Stuff We Don't Want to Do & Blank Pages

The Boy was recently kvetching about his homework.

"Why do I need to learn to write fiction if I want to be an engineer?" he said. "How will this help me?"

I had a hard time coming up with a response that he would believe. He is fairly smart, so getting past his bullshit detector is much harder than smothering broccoli in cheese sauce. Metaphorically speaking, he often finds the broccoli and refuses to eat it. It is one of his magic powers. At least I don't have to worry too much about him getting sucked into a cult.

"Part of this is learning to write," I said.

"I can write essays fine and I get that. But why should I write I story?"

"It is supposed to be fun," I said.

(Eye roll.)

"Maybe you will be a good writer and just don't know it yet," I said. "You are a decent writer." This is true. He isn't a bad writer. Both of my kids are better writers than I was at their ages.

"Everything I write makes me cringe," he said. "I suck at this."

"Part of writing is learning how to write," I said. "J.K. Rowling didn't publish the stories she wrote as an eighth grader."

"I bet her stories were better than mine," he said. I was running out of cheese sauce. All he could see and smell was the broccoli.

I went to coffee with a friend and explained my situation. How can I persuade my very persuasive son to write a story?

"Part of school at this age is learning how to do things you don't want to do," she said. "Kids who succeed at school, especially in high school, are the kids who can gut through what sees unappealing." I never had a problem with that at school. I was internally motivated and naturally curious. I did work because it was there.

I understood her point. I thought the purpose of chores was to actually get my kids to help so I wouldn't have as much work to do around the house. Now I understand the purpose is something completely different. Very few people* want to clean a toilet, empty a dishwasher, or vacuum. My son would rather google random crap than write a story. Who wouldn't? But life isn't about vegging out on a computer to escape reality.

Then I think about the opposite of learning to do things you don't want to do. Sure, I get everyone needs to take care of themselves. But why is learning how to do things you don't want to do such a prized skill in our society? Why do college admissions want kids who succeed in all subjects? Poets don't need to know engineering. Why make engineers learn to write poetry? I can see that for kids: their parents and teachers don't know who will grow up to be an architect and who will grow up to be an accountant, and it is beneficial to expose all kids to all kinds of possibilities. And I know that there are somethings everyone needs to know. We all need to know the basic principles of how government works, principles of science, how to read, how to read a bank statement, and so on.

Here is my quandary: I am really good at doing things I don't want to do. I am excellent at it, in fact. I can also find a reason to get stuff done that I don't want to do, and make it mildly interesting or entertaining. I am rarely bored. Some of this is good.

Some of it isn't. If I am good at doing what I don't want to do, how can I know what I will like to do? How will I know when I find it?

In the end, my son gutted through the story, and it wasn't "cringe-worthy." Before he wrote it, his sister gave him some crazy ideas, one of which stuck and he ran with. He got out my copy of Spoiled Brats by Simon Rich, a wickedly funny anthology of humorous and very crude essays. While the Boy was scared by the blank page before him, he started to have fun with where he could go with it. He got over the ditch and into the fun part. Finally. He realized his broccoli wasn't so bad.

Happy New Year! May your blank page this year be filled with wonder and joy!


* My grandmother and uncle, who probably both had/have a mild case of OCD, enjoy housework. Rather, they so strongly dislike mess and prefer order that their urge to clean is strong.