I took a journalism class last fall. My teacher asked all of us to define journalism. I said something like, “pretentious news.” I can be a difficult student sometimes.
He appreciated my definition but continued to tell us his. One of those “I asked but I don’t really care just listen to me” types. Don’t you hate people like that.
Teachers, I guess.
His definition was interesting though.
Journalism: Soup of the day.
My journalism teacher
I immediately felt ashamed of my combative and ironically pretentious response. And I felt bad for making fun of him because I genuinely liked his definition more.
It was fun.
Jour in French means day. The word jour reminded my teacher of soupe du jour which translates to “soup of the day.” He said journalism always reminded him of soup.
To him, journalism means daily soup.
That stuck with me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Writing and soup. Its weird but it fits.
I’m not sure why.
“Writing isn’t soup, you silly.”
Why not?
When I think of soup, I think of thick broth. Potage, if you will. It’s warm and nutritious. And it took a long time to make.
All those things apply to writing. Thick. Warm. Nutritious. Time consuming.
Am I crazy?
Maybe I am, but if it hadn’t been for that talk about soup, I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed the class as much. I could tell he meant what he said. It came from years of teaching and a deep understanding of his subject.
I got all that from soup.
If it’s any consolation, I haven’t enjoyed a class that much in a long time.
I think that credits solely the teacher.
And because of that teacher, I now write soup.
Acceptable soup.