Over the past two weeks, 24 budding journalists pounded the pavement across New Orleans, searching for ledes, sources and that juicy, undiscovered story. After long nights of producing copy, captions and performing painstaking editing with Photoshop and Avid, we’ve constructed a mosaic of information on New Orleans.

The New York Times Student Journalism Institute brought us to Louisiana to define, augment and test our abilities outside of our comfort zones. The Web pieces, slideshows, photos, graphics and video produced tell a story of a small big city that sharpened our professional skills and challenged our limits.

We’ve covered the news and features of the city with a hunger and focus that bears witness to our drive to succeed in the journalism world. Now, as Institute faculty and participants proof the last pages of the print edition and update a few remaining Web stories, my fellow students and I are able to take a step back and reflect upon our experiences in the Big Easy.

I have tackled Avid film editing software and lived to tell the tale, producing a gripping video. I’ve also learned to be flexible and find a different story angle at a moment’s notice. The lessons learned at the Institute vary, but all are an integral part of our journalistic journey of the past few weeks.

Here are our closing thoughts:

1. NEW ORLEANS: For some of us, being in New Orleans opened up a world of new experiences and opportunities to explore. The Gulf oil spill also gave us the chance to prove how innovative our news coverage could be.

Brandon R. Coley

When coming to Louisiana, I first thought I would be amazed by the friendly New Orleanians, food seasoned to perfection, and the overall “Big Easy” experience. But after spending time with the locals and interviewing longtime residents, I found that New Orleans is still in a very sensitive state.

I am learning there is (almost) always more truth than what is given. I am new to journalism, and seeing what I’ve seen and hearing the stories behind the stories of the locals has heightened my interest in getting information out to people. Not only did I meet some of the greatest people in my life at this Institute, I have a whole new respect for journalism … in its entirety. 


Lelan LeDoux

My best experience was going to the Lower Ninth Ward and meeting some of the people who were hit by Hurricane Katrina. These people now live in the homes being built by Brad Pitt’s foundation. They talked about a very touchy subject and how they lost family members. I was blessed to meet them. Gloria Guy, the first person to get a Brad Pitt house, cooked us food.

That experience really shows that people have open hearts and care for others. Guy even talked to me for about an hour and a half about staying positive and to keep moving forward in life. It was a great blessing to meet these people in the Lower Ninth Ward. I will never forget that.

Rodney W. Hawkins II

Reporting on the oil spill in Venice, La., has been one of the greatest experiences I have had at the Institute.

The first half of the day, fellow Institute students and I had no direction on what each of our stories would be. After contemplating whether or not to waste several hours waiting for a boat ride, we followed our instincts and decided to leave and search for our story, rather than wait for it.

Twenty minutes later we drove down a random street off the highway and found a neighborhood of shrimpers. Had it not been for this random stop, I would not have had the main interview I needed for my story. From this experience I learned that as a journalist is not only about writing but having initiative and being persistent.

2. NEW OPPORTUNITIES: For many of us, new experiences have allowed us to not only discover new talents, but to balance multiple skills and become better with technical elements.

April Buffington

Coming to the New York Times Journalism Institute has been a life-changing experience.

Being that I’ve interned at The Advocate, a Baton Rouge daily newspaper, and that I know their style, I thought I could bring that style to the Institute. Learning that you have adjust to the style of the publication you are working for has broadened my mind to shooting differently, not being stuck to shooting a certain way.

Here at the Institute I thought I could get away with just taking great photos but I also have to write. I feel privileged to have worked with a team of people from The New York Times and Boston Globe that helped me to not think of writing as writing but as talking and expressing my thoughts on paper.

I know coming to the Institute was the best thing for me, because in order to have a great photo I have to know what I am shooting and do my research. I will never depend on the reporter to get the info meet and greet; I’ll get it myself.

Myeisha Essex

To be chosen to participate for the Institute is like the New York Times saying I am worthy of being a journalist, and that is a compliment beyond compare.

I was able to report, write, and learn video. I also designed pages. Designers organize articles in such a way that the reader can easily absorb the material. The design team is the last to see the pages, so the process of getting pages to the printer on deadline can be hectic. I was able to perfect my craft, learn new mediums and receive career advice from professionals and for that I am truly grateful for this maximum-security journalism boot camp!

