Career week -- at preschool. Who'd've thunk.
I went to Henry's class today to speak about my career, as a writer. I'm not sure how 4-year-olds can relate to my work, since they don't read or write. And they don't understand the difference between fiction and non-fiction, so my telling them that I don't make up the stories in my head but interview people and tell their stories prompted lots of blank stares.
I showed the kids examples of newspapers and magazines I've written for, and I pointed out my name in the byline. I talked about my favorite assignments -- interviewing people who were sick or hurt but getting better, riding in a helicopter, profiling a modern-day pirate.
What I tried to do was emphasize the importance of learning their letters, learning to read and write, because EVERYONE has to write during their lives. Which then made my career seem even less interesting.
When I started taking questions from the kids, most of them wanted to tell me what THEIR parents did for a living. Police. Attorneys. Doctors. Teachers.
I had to laugh. The stories I've written during my career usually involve interviewing people like that. I'm all about telling about other people's lives, instead of living one myself!
I felt sort of silly talking about being a freelance writer to a bunch of little ones, who would've been much more impressed by a TV news anchor or talking train or bulldozer driver or Hannah Montana. But there was Henry, on the front row, chattering with his friends about Mommy's home office and her laptop and her "writing at the coffee shop, sometimes." I hugged and kissed him as I left, as he was telling his friends that Daddy would talk later in the week about being a picture-taker. Our son is proud of us.
I wonder how long that will last.
I went to Henry's class today to speak about my career, as a writer. I'm not sure how 4-year-olds can relate to my work, since they don't read or write. And they don't understand the difference between fiction and non-fiction, so my telling them that I don't make up the stories in my head but interview people and tell their stories prompted lots of blank stares.
I showed the kids examples of newspapers and magazines I've written for, and I pointed out my name in the byline. I talked about my favorite assignments -- interviewing people who were sick or hurt but getting better, riding in a helicopter, profiling a modern-day pirate.
What I tried to do was emphasize the importance of learning their letters, learning to read and write, because EVERYONE has to write during their lives. Which then made my career seem even less interesting.
When I started taking questions from the kids, most of them wanted to tell me what THEIR parents did for a living. Police. Attorneys. Doctors. Teachers.
I had to laugh. The stories I've written during my career usually involve interviewing people like that. I'm all about telling about other people's lives, instead of living one myself!
I felt sort of silly talking about being a freelance writer to a bunch of little ones, who would've been much more impressed by a TV news anchor or talking train or bulldozer driver or Hannah Montana. But there was Henry, on the front row, chattering with his friends about Mommy's home office and her laptop and her "writing at the coffee shop, sometimes." I hugged and kissed him as I left, as he was telling his friends that Daddy would talk later in the week about being a picture-taker. Our son is proud of us.
I wonder how long that will last.
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