I teach writing. To elementary students.
While that sounds harmless it really is a scary thing. For the past four years I’ve taught writing to students of all ages ranging from 6 to 19. During that time I’ve seen students of all skill levels pass through my classroom. Some students are gifted, others are diligent and some could really care less about writing or anything pertaining to it.
I always do my best to treat each student the same, but there is one type of student that is especially difficult for me: the expert. This student comes in all shapes and sizes but there are several common denominators making him or her easy to spot within the first week of class.
He or she typically:
▪Has been told by friends and family members that his/her storytelling is exceptional
▪Has been told by someone not in the publishing industry that his/her stories should be published
▪Has never had any formal writing training
▪Doesn’t see a need for editing
▪Was enrolled in my class because he/she loves writing not because he/she wants to learn anything new about how to write
Students who are experts are hard for me because they refuse to be taught. You would think that the fact I am author of ten published books or that I have a degree in a publishing related field would give me some credibility in their eyes. But it doesn’t.
So the experts continue to tell instead of show, skip the quotation marks, write boring dialogue and use cliché endings in their stories. Every year, without fail, one of my students who began the year at the top of the class finds herself at the bottom.
Average and mediocre writers outshine the expert with their end of the year stories. Yet, the expert sits with her arms crossed and a smug look on her face believing that the shoddy piece of work she has in her portfolio will become the next great American novel.
As my students shuffle out of my classroom I shake my head silently and think to myself, Someday she’ll learn.
You see, I used to be an expert too. From the moment I could hold a pencil my teachers were dubbing me a future author. My family spent hours entertained by my stories. Every writing assignment I ever had seemed too easy for me. Thanks to some God given talent I was always a good writer. For years that was a roadblock when it came to making any progress toward becoming a great writer. (While I’ve still not arrived at the pinnacle of greatness I would like to think I’ve made progress.)
I was a twenty year old college student when I signed my first book contract. While most of my professors were starry-eyed over my accomplishment there was one man who wasn’t. During the day he worked as the sports editor at a major newspaper and at night he taught writing classes to journalism students.
During the semester he took each student’s best work and put it up on the overhead projector (with their name on it) and let the class critique it. When my turn came he chose my worst and sloppiest assignment. It was awful. I know everyone in the class must have thought Um, this is the girl with the book contract? I was so embarrassed.
If the humiliation wasn’t enough he asked me to stay after class.
“The number one rule of being a published writer,” he said, “is to always do your best work because you never know who is going to read it.”
After I let those words sink in he offered me some parting words before I left.
“By the way,” he said casually, “if anyone else turned that paper in I would give them an A because that might be their best work. But you’re better than that.”
With that he packed up his bag and walked out of the room. He had no idea then that I would think about that moment at least once a month in the years that followed. I am incredibly grateful for that experience, as painful as it was. That lesson alone was worth the price of my college tuition because it made me a better writer.
Being an expert may make you feel important but it stunts your growth. Aim instead to be teachable. You will go much further that way.
