That's my Jen-aay

I “Forrest Gumped” my way here. I use that reference all the time to describe my professional journey. It implies that I found myself in a series of seemingly random events that led to accidental, yet mostly positive impacts on myself and those around me. That’s not exactly accurate, but my name is Jenny and I love that movie. And if you just whispered, “Jen-aay,” then you’re as old as I am and totally feel the reference.

But I take it back. I worked my ass off to get here and I’m all done with the “humble brag” qualifier. This is about to be the most braggiest of all the brags I’ve ever bragged.?

I don’t have a college degree. No, that’s not the brag. I am, however, incredibly proud of the education I received at the 6-month Broadcasting Institute of Maryland (BIM). It was a funeral parlor before it was a school. There was a cutout in the wall of the main classroom for the casket. Again, proud of the education, not the school. Guess who else was forced to learn in that creepy “classroom?” Robin Quivers, our most famous BIM alum! Now that’s a name worth dropping.

I graduated in February of 1999 on the President’s List and with perfect attendance. I love that they used a quasi-higher-education reference like “President” versus “Dean.” We didn’t have a dean. We were adults. At 19 though, I was one of the youngest students.

My classmates were pursuing their dreams of being on television or radio. Some were actually interested in journalism, but many romanticized the perceived fame that goes along with being recognized in public.

I had zero interest in either. I wanted to be a TV news videographer, the path of which I was told by our President, the one whose list I made, was a “waste of my face.” My mom said I should be flattered. I was pissed. And still am. A face is not a skill. Having words come out of the face strung together to communicate intelligent thoughts is. But that’s not what I spent those perfectly attended 6 months doing, now is it?

But that’s another rant for another day.?

I worked at television news stations in York, PA; Myrtle Beach, SC; and West Palm Beach, FL. This face was hardly wasted when I shot interviews with Mikhail Gorbachev and Madeleine Albright, Shaquille O'Neal and Tiger Woods, Rachael Ray and Meredith Vieira. It certainly wasn’t wasted at the United Nations the day Colin Powell discussed the impending war after the September 11th attacks or when an underserved Haitian community moved into their new village and the kids marveled at my “magic” camera. This face has seen shuttle launches and hanging chads, a whale necropsy and the DC Sniper’s arrest. I can’t imagine this face anywhere other than behind the camera.

I loved videography so much and was so inspired by my beloved BIM teacher, Mr. Smalley, that I left TV news to become the first Television Production teacher at Jensen Beach High School. In Florida, you can teach a vocation if they consider you an expert in your field. Author’s note: Expert in field does not equal expert in classroom. I didn’t have cameras for the first 8 weeks. Insert obvious problem and ugly crying here. The kids ate me alive and their parents were worse. I was 24 years old and not a “real teacher.” I thought my enthusiasm would be enough to encourage kids to pursue TV production as a career. ‘Twas not. Well, except for one—so proud of you, Daniel Marlow!

I went back to my old news job after a year and a half in the classroom. I spent another two years behind the camera; then the news director started pushing me and the other videographers to step in front of it. They wanted to double their staff by building an army of one-man bands who could report and shoot. I refused. My news director told me I wasn’t the unique snowflake I thought I was and that he could replace me with someone younger and cheaper. And he did.

My next stop was the City of Port St. Lucie. No more celebrity interviews or shuttle launches for me. It was all public meetings and Breakfast with Santa. I started settling into the slower pace when our Public Information Officer left, and I was forced to do the thing with my face that I had been avoiding all this time—put it on camera. Ugh. It’s funny to go back in the archives and look at my ever-changing hair and ugly tops. At least not many people were watching as my face fumbled through interviews and struggled to string words together. I officially became the City’s Public Information Officer, but I was still shooting and editing video, plus writing for the website and social media, reporting, hosting, and giving interviews—a true one-man band. Guess I am a unique snowflake.

I discovered my local Florida Public Relations Association (FPRA) Chapter, which was an amazing resource since I really had no idea what I was doing. I dove deep into that organization and took advantage of every learning opportunity. I served on the local and state boards and went through their leadership program.

After two years of Public Information Officer-ing, I was excited to leave videography behind and transfer to the City’s water and sewer department to oversee the nonexistent education and outreach program. I was able to build it from the ground up and actually teach without all the rotten kids and mean parents. But first, I’d have to learn water and sewer—another topic I knew nothing about, and it turns out, I absolutely love it! I’ve been in front of thousands of kids since implementing the program, teaching them about water conservation and our treatment processes.

Once I reached my fifth year in a public relations role, I was able to pursue accreditation in public relations (APR), which meant if I passed a panel presentation and exam, I would have letters after my name. And I’d be official. As mentioned, PR is not my background. I’ve been “Forrest Gumping” for the last five years. Well, challenge accepted! I took the course, worked hard, and passed the panel, but failed the exam. So, I regrouped and took the exam again. And with tears in my eyes, I passed! I’m official! I know what I’m doing!

Since then, I won the FPRA Communicator of the Year Award, FPRA Member of the Year Award, the City of Port St. Lucie Humanitarian Award, and the prestigious Golden Image Award.

Fast forward to five more years in public relations, and now I’m eligible to go after the Certified Public Relations Counselor (CPRC) designation—more letters after my name! I recall meeting my first APR, CPRC. I was in awe. I never thought in a million years I’d be on that level. After all, I went to a 6-month broadcasting school in an old funeral parlor. I don’t have a degree. I’m Jen-aay. I’m a proud face-waster. I’m an old videographer with a bum shoulder and sore lower back. Hardly worthy of “counselor” status.

But I wanted it for myself. This was the next step. It was completely and utterly personal, and I wanted it. So, I went after it. And as my husband would say, “I shot my shot.” I shot my shot from that classroom with the casket cutout. I shot my shot in front of those awful parents who told me I wasn’t a real teacher. I shot my shot from my news director’s office after he told me I had no value. I shot my shot after begrudgingly putting my face on camera and letting everyone see my mistakes.

And guess what? Me and that CPRC process were like peas and carrots.

I passed and I did it.

I did it all for me. And as you’ll see on my face, I could not be more proud.