Dear Editor,
I read the letters in your paper every day (in fact they’re the only things I read, being too cheap to purchase a subscription) and generally know what to expect. One letter spreading vaccine misinformation, one taking a swipe at the government (or opposition), something on topical international incidents or disruptive roadworks, and the occasional political grandee who condescends to grace these humble pages with their exalted opinions. The usual suspects are there, week in, week out, but only a few of them appear to be children. There seem only a smattering of teenagers, and I would be shocked to discover more than one of the regular letter-writers above the age of ten. Why is this, dear Editor? Have you been wielding the censor’s brush over their submissions? Does nothing give you more joy than drenching their squiggly little handwriting in gallons of white-out? Somehow I doubt it.
I choose, then, to believe that children are simply not writing letters to the paper with the frequency you’d expect. After all, being (we are told) nearly half the population and universally literate I would expect by now a tower of neatly papered envelopes to have formed on your desk. So why (please correct me if I am wrong) do they not write? It seems to me a dreadful waste of the years (it was nine in my day, perhaps more now) of education we force on the brats if they end up making no use of it. Why bother teaching them nine different styles of addressing and complementary close (one for each teacher, they never seem able to agree on anything) if their scribblings will never see the light of day? I guarantee they aren’t writing letters to each other (for which every postie is eternally grateful). Who knows the troubles abounding in children’s lives? I certainly don’t. What are their wants and needs, their likes and dislikes? Do they appreciate such extravagances as toys or sweets or playtime or homework or beatings? Surely they must, or we wouldn’t continue giving them. As we are not a nation of mind-readers, it falls to them to tell us, and there is no better way than in a letter to the newspaper (I believe there is a new invention called the internet which claims to effect such dialogue, but I doubt it is more than a passing fad, being far too technical.)
It’s entirely possible that this is all down to children not reading the papers, and none of them will ever see this. If so, Dear Editor, you’d better shape up – that’s half your potential readership down the drain. I imagine if you could draw children’s eyes to your paper a flood of advertisers would pour in, desperate to hook the tots early on sweeties and soft drinks and (again I confess a complete ignorance of children’s wants) whatnot, and I can think of no better way to lure them than with the sight of their own words (for no one, young or old, has so little vanity that they miss a chance to see their writings in print – readers can be assured I have purchased today’s paper and framed this page in my living room). So children, don’t let your education go to waste. I myself have left my first letter till 24, forgotten how to address the damn thing, produce what appeared to be the ramblings of an inebriate (drunk on parentheses). I look forward to hearing your concerns, chucking the paper in the (recycling) bin, and doing nothing about them.
Sincerely,
Cecil Cox.
