ScreamFree Articles

For several years now, I have spent the majority of my time with children. I’ve worked with kids and have seen the depth and breadth of their young souls. I have been with them as they experience failure and victory, shame and pride, doubt and belief. No, I am not a guidance counselor. I am not a minister, a doctor, or a therapist. I am none of these, yet in a way, I am all of these. You see, I am a mother and a high school English teacher. Although these two arenas may at first seem very different, the lessons they teach me are strikingly similar.

As an English teacher, I get paid to judge the writing of others. (As a mother, I don’t get paid at all, but that is for another article!). I have worked in two very different school settings, rural Texas and Metro Atlanta, and with every grade level from 8-12. My job in each of my classes has been to teach teenagers how to write. I have lectured them on how to turn a phrase, to cite their sources, and to use correct grammar. I have wielded my red pen like a flaming sword from on high. “Comma splice!” “Fragment!” “Passive Voice!” I often wish that I had a stamp of these common phrases. Haven’t I taught them anything? Didn’t they hear me give clear directions? How many times do I have tell them?

Yet today, I am starting to regret the tone of some of my remarks. Writing is not easy. Sometimes phrases just don’t want to “turn”. Now I’m hearing the things I tell my students in a different way. You see, I promised my students that this year I will write with them in an effort to improve my own skills. This year, my students will get to wield the red pen. This year, my students get to be the editors.

So, what do I hope to come from this experience? That’s easy. I want them to gush over me. I want them to represent that encouraging editor who proclaims I am the best wordsmith he’s ever had the pleasure to work with. But is that what I need as a writer? Is that what will help me to grow and improve? Of course not. But it sure would feel nice. Empty, perhaps, but nice.

But I don’t need them to be editors at the other end of the spectrum, either. I don’t need one who bleeds on my text with ruthless vengeance. I might learn what I’m doing wrong, but I’ll soon lose the courage to try to do it “right”. I might even become so discouraged that I give up altogether…or intentionally write garbage since it’s going to be trashed anyway.

What I need as a writer is the same thing a child needs from a parent—a little objectivity. I need someone who cares about me and my work, but doesn’t need me to perform in order to validate his/her job as an editor. I need someone to give praise throughout the process, but someone who will also have the courage to tell me what I really need to hear. The hard stuff. The stuff that makes me uncomfortable, even angry. I need this person to be a pillar for me. Not one made of cold stone, mind you, but one of calm strength.

In the same way, our kids, no matter what age they may be, need us to be the good editor. Someone who supports them with love, but corrects them with courage. We can be that pillar of strength to our kids. They deserve it—and they desperately need it.

We can’t expect our kids to appreciate how hard it is to keep ourselves calm and be the good editor for them. People just don’t work that way.

What we can expect, however, is for our relationships with each of our kids to flourish. We can grow closer to our child despite the hard things we have to sometimes do—in fact, oftentimes because of those hard things. But we must always remember to be the good editor with love, respect, and our ever calming presence.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to writing. My editors are waiting.