Nate Taylor

This Institute has given me so much knowledge and perspective on journalism. The insight the instructors have given to me have been so valuable.

During these two weeks, I’ve learned how to become a better self-copy editor, and I was able to get more experience in producing videos and slideshows. The best part of this Institute for me was how many opportunities I had to write.

I want to be a sports journalist who captures moments and make them come to life. I covered a number of baseball games, did a long-form profile and even did some hard-news reporting on the oil spill.

I’m going to recommend the program to any aspiring journalist, not just because this opportunity itself is a special one, but because of how much the facility will be an asset to the rest of my career. They have helped me grow now, and I know they will in the future.

3. REPORTING AND RESEARCH: Improving reporting and researching skills was essential to getting to the heart of each and every story.

Lauren Johnson

My lesson learned here at the Student Journalism Institute was that checking facts and order is essential to any news story.

While at the Institute, I covered what scientists and environmental experts are calling the largest oil spill in U.S. history. Before taking on the challenge of tackling this tremendous assignment, I didn’t realize the amount of research and time would go into covering all the events from the day of the explosion on. Along with the help of the seasoned, professional journalists that we had at our grasp for two weeks, I was able to pull it together accurately and concisely by the end of our last 100-hour work week.

I learned that I can handle any obstacle, whether it is a deadline, inaccessibility of a source, lack of confidence, or fatigue from long work hours. I leave with more confidence, humbleness, skills, and passion from a demanding, yet rewarding experience than I had ever had before arriving to the foreign, historic city of New Orleans.

Sean Blackmon

As future truth seekers, it is of the utmost importance that we develop the skills needed to communicate with a public parched for information. In my time at the Institute, I’ve come to learn that there can be no good writing without thorough reporting.

The issue at the heart of my project was very multilayered, with as many opinions as there were layers. The Institute showed me how to take a mountain of information and glean only the information most enriching to the reader. The more knowledgeable a writer is, the more limber they can be with their pen.

Lauren Foreman

I have learned so much at the Institute about reporting that it’s hard to narrow my experiences down to one specific lesson, but the most important aspects of reporting that I learned were about the importance of conducting initial research. That research can be used to direct my questions to the right people. Questions should be truly curious in nature and used to fill the holes of a story. In working with sources, the questions not only need to be directed to a source that knows the information but to the most appropriate source.

Brittany Dandy

At the Institute I learned to the value of concise research, and the need to know your resources and use them to your full advantage. I now know how detailed who, what, where, when and why can get and how necessary it is to do in-depth reporting.

From the second line to shrimping, I gained a better understanding of the people who live here and for whom a journalist works. I will never forget that I contributed to a piece of history.

4. STYLE: Students constantly worked to expand their word choice, grammar and verb usage. This helped each of us come up with a unique style of writing.

Kendra Derosiers

It took me 30 minutes to write this sentence. I labored over the word choice; the tone; the angle. Vivid language is constantly at odds with word counts and breaking news urgency at the New York Times Institute. And as a magazine bred-reporter, cutting copy feels like a prison shank — quick and dirty.

You learn early on that the newsroom is full of compromises. Cancel an interview to make deadline; truncate a lede for an additional quote; phone over on-site; Folgers over Starbucks; content over sanity over sleep over sustenance and the like. Decisions. Life choices.

OK I lied; it took me 35 minutes to write that sentence. A clincher, like the lede, is equally taxing. So I’ll just end this with —

5. CONFIDENCE AND PERSONAL GROWTH: Many students learned lessons about trusting in themselves and in the quality of their work. Others learned a few life lessons on the professional world.

Aaron Edwards

On the last day of the Institute, my roommate, Rodney W. Hawkins II, told me to “never second guess yourself.” Though my mind whirled from sleep deprivation, I heard him loud and clear — and realized his words mirrored a significant lesson I’ve learned here.

I came into this program intimidated. Almost all the other attendees were over 21, bachelor’s degree holders, graduate students, one even with a Ph.D. And here I was: 18 years old, a journalist of 2 years. Yes, I had clips. Yes, I had experience. But I felt like, for lack of a better term, the baby of the group.

