Minor curve ball
"I agree to keep confidentiality regarding the clients and family members of CCCS/SC (Catholic Charities Community Services of Summit County) programs. I understand that discussion among staff members regarding client's (sic) needs is a necessity for quality care, but I agree to keep discussion to staff/members of CCCS/SC only. I understand that a violation of this Confidentiality Agreement will result in immediate termination of volunteer experience."
Sheesh. Talk about a kill-joy.
So what do I do now?
I talked with my mentor, who has a healthy amount of experience in journalism prior to entering academia. He counseled me to take down my most recent blog post, which contained sensitive medical and personal information of a client whose real name did not appear in the blog, and to stop writing publicly about anyone whose permission I do not explicitly have. Good advice. I removed the post this morning. He also suggested I talk with my volunteer supervisor as soon as possible, tell her what my plans are as far as writing about immigrants, and get her help in how to proceed. There may still be a way to do this.
The bottom line is that a person has the right to know if a writer or journalist is planning to write for publication about her. Having this knowledge may change the type and amount of information about herself and her family that she would choose to divulge. Whether my intentions with this writing project are to help my subjects or exploit them does not matter. If I do not have their consent to share what I know of their lives with others, I can not share it. This actually holds true whether a formal confidentiality agreement exists or not. The fact that I did sign an official agreement merely brings the situation into a matter of law, not just ethics. I am now legally bound by the paper I signed. And I can be sued for violating it.
So. What do I do now?
I texted Zully to see about a face-to-face chat. She's in training classes all this week, so we might not be able to manage it for a little while. That's a shame because I'm on a bit of a deadline here. In just five weeks, I have a piece due for my workshop. (I know it doesn't sound as final as a newspaper or magazine deadline, but what can I do? I'm still a student. And I take all deadlines seriously.)
Perhaps the next piece I write will be about the ethics involved in writing about vulnerable populations. There's a long history of journalists undertaking great personal risk to investigate and bring to public light the plight of various groups, from Nellie Bly's voluntary admission to a mental hospital at the turn of the 20th century, to Ted Conover's extraordinary account of immersion journalism in Sing Sing prison at the dawn of the 21st. It could be quite interesting to write about my own ethical stumbling blocks, set against such an illustrious and storied legacy.
I wonder how I'll measure up.
"It is in his distress that man is tested, for then his nature is revealed." -Paracelsus (1493-1541)
Sheesh. Talk about a kill-joy.
So what do I do now?
I talked with my mentor, who has a healthy amount of experience in journalism prior to entering academia. He counseled me to take down my most recent blog post, which contained sensitive medical and personal information of a client whose real name did not appear in the blog, and to stop writing publicly about anyone whose permission I do not explicitly have. Good advice. I removed the post this morning. He also suggested I talk with my volunteer supervisor as soon as possible, tell her what my plans are as far as writing about immigrants, and get her help in how to proceed. There may still be a way to do this.
The bottom line is that a person has the right to know if a writer or journalist is planning to write for publication about her. Having this knowledge may change the type and amount of information about herself and her family that she would choose to divulge. Whether my intentions with this writing project are to help my subjects or exploit them does not matter. If I do not have their consent to share what I know of their lives with others, I can not share it. This actually holds true whether a formal confidentiality agreement exists or not. The fact that I did sign an official agreement merely brings the situation into a matter of law, not just ethics. I am now legally bound by the paper I signed. And I can be sued for violating it.
So. What do I do now?
I texted Zully to see about a face-to-face chat. She's in training classes all this week, so we might not be able to manage it for a little while. That's a shame because I'm on a bit of a deadline here. In just five weeks, I have a piece due for my workshop. (I know it doesn't sound as final as a newspaper or magazine deadline, but what can I do? I'm still a student. And I take all deadlines seriously.)
Perhaps the next piece I write will be about the ethics involved in writing about vulnerable populations. There's a long history of journalists undertaking great personal risk to investigate and bring to public light the plight of various groups, from Nellie Bly's voluntary admission to a mental hospital at the turn of the 20th century, to Ted Conover's extraordinary account of immersion journalism in Sing Sing prison at the dawn of the 21st. It could be quite interesting to write about my own ethical stumbling blocks, set against such an illustrious and storied legacy.
I wonder how I'll measure up.
"It is in his distress that man is tested, for then his nature is revealed." -Paracelsus (1493-1541)
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