One of the weirdest things about growing up, particularly if you work in journalism, is the interns. I know, I know, they’re just interns. But no, actually, they aren’t. They are a representation that I am finally (!) a real-life, bona fide, grown-up.
I was lucky enough to have two internships as a college student: one at a local news affiliate and one at a network. I loved both of them for different reasons and learned so much, not just about news production, but about working in a newsroom and the business of news. This past summer I was having dinner with a friend, who was interning at a travel magazine. I made an off-hand remark about “my intern,” and she shrieked, “you have INTERNS!?!?!?” I realized, WOW, I do have interns. I am helping to mold the next journalists of America.
I am young (and inexperienced) enough to remember being an intern, but since I was one in the Summer of 2010, it wasn’t really that long ago. And that’s the point. Interns grow up. They become reporters, producers, graduate students, and some leave journalism altogether. But they become professionals. And it’s their internships that teach, mold and change them. That’s a big responsibility. One I’m not sure I was ready for. But totally worth it.