I was reaffirmed in my belief that great work speaks volumes, regardless. I picked up work whenever I could, pushed myself out of my comfort zone and felt, more than ever, like a real journalist. And I can’t stop now.

As I write this, a Barbra Streisand song shuffles on my iTunes. The “Glee” rendition of “Don’t Rain on My Parade.” Couldn’t be more appropriate.

Rosa Warren

My experience here at the New York Times Student Journalism Institute was one for the books. I take away from this opportunity greater confidence as a copy editor and an understanding that journalism is a collaborative effort. The Institute has helped me hone in my copy editing and writing skills with the assistance of seasoned professionals. Even though I may have been the quietest one in the room, I felt like my work spoke volumes.

Imani Cheers

I picked up my first camera when I was 5 years old. My father was a photojournalist and I would spend hours watching him develop film in our basement darkroom.

I received a B.F.A. in photography from Washington University in St. Louis and genuinely believed I had not only talent, but also a competitive edge to be successful.

The past two weeks have been intense; the most valuable lesson I’ve learned during this Institute is to persevere, endure and never give up. There were times I got the “money shot” and many times that I didn’t. I feared daily critiques like the plague but learned that life isn’t easy and if I want to be successful I have to work harder today than I did yesterday.

Nikole Pegues

Going through this program has been the most challenging thing I’ve ever done in my career and there were plenty of times I wanted to quit. But I’m glad I stayed because this experience has not only made me a better journalist, but a better person.

I learned that 8:15 a.m. is considered late and 10 p.m. is considered early. That air-conditioning is not always a good thing and humidity is not the friend of anyone who recently had her hair done. I learned to never trust anyone who starts a conversation with “How strong is your stomach” and ends it with “You may want to take some Dramamine” and to always bring sunscreen and an umbrella when covering ANYTHING at an airport.

Taylar Barrington

It’s is never easy to hear your alarm clock ringing in your ear a few hours earlier than you would like, but at the New York Times Student Journalism Institute, it happens every day. I have to admit, it was hard to practice the golden rule, “if you are early you’re on time, and if you’re on time you’re late”, but every day I rolled out of the bed and tried to follow it.

I have to say the most prominent thing I learned, besides being on time, is that quality is better than quantity and that it is my job to understand what my audience wants. I absolutely loved all of the staff and their personal stories, and the late night laughs about the most minor things. I have made a lifelong memory of what will only enhance my career.

Tahirah Hairston

It’s been two weeks? The first week felt like one day, but the second week went by way too fast — all I know is reporting, reporting, coffee break, reporting, proofing a page, and the J-Move.

I think I can use the word “epic” for this experience — I mean what other 19-year-old is out reporting on the oil spill? I’ve learned so much here, I could put together a short novel. Meeting young New York Times staffers and being the second-youngest one here, I know that I can do it, at any capacity. I’m ready.

6. STUDENTS AND STAFF: The people in the program make each Institute unforgettable. Our peers provided support and laughs at every turn. Our fearless leader, Don Hecker, the staff from the New York Times and partner publications and the faculty of Dillard University have helped mold us into better journalists. These relationships have influenced our stories, as well as our lives.

Thaisi Da Silva

I thought I had it all figured out.

I’d graduate from Hampton University, attend the New York Times Student Journalism Institute in New Orleans and accept an apprenticeship at a television station in sunny Florida.

And then I met Sandra Stevenson.

Stevenson, a photo editor at The New York Times, leads the photo team at the Institute, and I was intimidated. My lack of proper photo training has always been an insecurity, but I learned quickly that this excuse would not fly.

I photographed. I laughed. I cried. And most importantly, I “dared to suck.”

And I did.

But then something incredible happened. With each day my photography became stronger, and my eye became more developed.

In less than two weeks I chased President Obama’s motorcade, witnessed first hand the effects of the oil, danced with members of the Zulu Crewe, was welcomed into the home of the King of Treme and met a hero of the Ninth Ward.

Most importantly I met incredible people and made beautiful images.

