looming ahead.

Reading that back it sounds awfully prophetic and deep, but the universality of the statement holds. Either that, or the fact I'm running on like 4 hours of sleep is getting to me.

I have no business being here, but honestly who ever does? I presented my relatively finalized portfolio - alexanderpopichak.com (yes that is a thing) - to my class and I surprised myself at the sheer volume and variety of work that I've done. I think the best thing to do in a situation is to not think too much about the perspective of that data point - what do I mean? Here:

Imagine you're afraid of heights. You're on a vacation with your family and they want to go to, I don't know, some mountain somewhere. You want to tell them no because of the whole heights thing, but at the same time you can't easily get out of this one. So what do you do? You just start driving. If you think too much about where you are in relation to the top of the mountain you may lose focus driving or you may stop - all bad ideas climbing a mountain. And eventually you make it to the top or some stopping point and you look around and it's beautiful - just don't think about the height it took to get you there.

I'm at a stopping point here - I'm not at the top of the mountain by any means and I hope I never am. I am, however, required every semester to take a break and look around.

Before me is an amazingly steep climb. I look forward to it with a slight weariness but an abundant amount of optimism, enthusiasm and excitement for what lay beyond the top.

And so this is finals week. I'm running on an average of 4 hours of sleep per night. My regrets are named procrastination and lack of published Globe work. Amongst others, my new semesters' resolution is to write more, take care of myself more and keep moving forward.

So we'll see. If I'm lazy, the next post will be either the year in review or my first letter from the editor as Editor-in-Chief. That's incredibly strange to say, by the way. Considering the amount of editors before me, that I get to do the 50th anniversary year and that I get to wear the title "Chief." I'm going to up the ante on writing simply to keep outside my own head.

My two cent clarification: In defense of Carlynton High School and Small Education

Hang on, this is going to be a long one.

A warning: the following is an opinion. As a journalist, I don’t like having those. Understand that opinions change and evolve as time does, and please respect the place I was coming from whilst writing this. Also I use Oxford commas, don’t judge me. I do not advocate for any candidate or particular legislation or anything beyond dialogue. Want that to be clear before I proceed.

So last week I shared a post from a Carlynton alum that I attached some comments to. I was under the impression that the commentary was an assessment of the district I graduated from in the aim of opening a dialogue on the faults in the education system as a whole.

Boy was I wrong.

I completely own up to sharing it, and further to misrepresenting a blanket approval from me of this statement with added commentary. I thought it was (and, full disclosure, I didn’t read the whole thing that late at night) an attempt to open dialogue and I shared to push further the reach of that dialogue. I also did it as a way to promote someone I felt at the time should be heard by my reach. I recognize that the alum can stand behind what was said as an opinion, but I want to make it clear: that opinion expressed in the piece isn’t mine.

The fact of the matter is when you share across your stage or your platforms, the assumption is that anything you further share you agree with. I need to add the whole “RTs do not equal endorsements” bit to my Twitter for this reason, but I’m not here to preach about social media, I’m here to preach about what my views are on the education system and what I meant to say originally.

I graduated two years ago from the Carlynton School District. If you’re fairly new to my adventures, the Carlynton School District is a tiny (and I mean tiny – my graduating class was 92 strong) school district five miles outside Downtown Pittsburgh. I’m currently pursuing a B.A. Journalism degree at Point Park University, a subject I consider a passion and a school I consider the best decision I’ve made.

The original alum commented on apathy at my alma mater and said quite bluntly (and quoting an unnamed source) that “this place is a disease.” I won’t argue that apathy exists within the education system but I have to argue that the source misidentified the problem. This place – being Carlynton High School – is not the disease. It has the disease that comes along with being (against its own will) a part of a governmental system that puts numbers ahead of people and tests ahead of education.

I’ve said for years privately that the strength of the Carlynton School District lies in its faculty and students. Teachers (and I’m dear friends with some education majors, I count them here also) don’t get into such a cutthroat business without a passion or a drive to accomplish something greater. It’s a drive to change what they experienced, or to provide something greater than themselves to their students. If you don’t have a drive to change it or to affect some sort of change, you’re not going to last in education long. You. Burn. Out.

I want to challenge the original poster to think about what honestly was said: was the lack of challenge you described you had experienced your senior year a result of climbing an academic pinnacle as I had, or was it because of a chosen apathy on the part of the participant? You said you chose against taking Advanced Placement yet expected the same level challenge at a general level class, what did you expect? I am genuinely curious.

