A look at our Civic Reporting fellowship program and how we train emerging journalists
By Ariel Cheung
One of my favorite aspects of our Civic Reporting fellowship is how each assignment builds off the one before. Fellows start interviewing one another for their bios (if you missed it last week, check out what our winter fellows wrote about one another!) and end four months later with an editorial project focused on their beat.
In recent weeks, I got the opportunity to see those threads connect. As I was working with our fall fellows on their final project, we were looking for an intriguing lead for one of their features about affordable housing in Bronzeville. We needed to introduce one of the main sources, who owns a neighborhood barbershop.
Thanks to one of our earliest fellowship assignments, they already knew what to do. “Think back to the Listening Posts,” I suggested. “That’s how you set the scene.”
At the same time, our winter fellow cohort had just received that very assignment. Their job was to head to a community-focused space they’d never been to — a coffee shop, a church, an advocacy organization — and develop their observational reporting skills. Their reports were supposed to paint a picture, using all the senses to bring the reader into the story.
It can be more challenging than it sounds — simply observing without inserting oneself into what’s happening isn’t always easy. Still, it’s amazing how much a reporter can glean without conducting a single interview. — Ariel Cheung, editorial director, City Bureau
Here are a few excerpts from each:
At a free Catholic Charities dinner in River North: In between bites of food, people are having conversations about their day. An asylum-seeker is telling her friends the importance of knowing a few phrases in English. She shares the phrases she finds the most important: “How are you?” “Hello, my name is …” “Where is the bathroom?” Her friends exclaim in amazement over how perfect her English sounds.
The volunteers go around with second servings. A child calls a volunteer over for more food, and his mother tells him under her breath to not ask for more. But her family member tells her, “Children need to eat! Don’t deny him seconds.” — Erika Perez
At New Life Centers in Little Village: It’s Thursday morning — mutual aid day. By noon, a line of regulars from the neighborhood and asylum-seekers snakes to the basement. Roughly 100 people sit in the tightly packed room, drinking hot chocolate and coffee provided by staff.
Everyone is speaking Spanish, but in one corner, I catch the whispers of two men speaking in Nahuatl, an indigenous language spoken primarily in the Michoacan region of Mexico.
Near the middle of the room, a woman from Venezuela waits for her number to be announced. She hopes to receive enough free groceries from the nearby food pantry to last the week for her three children.
“Personas con los números del veinte al treinta y cinco!” an employee announces. Rodriguez continues to scroll through her phone. Her number is in the 50s. She arrived at the church early from her apartment in the Pullman neighborhood.
“Treinta y seis a cincuenta!” the employee announces again.
The woman looks up and puts her phone away in her pocket. She’s up next. — Sebastián Hidalgo
During a training about asylum documentation at Christ Lutheran Church in Albany Park: While the adults continue to make headway, two young brothers entertain themselves. They seem oblivious to their parents’ actions, content in their own little world.
The older brother takes on the role of parent and sibling. He makes sure to feed his younger brother extra mozzarella sticks — the parent — while simultaneously refusing to let him win an arm wrestling match — the sibling.
The volunteers add to the brothers' fun by handing them a few board games and coloring utensils to “get rid of their boredom.” As the event dwindles, everyone finds the time to enjoy a couple of slices of pizza — Chicago’s version of breaking bread. — Abena Bediako
At a City Hall meeting of the Committee for Immigrant and Refugee Rights: The vaulted ceilings and hushed chatter in the council chambers at City Hall makes the room feel like a temple.
The first speaker is an asylum-seeker who shares in Spanish that he is grateful for having temporary housing, but he is asking for medical attention and better food at shelters. While he speaks, two women seated just feet away start booing and demanding he speak English: “We don’t know what they’re saying! They could be saying they’re gonna put a bomb in our neighborhood!”
A landlord who has opened one of his apartment buildings to asylum-seekers speaks about the need for better solutions as a sanctuary city. Someone recognizes him and jeers, “That’s the one that let them invade our neighborhood!”
All the while, above the council seats, a banner declares Chicago: “The Welcoming City.” — Roger Fierro
A version of this story was first published in a Feb. 16 2024 edition of the Newswire, a newsletter filled with civic knowledge and opportunities for Chicagoans who want to make a difference in and for their communities.
Want to check out more civic reporting from our fellowship? Take a look at past projects here.