10.10.02 - 7:12 p.m.

I'm using up every last brain cell of the day to respond to this editorial on J-schools, because I feel like I should have some two cents to contribute to this whole Columbia hoo-ha, even if I don't give a whit about Columbia but because I think I should have something to say about journalism programs in general. As a graduate of one.

Yes, that last paragraph was written by someone who holds a masters of science in journalism. But they don't teach that fancy diary-writin' in them thar prestigious schools, no sirree, so off I go:

I'm responding to this article out of all the other blathery "advice" I've read for President Bollinger because, amazingly enough, this is the first one I've seen that even mentions Medill. Others have talked about the J-school issues in general, but this one actually solicits opinions from Medill alums - and names names. And this is the first one that actually gets it right.

It angered me when I read that Shafer (the writer) thinks all a masters degree says "is that the holder had an interest in journalism and spent the money to prove it," but...it didn't ring exactly false in my ears. Especially when he follows that thought with a scathing (yet point-on) description of those oh-so-fabulous teachers who imparted oh-so-much wisdom to me during my time in Fisk Hall. Nancy? Thanks for those words of encouragement when you stuck me with the Parks Department beat in OCTOBER. David? Ginny? Thanks for belittling us and having no faith in us every step of the way. Thanks for not even TRYING to sell our concept to Gruner+Jahr when you knew they had a similar product in the works. Janice? Thanks for not even showing up for class three out of the first five weeks.

But sadly, those professors and their contacts are more useful to me now than they were when I was "learning" from them, because of who they know, and because of everyone else they've taught. Medill is probably most valuable for its networking contacts, none of which I ever use because I am not now, nor will I soon be, a good schmoozer. My lack of abilities at happy hours and other social functions have already been documented on these pages so I'll leave it at that.

But when I was there, I did become less afraid of talking to people. I did realize that I was in fact, a decent writer and I could be somewhat happy scraping my living from a keyboard. I still have that fear of the unknown every time I get a new assignment, but that's hardly unique, and I can get over it far more quickly than I could have starting out on my own. Shafer says of his alumni panel, "All of them did malign much of their coursework as lightweight and denigrate some of their former professors as time-servers - or worse. But none regret attending J-school or wish they'd spent the $10,000 or more the degree cost them on something else." And in the end, I don't regret the money I spent on my year in Chicago either.

Our magazine project was outdated, but it was good experience. And every now and then, it was fun. Everything about Medill could be described in a like manner. Shafer suggests putting a disclaimer at the front of every admissions catalog: "If you aren't absolutely sure whether or not you want to be a journalist, J-school might be the place for you. It's never actually harmed anybody." I went to grad school because I didn't have the slightest idea where I'd fit in the US workforce. Publishing? PR? Jane Pratt's personal lackey? It was all the same to me. So off I went, and lo and behold, it worked. J-school was good in that way for me. Not for Norm, the retired surgeon who thought he'd like to try medical writing - he quit first quarter and got a freelance gig for the New York Times anyway - but for me.

I don't really have a snappy conclusion to this rant. Like I said, I'm pretty much out of brain cells for the day. But I hope the Medill folk (and the Columbia folk too, I guess) are paying attention to this particular editorial. Because I spent a damn lot of money to get their good name on my resume and I really don't want it to go to waste.