Is There a Hemingway in the House?

Lots of smart, articulate students hate writing. They spend their school careers wondering, Why do I have to write anyway? The teacher's standing right next to me! Can't I just tell her what I want to say? Writing seems like an inefficient way to communicate—slower than talking and far more dangerous: When you speak, nobody notices where you put the commas; write, and they're after you with a red pencil. And then there's the grueling process of lining up hundreds—even thousands—of words in single file. Who knows which ones the teacher wants? How can I tell when I'm done? For prose-hating kids, writing is tough, puzzling work.

The more creative ones manage to turn their writer's block into a sport. First comes “search and rescue.” When you say it's writing time, they dive under their tables as though you just announced a duck-and-cover drill. They're intent on finding their favorite pencil, which is tragically AWOL. If they locate it, it's never sharp enough, requiring several trips to the sharpener. Then the chair must be precisely aligned toward some invisible compass point, and a drink of water is required to lubricate the writing muscles.