They call me "Professor Cillizza"

What teaching taught me.

(This is NOT what my classroom looked like.)

My first last class as a college professor was Monday.

I brought donuts. (I am nothing if not committed to being well liked!) I let the students ask me about my best and worst moments in journalism.

Best: The 2008 conventions. Barack Obama was emerging as a generational political talent. Twitter was in its infancy (aka the good old days). I was in my early 30s and at the Washington Post. The whole world seemed to be in front of me.

Worst: “Mad Bitch” beer. Yes, this was worse than getting laid off. Because it was my fault. I just did something very stupid.

(Sidebar: This was the late 2000s. It was a different time in journalism. WAY different. Don’t judge me too harshly.)

It was, I think, a fine last class as these things go.

To take a quick step back for newer subscribers: At the end of the summer, Syracuse University offered me the chance to teach an undergraduate class on political journalism.

I was initially going to say “no” because, well, I have never taught a class on anything before. I was nervous I wouldn’t do it right. That the kids wouldn’t like me. That they (and their parents) wouldn’t get their money’s worth.

But, I am in a period of saying “yes” to almost everything in my life — and that included this opportunity. So, I did it.

We had, I think, 14 total classes — once a week for three hours. (I never went the full three hours.)

How did I do? Well, the kids — I think — do an evaluation of me. (I haven’t seen it yet.) But, I thought it was worth doing some self evaluation too.

Overall, I think I was, well, ok. (Not trying to be falsely modest or anything. I think the first time you do anything is usually the worst you will be at it!)

I didn’t have a clear sense of how I wanted to spend every class. There was some element of making it up as I went along. (Do all teachers do this?)

I organized the first few classes around the various different kinds of political reporting: Congress, White House, campaigns. Those were, I think, good.

I brought in some of my political reporter friends — Peter Baker of the New York Times, Paul Kane and Philip Bump of the Washington Post — to talk to the kids about their own experiences in journalism. I think those classes were the best (for the kids and me).

And I tried to make sure I was hitting on the other BIG elements of political reporting: Money in politics, ethics in journalism and the like. Those classes were a little hit or miss. Some better than others.

The class was small — just two students — so most of the time we sat around a small table and just talked. Which I liked. I was never a fan of lecturing (or being lectured at) for hours on end as a learning mechanism.

So, what did I learn?

That teaching is hard as hell. (I suspected this before but didn’t know it because I had never taught!) It requires a level of sustained energy and attention that is utterly exhausting. You have to be “on” whether or not you feel like it. There were definitely a few mornings (the class was on Mondays from 9:30 am -12:30 pm) where I was dragging at the start.

And/but teaching is tremendously exhilarating too. No matter what my mood was going into the class, it was always better when I left. The energy and inquisitiveness that young people have is contagious. They asked questions I hadn’t thought about in a very long time. They pushed me on my preconceived notions. They showed me how differently their generation looks at the world (and journalism) than I do. They surprised me with their knowledge (and sometimes with what they didn’t know or remember; I had to explain the whole Mark Sanford “Appalachian Trail” thing to them!)

That exhilaration ties into the biggest thing I took away from teaching: That I still love journalism.

When I started teaching the class, I was having real doubts about whether or not I would continue in the media world. The CNN experience was, as I have written (a lot!), tremendously jarring (and scarring) for me.

I had spent my whole professional life thinking of myself as a journalist. I assumed I would ALWAYS work in the media.

But, for a long while there after CNN let me go, I questioned that. I thought that, maybe, this was a sign. That the universe was telling me that my time writing and talking about politics was at an end.

That was where my head was at when we had our first class in late August. I had a foot out the door of journalism. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do next but I knew it wasn’t (probably) going to be reporting and writing on politics.

But then I started talking (and teaching) about journalism. About my experiences. About lessons I learned. About stories I covered. About friends (and enemies) I made. About the last 25 years of my life.

And I realized that I still loved (and love) political journalism. I love the personalities. The storylines. The polls. The strategy. The ideas. The scheming. I love all of it.

Over the course of the three-ish months that I taught the class, I fell back in love with journalism. (Or, probably more accurately, I realized that I had never fallen out of love with journalism.)

Which is why — not coincidentally — the last few months have been my most productive on Substack! I am beginning to see a future for myself doing this, with Substack (and all of you) playing a really big part.

---

Have I mentioned lately that you becoming a paid subscriber would mean the world to me? Well, I am mentioning it again!

---

In short: I went into teaching to help kids learn about political journalism. And, like I said, I think I did alright on that front. (I think I will be better the next time I teach!) But, ultimately, I wound up learning a profound lesson about myself.

Which, maybe, is why people stay in teaching? Because as much as you can teach the kids, you wind up learning a whole lot about yourself in the process too.

I am forever thankful to my students — Andrew and Heidi — for the gift they gave me: Opening my eyes to how great journalism (for all its flaws!) really is and how much I still enjoy doing it. Thank you.