Even 10-year-olds can write editorials.

* In Minneapolis, Insights in Ink nurtures a new generation of critical thinkers,

Toss a newspaper at a group of 10-year-olds and ask them to find the editorial page.

Unless they've been coached in advance, I guarantee they'll clutch. Kids these days - come to think of it, adults, too - are more likely to read letters to Ann Landers than letters to the editor.

They're more inclined to seek out the comics section's easy laughs than the editorial cartoonist's scathing wit. And if they have any awareness of the editorial page at all, they likely regard it as a bastion of boredom - a storage area for Dull But Important ideas that must be dished out yet require far too much chewing to be readily consumed.

This bias is bogus, of course. As any enlightened reader can attest, a lively editorial page is the heart and soul of a newspaper. It's a daily confab in print - a town meeting that gathers all comers into a reflective exchange about what matters. At its best, an editorial page is fascinating and compelling and provocative and infuriating. Important, let's hope, but anything but dull.

Squelching this groundless grudge has much in common with trying to persuade a preschooler that squash is really quite a lovely vegetable.

The "it's good for you" approach doesn't go over well, and force-feeding is messy and counterproductive. But a little bit of butter and brown sugar can work wonders, as can the prospect of dessert. And there can be power as well in that time-honored parental plea: "Just taste it and see what you think."

The Star Tribune has been using the "just taste it" tactic for years. We try to chisel away at the aversion to editorial pages with that sharp but gentle tool called positive exposure. Our program is called Insights in Ink, and its plain purpose is to build a bridge between the newspaper and its next generation of readers. If we want thoughtful customers tomorrow, we figure we'd better see to it.

So we give teachers a reason to bring newspapers into the classroom, and offer students an incentive to read them. The inducement arrives in the guise of an editorial writing and cartooning contest, which offers students a chance to study both fields - then try their hand at them.

Scores of schools take us up on the offer. We supply them with a curriculum, contest guidelines, and writing and cartooning topics. But we don't just shower teachers with paper. We invite them to the newspaper for supper and introduce them to Star Tribune writers and cartoonists.

The conversation starts with simple chatter about journalism, but in a few hours' time we manage to talk about all sorts of heavy stuff: the power of pictures to reveal a hard truth; the link between persuasive writing and critical thinking; the real influence of editorial pages; the best ways to coax kids to research, ruminate, write, and revise. And we usually have a heated discussion about the perils of inviting 30 argumentative fifth-graders to debate the merits of letting McDonald's take over the school lunch service.

I've had many a chance to talk to the teachers who visit us every year, and I always walk away marveling at the work they do. I find the idea of spending six hours with a throng of pre-teens somewhat terrifying, so other than the fail-safe McDonald's ploy I don't presume to offer much in the way of teaching tips.

Instead, I try to help them see that what they're really doing in teaching persuasive writing and cartooning is teaching kids to think for themselves. That is, after all, what teaching is ultimately about.

I tell them what I think they should tell their students: that children who hope to become wise adults must start thinking now about what they believe.

They ought to make a point of keeping tabs on the world, looking out for the controversies, listening to arguments. They ought to cultivate both the courage to express their convictions and the skills to express them clearly.

They ought to learn how to argue - shrewdly, calmly, forcefully, sensitively. And if they want to change more than a few minds at a time, they ought to learn to argue on paper.

Once they've got all of this well in hand, I say, they'll have the power to change the world.

This assertion might seem grandiose, but then, that's nothing new for editorial writers. The teachers typically seem moved by it. After that, it's a snap to help them introduce their students to the editorial pages.

I urge them to start by banishing the biases. They can smash the notion that editorials dwell only on tedious topics by handing over a copy of the New York Sun's 1897 reassurance to an 8-year-old - Yes, Virginia! - that there is, quite definitely, a Santa Claus.

They can bury the assumption that only some opinions are correct by sharing two powerful, opposing editorials on the same subject. They can laugh off the idea that editorial writers are wishy-washy by reading a little Mencken or William Allen White. They can contradict the claim