I’m not going to lie, by my senior year I wanted to get out of Carlynton but that was because by that point I felt I had outgrown it and I had a taste of the real world and college life and wanted to move forward beyond the K-12 system. It’s a system that I strongly believe is designed that way for a reason so you can make a clean cut when you walk across that stage and be ready mentally to take on the next step, whatever you determined that to be.

If I didn’t feel challenged in the classroom, I did this potentially self-destructive thing I do in college where I get CRAZY involved with stuff to challenge me further in a way outside the classroom and to challenge the ways I think and the means by which I communicate. I’m not saying it’s the best way of doing things, but I will say that the challenges I didn’t find in a classroom I found elsewhere through in-class resources.

I want to step back for a moment and talk about resources. Carlynton doesn’t have many because, well, it’s tiny and is not the wealthiest district. But isn’t that a shame to say? I mean, seriously. Should size even matter when you talk about resources for students? Why does the per-student cost to educate vary from district to district and why should resources be tied to standardized testing?

Further, why are we allocating resources with preference to certain groups? It’s a television trope to have schools buy new equipment every year for a football team while the band uses decades-old instruments. I’m not saying that is true within Carlynton, but I have heard stories along these lines at other schools.

Also, why is the education system still structured in the way it was during the Enlightenment where local government meant something? It makes NO sense to penalize a district’s funding because of standardized test results, frankly those that struggle should be given MORE resources to bring them up to speed in my humble opinion.

Single A designation should not be a death sentence, nor should it inspire any sort of victim situation. It doesn’t at Carlynton (with the only exception I can think of being an oddly specific school board meeting in 2013 or 2014 where the justification by the superintendent for class scheduling problems was “well, we’re a single-A school, you’re lucky you get to have electives) but I know it’s true in some other districts. Being small means more individualized and community-based education.

Parents pick a school for its resources, and I’m proud to say my family found a district whose nonphysical resources (teachers, programs, etc.) are incredibly abundant. We have fall plays and spring musicals and 19 sports. How could a school of less than a thousand do it except by having people who care and others who can stretch a dollar?

Am I saying Carlynton fell behind? No.

What I am saying is that as a whole the education system has fallen behind. Money that could have gone towards offering unique electives and challenging students’ ways of thinking is instead going toward mandated remediation on testing, diagnostic programs, and compliance with further regulated yet seemingly innumerable and indistinguishable revenue-sucking mandates. It’s not the Carlynton School Board or the principal deciding this, it’s someone at the federal and state level telling these people they have to.

Do you know how often I was given diagnostic testing ahead of the Keystone or PSSA exams? Nearly monthly. Imagine, that’s at least 10 days outside of the classroom every year. Don’t forget, several of these tests were multi-day, and you had to do some sort of buildup prep to the diagnostics, and then the build up to those tests...

This testing obsession is classroom time spent chasing your tail in an effort to save the school that you’re being set aside from. It’s circular and so, so wrong. And let’s not forget those diagnostic tests are expensive to use, and could go to, I don’t know, journalism books, or psychology books?

So where am I going with this? It’s no myth that the education system is broken (at least by my assessment) but it is a myth that the individual district is to blame. Do you feel trapped? Good, it’s the system that got you to the point where you can realize it. Challenge that system.

I was reminded recently that the successes I’ve had and the career I’ve chosen didn’t come from the classroom. I never once took a journalism class, and it wasn’t for lack of trying either. The teacher of the journalism course did pull me aside at one point and told me I wouldn’t have benefitted from the curriculum. Why? In part, it was out of date books and a lack of resources to do real journalism. But at the end of the day, it’s important to remember this positive: my love of radio stemmed from a gifted education teacher passing along the information for a program at WYEP.

Yeah, Carlynton didn’t teach me a lede from a nut graph but can you seriously blame the high school for that? There should be no reasonable expectation that every profession should have an offered elective that prepares you for that individual, specialized profession. It’s unreasonable.

What Carlynton did offer me was the access to that gifted teacher who shared the WYEP project, or to that band director who let me try my hand at announcing, or that English teacher who (and I still don’t understand how this happened) let me run a newspaper as a high school senior or the drama teacher who rescued me from hating theater after a bad experience and let me anchor the TV morning announcements after being a technical director there, and I could go on but hopefully you get the point.

Was I saying to myself junior year “dang I wish I could drop out and move on to college”? Of course. What teenager wants to be a cog in a politicized state-level machine that hasn’t been working well?

