Seeing with our ears

(The following article is one in a series that I wrote for a distance learning-related blog I used to run. For posterity's sake, I am reposting it -and others- here)

I had the distinct "pleasure" of trying to explain how CIV bridging works during a radio interview once. Though it is not necessarily a complex procedure, explaining it to people who could not see me was a little daunting.

I began my explanation with something along the lines of: "The different sites around the world connect to their designated hubs…" and then I realized that this was not going to pass muster to a rural AM audience (not to mention the host was starting to glaze over).

As the panic of impending "dead air" was approaching (I was still talking, but knew that if I didn't change course quickly, I would stop talking altogether and really lose folks), I stopped myself and explained the best way I knew how and in a way that most folks who have learned anything about the Internet are familiar with: Roads.

I paused, and then I backtracked a little. "In Arkansas, each of the half-dozen sites that are hosting Megaconference Jr connects to St. Louis. Most of the sites worldwide connect to hubs, like cities, through their highways. Those highways, from the cities, connect to other, more centralized cities, and eventually everyone ends up connected to Ohio, where the main event is taking place." Those were not my exact words, but close enough. The host got it, and then he did a quick summary of what I said, and we moved on.

The host has some technical background, so he did a good job of prompting addition questions about how CIV works, how distance education works in the schools, etc. We also talked about the "novelty" and how we can still be WOWed even after we get more and more accustomed to the technology. I told him that even as we move from novelty to application, we still have to maintain that sense of wonder, because without it, we stop moving forward.

Of course, if I had been thinking on my feet, I would have said something like, "And, as Walt Disney said, 'keep moving forward…'" alas, I am not that clever…

It's been a while since my radio days, and this served as a reminder that not everyone SEES what we're doing. Sometimes, the only picture they have of distance learning is the one we paint for them in their minds….

And that's the way it is...

In truth, I do not remember any specific broadcasts. I wasn't born yet when Kennedy was shot, and I was all of about 3 months old when we landed on the moon. If Cronkite had anything to do with coverage of the 1986 shuttle explosion, I don't really recall. Why bother writing anything then? Two reasons: first, because he is ultimately part of the reason I even thought about broadcasting as a career choice, and second, his presence in our homes was so evident that I ultimately developed an imitation of him.

When I was a kid, Mr. Walter Cronkite appeared on our television screen nearly every night so far as I can remember. We was on so much, in fact, that I had developed a knack for imitating his voice and signature nightly closing. I'm not sure how old I was, but I could not have been more than 5 or 6 when I started and probably 14 or 15 when I stopped (though every once in a while, family members would still ask me to say "And that's the way it is"). Even though I do not remember any specific newcasts, Cronkite was the man we looked to when the world seemed out of place or when the world was celebrating something big. As strange as it may seem, I still manage to throw in a "that's the way it is" when listening to the radio. I had done since I was a kid, so for me, it is just something I do.

When I went to college, I eventually followed the path of radio broadcasting. I eventually became the new director for the college station, and Walter Cronkite was a part of everything I thought news should be - even for a tiny 10-watt radio station. Our job was to report what was happening as concisely as possible, as humanly as possible. And, for a time, we had all of 91 seconds to do it in. Our frequency was 91.1FM, so I came up with the "91 seconds of news" tagline. I don't think it lasted long, though, because there was just too much to say.

While doing the on-air portion of the broadcasting class, I always played the straight man to whatever partner I had - whether it was my brother, "Toucan Sam," or my good friend and co-station manager, Mark "Eddie Wish" Walker. That is not to say I didn't have fun and try to keep things light and fun whenever I could, but I saw our positions in the light that I had grown up with Walter Cronkite in my living room. That is, when it came time to inform our audience, we did it with as much integrity we could gather. Remember, this WAS a college radio station, so we were doing all kinds of things and had all kinds of personalities that shined through the microphones and speakers.

There people in each of our lives that seem to serve as the foundation of particular aspects of our personalities and our beliefs in the way things should be done. For me, Walter Cronkite showed me what kind of broadcaster I wanted to be. And even though life has taken me in very different directions, there are many times that I will be driving down the road, listening to the radio, and I will do my own song introductions and my spins on the news as I listen along. And, even as recently as last week, I can remember listening to a local news story on the radio, and jokingly added "And that's the way it is" after it was over. I will miss him deeply and dearly.