A note from our Publisher, Dr. Beth Shirley

Bitterroot is the product of a class offered every Spring by the English Department at Montana State University, WRIT 374: Magazine Editing and Production. As the professor, I act more as the publisher than a teacher, setting goals and standards, thinking about the money, and keeping sponsors happy, but otherwise letting the students take on the roles they applied for and making sure they have the support they need.  

One of my favorite things about teaching this class is watching a group of students, members of a generation sometimes derided by members of my own and those older than us as entitled and lazy, demonstrate that the kids are alright. They come in on the first day, and as soon as I explain that this will be a semester-long group project, I expect some panic, but somehow, this concept elicits smiles and excited looks around the room. I’m delightfully surprised that they are excited to work together on a project with hard deadlines and real applications.  

Their excitement is only surprising because it is so contrary to the prevailing narrative about attendance rates plummeting and “COVID kids” who don’t want to socialize with their peers. It’s just not what I see in the Bitterroot class. Something about having the opportunity to keep each other accountable and have a tangible product at the end makes students take themselves and their peers more seriously, leading to a more engaged classroom experience. 

Inevitably, there are concerns about grades. What if everyone but me drops the ball? Will I fail, too? What if I get sick and miss my deadlines? Will I fail because that throws the magazine’s timeline off? I tell them not to worry about their grades, a real challenge for students raised in our hyper-individualistic society and hyper-individualized education system. I tell them deadlines are extremely important, but life also happens, and somehow, together, we create this community where when someone has to take a minute for their own health or their family, someone else picks up the slack, and in the end, the work all gets done on time. While there is room for individual growth and for students to take things at their own pace, they also learn to communicate with others who need to understand that pace and to discover ways to improve their own writing process along the way.  

I also let the students choose a theme for each issue that they want to have reflected in the aesthetics and conversation created by the stories, something that represents Montana’s lands and people. This year, they chose “grit.” Grit, as a personal virtue, is essential for survival in some of Montana’s harshest climates, but what is also important is the grit of a community. This cohesion requires an almost softness at times, which might be perceived as the opposite of grit. Community grit requires that when someone else has too much on their plate, others step up and help without complaining or arguing; it means that instead of being blunt or rude in our feedback, we offer consolation, we find the diamonds in the rough and focus on etching away at the grit in a story to reveal the beauty in the narratives we uncovered as we go.  

I am so proud of my students this semester. As their professor, I get to pass on my years of industry and academic experience and watch them grow as individuals in their skills and talents; but as their publisher, I also get to witness their development as a group. Instead of relying on independent grit, the students have come together as not just a class but a crew, to cultivate their own sense of grit as a single community, united in the common goal of putting out the best possible issue. Go, Cats, go!