Lottie Joiner

The most significant experience I’ve had here was working with the staff members at the Institute. They were patient, understanding and constructive with a gentle touch. They offered guidance and wisdom. They were mentors.

I learned about focus, time management and that I can’t hold copy for one quote. I learned to prioritize my workload and to get it right the first time. (Those corrections are so embarrassing.) But most of all, this experience has reinforced my desire to be a reporter.

Bolanle Omisore

I came to the Institute ready to learn. Through two semesters at NYU in an intensive multimedia program, I’d never actually picked up a DV camera and shot a video of my own, much less edited it into a coherent visual story.

So, I came and I learned. Jeremy Beiler, world-renowned actor and video journalist, sat beside me hour after hour and taught me much of what he knows about creating a story with images. Through the long hours and late nights, he helped me create a piece that I can be proud of.

I know that I will return to school prepared to hit the ground running.

Aleesa Mann

The most significant experience I had at the Institute was being able to work with a group of my peers and superiors that are really passionate about journalism. Journalism is a tough field — you get shut down, rejected or ignored on a daily basis. Journalists definitely share a camaraderie in a sort of “Yeah, I go through the same thing too” kind of attitude. Working with other people who share my interest in telling a good story made all the obstacles easier to handle.

And there’s nothing like a newsroom. In a matter of seconds it can become the most noisy, hectic, unwieldy entity, but at the end of the day things get done. Stories are written, articles are published — it almost seems like an accident that work gets done because it’s so much fun along the way.

Monique Johnson

My life has changed thanks to the New York Times Student Journalism Institute. I see the world so differently now since being in New Orleans and among the best and brightest in the business. The mentors have shaped and molded me. They pushed me beyond my limits. They stood right behind me to catch me as I fell. And they were right there to help me get back up.

Amanda VanAllen

It’s hard for me to think of one just one experience to pinpoint because I learned so many lessons.

From Merrill, I learned to pay attention to details and to ask obvious questions. As journalists we can never assume that something is true or correct. We have to inquire about every waking detail.

From Ginger, I learned everyday is a new day, and we cannot let anything get us down. I learned about the beauty of journalism; no two days are alike. Change always feels nice when everything is going wrong.

I learned from Greg that I should ALWAYS be working on something. From my colleagues, I learned to have fun with my work. I learned that this profession is a gift that I can share with everyone. I am so happy to have had this opportunity and look forward to seeing all the amazing things we accomplish in the future.

****

What we all share from this experience is an enthusiasm for this program and for the city of New Orleans. We’ve grown in ways big and small, but we’ve all found the opportunity to grow as journalists and individuals.

On behalf of all of us, it has been a pleasure to be a part of the 2010 New York Times Student Journalism Institute and to call the Big Easy home these past two weeks. Thank you to everyone involved with this extraordinary experience.

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Bourbon Street, with its bars, restaurants and clubs, is known as one of the most popular places to hang out in the Big Easy. Found on this lively venue are many street vendors and musicians who provide entertainment, often for a few fleeting moments before the crowds move on and they’re forgotten.

“It wouldn’t be Bourbon Street without them,” said tourist Ashley Clower. Here is a sampling of the entertainers who have found a home on Bourbon Street:

I’ve got the blues

Troy Tallent has been strumming his acoustic guitar and blowing his harmonica on the same corner of Iberville and Bourbon for the past 23 years. He sits on a dark purple fold-out chair, earning about $50 a day playing the blues. Tallent has acquired a following of fans over the years. He says they love his music because it’s mostly original.

“Nothing to brag about, but I have been on this corner since ’87,” Tallent said. “I’ve played at all the clubs and done all the street things, but I play here ’cause I know so many people.”

Tallent said he moved to New Orleans because of its history. He wanted to become a musician and wasletting no one stand in his way.

“The girl I loved for 16 years turned into a lawyer, and I don’t like lawyers, and I don’t really need all that,” Tallent said. “So I told her that if she was going to be a lawyer, then I was going to be a musician. So I left California and headed to New Orleans.”

Beer cans and tap dance

Passers-by often hear Jamal Robertson and Robert Gooding before they see them. They sound like a herd of galloping horses with perfectly coordinated moves. People often stop and stay for their entire set and leave a few bucks or at least a round of applause.

