0
(0)

Long cuts and unexpected story choices are among the key features of the veteran journalist’s work.

By Will Callan

Are you aware that third and fourth graders care about how their cafeteria food is packaged?

What can you say about the views of young new U.S. citizens re: their new home, its problems and virtues?

Do you know what a varroa mite is?

These questions might make sense only to those who follow the reporting of Colorado Public Radio’s Jenny Brundin, who brings an inventiveness and curiosity to her work that can easily make you forget that she’s reporting about schools.

Including 12 years covering education for CPR and 16 years before that working for KUER Utah public radio, Brundin’s career as a journalist spans almost three decades and a handful of beats.

Her bio, including work as a literacy instructor for refugees, helps explain her diverse interests and deference to students when presenting her stories.

Her work is among the rare K-12 reporting that I actually get excited to read — or, in her case, listen to.

Her work is among the rare K-12 reporting that I actually get excited to read — or, in her case, listen to.

But why, exactly? What sets Jenny Brundin’s work apart?

A big part of the appeal is Brundin’s broad approach to subject matter. She seems to answer the question of what makes a good education story differently than other reporters.

In addition to covering more typical education stories such as school board politics, school safety, academic performance, and other inevitable pieces of news, she takes us to places we might otherwise learn nothing about, such as naturalization ceremonies and cafeteria-food conventions.

This approach allows her to present kids in all their joyful, goofy, and determined personalities (this story about a debate team and this one about skateboarding are great examples).

She also narrows in on underappreciated populations within the education system, such as nontenure-track professors.

Brundin is also, quite simply, a master of radio — a medium well-suited to stories about education, with the ability to capture the sounds of a world that’s become unfamiliar to many listeners.

She plays with form and breaks conventions in ways that always make her story settings more immediate, her characters more complex.

She plays with form and breaks conventions. 

Her stories sometimes feature long cuts from sources — extended responses that feature-format radio journalism typically doesn’t accommodate — and back-and-forths with interviewees that many radio journalists don’t have the time or inclination to include.

In combination, these two qualities — a keen eye for the unexpectedly interesting, and a mastery of radio journalism — produce work that often subverts dominant narratives in education news.

The craft of radio

How big a role should a reporter play in the story she’s telling?

Judging from her radio work, this is a question Brundin asks herself often.

A recent radio piece about the first graduating class of Denver Public Schools’ community hub program — which helps Spanish-speaking parents with childcare, English, and earning their GED — gets off to an interesting start. Its protagonist, 37-year-old Maria del Rosario, says her name and age — a fairly typical cut to kick off a profile.

But then, atypically, she’s allowed to keep talking.

She talks about her journey from Mexico, her early struggles with English, her two jobs. Almost a minute passes before Brundin resumes her narration. And even this time, it’s just for a few seconds — the mic is quickly passed back to her subject.

Brundin’s narrative style here — clarifying but not controlling — is representative of her work elsewhere. She lets sources speak at length, which is uncommon in a 4- to 5-minute public radio feature. As Brundin fades into the background, her pieces become not about what she’s learned in her reporting, but about what her sources can teach us.

The result in this case is a more fully human look at the sort of district-community program that is extremely difficult to talk about without repeating vague comms-approved talking points.

In most of Brundin’s radio pieces, you can expect to hear a lot from her sources.

You can expect to hear a lot from her sources.

One story profiles a classroom of fifth-graders designing methods for ridding honeybees of disease-carrying varroa mites. Long and well-arranged pieces of audio illuminate the students’ sophisticated thinking as they continually revise their designs.

One group builds a “bee car wash” that involves funneling the bees through a tube of bristles that can scrape the mites into a container of lavender and thyme — “a freaky mixture that mites hate,” one student explains.

In a story about a naturalization ceremony for 48 kids ages 3-14 in Denver, children have the first and final word. In another about a skateboarding program at an elementary school in Longmont, kids talk thoughtfully about learning the new sport.

Brundin has one 9-year-old describe his progress:

“On the mini ramp, I kept saying ‘I can’t do it, I can’t do it, it’s not possible,’” he says at first.

Then he nails a trick: “I was so excited, I felt that feeling. The fire was burning inside me. I was like, ‘let’s go!’”

Finally, he reflects: “It’s changed me to be a little patient-er. I’m still not patient. But I’m a little better.”

