As we barrel toward the 21st century, we must ask ourselves how to look in the mirror with a clear conscience. The more difficult question, however, may be how to tell classrooms of eager, naive, would-be communications professionals that the courses we have offered for the past 30 years will adequately prepare them for their futures. The students come with clear visions of wealth and fame and fuzzy understandings of history--dreaming their futures in MTV-inspired visual images. They have much to learn, and we must examine how we approach them. Just by being there with our professorial status, we encourage them, or merely allow them, to coast toward the front lines of journalism--a field most of us have abandoned in frustration or disillusionment. We gained our professional credentials with the energy of our youth, climbed the ladder to the extent of our talent or ambition or perseverance, and finally opted for something less intense and probably more profitable as our desire for middle-aged comfort, adult furniture, and off-duty holidays increased. And now, we stand before them clinging to the belief that journalism provides a vital support to our democracy as waves of shallow reporting, horse-race analysis, choking cynicism, and profit-driven presentations dilute our words and our faith and hope for the future. Our personal frustrations are not, however, the end of our problems. Lee Becker's annual studies at Ohio State University continue to pound us with the message that journalism and mass communication graduates are not doing so well. Graduates are not finding the jobs they prepare for, and are losing ground financially. Yet we continue to spoon from the plate of staples we've been serving for decades: industry-specific courses such as broadcast announcing, advertising campaigns, radio and TV production I and II, and sales management. In fact, for most students, job specific training is a poor use of time. Learning to operate a studio camera takes away valuable time needed to sort through, organize, and analyze the mountains of information now available with the click of a mouse. The warnings about industry sequences were sounded long ago in the widely heralded--but generally disregarded--Oregon Report. The grim reaper has already appeared at several universities. And still students come with their Dan Rather/Diane Sawyer visions of fame and wealth. More than 400 accredited communication programs enroll close to 140,000 students, mostly in curricular paths long viewed as passageways to dream jobs in the Big Four--print and broadcast journalism, advertising, and public relations. Yet, despite the new evidence in support of old warnings, our curriculums continue to offer narrow, industry-oriented sequences. For a time, sequences aimed at newspaper, television, or ad agencies served students well. Earlier in the century, reporters, public relations or advertising specialists, even TV anchors, might spend an entire career with one company, but today's pattern often requires changing both job and location to climb the career ladder. Increasingly, skill changes are required as well, and corporate downsizing will continue to put a premium on people who can perform numerous tasks. For example, TV reporters are now facing the prospects of editing their own stories on computer while newspaper journalists are being asked to present stories for cable newscasts. Public relations departments invariably deal with video production. In the future, skills in preparing newspaper layouts, advertising campaigns, and public relations materials will be interchangeable, grounded in the fundamental understanding of design, persuasion, and computers. If we teach communications solely to bring home a paycheck, we can continue to coast along. But if our mission truly is to prepare students for 21st century careers and for a future filled with jobs that don't currently exist, we must make some changes. The narrow model is out of date. …