Robertson and Gooding learned to tap dance from watching a YouTube video. On weekends, the friends head to Bourbon Street on the No. 88 bus and tap dance, but they don’t have proper shoes. Instead, they crush beer cans and attach them to the soles of their sneakers. They have to find containers that are already empty because neither of them is of drinking age.

Robertson is 15 and Gooding, 16.

“We find them lying down on the ground and we break them and tear them,” Robertson said. “Then we fold them and step on them.”

The two friends say they each make about $80 a night. They add that they make good grades in school and their parents are proud of what they do.

“We’re talented,” Gooding said.

Roses are red

Virginia Schrang sells single red roses on weekends for $4 each. She wears a white, form-fitting lace dress, with purple and green Mardi Gras beads around her neck. She sits with her legs crossed on her bar stool and offers a rose to anyone passing by.

“It’s a romantic business and I love it,” Schrang said.

Schrang says she was a commercial model in Miami for 14 years, but wanted to focus on raising her four daughters and two sons, so she quit her job to stay at home with her kids. She also has nine grandsons, five granddaughters and a pool of great grandchildren.

About 15 years ago, the 71-year-old attempted to make a living solely by selling roses, but said it wasn’t enough money to support a family.

“But once I got 62 and got my Social Security, then with the rose business and Social Security I was doing good,” she said.

However, the economy still hit her hard.

“We used to work five days a week, but as the [economy] goes up and down, now we only work Friday and Saturday,” Schrang said. “’Cause those are the only guaranteed nights we are going to make money.”

Golden talent

A gold-faced man lugging a stereo and a large bucket in a wheeled cart entertains on Bourbon Street every weekend. Daniel Poole, who goes by the name “Solid Gold” when he dances, wears jeans, jacket and shoes spray-painted sun gold to match his name.

He performs a mixture of hip-hop and break dance moves. When his shoulders pop and his hips swing from side to side, people get excited and drop money, mostly dollar bills, into his bucket. Although he has enjoyed boogieing on Bourbon for the past two years, he aspires to be a dancer spreading his Christian faith through his art.

“I feel like entertainers are those people to fill the voids in people’s lives,” Poole said. “When you entertain, don’t just rap, dance and play football and leave. Give me a message when you’re done. Anybody can just dance or just rap, but I have a message.”

Poole says he paints his clothing gold to be noticed. That way, he can network and spread inspiring messages to his audience.

“If you want to get noticed in entertainment when everybody is running one way, run the opposite way,” he said. “You got to do the unthinkable to make it, because so many people are doing the same thing. I thought I would promote myself by being gold on the streets of a heavily tourist city. I can meet more people like that.”

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It took me 30 minutes to write this sentence. I labored over the word choice.  The tone. The angle.

Vivid language is constantly at odds with word counts and breaking news urgency at the New York Times Student Journalism Institute. And as a magazine-bred reporter, cutting copy feels like a prison shank — quick and dirty.

You learn early on that the newsroom is full of compromises. Cancel an interview to make deadline. Truncate a lede for an additional quote. Phone interviews instead of on-site. Folgers over Starbucks. Content over sanity, sleep or sustenance. Decisions. Life choices.

OK, I lied. It took me 35 minutes to write that sentence. And since the clincher, like the lede, is equally taxing, I’ll just end this with —

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“It was really hard my first semester. Really hard,” said Larry Williams eating his breakfast in the Dillard University cafeteria.

People didn’t talk to him, he said. They looked at him strangely.

“I guess they thought I was weird,” he said.

Tall. Slender. The Chicago native was the new kid on the block, coming in a few months after everyone else. He missed the fall semester because he didn’t have the money to come to New Orleans, he said. So he worked several jobs, including selling snacks at Chicago Bears games, to save enough to purchase a plane ticket and make a deposit for his dorm room. Larry said he was excited about “coming to an HBCU down South.”

But all was not rosy when he got to Dillard.

“I ate by myself for the first two months,” he remembered. “I had to dig deep. Me, myself and I were my best friends.”

There were some around, however, who embraced him, like Norma Stewart, who works in the cafeteria and is known to students as Ms. Jeanie.

