I thought I was leaving journalism behind and starting a new chapter in my life when I quit to work at the university.
I had been passionate about journalism, and teaching was my profession. One took me on a trip to meet people and go out and get stories; the other put me in a classroom.
For years, I spent time in my mind, thinking that these worlds were separate. With a vision, a classroom could be a newsroom, and students could be storytellers whose work would transcend grades.
This came to light during the COVID-19 pandemic. As with so many journalists, I found the calm of the lockdown difficult. But it was the least active time of my career that was the most transformative.
The shift to online learning at universities prompted me to research mobile journalism with a group of curious and motivated students. A couple of years back, I had foreseen that mobile journalism would be the main source of technological revolution in the media industry of Bangladesh.
At that time, it seemed that the prediction was already coming true. Most crucially, I found that mobile journalism wasn’t about tech; it was about people. It works best to make journalists ‘closer to people’.
A smartphone isn’t only a camera or an editing device; it’s a handy way of documenting human experience.
Journalism has always been about individuals. Technology just makes for a more accessible, more inclusive and faster way to tell a story.
It slowly changed my methodology of teaching. The traditional approach to journalism education involves examining published material, understanding newsroom procedures, and undertaking assignments that are graded.
I started asking myself the question: why should classroom work be done in the classroom? Why was it that students could not create stories that would hold up to the standards of a professional newsroom and would benefit the public?
It was these questions that prompted an experiment that ended up being the most significant of my academic career: From Classroom to Newsroom. I didn’t try to teach the students to memorise journalism; I tried to make them practice it.
They went where they were invited, they spoke to people, they recorded untold stories, they made mistakes, and they learned their lessons. My view is that journalism can’t be learnt in books; it’s about interacting with society.
I started there in 2020 and began teaching Mobile Storytelling for five successive years to undergraduate students. Over time, our classroom grew to be a sort of creative newsroom, with every assignment used as if it were a real publication.
I would remind my students over and over that their story would be read by not just their teacher, but a news editor as well. That was the only command that shifted their thinking.
They weren’t just creating work to get marks; they were creating journalism that might make a difference. Soon, our classroom went beyond the campus of the university.
Students came from the city streets, by the riverside, from rural villages, coastal communities, and the hill tracts – wherever interesting stories were to be found.
Getting there, they discovered that journalism is not about cameras and software but about empathy, patience, curiosity and trust. They found that the most important talent of a journalist is the skill to get onto people.
Their change of work was astounding. Instead of doing routine assignments, the students discussed topics that concern daily life: environmental protection, biodiversity, public transport, river pollution, animal welfare, local governance and problems in the university communities.
Journalism started to be used for public service instead of for academic purposes.
The first publication opened many more doors. During the subsequent years, students’ multimedia reports have been published or broadcast by sixteen national and international media organisations.
Over 300 mobile journalism stories made it into professional newsrooms. The numbers are not as significant as their meaning. They show that classroom journalism is able to achieve, within the classrooms, professional journalism standards and to provide the audience with issues of public interest.
The project also challenged a long-held belief about journalism education. In the past, newsrooms have educated universities. We tried to establish a relationship that universities could also turn to newsrooms. It evolved into a true joint venture.
Media organisations received new, community-centred narratives, and students had a taste of the demands of working with professional editors, real audiences and the dues of public-interest journalism.
This was when I became convinced of the need to change journalism training. With the advent of the 4th Industrial Revolution, learning through technology is no longer sufficient.
Academic learning needs to be reinforced by industry collaboration and experience in universities.
Graduates must not only have degrees but confidence, experience and the capacity to adapt to the continually evolving media marketplace as well. It started as a classroom project, and it slowly turned into something bigger.
It wasn’t just a class anymore; it was an effort to bridge the large divide that has long existed between the university and the newsroom, and a testament that learning isn’t finished in the classroom but starts when one is in society.
One thing has stayed the same in an era where AI, automation and digital platforms are changing the tools of storytelling: without human connection, there is no storytelling. But some of the best stories still come from the lives and struggles, dreams and daily lives of people themselves.
That’s why I have always told my students that technical skills can be enhanced through technology, but the most important factor that makes them a successful journalist is their understanding and ability to gain the trust of people.
The activity was also extended to other countries apart from Bangladesh. I have been fortunate to have lectured and worked on mobile journalism at over 15 higher education institutions across India in the last couple of years.
Those experiences left a lasting impression that the difficulties that we dealt with are not exclusive to any one university or country. In South Asia, journalism faculties are exploring approaches to put educational processes into practice, engage in social issues and align with a changing media environment.
This local study in Bangladesh could help in this regional discussion. All the power of this trip, however, has never been about technology, research or institutional support. It has always been my students; all the time.
They continually challenged and inspired me with their curiosity, creativity, resilience and ability to take on challenges that were new or different. At times, I felt more like a fellow student exploring new potentialities with them than like a teacher.
It was a great privilege to see the students develop with these experiences, which became my greatest joy as a teacher.
Those who initially were reluctant to voice their opinions in class slowly gained confidence in interviewing strangers, reporting on sensitive issues, and presenting stories before professionals.
Journalism was no longer simply another college class, but an opportunity to know, to participate in and to shape society.
Many student reports were highly influential outside the walls of the magazine.
Some stories were used to increase the hours of the library at the university, improve student transport, raise awareness among students about conservation of the environment, and even save and treat injured animals.
It was clear from these experiences that an important rule of journalism is that its value lies in its ability to bring about real change in the lives of people, not in how much it is shared.
From Classroom to Newsroom is, for me, more than a title of a project – it is a statement of a project’s goals. It is a simple yet persistent faith: Learning is relevant to society.
Academic knowledge is meaningful when it has relevance to people’s lives, and journalism’s duty is greatest when it serves the public interest.
As a wandering journalist, the legendary Bangladeshi journalist Monajat Uddin was a great influence on my own way of reporting. He went out and walked with ordinary people, listening to voices not heard by mainstream media, to find stories.
That’s a legacy I try to pick up on, so that I can often talk about my students as Charan journalists. Their job isn’t just to travel; it’s to connect with people with empathy, to learn from what they’re doing, and to engage those experiences in the communal discourse.
Technology will continue to progress. Cameras will diminish in size, platforms will evolve, and AI will transform a lot of newsroom practices.
One thing will be constant, though: This isn’t about technology; it’s about people and human beings. It is not something that can be generated from a desk; it has to be uncovered in communities, conversations and lived experiences.
When someone asks me what the most important thing of this trip is, I never say the number of stories published, the universities I’ve spoken in or the number of students that are now professional journalists.
These are significant milestones, but not a true legacy. The best thing one can see is what occurs when the doors of a classroom are opened.
What comes out is not just a bunch of graduates, but fresh ideas, more confidence and a new generation of journalists who are equipped to positively interact with society.
Reflecting on the situation today, I feel as though I didn’t just teach mobile journalism. I attempted to bridge the invisible gap between the classroom and newsroom. My students took care of the rest.
They have demonstrated that education will be at its best when it permeates society and people’s lives.
Author is the Associate Professor of Department of Communication and Journalism, University of Chittagong & Doctoral Scholar of School of Journalism and Mass Communication, Jadavpur University, India.
