My daughter Tess is ten. Since September a classmate named Madison Kreider has made her cry on about four school days out of five. My wife's response has been to call Madison "a little monster," email the teacher twice, and tell Tess that none of it is true. I understand the impulse. But "none of it is true" is a confident claim about seven separate propositions, and nobody in my house had evaluated any of them.

To steelman a position is to build its strongest version before you answer it, and the practice matters most when the position belongs to someone you dislike. It is easy to do for a genius philosopher. It is harder when the other party is a fifth grader who has called your child "soup girl" since the second week of school. That is the case the method was made for.

I started with primary sources. Tess's tablet syncs the fifth-grade group chat to our family account, and I read four months of it over a weekend. With the emoji removed, Madison's case comes to seven claims.

Madison's wording Strongest version Finding
"your bangs look like a butt" The haircut does not suit Tess's face Supported. I measured.
"soup girl" Tess's thermos lunch has a noticeable smell Supported on lentil days
"nobody wanted you on their team" Tess is chosen late in gym Supported: 17th of 19, by her own account
"you laugh like a fart" Tess's laugh is atypical within her peer group Inconclusive. Small sample.
"your recorder sounds like diarrhea" The recorder solo contained errors Supported. I count nine on the video.
"tryhard" Tess's effort is visible and exceeds her results Partly supported
"everyone hates you" Tess is universally disliked Not supported. I would put it nearer 60 percent.

Five of the seven survive in some form. I want to be careful about what that means. Madison's delivery is poor, and she is obviously enjoying herself. But a claim does not become false because the person making it is having a good time.

To check that I had really understood her, I ran an ideological Turing test, which asks whether you can state an opponent's view so well that an observer cannot tell you from the real thing. I wrote three messages in Madison's voice, mixed them with three of her own, and showed all six to Tess. She could not pick mine out. She left the kitchen before I could give her the score.

The next step was to help the two of them find their crux, the underlying point on which their disagreement turns. I sent the table to both girls and, since the chat was already open, to the group. By Monday Madison had begun citing it. One message read, "even her DAD says the bangs." Another was a screenshot of row five with eleven poop emojis beneath it. My wife regards this as my document being used against our daughter. I would describe it as Madison revising her arguments in response to better evidence, which is more than most adults manage.

Erin says a father's job is to be on his daughter's side. I am on her side. I want Tess to have an accurate model of her bangs.

The school counselor, Ms. Abbate, asked us in on Wednesday. I brought copies. She said the meeting was about Madison's behavior. I said I thought we would get further at the object level, and asked whether anyone present wished to defend the solo. Madison's mother said she had found the table "really helpful." Ms. Abbate asked me to put the copies away.

Tess's own contribution has been limited. In the car she said, "Dad, please stop helping," which I have logged as feedback on format.

She now eats lunch in Ms. Abbate's office, and she has not spoken to me since Thursday. I have been trying to steelman this. The strongest version of her position, as far as I can reconstruct it, is that I am her father. I do not yet see what that has to do with the bangs.