“I have sickle cell and she took care of me when I got sick,” Larry said. “I love Ms. Jeanie.”

Larry saunters slowly into the cafeteria for his breakfast. “Hey, my baby,” Ms. Jeanie said. Today he is having grits, eggs, bacon, potatoes and a biscuit.

A mass communications major, Larry wants to have his own online magazine.

But first, he wants to finish his breakfast.

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I woke up at 4:30 a.m., fell asleep in the shower and somehow managed to throw clothes on my body by 5:07 a.m. After a short prayer, by 5:20 a.m. I was driving three fellow journalists to Venice, La., to cover the oil spill. When we finally arrived a few hours later, we immediately got to work. I spotted a Coast Guard station and did an illegal U-turn to get to it. And that was just about how our entire day went : finding leads and chasing them.

Our day was long and eventful, but exciting. We felt like real journalists and the four of us even bonded over video blogs, po’boy sandwiches and hilarious sources.

All that fun was over when we returned — about 7 p.m., after 14 hours away — and had to write the stories. We were on tight deadlines and needed to get our stories posted quickly. I knocked out a short profile of two housekeepers who cook for their Coast Guard guests and then went on to my community service story.

I loved the profile. I fell in love with the characters and tried to make the reader feel that same love for them through my words. The community service story wasn’t as much fun, but I put the facts out there and produced what I thought was a solid piece of work.

When it was time for the editors to take a look I was excited. I went to cover the biggest oil spill in history and would have several clips with the New York Times Student Institute name on it! But my high was destroyed when the editors decided not to use my profile piece because the same characters were in the main article. I was told it was best for the website.

It didn’t feel like it was the best for me, but I dealt with it, because, after all, I still had the community service story.

Boy was I wrong. I was unclear of what my editor was looking for and I had asked all the wrong questions and got the wrong story. I was told that I would either have to turn it into a blog post or have nothing to show for my trip. I chose the blog post, but I was not happy about it.

My three colleagues got some amazing clips from the trip and I was left with a blog post. How would anyone ever know that I was in Venice chasing leads, hunting down shrimp boaters or following men grabbing bags of cotton to soak up the oil and throwing them into boats?

Naturally, I called my mother. I pouted to her. I told her I was the worst journalist in the world and I would never make it. I told her I blew my opportunity to cover a disaster. She listened. Then she brought me back down to earth. She reminded me that I have only been at this for a year, and I can’t win them all.

I went back in the newsroom with my eyes flushed with red and my iPod on full blast. Even after the conversation with my mom I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to finish my blog and leave.

I am horrible at hiding my emotions, so my sour mood was noticed by just about anyone who could see. Writing that blog post was so frustrating.
After a few talks with some of the editors who assured me things would get better. I decided to finish up my blog and search for a new story.
The next day I came in, still slightly upset about my lame blog post, but eager to write more and get better. I wrote two stories that day — I think some of my best work at the Institute.

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Driving down Highway 1 and seeing all the seafood businesses that the Gulf oil spill could affect really saddened me. Since I’m from Baton Rouge, La., I know and understand how the people of Grand Isle feel about the effects that the oil spill will have.

Grand Isle is full of beautiful homes that sit high off the ground. Shrimp boats are berthed alongside its waters. Oil spilling into the marshlands and wiping out shrimp, oysters, blue crabs and fish will hurt Louisiana as a whole and could put thousands of fishermen out of business.

Being the journalist I am, I had to see it for myself. Near Grand Isle is Elmer’s Island, where oil is washing ashore. The authorities told me I couldn’t go there because the island was closed off. But I knew I couldn’t return to the newsroom empty-handed — without photographs, so I used my journalism enterprise to get back there. (Sorry, it’s a trade secret.)

On Elmer’s Island I saw the bags of oily gauze lined up and fresh gauze lining the coastline. I knew it wouldn’t get better any time soon.

People down South love seafood and know how to prepare it all types of ways. Some eat seafood daily because it’s good for them. A Gulf oil spill wiping out the marshland and swamps will affect not only the workers but the ones who have a love of seafood.

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I should’ve realized I was getting myself into trouble when the question, “How strong is your stomach?” came up.

