Court Reporting – The Delta Force of Professions

Posted bystenoimperiumPosted inCourt ReportingTags:, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

There’s a joke circulating among court reporters lately: “We’re basically Tier One operators. We made it through Delta Force school—with punctuation.” And you know what? It’s not far from the truth.

In the elite world of U.S. military special operations, Delta Force selection is infamous. The washout rate is staggeringly high—typically 90 to 95 percent. Candidates are subjected to the most grueling physical, mental, and psychological challenges imaginable. Only a handful survive the brutal gauntlet to become Tier One operators.

Now consider court reporting school.

We may not carry rifles, but we do wield stenographic machines. We may not run combat drills in the woods, but we run five-minute takes at 225 words per minute—and do it over and over and over again until we pass, or collapse from sheer frustration. And statistically speaking, we’re right there with Delta: roughly 90% of students who enter court reporting school never graduate.

It’s time the world recognized the mental toughness, discipline, and elite focus it takes to become a court reporter. Because whether you’re a stenographer using a machine or a voice writer using your vocal cords, what we do is not just difficult—it’s extraordinary.

The Washout Rate That No One Talks About

Let’s start with the numbers. Most court reporting programs advertise graduation rates in the single digits. Some even lower. For every 100 students who start out starry-eyed, dreaming of a six-figure career and job flexibility, only 5 to 10 will ever graduate, pass the state exam, and begin working professionally.

Compare that to other professions. The graduation rate for law school? Over 80%. Nursing school? Around 85%. Even med school clocks in at about 84%. But court reporting? We’re down in the Delta Force zone—95% attrition. Why is this not discussed more widely?

Because people assume typing is easy.

Because they think we “just sit there.”

Because the public, and even some in the legal profession, have no idea what it takes to train your brain to process live speech at hundreds of words per minute, make instantaneous punctuation decisions, and create an accurate record in real time—without missing a beat.

The truth is: Court reporting is one of the most mentally taxing and technically specialized careers in the world.

The Mental Gauntlet

Just like Tier One operators undergo psychological stress testing, court reporting students face daily mental fatigue. It’s not just fast fingers—it’s a constant balance of rhythm, accuracy, and interpretation. Imagine listening to three people talk over each other, in legalese, with heavy accents, in a loud courtroom—and your job is to capture every single word.

If a name is said once and never repeated, you still have to get it. If a judge mumbles a ruling, you can’t miss it. If an attorney gets aggressive, rapid-fire, shouting objections mid-question, you better not flinch.

You can’t blink. You can’t zone out. You can’t daydream. You are the record.

Court reporting school is the proving ground for this level of mental acuity. It breaks most people. Only the toughest make it through.

The Physical and Emotional Toll

Like Delta Force candidates carrying 70-pound packs across mountainous terrain, court reporting students carry their own weight: financial burdens, anxiety, and the relentless pressure of “getting out of school.”

It’s not uncommon for students to spend four, five, or even seven years in school—enduring the heartbreak of missing a test pass by just a few words. Again and again.

Students practice until their wrists ache. They skip vacations, work side jobs, and sacrifice social lives—all for the dream of writing at 225 words per minute with 95% accuracy, live.

That kind of dedication takes Tier One grit.

Reframing the Narrative

So why don’t people respect the profession?

Because we haven’t told this story. We’ve let others define us. We’ve allowed automation companies and court administrators to dismiss us as “typists.” We’ve accepted the notion that we’re easily replaceable by artificial intelligence or digital recorders.

Enough.

We need to reframe our profession as one that requires the same elite-level training and excellence that society reveres in other fields—like aviation, medicine, and yes, special forces.

We are Responsible Charge professionals. Just as licensed engineers are in charge of the safety and oversight of construction projects, court reporters are in charge of the official record. We don’t just hit “record” and hope for the best. We evaluate context, punctuate meaning, and preserve the integrity of the judicial process. No machine can do that. No app can understand sarcasm, dialect, or intent the way a trained human ear can.

We Are Tier One

When you make it through court reporting school, you don’t just get a certificate—you earn your stripes. You’re one of the few, the elite, the trained. You can walk into a courtroom and handle a 200-page murder trial transcript without fear. You can write real-time for judges and deaf attorneys. You can cover high-profile depositions, arbitrations, and board meetings with confidence.

