Education takes the form of many varieties and as students prepare to don their backpacks, gather their supplies and make sure they have lunch money, another form of learning took place in Farmersville recently.

As a member of Citizens Assisting Farmersville Police, we are allowed and encouraged to complete ride alongs with officers within the department. Riding with a veteran officer, we headed out to complete nightly patrol activities and make sure the town was safe and sound.

Having a fellow new officer call him to come assist with a traffic stop across town, I couldn’t help but wonder what was up. Knowing that she hadn’t asked for us to come “code,” or in a hurry, eased my mind somewhat but since I’m nosy by nature I couldn’t help but continue my questioning thoughts.

Arriving on Hwy. 380 behind the new officer it was discovered that the driver of the vehicle who was speeding by about 15 over, had a parole violation warrant and needed to be arrested. Complicating the matter was the fact that the driver, aka grandma, had two grandchildren with her. Knowing that they had no choice but to take her to jail, the officers began to problem solve to get the children back to their parents while keeping them safe and sound.

Needless to say, the kids were scared. Tears ensued. But comfort was given and an education that police officers aren’t all bad began.

Receiving information that the mom and dad were at a “party” together, the officers began calling them, and calling them and calling them some more.

Eventually, the dad answered the phone with an immediate “are my kids ok?” Turns out, mom and dad, who had not had a date night in sometime, had escaped and were enjoying each others company while grandma was watching the kids. Not being nearby, the officers asked if there was anyone else who could come get the kids. The dad asked if he could call the officers back shortly, which he did, indicating that a close family friend and her husband would be there within 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, the officer chatted with the kids, standing next to the vehicle on the side of the road, making sure no one came near and the kids were safe. He gave them police badge stickers. He had conversations about school starting. And he laughed as the kids colored Spiderman pages.

And the education continued.

Pulling up in front of the vehicle and squad car, out jumped a woman and her husband who sported an “I married a teacher” t-shirt.

Turns out the woman was one of the children’s first grade teacher. The kid was now in sixth grade and the teacher had remained a close family friend for many years. Making sure the kids were safe was her first priority as she hurried alongside the vehicle. Transporting the kids and the vehicle back to their home, the couple thanked the officer and left with kids in tow.

Numerous stories about police officers and teachers doing horrible things are reported in the news each and everyday. But where are the ones like this one? The ones where officers and teachers join forced to become real life superheroes for the sake of a child.

The public needs to be educated about what our officers and our teachers do on a daily basis, not just once in a while but all the time.

Are there bad teachers and bad police officers? Of course there are. Just like there are bad journalists (hold your comments peanut gallery.)

But I can assure you they weren’t standing on that road that night. All I saw were superheroes.