Now, I’m not a particularly well-traveled individual so I haven’t been on many airplanes. I considered the occasional flight to the West Coast to be a travel adventure by my no-passport-having standards. So when the Institute’s director, Don Hecker, approached me about going up in a six-seat plane to write a story about the aerial view of the oil spill in the Gulf, my immediate reaction was something close to terror.

I knew this institute would give me the opportunity to do things I’d never done before, but I must have glanced over the “aerial acrobatics” clause in the paperwork. But I’m a journalist. This is not just a job title, but something that defines who I am to an extent. When would I ever have this opportunity again? Never! So I swallowed the lump in my throat, made a mental note to pick up some Dramamine and said, “Sounds great!”

Eight thirty a.m. came faster than it had all week. I was glad that April Buffington would be there taking pictures along with Rodney Hawkins and instructor Mark Raymond on video. I took some comfort in the fact that my fellow passengers were scared too.

The plane itself was much smaller than I’d originally anticipated. “Great,” I thought to myself as I watched the pilot explain how to unlatch the door in case of a crash landing — exactly what you want to hear before going up in one of these.

Two sets of two seats in the back of the small plane faced each other and I was instructed to sit in the seat behind the pilot, which meant I would have to fly backwards. Great. Rodney climbed over the wing and into the co-pilot’s chair while April settled to my left, behind him. Mark sat across from April. After all the equipment and people piled in, there was barely enough room for me to move my legs.

As we strapped in and put on our headsets, April shot me a “good sport” smile and I returned the favor. As we began to taxi toward the runway, I tried to focus on the chatter asking us where we’re going and telling us what runway to use. When we turned onto the runway April and I instinctively grabbed for each other’s hand.

I don’t know about her, but I said a little prayer as “clear for takeoff” rang through my headset and the plane began to gain speed. The takeoff itself wasn’t much different than a commercial flight takeoff except that you can feel every little movement the plane makes. Before we knew it, we were flying over New Orleans headed for the Gulf.

Flying over the city was amazing. We weren’t nearly as high as commercial airlines so all the details that would be lost to altitude were still plainly visible. Dollhouses, toy cars and walking dolls reminded me of The Sims and I began to relax.

The flight was smooth and we were over the town of Venice in no time at all. As we continued to fly south I saw a marsh and the Mississippi River for the first time in my 22 years as a New Yorker. I couldn’t believe the pattern of the islands, dunes and canals that fisherman navigate for fish, crabs and oysters. By the time we began to see evidence of the spill, about 20 miles from the city of Venice, I felt completely at ease. Little did I know that wouldn’t last long.

In all fairness, I’d been forewarned about the sharp turns — or banking — that the pilot was going to do so the multimedia folks could get the shots. Perhaps I underestimated how much you feel in a small plane but when the pilot made that first right bank — my left — I thought my stomach fell out of the bottom of the plane. We began banking to both the left and the right repeatedly before turning to do the same thing while flying in the opposite direction. What seemed like forever to me was probably less than 20 minutes, but by the time we looped around for the second round of banks, I’d requested a barf bag.

The good news is we got great material and I got to see the effects that the oil spill is having on the marshlands. It was definitely an eye opening experience.

The ride back to the airport was spent with my eyes closed, attempting to find my equilibrium again. Luckily, even the pilot was impressed with the smooth landing we made. By the time we got out of the plane and back into the car we were all a little sick, but very excited.

Lesson of the day, fear can hold you back from doing things that may actually turn out to be life-changing experiences. And always have a barf bag handy.

An earlier version of this article gave an incorrect last name for April Buffington.

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The only bird I can name off the top of my head is a pigeon. In my defense, I am from New York City where most wildlife is viewed from a safe distance in one of our zoos. So when some sort of animal that isn’t someone’s pet gets too close to me, I get suspicious of its intentions and a “freak-out” is imminent.

So imagine my horror when one of my Institute colleagues, Rodney Hawkins, opened the door of the small plane we’d just chartered to fly over the Gulf oil spill and a small grey bird flew into the cabin. First reaction: panic. Second reaction: hostility quickly replaced by horror. Again in my defense, I’ve never seen a wild bird want to be near people. Usually if a bird accidentally flies into a building or car I’ve been in, its immediate reaction is to try and get out. Not this bird.

