There's more behind the score

The feeling of being judged has been on my mind a lot lately.

It comes with the job. Every editor, every reporter, every person who puts their work in front of the public knows what that feels like. Some people seem immune to it. They take on an assignment and don’t worry about what anyone thinks. I’d like to be one of those people but I’m not there yet.

The judgment shows up in phone calls and emails from readers who want us to take on big, complicated stories — the kind of work that defines what some perceive as the best in journalism. The watchdog role matters. It always has.

But the reality is this: not every newsroom is built the same.

When I tell someone that a story they care about is outside the bandwidth of a weekly paper with two writers, it’s not because it isn’t important. It’s because those stories require time, persistence and staffing that we simply don’t have. As an editor, my job is to choose the stories we can do well — and to make those choices every single week.

I know how that looks from the outside. Some of you probably think I don’t have a clue. That’s where the feeling of being judged creeps in.

We work hard to produce good content. That’s the goal. But there’s another reality we can’t ignore. Newspapers survive on revenue and that is dwindling right now. The choices we make about what to cover are tied, whether we like it or not, to what keeps the lights on.

Since I arrived in September, our content strategy has shifted. We’ve leaned heavily into storytelling — into people, into community, into the kinds of stories we can tell well. I hope that direction resonates. I also hope it’s evaluated with an understanding of the degree of difficulty.

That phrase — degree of difficulty — means a lot to me.

In sports like gymnastics or diving, something that looks less than perfect can score higher than something that appears flawless. Why? Because the routine itself is harder. The judges account for that.

Many of us, myself included, don’t always do that in everyday life.

We look at outcomes such as test scores, headlines, and records, and make quick judgments without understanding what went into them.

I’ve been reminded of that recently.

I sat with a group of fifth graders experimenting with artificial intelligence, asking smart questions and creating things that would have seemed impossible not long ago. I watched middle school students pour themselves into a mock trial competition, bringing energy and focus that was impossible to ignore.

I see it with young athletes. I see it with teachers and coaches.

I see it in small, steady ways that don’t always show up in the numbers we like to measure. The snapshot of a singular moment in time that we think tells the story.

Behind those numbers is effort. Growth. Progress.

Things aren’t perfect. Not here at the Bulletin. Not in our schools. Not anywhere, really. But they’re much better than the credit we tend to give.

If we can step back, if we can look beyond the surface and understand the degree of difficulty, we might judge a little less harshly and be a little more ready to help and lift rather than tear down.

And maybe, just maybe, we’ll start to notice that it’s really all about how we’re doing at getting a little better every day.