But why do you stick around? Two key reasons in my case: because your end goal is a diploma so you can keep moving on to that liberal arts school in the city, and you stay out of respect for how you came to that conclusion.

The reason you want to leave high school in the first place is because you discovered the ‘real world’ a teacher on the inside helped share with you. In other words, you can’t realistically wish to be a part of a different world if you had never heard of that other world in the first place.

So what was draining about Carlynton? The public school system. The helplessness you feel on a daily basis where the decisions are made for you in either a board meeting or some faraway marble castle in Harrisburg. It’s not some sort of deeply engrained lackadaisical work ethic in the teachers or administrative support staff, it’s an apathy at the extreme top that trickles its way down to resources at the feet of those who truly care.

If Carlynton didn’t challenge you, it’s you that failed. Not because it was supposed to consistently hit you with ridiculous workloads or whatever effort you expected of it but because you didn’t seek more. In the real world, people don’t work with you or for you. You have to seek out your own challenges or support for what it is you’re trying to do.

It’s a lesson I feel this alum missed. By choosing to enter and remain in this supposedly toxic environment (read: it isn’t) then complaining afterwards it didn’t help you, apparently you hadn’t sought those challenges out through the system? I don’t know, I can only guess your position, but from mine I feel like there is some action on the participant’s part that is missing here.

I know this much, however: the reason I got where I am is I sought out and sucked up every opportunity I could inside and outside the classroom. There isn’t any professor who asks you to become Editor-in-Chief of your campus newspaper your freshman year. It’s Josh Croup and your friends who you’ve surrounded yourself with who convince you to take that leap. It’s the professor who tells you you shouldn’t be doing it.

This is probably the longest post I’ve written in a long while but I wanted to make this incredibly clear: I can’t endorse the notion that Carlynton is some sort of wretched wasteland where dreams go to die or whatever yarn that you want to spin. It’s a wonderful place where teachers do the best they can with what they have. It’s a place where you have to find your own path because that’s how the real world works. It’s a place where you have to seek a challenge, you can’t expect it to be served to you because that’s not how the world works.

If there’s a problem, it’s the lack of resources allotted to these base-level programs because of a flawed administrative/governmental system. I’m not endorsing anarchy, I just want to start a responsible dialogue. Comment if you’d like, I only delete straight profanity.

Land of the free...

...because of the brave. Thank you to all who serve or have served, and to those who gave their all from a grateful American. Have a safe Memorial Day

Image Copyright 2015 Alexander Popichak Photography. All rights reserved.

When we were younger oh, oh, we did enough

As I write this I'm somewhere in east-central Pennsylvania travelling to New York City for some sort of college newspaper conference. We somehow convinced the university (who is handling the bill for this venture) to let us [being my editor and I] travel to NYC by train, My guess is that it was comparable pricing, plus a professor recommended it. 

So, I'm writing this from the relative comfort of the 42 Pennsylvanian. Taking a nearly 9 hour train ride leaves a lot of time for window-watching and reflecting. So often in life we're given opportunities to do amazing things - cover a presidential rally, head to New York City, cover the bicentennial of your city - that we focus on those things. The accomplishments, the clips, the resume lines, all that fancy jazz that we're trained to give value to. And there's something to be said for that, but still, and it's cliche to say but it'd be nice to not focus on the destination.

I've always been fascinated with road trips, and trains in particular. I don't particularly understand why, but I've begun to realize some things through this venture. 

Railways are continuous by design. They don't turn and wind as much as roadways can afford to, and that can be a good thing or a bad thing. Towns aren't built around railways anymore, they're built around exits, creating that uniform artificiality that surrounds a stop - that gas station that serves the food, that hotel that's there, and some sort of attraction. 

Railways are unblinking - you see the shiny and new bastions of industry, the windmills, the rolling hills, the Civil War era Main Streets, and, most fascinating to me, the dilapidated and the abandoned. 

Graphs are made by connecting points. Individual, dotted, unmoving points. The same applies to railways - the stops are little burgs and villes and sometimes larger cities, but for some reason someone decided to connect them directly. 

The train I'm taking, the 42 Pennsylvanian, is the most direct route from Pittsburgh to New York. It goes via Greensburg, Latrobe, Altoona, Harrisburg, Elizabethtown, Philly, and some places I'm no doubt forgetting. Those are the points - large and small - that are connected. The stations are placed by necessity - sometimes in an offbeat place with a small shelter and other times a block from the Pennsylvania State Capitol building

It's rare anymore that people have the time to talk extensively about the things they work on, but more specifically how they got there. You hear the story about a presidential candidate speaking but what you're missing is the story of how your press credentials were sent to a spam folder or how you followed a random camera guy and next thing you know you're in a private tour given by the mayor and the CEO of the history center. 