As the panic began to run through me I thought of the movie “The Birds” and ducked my head as I’d seen the people in the movie do. Apparently this was interpreted as “Land here”:The next thing I knew the bird was standing on the nape of my neck. As I stood frozen in shock and horror, the pilot moodily told me to get out of the plane, probably afraid I’d break something in my panic.

When I moved to open the door, the bird jumped up on my head. At the sensation of tiny bird feet on my scalp, the freak-out ensued. I jumped out of the plane and the bird found its next victim, my fellow passenger April Buffington. The bird remained perched on April until she got out of the plane too.

I was standing less than 10 feet from where the bird caught its breath on the ground and as I met its beady little eyes, it made a bee line — or bird line in this case — straight for me. Using some expert evasive maneuvers, I was able to evade my attacker briefly. But like a bull with a matador, the bird made another attempt to land on me, but was again thwarted by my quick maneuvering.

Bored with me, the bird then attempted to land on the back of our faculty videographer, Mark Raymond, as he ran toward to the hangar. Finally, after all its efforts, the bird found the perfect perch: atop the pilot’s head. Happy ending for the bird, traumatic experience for me.

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On Thursday, a Greenpeace boat with seven journalists aboard traveled along the Gulf Coast and stopped at the mouth of the Mississippi River. Then they saw it: The oil spill causing one of the worst environmental disasters in the country’s history.

The reporters told me they had gazed in shock as they watched the oil slowly creep onto land and saturate the sand.

Sadly, there was not enough space for me on the boat. Three colleagues and I had traveled that day to Venice, La., the state’s southernmost tip, in hopes of witnessing the oil spill for ourselves. It didn’t happen, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying.

Greenpeace, the largest environmental group with 4,000 staff members worldwide, has been offering free boat trips to media outlets to spread the word about the devastation. At the rate of at least 5,000 barrels a day seeping into the Gulf of Mexico, this spill could become the worst in history.

Greenpeace representatives said they send out several boats per day. We didn’t make it on any of them.

We tried to bum rides out onto the water with local shrimpers, or with just about anyone else with a craft that floats. Then we considered hiring a boat. Simple enough, I thought.

Wrong.

The cost of a taking a four-seater boat to the spill off Venice was $600, plus the cost of fuel. That’s how much, the boat owners said, that they would charge for a typical fishing run.

It was much more, however, than I was prepared to spend. I’m sure my reaction gave away that I was a rookie correspondent. My eyes bulged and my head cocked back as if the words had punched me in the face.
I tried to compose myself and said “Oh, cool — well, let me call my editor and see what he says,” even though I already knew the answer.

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I had a really bad day today. A series of mistakes caused me to lose out on an important story. I’m still replaying the events in my mind, thinking about what I should have done differently. But I learned from this experience and want to share some tips with new and young journalists.

1. Don’t misrepresent yourself. Be clear about who you are, who you work for and the exact purpose of your request.
2. Identify the primary contact. By all means, try to reach the person you will be interviewing and have an in-depth discussion about your needs. E-mail is good, but the phone is best. Whenever a third party is involved, confusion can occur.
3. Be on time. This should be Journalism 101, right? Even if you’re running just a little late, make sure you promptly notify your sources.
4. Confirm plans. Things come up, so follow up with your source the night before or even the day of to make sure that your plans are still intact. Reiterate what you plan to discuss and the information you’ll need.
5. Get directions. Mapquest and similar websites can be tricky. But, more important, your source may have a more direct path to your destination. Also, make sure your source’s address has not changed.
6. Pay attention to the principal characters. Get your quotes and move on to the next person.
7. Everyone is important. It doesn’t matter if you’re interviewing a young Boy Scout on his Eagle achievement or the president and chief executive of a Fortune 500 company; treat each with the same amount of respect.

I had a really good story idea. I had done my research, my questions were written and the tape recorder was ready to go. But in the end I didn’t get the story. The lack of planning translated into unprofessionalism. It was a tough lesson to learn.

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