By Liane Hatch
Fun fact: I was seven months into court reporting school – about halfway through theory – before I’d ever actually met a court reporter in person. I’m not sure whether that makes me brave (for jumping right in at the North Carolina Court Reporters Association conference in 2022) or stupid (for choosing a whole new career path without having ever consulted a real, working court reporter), but that’s what happened.
And for many seasoned reporters that might sound unfathomable. But while the days of brick-and-mortar court reporting programs are perhaps not entirely behind us, they are fewer and farther between. I even looked it up: Of the 22 NCRA-approved court reporting programs, the closest one to me that utilizes a physical classroom is the Community College of Allegheny County in Pittsburgh, Pa., which is unfortunately not a realistic commute for me. I live an hour south of Raleigh. N.C.
All that preamble to say, for most of today’s court reporting students, we’re online. We might log in for a live class once or twice a week, cameras and microphones off, while we communicate through the class’s chat box. Or we might not. We might just complete our assignments, turn them in, and get our feedback with as little human interaction as possible – a far cry from the “back in the day” stories I’ve heard from the era of replacing ribbon and rewinding dictation tapes.
And as privileged as I am to learn machine steno from the comfort of my own home, it’s lonely sometimes. A lot of the time, actually. That’s why I love conferences so much. I absolutely light up when I get to talk to people who actually get it. They’ve been there. They’ve done that. They’re doing it. And they know exactly what I’m talking about. When I’m with reporters, I don’t even have to put my hands out in front of me and mimic writing to get them to understand what I’m even talking about! Unless, of course, I’m trying to remember an outline. Then it’s air-steno all day.
Unfortunately, when it comes to my family and friends, that’s just not how it goes. They don’t get it, and while I can’t and don’t expect them to, there are a few things I really wish they knew:
1. I don’t know when I’ll be done with school. (And could you please stop asking?)
Look, most court reporting students will probably know (or know of) at least one or two people who miraculously went from theory to certification in a year or less. I aspired to be one of them. I was going to be a natural, an inspiration. I was fully prepared to be different – not like other court reporting students who got stuck. I wrote “Why not me?” and put it on my mirror to remind myself that I can do it, too.
And here I am today, about 38 months in, desperately clawing my way to 225. If this were law school, I’d be just about done. But I didn’t go to law school; I went to court reporting school. And court reporting school is skill-based, not academics-based. So when you ask me when I’ll be done, all I can say is “Who knows?”
What I want to say is “Do you play any instruments? No? Okay cool, so starting today, how long do you think it would take you to become a professional concert pianist?”
I know you mean well. I know you’re invested in my success. I know you want to see me graduate and move on. Trust me – I want that too! I just wish you’d stop asking. When it happens, I promise you’ll hear about it.
2. I fail almost all of my tests –
I’ve always thought of myself as a perfectionist and a high achiever, so it was a huge blow to my ego the first time I failed a speed test, even though I knew I was going to fail speed tests. I mean, that’s really just what we do in court reporting school. We fail and fail and fail and fail again, until eventually, weeks or months or however long into whatever speed it is we’re tackling, we pass. Once. And then it all starts back over at a new speed, where we fail. And fail. And fail.
If court reporting school has taught me anything, it’s failure tolerance. Well, failure tolerance and that HRAEURPBLG = “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury.”
3. – even if I get a 94 percent
Seriously, if you see me crying and I tell you I got a 94 percent on the test I just took, turn and walk away, because those. are. not. happy. tears. And God save you if you try to congratulate me on it. The standard is 95 percent, not 94.8 percent, and yes, I’ve failed tests by one error before.
Of course, a 94 percent is actually GREAT. It means I’m riiiiight there, and it shows that I AM improving and I AM developing this skill and I AM competent and I’m NOT a loser and a failure and an imposter (and so on). But it’s still not a pass, and it’s still so frustrating.
The good news is that “failing” speed tests doesn’t actually hurt our GPA. It’s less “failing” and more just “not passing,” which, I know, sounds a lot like failing. But if failed speed tests meant a failing grade, none of us would ever make it. So when I tell you about all my failed tests, it’s fine. They’re not going to kick me out of school, and it doesn’t mean I’m bad at this. It just means I’m working on it.
4. I’m always practicing.
When we’re about to leave to go get coffee and you tell me “Wait a minute” because you forgot your keys, the letters WA*IMT flash through my head. When we’re waiting for our coffee order and I’m tapping my fingers on the table, I’m not being impatient; I’m mentally drilling some tricky word or phrase I just remembered. When we drive off listening to our favorite true crime podcast, I’m patting myself on the back for already knowing what the host meant when she talked about the voir dire process (and I’m judging her for how she pronounced it). When we stop at the pharmacy to pick up a prescription, I’m trying to figure out how I’d write “propranolol” or “chlordiazepoxide.”
I try not to be too weird about any of those little quirky behaviors, but if I do accidentally let one slip every now and then, please try to go easy on me.
5. This career isn’t old-fashioned; it’s timeless.
I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve told people I’m a court reporting student, only to hear “I didn’t know that was still a thing.” Respectfully – of course it is. It’s not like I’m going to school to become a switchboard operator or a town crier. I know when I talk about court reporting school you might imagine crotchety-old Ethel Beavers from Parks and Recreation, but believe it or not, even though this profession dates back to the 4th century BCE, we’re as relevant as ever.
Yeah, I know Siri can kind of transcribe your voicemails. I know AI is everywhere. I know I could learn how to be a “digital court reporter” much faster. And I won’t pretend that I can predict the future. However, I also know that although technology is changing, the need for a clear and accurate record is not. And if you just now learned that court reporting still exists, I don’t really need your hot takes about how it’ll disappear by next week.
The decisions I’ve made over the past three-and-a-half years to attend court reporting school and to commit myself fully to pursuing this career were deliberate and well-informed. I did my market research. I asked important questions. I made my choice. If you have real concerns for me, then sure, we can have that conversation. But if you don’t have anything nice to say or you just want to rain on my parade, I simply don’t need it.
Liane Hatch, from Whispering Pines, N.C., is a student at College of Court Reporting. She can be reached at liane.b.hatch@gmail.com
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