The Catcher in the Rye; Huckleberry Finn; The Great Gatsby; To Kill a Mockingbird; The Scarlet Letter. When did we first read these books? Probably in high school. What are high schoolers reading? Probably these books. This has remained unchanged for some time. These hallmark texts are in fact so deeply associated with high school reading classes that they are listed in The Washington Post as “summer reading” (19 September 2004). Right now, teens throughout America are collectively reading (or browsing online summaries of) Brave New World, 1984, Frankenstein, and even Hamlet and Macbeth.
It is a disappointment, then, to know that most students are not celebrating the opportunity to become familiar with these texts, but most in fact meet the encounter with rather resigned attitudes. Expectations are low, and full engagement is unlikely. But aren't these the books that our culture reveres as the most accessible, rewarding, and socio-historically important? I will not spend words blaming the popularity of television, video games, or any other modern technologies. We should furthermore not fall into the old “kids these days . . .” routine: most parents and grandparents read little more than the daily newspaper and whatever their career requires. It seems that for Americans of all ages (high schoolers, college students, adults and seniors), classic poetry, drama, fiction, and nonfiction are simply not the leisure material of choice. This applies even to those who pursued higher education: recent data collected by Jenkins Group Publishing Firm indicates that approximately 42% of college graduates will never read another book. And so, we naturally want to know why. From where does this multi-generational disconnect with literature originate?
Of course this phenomenon cannot be attributed to any single source. The climate of our twenty-first century life, with its bustling capitalistic activity, instant news media, and instant entertainment, is obviously going to leave leisure reading in the dark, forgotten corners. We are used to this. I would like to discuss, however, one particular element of our lives that may be a major factor in literature's low popularity. Drawing from my own personal experiences, I would consider the common high school English curriculum in this country to be that factor to which I've just referred. This particular style of education is too often counterproductive, and leads not to the cultivation of a multitude of lifelong readers, but instead leads all too often only to a general smothering of literary interest. I do believe that the methods of literature education in wide use in most high schools is in many ways responsible for the diminishment of active literacy in our nation. It would not be an exaggeration to say that for many students—especially those who identify themselves as being interested in empirically-based subjects like science and math—high school English classes only strengthen their disdain for literature studies, reinforcing the attitude that classic literature it is outdated, obsolete, and above all, boring.
The strongest base upon which I will make my argument is my own life history. Though my own experiences in high school are just that: my own, I do feel safe assuming that many of the materials and practices used in my alma mater are widely used elsewhere, for the reason that my high school is one of many others like it in this country. My high school is located in a rural area, has access to a very limited amount of funds, operates in a tight-knit community wherein parents and town leaders hold active roles, and enrolls at the time of this writing about 1,000 students (grades 7 through 12), virtually all of whom are white and middle-class.
In ninth grade, I remember reading an abridged version of the Odyssey and our first Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet. In tenth grade, we continued on to read Julius Caesar, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, and To Kill a Mockingbird. In eleventh grade, our workload increased; I remember reading Catch-22, The Great Gatsby, The Catcher in the Rye, Huckleberry Finn, The Glass Menagerie, and The Scarlet Letter. In twelfth grade, I recollect my introduction to the British epic: we read excerpts from Paradise Lost and Beowulf, and then moved on to read Heart of Darkness, Crime and Punishment, and Death of a Salesman, finishing the year with both Macbeth and Hamlet. I think that the texts, in retrospect, provided an satisfactory taste of classic literature. I thoroughly enjoyed my high school reading experience, though I noted that many of my peers did not.
I feel safe claiming that my high school English classes turned many, many teens off of reading. The teaching methods I encountered, especially up until my senior year, focused almost entirely on the element of plot, undermining a chief purpose of literary studies, and embedding the components of “correct” and “incorrect” in the processes of reading and comprehension. High school teachers all too often ask, “what happened in chapter 4?” and you as the student must answer either correctly or incorrectly. The fear of public correction can be harmful to a reader's confidence and enjoyment of a text. Note: it is not necessarily that teachers’ expectations are objective and too firm. The problem is that many teachers rely too heavily on concrete information, and do not stress to students the most important factor of reading: personal appreciation and understanding.
In my time as a high school student with a focus in English, I realized that my teachers, by presenting classic literature as removed from all other modes of language—including those that intrigued many students—suggested therefore (probably inadvertently) that classic literature is its own self-standing, remote body of work. Contemporary texts are ignored completely. Connections to contemporary sensibilities and media are stifled. These classes, therefore, fail to make the texts relevant to a student’s life. And when the material is not applicable to the student's life, the student becomes bored. It is at this point that reading begins to feel like a chore. Under this manner of instruction, the student ultimately associates literature with forced intake of information and fear of failure. The potential reader then categorizes literature into the “irrelevant” file in their mind, along with all other things perceived as unprofitable and foreign. And here is the frightening truth: they will carry this prejudice against literature for the rest of their lives.
We should remember Mark Twain's words: “A person who won't read has no advantage over one who can't read.” It is noble to work to inspire reading in students—to help them see the same beauty found in Bach, Mozart and Beethoven, in literature. But how can this be done on a significant scale? It is difficult to propose any universally practical or enforceable solution to the problem that I see in high school English education. There are sentiments, though, that I may hope to communicate as best I can, which could have some effect. My desire here is for the promotion of a future in which the propensity toward self-initiated reading is encouraged, not snubbed out by insensitive pedagogical practices. To this end, I would encourage high school instructors to shift gear in their English classes.
I would ask them to ease into historically distant authors such as Shakespeare and Milton. The rhetoric used in these texts—which are artifacts, remember—are entirely foreign to a person growing up in post-millennium America. It may be wise to gradually expose teens to literature in a world like ours, in which it is so easy to turn to other forms of entertainment. Whether we like it or not, the average ninth-grade American student (aged 15 years) is unlikely to comprehend or enjoy Romeo and Juliet. I certainly did not understand the nuances of Shakespeare's style at that age (and still do not claim to). Forcing young readers with little literary experience to grapple with a Shakespearean drama is likely to instill memories of frustration and confusion in association with literature. Teachers, avoid this! Gently nurture the love of books, so it can grow to be as irreplaceable as any other type of love.
Remember—reading literature is a profound and beautiful experience that can enjoyed for an entire lifetime; at the same time, it can be perceived as difficult or impenetrable by non-readers. As a teacher of literature, you must work to instill confidence in young readers. Empower them. Let them enjoy the text in their own way and on their own time. Let them justify their own conclusions in regard to literature's unique humanity—its consciousness, real-life manifestations, and moral truths. And above all, value students' interpretations as much as your own.
Do not lose the intellectual heritage of humanity. Do not forget why we want literature to endure: because we love it and it brings joy and understanding to us. Help others find this joy and understanding.
Thoughts?