One of many who oiled the hinges A STORY WORTH TELLING
“There’s only one thing you have to know.”
— Dr. Heber Taylor
The obituary read: “Alfred Heber Taylor, a retired journalism professor and veteran of the Battle of the Bulge, answered the Call of Taps on Feb. 28, 2022.” Dr. Taylor’s good advice one morning was just one step in his helping me attain one of my goals in life.
I count him as one of many who oiled the hinges for me when the doors of opportunity opened.
After I chose the communications field for a career, the resulting roadmap included practicing journalism and sharing it with those aspiring to take the same journey — students.
It took an extra step to bridge those two, however. That came after a group of Shelby County residents convinced me to run for the Texas House of Representatives.
Although finishing a few votes short, I gained what I considered one the best “educations about people” not available in a classroom.
Throw your hat in the ring sometime.
It’s a unique learning opportunity.
The best part of the process turned out to be campaigning among educators at Stephen F.
Austin State University in Nacogdoches.
Parking on campus was a pain, but good fortune prevailed when I knocked on Dr. Taylor’s door. After getting acquainted over shared viewpoints regarding education, he asked a question I never saw coming.
“I wish you the best, but what are your plans if you’re not elected?”
“Well,” I said with some hesitation. “I’ve harbored aspirations of teaching journalism someday.”
With his everpresent smile, he responded, “If it turns out that politics is not part of what life has in store for you, come back and see me. We have a department full of journalism degrees, but none with experience. It would be nice to have someone who could bring real-life journalism to the classroom.”
With Super Tuesday primary votes counted, I missed the runoff by a scant few votes.
Remembering Dr.
Taylor’s offer, I was back in his office.
Some “leveling classes” and an assistant’s position in the summer and fall aligned my previous experience and non-related degree with university requirements. By the spring semester, I was added to the full-time staff.
And the best perk of all—a teacher parking permit.
I had traded my comfortable existence as a practicing journalist, editing copy and meeting deadlines for a classroom of aspiring news writers. I had studied the assigned text. I had crafted a simple syllabus promising a passing grade in exchange for grasping the fundamentals of newsgathering and breathing life into a story utilizing Associated Press style and inverted-pyramid format.
What I had not anticipated was an unexplained fear of facing news writing 101 students.
It wasn’t fear of public speaking. I was coming off a five-month trail of impromptu campaign speeches, candidate forums, pie suppers, church gatherings, civic clubs, media interviews and more.
It wasn’t lack of knowledge. I had 15 years of time in the newsroom trenches and a wall of awards.
It was more like, “What if I fumbled sounding like the hardnosed editor I had once been, but coming off sounding like a nervous substitute teacher?” Or, “What if I stumbled when asked difficult questions such as the pitfalls of relying on unnamed sources?”
Before I could finish stressing over my fears, it was time. The hour was here. I left my office and walked down the communications hallway in the Boynton Building. At the classroom door, I glanced in to see a couple of dozen waiting students. Then kept walking.
At the other end of the hallway, I whispered, “You got this.”
Walking past the classroom a second time, I saw Dr. Taylor exit his office with the same ever-present, relaxed smile.
Looking in my direction, he asked, “Nervous?”
“A little,” I confessed.
That’s when he offered advice that has served me well many times in the years since.
“All you have to know,” he said, “is just a little more than they do.”
“Good morning,” I announced to the class as I walked in. “My name is Leon Aldridge, and we are here to learn from each other.”
Contact Aldridge at leonaldridge@gmail. com. Other Aldridge columns are archived at leonaldridge.com.