Those stories - those anecdotes on how you got the story - are fascinating in their own rite but you don't hear them because all to often you only have time to tell the one, largest story. So you do it and you move on.

I covered a Bernie Sanders rally last week, and it was amazing. Who ever thought that this freshman would get press credentials to cover a major political candidate? That deserves its own post, but the short of it is, I asked and was granted. 

I'm living this wild and crazy life I never expected to be able to be living this early on, but here I am doing it. It's an exhausting and exhilarating life to lead. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to resume staring out at the world now. 

Sheets are swaying from an old clothesline

The title comes from a song by Radical Face called, quite appropriately, "Welcome Home." I say appropriately for the point in my life right now, not necessarily the song, though I'm fairly sure that's probably appropriate too. I'm just looking for how that is.

Last year around this time I was talking about that dreaded in between place - where stuff was ending like crazy and I was, in a word, unsatisfied. I was longing for something - I guess I wasn't sure exactly what that something was, but I knew it wasn't where I was at that point. I realize now, looking back, that I was sick and tired of living my life in this mock-reality. I guess I'd liken it to when you get something shiny and metallic and they always have that cellophane wrap on it. It's pointless outside of preserving the underneath from dust, and it looks dumb and tempts you to rip it off.

You know full well the implications of ripping that cellophane layer: the shiny outside dulls after a while and that newness can never fully be recaptured. But frankly, you didn't buy that fancy stainless steel refrigerator to look at - you bought it to put your leftovers in. You bought it to be used.

I can't say that fits perfectly to my whole graduation thing, but I feel like so many people are so afraid to rip off that cellophane layer - to cut their ties and such - that they stay there in that general orbit. It's not because they want to or intend to, it's because they're afraid to loose that protected shine. I'm here to tell you that's a load of nonsense.

A few weeks back I covered the bicentennial of the incorporation of the City of Pittsburgh, and felt like a real live journalist for the first time. I was asked the question "are you with the media?" and after a moments' confusion (hey, I'm still new at this guys. I can write well, I'm still working out the gathering part...) I responded affirmatively and was promptly handed a press kit. I interviewed councilman Corey O'Connor and President/CEO of the Heinz History Center Andy Masich, and I stood throughout the press conference, listening to the Mayor and other dignitaries. If you're interested in the story it all resulted in, check it out here: http://www.pointparkglobe.com/news/view.php/1018577/City-celebrates-birthday UPDATED LINK: http://ppuglobe.com/2016/06/city-celebrates-birthday/

Maybe someday I'll tell you about what happened after the official celebration and how I ended up in the right place at a wrong time...

Life is fantastic where I'm at. I'm in the midst of a bunch of things: this Saturday is the United Student Government (USG)'s Pioneer Community Day (PCD). I've been working alongside some USG members in some capacity since January coordinating volunteers and such for this event. I'm exhausted but SO PUMPED to get this going!

I'm sitting in the basement of the University Center on campus hiding from life to focus on some personal admin work I've been meaning to do: write this blog, stare into oblivion, deep stuff like that. I'm sitting in a nondescript corner having just gotten off the phone with an organizer in Maine for the Bernie Sanders Campaign trying to get media credentials for the Globe for the Sanders rally Thursday. (Fingers Crossed!) This Saturday is PCD. We put together a Globe yesterday, I'll be delivering an issue tomorrow. A week from Thursday I'm headed with the Editor of the Globe (Josh Croup) to New York City for a Newspaper Editors' conference.

Sure it's weird to be at the end of so many things as I was last year. It's so much better to be on the other side, exhausted from being in the midst of so many things. 

So what have I been up to in the meantime?

My last update was a little over a month ago: http://2015blogger.blogspot.com/2016/02/its-different-kind-of-danger.html

• I went to see Point Park's version of The Drowsy Chaperone
• Visited my house for once.
• I covered the Pittsburgh Incorporation Bicentennial Celebration
• I was tonsured a Reader in the Orthodox Church by His Grace, Bishop Daniel when he visited Slickville a week and a half ago
• I saw the Spring Standards again because when the Spring Standards come to town you go. period.
• Played radio. WANNA HEAR ON THE HORIZON?? We now have a YOUTUBE page: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCnoxP4T2p66dpWkpmWmDgqA/

It's a Different Kind of Danger

It's February 24th, 2016. I last posted here quite a bit ago - it was the massive "Let's See How Far We've Come" update on my life and the year that was. Since I started school in August, I've met amazing people and have done some absolutely amazing things. That all being said, my life has been moving at high speed and things I should be doing (like keeping track of what is going on here) has fallen by the wayside.

