Ben Hatfield, CEO of International Coal Group, Inc., steps to the microphone and begins to read a prepared statement. "I'm devastated to announce the deaths of 12 miners at Sago Mine."

A reporter cuts in with the first of several hard questions.

"It seems as if there has been a series of errors on your part. Why should we believe you now?"

Hatfield fidgets and attempts to remain poised as other reporters jump in with more questions. The press conference is heating up, and one slip of the tongue from Hatfield could spell disaster for his company.

This isn't an actual press conference, but a recent session of J460/J560 Crisis Communications. "Hatfield" is really a student, senior Miranda McCage. The "reporter" is Jim Parham, an adjunct lecturer in the School of Journalism and the executive vice president and chief operating officer of Hirons & Company, a Bloomington-based public relations and advertising agency.

The crisis the class is re-enacting this semester is the Sago Mine disaster of January 2006. Thirteen miners were trapped after an underground explosion near the West Virginia town of Sago. Initial reports in major newspapers and television stations claimed that 12 miners had survived. Families of the miners began to celebrate, only to find out that only one of the 13 miners had lived.

Not only was this a human tragedy, but the Sago Mine explosion led to a public relations disaster, with government and mine officials as well as journalists pointing fingers about how the miscommunication occurred.

Students in Parham's class are replaying the events as they unfolded, and in the process they're getting to practice being both reporters and PR specialists.

Each student takes on task, in this case a press conference, to plan and execute. The classroom, located in a conference room at Hirons, doubles as a command and control center of the coal company's public relations arm. Students wearing yellow hard hats meet in groups and discuss strategy. Then things kick into "real time." Parham turns into an adversarial reporter, and students adopt the role of PR specialists.

This kind of real world approach, Parham feels, is well-suited to his goal of getting students to think on their feet, as is required of public relations workers in real crises.

"Universities are often places where students can instantly satiate their need for knowledge," says Parham. "But when the university safety rope is gone, you're on your own. You're never going to have all the answers given to you, so figure it out."

Graduate student Lauren Williams likes the class for exactly that reason.

"In public relations, there's a right way to do things," she says, "but it's not like there's a standard way to do things. You have to figure out how to do it. You are in control of the message."

Parham wants his students to learn to think quickly and strategically while under pressure. And the pressure can be intense.

As other students step to the front of the classroom for the press conference role-play, the questions get tougher, and not all of them have the answers. One calls the press conference to an early close, stating, "That's all at this time."

Other students clearly relish the opportunity to play hardball with their professor. As one "CEO" is answering a question from the students playing reporters, Parham tries to interject with a question of his own. "Excuse me," snaps the CEO, "I'm answering her question."

Parham doesn't take offense. This is exactly what he wants from his students. "They've grown into their roles really well," he says.