Last week, I, along with all the other first-grade parents, was invited to talk to the class about what I do for a living. Today was the big day. As the time drew nearer and nearer, I became nervous. What would I say? How could I possibly explain the complexities of my job to 6- and 7-year-olds?

No sooner did I walk in the classroom door than two things immediately happened. First, Cody ran up from his desk at the back of the room and gave me a hug. Second, a girl with whom Cody shares an extreme love/hate relationship grabbed my arm as I walked by.

“I have a confession to make,” she said in a stage whisper, her eyes unnaturally magnified by her thick glasses.

“A confession?” I blurted, taken aback.

“Yes,” she continued. “Cody is mean to me.”

To my horror, Cody let out an evil chuckle.

I gave Cody a mild form of “the evil eye” and said, “Well, I’ll have to talk to him about that. At home,” I added, as the little girl watched expectantly, apparently waiting/hoping for me to ream Cody out in front of the class.

Now even more flustered, I stepped to the front of the classroom. All the clever ideas I had on the drive over about what I could say were nowhere within reach. I didn’t know where to start. My flummox was further increased when I called on a little boy who raised his hand, purportedly to ask a question, but who instead launched into a lengthy story about his weekend plans and had to be quietly shushed by the teacher.

I stuttered. I spluttered. I clammed up even more at the realization that I was intimidated by a classroom full of fairly non-judgmental first-graders.

I don’t remember much of what I said. Something about how lucky I am that reading is a required part of my job and how cool it is that I can “go to work” in my pajamas. I gave each of the kids my business cards, which they seemed to like. The teacher and the two teacher’s aides peppered me with questions about everything from how I get work to what I’m currently working on, and one perceptive little girl asked me if I write “real things or pretend things.”

My presentation ended with the teacher saying, “Well, boys and girls, now you can go home today and say that you’ve met a real writer!” and me realizing, once again, just exactly why I’m a writer and not a teacher or speaker. I had gone in there wanting to get through to the kids how important it is to find a job they enjoy and that they’re good at, if at all possible. I left even more aware of just how much I love my job and how perfect it is for me, a person who is capable of being rendered practically speechless in front of a classroom of 6-year-olds.

Are you doing something you love for a living?

♦     ♦     ♦     ♦     ♦     ♦     ♦     ♦     ♦     ♦     ♦     ♦     ♦     ♦     ♦     ♦     ♦     ♦     ♦     ♦

Have you entered my giveaway for a LeapFrog Tag Reading System bundle? Take a second to leave a comment to win!