One of The Grade’s priorities is encouraging education journalists to give more voice to students and parents; Brundin’s work accomplishes this.

This is politically important, documenting the opinions of those served by public schools. But in Brundin’s case, it also makes the work more engaging — frankly, more entertaining. It makes her stuff worth a listen.

Documenting the opinions of those served by public schools makes the work more engaging.

Choice of subject matter

The pieces highlighted in the previous sections aren’t your typical education stories. The story about the naturalization ceremony, it could be argued, isn’t about education at all.

This is another of Brundin’s virtues: Her work widens the scope of the education beat, encompassing stories that are often ignored by education reporters but shed light on the education system.

Though the citizenship story doesn’t mention education, the implication is obvious. These children are part of Denver’s future. They are served by Denver’s public schools. Their opinions about things like American history and school safety matter.

Asked by Brundin if there’s anything he doesn’t understand about the U.S., 13-year-old Eyoas from Ethiopia gives a thoughtful response:

Eyoas: Some people say the USA is kinda bad, like there’s some things wrong with it.

Brundin: He says he’s learned about the US’s violent and unjust history, but in his opinion, so far, in the short time he’s been here…

Eyoas: I’ve never seen, like, so many good things happen in one continent, really.

For another recent story, Brundin spoke with vendors at a cafeteria-food convention about keeping up with a new generation of hungry consumers at the outset of a new program providing free meals to all students in the state.

The piece could have easily been a dud. There’s no drama inherent in children’s dietary preferences, and a convention is a potential minefield of unsatisfying corporate messaging.

But in Brundin’s telling, the convention isn’t about the conventioneers, but the kids they serve.

We learn from one district’s nutrition director that kids “want a greener solution” and won’t tolerate plastic packaging. We learn how the large Muslim populations in Denver, Aurora, and Greeley are steering those districts away from pork and other non-halal products.

As in the citizenship story, we come away having learned about an area (the packaged foods industry) that intersects with public schools in ways we might not have imagined.

When I listen to stories like this, I wonder: What exactly are the limits of the education beat?

When I listen to stories like this, I wonder: What exactly are the limits of the education beat? 

Complicating dominant narratives

With her unusual deference to her sources and her interest in under-explored areas, it should come as no surprise that Brundin’s work often complicates dominant narratives.

Over time, what emerges is a picture of American (or at least Coloradan) public schools that doesn’t always resemble the money pits and battlegrounds that often get depicted on television.

Brundin adds new depth to coverage of gender in the classroom with a recent story about a majority-female AP computer science class in Denver, and another about the retirement of one of Colorado’s only female woodshop instructors.

Brundin’s work as a whole, in its diversity of subject matter and depth of treatment, challenges the idea that impactful stories must uncover problems, abuse, and malfeasance.

In the hands of a lesser reporter, much of Brundin’s material might lead to insubstantial feel-good stories whose very existence bolsters that false notion about problem-oriented journalism.

But when Brundin takes on, say, a Denver charter school’s road to the national speech and debate championships, we don’t only hear a (somewhat familiar) underdog success story; we hear about the students’ relationships with their teacher and their hard-earned rise to oratorical prowess.

Ultimately, we come to see the speech and debate class as the culmination (so far) of their academic careers.

As their teacher says: “There’s so many questions that start to materialize in a student’s head about their own learning, what learning is, what they can bring to it when they have speech and debate. It’s a magic class.”

Over her many years on the beat (and other beats — and other jobs), Brundin has become expert at the most basic yet difficult of journalistic skills: listening.

A good listener can make any topic relevant and surprising — and, as if often the case in Brundin’s work, uplifting.

Previously from Callan

When more education coverage isn’t better
Drama, characters, and ambiguity: key elements of high-quality school innovations coverage
Why the National Reading Panel report didn’t fix reading instruction 20 years ago

Previously from The Grade

Why reading went under the radar for so long – & what Emily Hanford is aiming to do about it
What makes New York Times education reporter Erica Green so good?
How Bethany Barnes became a star education reporter
How New Yorker writer Rachel Aviv tells education stories
Nikole Hannah-Jones, the Beyoncé of education journalism
Remote reporting doesn’t work, either.

How useful was this post?

Click on a star to rate it!

Average rating 0 / 5. Vote count: 0

No votes so far! Be the first to rate this post.