At its core, journalism is a cycle of listening and responding. And the goosebumps stick because every inch of that cycle is my passion.
“So which one of you guys is Kobe?”
My heart starts to race as if I hadn’t spent months preparing for this interview.
My eyes turn to meet hers, only locking for a brief second before I notice her left arm. The left arm that's swollen, red and scarred. The left arm that could've killed her that night of July 7, 2016.
And it doesn’t take long for it to become the centerpiece of our conversation.
“This one was the first shot,” she says, motioning to her scars. “It went in here, and then came out here.”
Sitting in the middle of a bustling Monday-afternoon Starbucks with orders and noise bouncing off the walls, it somehow felt like she was the only one speaking. She had a lock around my attention, and I had three-months-worth of questions I’d been waiting to ask her.
Because just three months earlier, the world watched as a peaceful Black Lives Matter protest in downtown Dallas took a turn for the worse, shooting through my hometown's reputation and firing three bullets at the woman in front of me — officer Misty McBride.
As a budding journalist, I knew I couldn’t watch these attacks from the sidelines. And I knew despite the chaos, a story was unfolding that my community needed to hear.
It wasn’t until I met with officer McBride during her daily trip to Starbucks that I realized the angle for that story — the angle for my first single-topic magazine as Focus Magazine editor.
“I don’t think I should’ve come home that night,” she said.
I’m not looking at my questions or notes anymore. As she walks me through her story, I’m just concentrating on the gravity of her words.
Eating dinner with her partner, officer Brent Thompson, before the protest. Feeling the first shot in her left arm. And sliding on a blue bracelet honoring officer Thompson’s death later that night.
By the time she reaches the end of her story and turns her focus to me, I’m sitting with a how-do-I-respond stare — stammering to find the right words — as my list of questions fades from right in front of me.
“Do you think you’ll ever be back in the uniform one day?”
“Hell, I’ve grown up wanting to be a cop,” she says without missing a beat. “I’m not gonna let one person ruin something I’ve worked hard to do. So, yeah, I’m going back. It’s not going to stop me.”
Even after I turn off my recorder, thank officer McBride for her time and openness, and collapse into the quiet of my car, I still have goosebumps. The goosebumps came from officer McBride’s inspirational story. But they stay with me because I know the privilege — and the responsibility — of sharing this story with my community rests with me.
As editor-in-chief of The ReMarker, I get that same this-is-all-worthwhile wave of goosebumps when my staff presents a compelling story idea on pitch day, when I get a powerful quote during an interview or when I hear a wave of chatter on newspaper-distribution day. Because journalism, at its core, is a cycle of listening and responding. And the goosebumps stick because every inch of that cycle is my passion.
So I’ll write questions, anticipate emotions and prepare for interviews. But I’ve learned that to experience and enjoy journalism at its core, I have to be comfortable with letting situations unfold. Because I realize now that sometimes I have to let my notes fade away, have to put my patience and empathy above my questions and have to embrace compassionate interviews over scripted ones.
And to truly tell the story, I've learned you must get at its core. I have to lock my attention around the story in front of me, let the bustling Starbucks noise disappear and embrace those moments when I leave everything behind for that left arm — a left arm that showed me the power of storytelling.
The power that has made me the journalist I am today.
As you probably know by now, my name is Kobe Roseman, and I'm a senior at St. Mark's School of Texas.
This website is a portfolio of work over my past four years as a scholastic journalist. Whether it's as a beat reporter, staff writer, Focus Magazine editor or editor-in-chief of The ReMarker, journalism has given me a work ethic, a drive and a place to grow. It’s made me more involved in my school, my city and my world. And by taking a trip through this website, I hope you'll see how the skills I’ve learned in the publications suite have completely shaped me into the person I am today.
In my application for editor last year, I referred to The ReMarker as “the school’s engine" — a vehicle for the community to learn of issues and events that affect their daily lives. It's a tool connecting alumni back to campus and a vehicle which provides our editorial leadership a platform to speak on the behalf of students. But even more so, The ReMarker is a real-world, workplace environment that has turned this apathetic beginning journalism student into a hardworking leader — focused, committed and involved. This powerful combination of product and people is why I’ve invested hours in my work — certainly in the publications suite, but also on the streets of downtown Dallas, on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and beyond.
This is why our administration supports our ambitious projects and gives us great freedom to tell the stories that matter. At its core, the mission of The ReMarker — the mission driving everything I do in journalism — is not only to provide staff members the opportunity to grow through the newspaper's workplace environment the way I did, but to create a product that stimulates engaging conversations in our wide-reaching community.
Thank you in advance for taking the time to visit this website and learn a bit more about me and the work I do.
Hopefully you'll enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed putting it all together.