The weather is sunny. Cars on the streets and rumours can still be heard far away with Sting’s song “Englishman in New York” playing in the air. From my point of view I can clearly see people moving on the street, avoiding the cars, but it is no more Shirland Road in London. It is now Via Francesco Crispi in Bari.
Yes, three months are passed and I returned to the previous life of a young unemployed Journalist still in his work training in Bari. Returned full of hopes, expectations and a big relief he had discovered the passion for writing was real, after his 3 months postgraduate course in Journalism at the London School od Journalism.
I’m here to finally do a report on that. I don’t need to write any word about the first problem encountered: too easy to guess. Writing on a foreign language.
Despite the first meeting with an English written language article was like to teach the Dante Alighieri’s Divina Commedia to a deaf-mute, these three months boosted quickly my ability to be understood. Someone told me that living in a foreign language context for a short period is like a year-long full immersion course. You can imagine the effect of writing like a Journalist.
Chapter two: the postgraduate course. Just one word my mind can imagine: amazing! All the teacher did a marvellous work, trying to raise our ability to find the news, recognising the angle (that’s 3/4 of a good feature) and write it in a spicy and humoristic way when the subject demands it. Just add the fact that it is hosted in London, a city with a mentality totally on the opposite of the italian narrow mind, you can imagine how much it can wider your life perspectives.
Choosing the three months means a high level of pressure on you: lessons 5 days a week, not less than 3 essays to write every weeks, the fear of the exams approaching… Everything can easily make you regret not to have marked the 6 months box on the enrolling online form.
On the other side there was the good aspects: wonderful classmates and the focusing.
I don’t need to spend any word on my companions, they know how much good was the time with them, being stupid with the females and having fun with the males. The talking arguments were so many:football and women; I’m italian after all! Really thanks a lot to have changed what seemed a nightmare at the start to the most wonderful of the trips. It is really just your help that made me achieve this challenge.
The focusing I was talking before is derived from the short time we had to think about the essays. We literally lived full-time as Journalists there, we thought as Journalist, there was no choice in the end. And I loved it after all. Every lectures were interesting, especially for a boy (yes, I was the ‘baby’ there) that had no idea of what writing was, eager to learn his future job’s tricks.
I still remember what I said in the first day presentation in front of Andrew Knight, the loved-hated media law teacher: “I’m like a sponge, trying to suck everything this course can teach me.” And so it was, I’ve tried to learn everything the best I could and, although the english grammar it’s not at its best (the blog is the best proof), at least I’ve learned a method. A method I could convert also for the Italian Journalism.
I should say thanks to my tutors, Ross: his patience made me learn how to use good the punctuation in the quotes- it was so damn difficult to understand that. Less thanks to his marks, but I was really happy to hear him say: I know you will achieve your professional achievement, you were like me at the start: focused, full of life, difficult to stop, but you have to listen me when I talk! This costed me a C+, but was really a lesson of life.
Now the normal Italian life is back: luckily with all its good (and not fried) recipes- made without large amount of oil- I haven’t had for three months; unluckily without my friends, whom I was by then accustomed to see every day to talk about how much we hated media law difficulty. You were a part of my life and I will never forget you my friends, I’m already missing you.
Signed, a young Journalist, almost desperate to return to learn good Journalism in English (a language I call ‘the death of creativity’).