Chaos ... the balance between having news and constantly being exhausted

This past weekend started out great. My family had traveled down from the Panhandle to come have a Memorial Day weekend with my mom's best friend and me along with other friends and families. Making my way over after work on Friday to Wolfe City, we settled down, had hugs, a pasta dinner and some conversation. Waking up Saturday we had crepes and got busy making preparations for a shrimp boil. I set my phone down, not really needing it, or wanting to be bothered by it. Picking it back up circa 11 a.m. I saw three missed calls: Adah Leah Wolf (Main Street Manager,) Donna Williams (owner of Red Door Antiques) and Tonya Mercer (a member of our citizens on patrol group.) I knew something was wrong. Like seriously wrong. Investigating further, I started seeing texts, Active 911 alerts and 911 pages of a structure fire in downtown Farmersville. Looking at the pages, I saw there was already multiple departments on scene. It was bad. "I gotta go," I told my family. Everyone in Farmersville has probably joked about downtown catching on fire, or casually said, "Don't call me unless downtown is on fire." I think that phrase will be used a little less from now on. Hoping beyond hope as I made the 45-minute drive in about 25 minutes (Sorry, I don't normally break the law but hey, there are times when it's called for) that the notes were exaggerating how bad it was, I finally crested the curve of the hill on Hwy. 78. I could see the smoke plume. Arriving downtown, I could see the Quint Ladder spraying water. See the fire trucks, the people, the chaos and see part of my beloved downtown in ruins. When I first took this job, I took it because of the downtown, because of the people. That love has only grown since then. Walking quickly towards the scene from the newspaper office, I didn't even hesitate as I ducked under the fire line. Seeing one building completely gone and another on its way down took my breath away. You can tell it by looking at my photos. They seem rushed, chaotic, no clear focus. Later on, I calmed down, but photos often carry with them emotion and mine from early that day were as transparent as glass. In between taking shots and shoving water/Gatorade at fire personnel I witness something extremely special. Community. I saw a newly elected mayor doing her best to provide for firefighters. A city manager who put his public works crews and equipment to work to help out the firefighters. I saw firefighters from seven department work until they were exhausted. Then pick up the hoses and do it all again. And again. And again. I saw community members who honestly probably had never even picked up a fire hose, grab them and help out. Other community members provided water and ice and food. A Citizens on Patrol group that had no formal training jumped in and helped out whenever asked and just acted when not asked. Community ... it takes on a whole different meaning when the heart of your town is at risk. I saw fellow downtown members surround Clay Potter and his wife, Kim, as they waited with baited breath to see if their building would be spared. And when it was, numerous people reaching out to extend a helping hand in the clean up efforts. It goes without saying that I have a healthy respect for firefighters but seeing them work to exhaustion and then keep pushing, I have a whole new respect for them. And for the police officers that were on scene first, evacuated people and got people away from the fire ... the saying that heroes don't wear capes truly applies to those on scene that day. It wasn't until I went back by the downtown Sunday night to take photos that it truly hit me. The emotions of the weekend, really the past few months, just impacted me like a ton of bricks. It is a very fine line between having news and covering the news and being overwhelmed emotionally. Since December, I have covered a tornado with fatalities, a fatality wreck with a firefighter and two kids, a fire truck deciding to literally make itself a new drive thru window at the Dairy Queen, a dead body being disposed of outside Farmersville, a mom and daughter fatality wreck and now the downtown catching on fire. Yes, it's my job to cover these things and I think for the most part our staff has done a good job, but emotionally I can't help but wonder how these things effect us. I find myself shorter in temper that in the past, more easily annoyed and lets not even talk about sleep patterns. Yes, there is most definitely a cost. But being a small town journalist, recording the very history of the community that you love, is an honor. And its a privilege. But the next person who says, "Man it's been quiet around here lately" is getting a pen thrown at them.

My memories of 9/11

I've read a lot of memories today from 9/11. I don't share mine often because it's pretty personal. I was in an airport on my way to meet my brother and sister. Standing in the middle of Amarillo International Airport, I was terrified. Not because of the upcoming event that would occur later on Sept. 11, 2001, but because I was a very sheltered 19 year old about to embark on a life-changing experience. Arriving at the airport with my family I was scared. My family was going to send me off, sir and wait with me to board the plane (you could do that prior to 9/11.) entering the airport, there was chaos. All around. Finding the large boards with cancelled written on every single flight is a visual I won't soon forget. Making my way to the front of the line took awhile to say the least. We moved to the front of the line and then the airline check in person told us air traffic had been halted. I remember thinking why would they halt air traffic in Amarillo? Them we found out it was nationwide. I was freaked out. Even at 19, what could have caused something like that? Making our way toward a bank of TVs we saw news coverage of both planes hitting the towers. I had just been to the top of the World Trade Center the year before on a choir trip. I remember my ears popping on the way up, the beautiful clouds. We finally went home. We knew flights weren't going to reopen that day. No one really knew anything. I was scared to go back home, afraid the terrorists would find me. Living in a town with an oil refinery had made me cautious I guess. I can remember watching the towers fall. That image still causes me nightmares sometimes when I get stressed. When returning to the airport three days later, everything was different. There were armed military. They were hand searching luggage. The world had stopped turning.

We believe in newspapers!

