As I thought about what I wanted to write today, it wasn’t a lack of ideas that was the problem.  I had a list of several possibilities, but none stood out to me as especially interesting, meaningful, or powerful.  So when my students walked into my classroom, I casually asked, “If someone told you to write about something today – anything at all – what would you write about?”  I expected to hear groans or see fear on their faces at the thought of a writing assignment.  Instead, I heard a sudden chorus of excited voices advising me to write about what I love as they eagerly threw out their own ideas.  Lacrosse! Unicorns! Twilight- team Edward! Minecraft! Acting silly and crazy! I started to wonder why we, as adults, rarely sit down just to write about the things we love.

As we get older, we learn that what we write must have some purpose, some valid argument, or some deep connection to our lives.  We’re rewarded and praised as students for writing something meaningful, thoughtful, and well-written.  Of course there’s a time and place for that type of writing.  But do we also learn that writing simply to tell the world about what we love, with no profound conclusion or objective, is child’s play or no longer relevant?  What happened to writing simply to share our joy and understanding of something as simple and unprofound as being on Team Edward?

What would I write if I decided to just write about something I love? I realized that’s a harder task than I anticipated.  I’m used to making sure everything I do has some purpose or achieves some goal.  How much of what I do in life is purely for pleasure and no gain or reward?   Where do I still find joy with no promise of any long-term benefit?  I realized I love peanut butter, dogs, college football, maxi dresses and skirts in the summer, eating afternoon snacks when I get home from school, spending time in the sun, and reading celebrity gossip in the checkout line at the grocery store, all despite the fact that none of these things have direct relevance to my success or will necessarily earn praise from others.

Similarly, I doubt unicorns have any real relevance to my students’ lives, but they find joy in writing songs about them.  I recently learned from one of my students that unicorns don’t exist anymore because they were lounging in a pool when Noah’s Ark sailed by, and therefore, missed the boat and drowned in the flood.  When another student asked why they didn’t just fly away from the water, the first student informed everyone that unicorns can’t fly, they can only run on rainbows.  That story brought a smile to my face for the rest of the day.  I sincerely hope my students continue telling stories like that one, if only for the joy of explaining and sharing something they love.

Learner, Thinker, Writer: Ashley Johnston teaches Fifth Grade social studies and language arts at Trinity School.