Since starting a new semester, I've found quite a few things that I identify with, and quite a few things I cannot wrap my mind around. Contemporary Christianity still confuses my old-school self and the craft of journalism has taken on a new meaning to me. I have this crazy passionate broadcast professor who drilled into us day one the importance of journalism: to inform the electorate is the job of journalism and if you don't get that right and don't understand the importance of it you're not going to get along in this industry.

I haven't talked much about my journalistic fanaticism on here because it's more or less something I thought went without saying: I think what I'm doing is important because I feel it's going to help people. I'm not giving blankets to the homeless or anything (well, at least not professionally) but if I can bring attention to issues that impact people directly or can work to inform citizens what their elected officials are doing, in that way I can affect social change. One of the keys to this, as my professor has said, is going where people cannot and giving them information and experience.

Overall, the semester has been flying by, and I'm still loving every minute of it. I'm a host on two radio shows and I produce/write/created one (The Globe Live and On the Horizon respectively), I wandered into the world of television, and I am still involved in as many ways as possible with the newspaper. In other words, I value news and productivity over sleep because I can make a difference.

Speaking of newspapers, I'm happy to announce that I have been chosen to be the Globe's Editor Elect. What this means is for the calendar year 2016 I will be the assistant to the Editor-in-Chief, Josh Croup. Together we'll do editing stuff (like final proofs of the paper and other fun administrative work) but Croup handles all of the important high-up stuff whereas I follow his lead and provide support and such. In January of 2017, God willing, I will become Editor-in-Chief of the Globe, handling and shouldering the day-to-day operations of our humble campus newspaper.

Needless to say, this has been an involved application and approval process that I've been working on as early as November, but I'm proud to be able to announce it finally.

In completely unrelated news, I met Rick Sebak. He came to our campus yesterday for a screening of his most recent documentary, Return to Downtown Pittsburgh, complete with a Q&A session and reception. I was there as a Sebak fan, but also to cover it for the Globe. So stay tuned to the Globe website/newsstands for that whenever I write it, but bottom line he's just as awesome and fun as I had hoped.

L-R: My roommate Vince, Beth, Me, and Rick Sebak himself

He graciously let me interview him and talked about his documentaries, how this is only the second time there has been a screening, and how he didn't know how awesome Point Park was until he shot it and talked to our illustrious P. Henni (University President Dr. Paul Hennigan). In other words, I was geeking out the whole time because RICK FRICKIN SEBAK.

Does this man sound familiar? Like in this blog? Because if you've been reading for a while, you remember the 2014 Rick Sebak sighting in the South Side. If you don't you can read it here: http://2015blogger.blogspot.com/2014/02/i-can-show-you-what-you-wanna-see-and.html. TL;DR: I saw him on the street waiting for a bus after a WYEP excursion.

Speaking of WYEP, Reimagine media and I crossed paths yet again, but this time I was covering the Reimagination project for the Globe because, you guessed it, WYEP has teamed up with Point Park to do the project. So effectively it's 2014 all over again but with a newspaper and college and stuff.

So basically I'm living the life I've wanted to live for a while and it's quite fantastic - it's exhausting and stressful but I absolutely love it, and the people that surround me. When I posted my Editor-Elect announcement to Facebook, my phone exploded with notifications. I frankly didn't know that many people cared, but as of the time I write this post, 96 people have liked the status. That just doesn't happen. Meh, I digress.

I'm so glad to have these amazing people in my life and to be doing what I love in a place that's just awesome. Yeah, it's too expensive but that's another rant for another time. I'm living this crazy life that I'm excited to be a part of. I don't hate my roommate, I'm involved with stuff on campus, people (somehow) actually like me, and I met Rick Sebak. What more could I ask for right this second? Maybe a bit more sleep, but that's my own fault.

So to past me - somehow you've made it this far, and just continue to be your crazy big dreamer self. I'd give that same advice to my future self - don't stop dreaming and stay crazy.

I think I'll shut up now.