This blog post was adapted from remarks the author made at the midwinter meeting of the Texas Press Association in Frisco in January 2014. Thank you for missing dinner two nights recently because you were attending a county commission or school board meeting. You were there so you could inform thousands of readers who didn't want to be bothered. You did. And you do. Week after week. Thank you. Or maybe you were at a Relay for Life meeting where, in addition to reporting on all those volunteers, you probably also coordinated your own volunteer team. Thank you for contributing to the fabric of your community. Thank you for making three telephone calls over several hours just to be sure the little girl who won a blue ribbon at the horse show spells "Christie" with a "c" and an "ie" instead of a "k" and two e's -- or any other of about 20 variations for how Christie can be spelled. Accuracy matters. It matters to Christie’s mama and daddy. It matters to all our readers. And it matters to you. Thank you. Thank you for offering space to friends of a cancer victim washing cars to raise money to buy gas to get that lady to chemotherapy treatments. Your coverage made the difference between raising $1,500 instead of only $150. Thank you. Thank you for being the greatest link -- and the strongest protection -- between your readers and those with the power to tax and govern -- and the few who abuse that power. Thank you for speaking truth to power. Newspapers are often the only ones to do that. Thank you for being the first transcribers of the only history your communities may ever record. Words and photos we preserve today are the priceless artifacts of lives treasured for generations to come. Thank you for providing a low-cost, effective and reliable connection between hundreds of sometimes struggling small businesses and the buying public. You are a vital link between buyer and seller and an invested partner in the success of friends and neighbors. Thank you for working hard to help them succeed. The late Robert Woodruff, longtime CEO of Coca-Cola, said: "You can have anything you want in life if you help enough other people get what they want." This is what great community newspapers do. Thank you for that commitment. Thank you for being veterans in the war against secrecy and lies and greed. It takes little courage to write about a stranger among thousands or millions in a metropolitan city, but it takes tremendous dignity, daring and fortitude to write about the woman who sits in the next pew with you at church or the man who sits across from you at Rotary. You do it week after week with sensitivity and caring and fairness and accuracy. Thank you for that. Have newspapers suffered in recent years? Of course! Community newspapers are a direct reflection — a mirror — of the economy of the towns and cities we serve. The economic crash that sent stocks and development plummeting affected every business we serve — and our newspapers reflect that. Communities are hurting and when our towns are injured, newspapers bleed. There is nothing wrong with America’s community newspapers that an overall improvement in our nation’s economy will not fix. Thank you for not blindly following doomsayers who say newspapers' best days are behind them. But what do they not say? Television viewership is being splintered into hundreds of channels -- with far more of them focused on promoting sex and silliness than vital information that makes our families stronger, our values deeper, our home lives happier. In Blackshear, Ga., and thousands of small communities just like it across America, community newspapers were “social media” before social media was cool! We’ve been connecting friends and neighbors and telling about who ate with who as far back as when country correspondents wrote about Mr. and Mrs. Jones "motoring" over to the next town last Sunday to have dinner. There's really not much new under the sun but we’ve told people about it all -- for decades. In my little town, if you want a Big Mac, there's only one place to get it: McDonald's. They have the franchise. You want a Whopper? There's only one place to get it: Burger King. They have the franchise. If you're in Blackshear, Ga., and you want local news there's only one place to get it: The Blackshear Times. We have the franchise. It's ours to lose. And we're not giving it up. It’s the same way in your town and thousands of others all over our nation. I know you’re not giving up your franchise as the place to find local news and information, either. Warren Buffet said: “In towns and cities where there is a strong sense of community, there is no more important institution than the local paper.” Welcome to our world, Mr. Buffett. It’s reassuring to have you here. Newspapers are a mirror of our communities, but you cannot see a reflection in the dark. Newspapers have to provide the light. It is hard for a community to rise above the quality and commitment of its local newspaper. Good newspapers build strong communities. In America we talk about the value and dignity of every individual. Nowhere are those ideals better displayed than in America’s community newspapers. We start at birth! Every child born should have his or her announcement plus a photo in the newspaper. That child’s first and succeeding birthdays are often marked in our newspaper. We love to publish pictures of children’s first day of school. Through the years we document reading achievement, math competitions, steer shows, athletic victories and countless other milestones of life. Graduation is a big deal in every community. Our documentation of the value of each individual life goes on and on -- through engagement, marriage, more births, anniversaries, job promotions. You name it and we travel life’s path right with the people who surround us, all the way to the grave -- and even beyond, with Memorials! Who cares more about the success, prosperity and happiness of people in your community than you? Nobody! Are people going to stop loving high school football in Granbury? No! Are people going to stop caring whether their taxes go up or down in El Dorado? No! Are people going to stop wanting to see children's names on the honor roll in Decatur? No! Are people going to stop wondering who is going bankrupt or buying building permits in Port Aransas? No! We believe people will always want to know about their taxes and what their governments are doing. We believe people will always want to see children’s names and faces publicized for their triumphs and tributes. We believe there will always be a desire for accountability in government! We believe in the critical need for accuracy and fairness as demonstrated by professional journalists. We believe in newspapers! Thank you for being a part of this great and valuable industry.

