Between the Byline and the Algorithm: A Student Reporter’s Reckoning with Modern Journalism

WEST PALM BEACH, FL— One of the main things I remember hearing in my Journalism Ethics class was this: “Your job is to serve the truth, not your opinion.” It felt noble, and it still does. My professor at the time said it with such conviction, and I believed it wholeheartedly. I was told that journalism was about being the watchdog — holding power and people accountable, reporting the facts and doing it fairly: no bias, no shortcuts, no clickbait.

Pembroke Hall, where several print and broadcast journalism courses are taught, is at Palm Beach Atlantic University. Photo Credit: Grace Mackey

Then I started to experience journalism outside of the classroom. I started reading more critically and training my eyes to catch the way stories evolved across different platforms. I began to notice the ways journalism shifted depending on the audience it was trying to reach.  Take climate change for example, one outlet could frame it as an environmental catastrophe, while another focuses solely on its economic impact or even questions its urgency altogether. The more I read and watched, the more I realized that I am preparing to enter a world of journalism that looks very different from the one I have been training for.

In Palm Beach Atlantic University’s journalism program, I can say that we are taught to slow down and get it right. We are taught to value verifying information, cross-checking sources, and writing with clarity and balance. In class, we study the First Amendment like it is sacred scripture. We memorize AP Style, dissect Pulitzer-winning pieces, and debate ethics like ancient philosophers. Every assignment aims to craft our precision, giving us time to think, question, and follow a story to its natural end.

However, outside of the classroom, journalism is speeding up. Stories on X break and become viral before they are even confirmed. Headlines are tailored for reaction and outrage, and algorithms reward sensationalism over accuracy.

 One example is the Rolling Stone’s 2014 sexual assault story at the University of Virginia. The piece was later retracted, sparking outrage before being debunked. Millions were lost in lawsuits, reputations were destroyed, and the media industry faced serious consequences. It was a painful reminder that speed and sensationalism can destroy trust and quality, even when the intentions are pure.

In 2019, CNN and CBS reported on the alleged attack on actor Jussie Smollett, based on his initial claims, which detailed an attack by two men who allegedly shouted racist and homophobic slurs. However, as the situation progressed, it was revealed that the attack was staged. The police debunked his claims, and Smollett was later charged with filing a false report. In the rush to cover the story, some outlets did not verify the facts before publishing. Examples like this show us how modern journalism is being reshaped— not by the truth, but by what trends.

I have not spent months in a bustling newsroom, but I have had enough exposure through internships, campus media and my own research and projects to know that the pressure is real. I have seen great pitches turned down because they were not trendy enough. I have seen headlines get altered to attract more readers. I have felt that tension in my own work — trying to tell the truth, but also trying to make it readable, shareable and attractive. With content creation trending across every platform, the pressure to keep up with what is trending has made me question whether I’m prioritizing storytelling or engagement. I have thought to myself: Am I being a good journalist or just a good content creator?

As I begin wrapping up my time in college, this question has been weighing on me. 

As a journalism student and a woman who values community, I came into this field believing stories could change the world. The truth always mattered more than the way it came packaged. I am the granddaughter of Cuban immigrants who deeply believe in the power of free press, I feel an obligation to pursue journalism with its original integrity. My family understands that access to information and the ability to speak freely is not guaranteed in every country. They see journalism as a pillar of democracy, and I do, too. They push me to take my role seriously, as someone who tells stories, amplifies underrepresented voices, and holds those in power accountable. Because of them, I see journalism as not just a career, but as a form of service. It is not about clicks or virality, it is about truth, impact and freedom.

Although somewhere along the way, I started questioning if the profession I admire even has room for these kinds of ideas anymore. I want to tell stories that make people feel seen, not just stories that perform well on a feed. I want to talk to people who are overlooked, not just the ones whose names drive traffic. The everyday voices—the single mothers, the student activists, the people working two jobs and still finding time to care—often hold the most powerful stories, even if they are not the most clickable. These voices get drowned out in the fast-paced news cycle, yet they are the ones most affected by the policies and systems that get reported on. As a journalist, I believe it is our job to listen intentionally, to sit with those stories, and to share them in ways that resonate. 

Learning about “serving the public interest” in class and then opening TikTok to find political news compressed to 15-second sound bites with dramatic music can be difficult. It is hard to hold onto ideals like objectivity when major news outlets publish op-eds that fuel division. In 2020, during the nationwide protests against police brutality, The New York Times published an op-ed by Senator Tom Cotton titled “Send In The Troops”. Cotton advocated for deploying the U.S. military to suppress protests following George Floyd's death. The piece was met with quick backlash from readers and New York Times staff, who argued that it encouraged authoritarian measures and endangered people of color. The tension led to the resignation of the editorial page editor, James Bennet, and a discussion about the role of journalism in amplifying potentially harmful viewpoints.

 It can also be difficult to fully celebrate press freedom when so many journalists are underpaid, overworked and undervalued. According to the Muck Rack’s State of Work-Life Balance in Journalism report, 83% of journalists work outside regular business hours at least once a week, and around half sleep only five to six hours a night. Additionally, more than one-third reported a decline in their mental health over the past year, citing an uncertain future, the pressure to “always be on,” and financial issues as main causes. Sometimes I feel like journalists are being asked to play two different games at once: one with rules about ethics and accuracy, and another that rewards speed and drama. The catch? No one really tells you how to win both.

This is the reckoning I am sitting with as I approach graduation. I love journalism — not just the idea of it, but the practice. I love asking questions that lead somewhere meaningful. I love finding clarity in a world full of noise. However, I also do not want to get burned out trying to survive in an industry that can contradict the things it claims to value. While journalism promotes itself as a watchdog, valuing truth, accountability, and service, it can just as easily prioritize clicks over context, speed over accuracy and profit over people. There is a gap between the journalism praised in the classroom and the journalism the world seems to actually reward.

Yet, I am not giving up on it. If anything, I think my generation is ready to do things differently. We want deeper journalism, the kind that listens more than it speaks. I do not believe news outlets need to throw out all of their practices, but we need to rethink how we apply it in a world that has changed so much and so fast.

What would happen if journalists were given the time and support to report with care instead of urgency? What if we stopped trying to compress the world into quick takes and hot headlines? 

One way to move forward could be by shifting newsroom priorities, like setting aside more resources for solutions-based reporting and encouraging journalists to spend more time building trust with their sources. Editors could also rethink deadlines and expectations so reporters are not stuck in a nonstop content creation cycle. Perhaps that kind of change could help create a healthier newsroom culture. There are already some outlets experimenting with this, like the Free Press, which supports community-first journalism and pushes for reporting that actually serves the public. It is not a perfect system, but it proves that slowing down and focusing on care in journalism is not just a nice idea—it is completely doable.

While I do not have all of the answers, I do know that being a young journalist right now means accepting two truths: the journalism we are taught is worth fighting for and the industry needs to evolve in a way that prioritizes its fundamental values. 

Journalism students are taught to chase the truth. Now we are learning how to survive in a system that does not always make space for it, but I still believe it is possible to build something better. We just have to acknowledge the gap and start asking how we can bridge it.

By Daniella Pacheco