What to Say to the Excessively Clever Eye-Rolling Fifth Grader

I am prepared to offer you certain commitments. I will never tell you that you have to like writing. I will never judge you or belittle you for not liking writing. I will never even tell you that you would be happier if you liked writing. I will never expect you to lie to me about liking writing. There are lots of things other people like that I don't--carpentry, calculus, cooking if it takes more than thirty minutes. There's nothing wrong with not liking stuff. I will do everything in my power to teach you well, whether you like what you learn or not.

If.

You've heard teachers tell you that you need to meet them halfway. There's a very specific halfway where I want you to meet me. I only ask for two commitments from you.

One: That you do the work I assign you, even if you don't like it. During our weekly hour, we both have our jobs to do.

Two: That you allow for the possibility that someday, you might write something, or encounter some kind of writing, and not hate doing it. It's fine if you write and happen to notice, Hey, I'm not enjoying this, but it's a whole other thing if you hate writing as a matter of policy. Don't cheat yourself. Don't rob yourself. If you catch yourself having a good time, let yourself have a good time.

Can you sign on for that? Because if you can't, your mom will have to hire somebody else to do this work with you, and you might not be offered another deal this good.


That's what came out of my mouth when I opened it. Apparently, I lucked into the right thing to say.