my life has changed a lot in four years

Last night while talking to a fellow church choir member about journalism and the way it has changed he noted how many times our papers were posting on to Facebook. He said, "What you need is a blog. It seems like everyone has one these days." Then I remembered ... I had a blog. One that hadn't been written on for a very long time. One that had been deserted more than three year's ago due to lack of time and interest. Today I am pulling my blog up from the dust and reviving it. I would be lying to say I don't care if people read and comment on it. I do. I invite feedback, comments, arguments, intellectual debate. But more than that, I'm doing it for myself. One of my very good friends once told me "A writer writes ... always." And that is true. So without further ado I present "Trust me I'm a reporter," a blog full of fun, fires and Farmersville/Collin County. So recently after a city council meeting I had a friend/church member who had attended his very first city council meeting. He said it was fun at least the part of the meeting for the proclamation of Kenny Edwards Day but the rest of it was like a foreign language. I assured him it got easier the more he attended. I don't think he liked that idea but honestly I wonder if other citizens felt the same way. I've had citizens tell me they didn't understand how they worked, i.e. why the public comment section existed, why citizens couldn't talk unless recognized. I guess I've always just taken the workings of city government/school board for granted because I do cover a lot of meetings. (168 council meetings and 84 school board meetings give or take a few in the time I've worked for Farmersville. This is Farmersville only.) This is not to say I understand everything in council meetings. Trust me I don't and city budgets just makes my head hurt. But I do find the working of government interesting and I think it's a valuable thing to be able to present this to citizens in a way they understand. If you have any suggestions please let me know.

christmas: a beautful scary time of the year

I apologize in advance for any typos since I'm typing this on my Blackberry at the airport and also the random nature of this. I haven't had time to write anything personal lately so I have a lot to say.

I haven't really made it a secret this year that I'm not all about the holiday season. This year, perhaps more so than ever, I'm tired of hearing the ringing of silver bells, seeing endless Christmas sells and just of the colors of red and green. Whatever the case, call me the Grinch.

Usually, the holidays are like this for me but eventually, something puts me in the Christmas spirit. There have been moments, especially when I saw a full grown man dressed as Santa riding a Harley and wishing everyone a Merry Christmas along with a "Ho, Ho, Ho" that brought me a moment of cheer, but then I went back down into the darkness.

Who knows? Maybe its just due to stress, due to lack of sleep, due to lack of family, due to money I don't have.

Or maybe its just me.

As I arrived at the airport earlier today, I thought, "Ok Wyndi, let's get cheery. Enjoy people watching, some McDonald's, free time and no work and get cheery." After all, I can't let my family down. They expect me to be happy, overjoyed to spend Christmas with them. I'm not. Its not that I don't want to, its just I'm tired, need some peace, no expectations and no responsibilities. I need a break from my life. But that doesn't exist.

So I will pick up the pieces, or the carry-ons, and move to get on the airplane.

Is this what it looked like in the beginning?

Today I got the honor of changing desks. A co-worker left, so I got the prime real estate so to speak. A window (sort of), a better computer and more space. While cleaning off my desk, I was struck with the memory of something. My first day. I was a scared little writer afraid to even pick up the phone to interview someone with my editor in the office (something I still hate doing). But I was scared. Terrified of making a mistake. Know what? I got over it. Not only was my desk full of dust-bunnied paperwork, hundreds of city council packets and a multitude of Post-it notes but it was also filled to the brink with notes. Notes of stories. Momentus occasions that have impacted peoples lives in the last four years. Tragedies filled with heart-break. Great honors, like a tree that is world famous or the building of a new highway that will impact people's lives for the next 100 years. It was also filled with thank you notes, of stories bygone, but not forgotten by the people who I represented. The people whose stories I was able to put into words. The people, that without me, would have remained silenced.

Being a writer, on a good day, is a difficult task. It's alot of pressure trying to capture a scene in words. Not misleading the public with a simple missed noun/subject/verb agreement. Ticking people off with a cleverly written (at least we think so) headline. But when I get down, when I mess something up, when I'm overwhelmed with taking yet another Santa photo that clearly doesn't mean anything to me, I pull out the thank you notes. They cheer me up. They remind me of the importance of being a writer, a journalist, of capturing the stories for future generations.

Today if I had to write a thank you note it would go a little like this. Thank you God for letting me be a writer.