You are the record.

Like Delta Force operators who may never speak openly about their missions, court reporters work in the background. Quiet professionals. Invisible until needed. And absolutely indispensable.

A Call to Arms

This is not just a moment for celebration—it’s a moment for rallying. We need to:

  • Tell this story in our schools, to keep students motivated.
  • Share this message with the legal community, so they understand what we do.
  • Use it in recruiting, marketing, and media outreach.
  • Advocate for legislation that recognizes our professional status, including licensing, training standards, and transcript certification protections.
  • Band together across modalities—machine writers and voice writers—to protect and preserve the integrity of our profession.

We have nothing to be ashamed of. We are not antiquated. We are not obsolete. We are elite.

Final Thought

So next time you hear someone ask, “Isn’t court reporting being replaced by computers?”—look them square in the eye and say:

“You ever heard of Delta Force? Only 5% make it through. Court reporting school is just as tough. And we don’t carry guns—we carry the truth.”

Now pat yourself on the back, Tier One. You’ve earned it.

Disclaimer

The content of this post is intended for informational and discussion purposes only. All opinions expressed herein are those of the author and are based on publicly available information, industry standards, and good-faith concerns about nonprofit governance and professional ethics. No part of this article is intended to defame, accuse, or misrepresent any individual or organization. Readers are encouraged to verify facts independently and to engage constructively in dialogue about leadership, transparency, and accountability in the court reporting profession.

  • The content on this blog represents the personal opinions, observations, and commentary of the author. It is intended for editorial and journalistic purposes and is protected under the First Amendment of the United States Constitution.
  • Nothing here constitutes legal advice. Readers are encouraged to review the facts and form independent conclusions.

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Published by stenoimperium

We exist to facilitate the fortifying of the Stenography profession and ensure its survival for the next hundred years! As court reporters, we've handed the relationship role with our customers, or attorneys, over to the agencies and their sales reps.  This has done a lot of damage to our industry.  It has taken away our ability to have those relationships, the ability to be humanized and valued.  We've become a replaceable commodity. Merely saying we are the “Gold Standard” tells them that we’re the best, but there are alternatives.  Who we are though, is much, much more powerful than that!  We are the Responsible Charge.  “Responsible Charge” means responsibility for the direction, control, supervision, and possession of stenographic & transcription work, as the case may be, to assure that the work product has been critically examined and evaluated for compliance with appropriate professional standards by a licensee in the profession, and by sealing and signing the documents, the professional stenographer accepts responsibility for the stenographic or transcription work, respectively, represented by the documents and that applicable stenographic and professional standards have been met.  This designation exists in other professions, such as engineering, land surveying, public water works, landscape architects, land surveyors, fire preventionists, geologists, architects, and more.  In the case of professional engineers, the engineering association adopted a Responsible Charge position statement that says, “A professional engineer is only considered to be in responsible charge of an engineering work if the professional engineer makes independent professional decisions regarding the engineering work without requiring instruction or approval from another authority and maintains control over those decisions by the professional engineer’s physical presence at the location where the engineering work is performed or by electronic communication with the individual executing the engineering work.” If we were to adopt a Responsible Charge position statement for our industry, we could start with a draft that looks something like this: "A professional court reporter, or stenographer, is only considered to be in responsible charge of court reporting work if the professional court reporter makes independent professional decisions regarding the court reporting work without requiring instruction or approval from another authority and maintains control over those decisions by the professional court reporter’s physical presence at the location where the court reporting work is performed or by electronic communication with the individual executing the court reporting work.” Shared purpose The cornerstone of a strategic narrative is a shared purpose. This shared purpose is the outcome that you and your customer are working toward together. It’s more than a value proposition of what you deliver to them. Or a mission of what you do for the world. It’s the journey that you are on with them. By having a shared purpose, the relationship shifts from consumer to co-creator. In court reporting, our mission is “to bring justice to every litigant in the U.S.”  That purpose is shared by all involved in the litigation process – judges, attorneys, everyone.  Who we are is the Responsible Charge.  How we do that is by Protecting the Record.

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