Kids with Mics

There's no better way to hear some truths than from a child.

by Bruce Schimmel

"So, Mr. Bruce, why are you teaching us journalism?" I was asked by a child in custody at the Youth Study Center. Let's call him Judson.

Judson is 14 years old, and a bit short for his age. A juvenile offender, Judson isn't violent. Hardly. If he's got a disability, it's that he's very, very smart, and easily bored. Which is why, he says, he escaped from his last group home.

You should hear Judson talk about his great escape. On the tape he made for journalism class, he describes how he outwitted the guards. How he got their pass keys and a cell phone. And then, how he drove off in one of their vans — whose dashboard he could barely see over.

Judson eventually turned himself in, and authorities didn't press charges. That's because, says Judson, the powers that be didn't want it known that they'd been hoodwinked by a kid.

That's the truth, says the young journalist, and he's convincing. Which is why whenever we listened to the tape of "Judson's Great Escape" in class, students, teachers and even guards couldn't help but giggle.

Now, it is me on the other side of the microphone, and Judson expects the truth.

"I'm teaching radio journalism at YSC," I answer, watching the recorder's lights flicker, "because audio is powerful."

(Uh-oh, I think. There's no turning back now.)

"When I was your age, around 14, my dad began to drink a lot. And it got bad.

"So one night, I got my tape recorder, and interviewed my dad while he was drunk. After he heard himself on tape the next day, I never saw him drunk again."

Believe it: A kid in possession of a mic is powerful. And if journalism's main mission is to speak truth to power, I think there's no better way to hear certain tough truths than through the voice of a child.

There's much more to the lives of young offenders than you'll see on The Wire. Stuff you ought to hear.

And in the 10 months I taught as a volunteer journalist through the Prime Movers Program, Judson and his classmates at YSC spoke a lot of truths.

Consider this story recorded by a 17-year-old we'll call Miranda. Since the age of 14, she'd committed dozens of petty crimes, precisely calibrated to land her in this detention center.

How about the true tale of another 17-year-old we'll call John? Being bullied in school, John's uncle gave him his first gun. He was just 7 at the time.

But you should really hear these stories in the children's own voices.

Unfortunately, you can't.

Because Philly's juvenile court system has yet to grant its young wards the same opportunities that other incarcerated children have elsewhere: a chance to be heard. To tell their own stories, in their own voices, if only anonymously.

In fact, there's virtually no opportunity to hear from any local young radio journalists — whether in custody or not. Unlike stations in New York, D.C., San Francisco and elsewhere, none of Philly's public radio stations sponsor youth journalism programs.

So, if you want an earful of what Philadelphia is missing, take a listen to the young re-porters out of WAMU in D.C.

Led by my former City Paper colleague Deborah Bolling, these young journalists tackle tough stories — about homeless youth, absentee dads, bullying and ADD. Things that children understand in some ways better than adults. Judge for yourself at yv.wamu.org.

And, fortunately, there is some hope in the air for Philadelphia youth radio. The tiny new community radio station, WPEB (88.1FM), says it will open its airwaves to young reporters.

WPEB may broadcast only in West Philly. But once Philadelphians begin to hear some truths out of the mouths of its children, many will wonder why they've been silenced for so long.

(bruce@schimmel.com)