Let's See How Far We've Come 2015: The Year in Review

I did this two years ago, and missed last year because my computer was consistently on the fritz, but that makes no difference. 

For a year where so much happened, I posted the least amount of things (this makes 19) that I have ever posted in a year. It's a paradox really: when you do so much, you have less time to document what you've done, and so on your blog it looks like you did nothing. But as usual I digress. 

I did write a Christmas letter this year, and if you're interested, here's a link to it. My problem with it is its brevity. I needed to write it to fit on a singular piece of paper in 11 point Georgia which limits a year to a mere five or six paragraphs. So here I expand my narrative. Sorry about the rest of my family, but this is my blog... Let's do this! Sorry in advance for how frickin long this is going to be.

January brought my Eagle Court of Honor, along with the Carnegie Talent Show. I don't have anything else on my calendar, and honestly don't have my Eagle COH on the calendar, so that shows you how my state of mind was at that time. I did my job shadow at KDKA. I was also working for The Cougar Times at that point prepping the January issue.

February brought my venture to Dormont for the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I didn't give an annual Valentine's Day message (thank goodness. If memory serves me right, my then-girlfriend and I split that day anyways so....). I was in the midst of Senior Madness, which is what I'll call the first five months of the year. 

In March I bought an album (Hozier's self titled album which is still fantastic). I also went to a SHASDA dinner where we talked about the future of education. I was named to Trib Total Media's Top 50 Outstanding Youth Citizen list. Which is cool, but didn't come with a journalism job offer so... 

April brought with it my 18th birthday, as well as the Trib Total Media Top 50 OYC banquet. I went to the They Might Be Giants concert with Clay, and attended High School Musical the next day at Carlynton having sufficiently blown my eardrums out. I was also on the radio as a part of WESA's Life of Learning Education panel. And Troop 831's last ever Court of Honor. 

May brought a whole lot of school-related nonsense. I took my AP tests, and I went to Washington DC with the band. I also went to prom with some friends. And that was all fun. That whole whirlwind was reflected upon in a blog post linked below under "graduated form high school".

In June I graduated from high school. I also got my diploma. Along with it, I was awarded a $5,000 scholarship from Carlynton, which was pretty freaking awesome. I also began my journey at Point Park by attending the Pioneer Experience thingy.  I had my graduation party, and a lot of other stuff happened.

In July the world kinda stopped. I dropped off the face of the earth, and for a while was employed by GetGo. I'm not going to talk about that.

August began my new life. I went to the greatest city, Chicago, with my Aunt and mother. I had my wisdom teeth taken out, and a week later I moved into my new home in Thayer Hall with my fourth floor family. Later that month I started school, and was quite great!

There's a lot of stuff that happened in September. I started writing for the Globe, started a radio show on WPPJ, was elected to the United Student Government, and started working for the Post-Gazette. I also ended up emceeing the Carlynton Festival of Bands. Which was kinda great to get back in touch with my alma mater. There's no easy way to link blog posts, so here's the September archive: http://2015blogger.blogspot.com/2015_09_01_archive.html.

October continued September's new adventures. I kept working for the PG, and was hired on as an assistant news editor for the Globe. On Halloween I invited my floor to my house for a campfire and passing out candy and such. 

November was more of the September-October Blur. I broke momentarily for Thanksgiving, was a part of Rock-A-Thon for WPPJ, and attended the Eagle Scout Recognition Banquet, as well as spoke at it. 

In December I finished my first semester of college ever. And I reflected a bit on that. I also began Christmas Break after helping participate in a 24 hour film festival with some friends. Here's what I'll say about my fourth floor family, and I already wrote it once: 

Besides that, I'm going to live in Carnegie [again] for a little under a month. While I'm excited to see my family again, I will greatly miss my extended family - those 22 goofballs I live with on this floor - and I'm also aware my family all work during the day, so perhaps I'll start writing a novel or something. I don't need a pastime, but I do need to learn how to take a break because since August 24 I've been running at a consistent 100 miles an hour and now I have no more highways to speed on, I'm relegated to back roads for a while.

So with that, I'm easing my way into 2016. Since August I've been going a hundred miles an hour, and during the break I eased it to about 65. Still not technically legal on a highway, but entirely okay considering where I was. 

Here's to a 2016 just as full of adventures, and just as much insanity. Why post today and not tomorrow? Tomorrow I'm going on a hike and possibly attending a NYE party with my high school friends. We'll see. I just had the time now before my shift at the PG.