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I’m a journalism major and for the life of me I couldn’t tell you how I got here. Regardless of how I got here, what’s more important is to explore the system that created me. This same system will create the future where teachers introduce students to the world of language.
In high school I broke down all of the reading I had ever done for English class into two categories, “The Big Two:” The American Enslavement and the Jewish Holocaust. Each book assigned in English curriculums extending from fifth to 12th grade usually fit into The Big Two. The margin of error was no more than 10 percent.
The margin of error, that 10 percent, was filled with The Classics, some of which executed the fabled double whammy by also fitting into The Big Two. My grade-school experience consisted of years pouring through daunting reading while writing mediocre papers that myself and others couldn’t care less about. These assignments made whatever I was reading, no matter how great it potentially was, a chore, a bore and another task to overcome. My father always told me that books were supposed to be enjoyable. “There are some really great books out there,” he would plead. That was lost on me.
This is where the problem begins: Schools make reading a chore. Schools puts a page number on what we need to do for the day or the week so we can stay on schedule, cover what we need to, take the test or write the paper and then move on.
I realize that the challenge lies in enforcing literacy throughout grade school with books that twenty-plus kids in a classroom will enjoy. That’s pretty damn difficult, probably impossible. And teachers need to cover all of the literary bases, which are sure to raise some angry opinions from the class, opinions that teachers can’t care about because otherwise the class wouldn’t get anywhere.
They made me read a book so in return, I rebelled. I didn’t want to read it. Was there a movie? CliffsNotes? Even though my teacher said never to use Wikipedia, was the entry reliable enough that I could pass my test next week?
And just when every student thought they’d catch a break and spend the whole summer as far from books as they could, the dreaded summer reading list would come in the mail like clockwork. The one summer reading assignment that comes storming to my mind was a terrible book called “Snow In August.” I can’t even really remember what the book is about, and to be honest, it’s not that important what the actual plot of the book was. What’s more important is why we read it: To take a test. Our class never touched “Snow In August” again. It came and it went.
This is what high school reading has been reduced to for many, because the books are unexciting and no one is inspiring the students. School reduces the goal of reading a book to writing a paper about what you just read with no mention of obtaining any sort of knowledge or message from the pages we read. Finish the book, write three pages, turn it in and move on with life.
I never really liked writing in grade school, either. I was never allowed to just write. I didn’t get to have fun with words because I was busy writing about the twisted kid with the picture of the horse penis in John Irving’s “The Cider House Rules” (an actual piece of an assignment, just for the record).
Writing for almost every teacher I ever had was defined by a topic, a page limit and a specific structure that I had to follow or otherwise deal with a sea of red.
What I want to know is why we can’t read a book just to read the book. Give a class of 28 kids four books to choose from, see who chooses what and divide the kids up to talk about them. Don’t make them write a paper; just let their minds work as some of them get passionate about a book that they genuinely enjoyed. Tests are part of any school curriculum, yes, but reducing great books, life-changing books, to the simple goal of a multiple-choice test is an insult to authors who worked so hard, teachers who love literature and students who want an education.
Forcing more and more books on students throughout the years breeds a number of students who will set a life goal to never read a book for pleasure. Why would anyone want to set a life goal not to do something?
I put down a book that I genuinely love, one that I’m reading just for pleasure, to write this essay. I’m proud that I broke my own cycle of cynicism because I discovered something truly remarkable that I had scorned for so many years. It was the raw power with which writing can express thought and emotion that drew me back.
In journalism, just like in grade school, I’m defined by structure and word limits. But at least I get to write about things that I’m passionate about now. I get to write about the American school system and how teachers are doing a disservice to their own beloved topics. I get to write about social problems, nutrition in America and coaches whose universities can’t afford to fire them.
Contact CU Independent Social Media Editor Zack Shapiro at Zashapiro@colorado.edu.
1 comment
I think that you’ve touched on many areas in education that suffer significant shortcomings, and I feel your frustration just as much as you do.
Essentially, it seems to me, that you are expressing your discontent with your academic experience. Truthfully, I question that if knowledge is the true desire of a student, is school the place to gain that?
First, I like your insight that these ‘classics’ are often not as amazing as they seem. Many books that half-literate people and my pre-college teachers have boasted about have been absolute abominations, so much so that recycling the book seems unfair because the paper will remain associated with the original text.
You’re completely right the suggest that a large problem is class STRUCTURE. For example, are exams good for judging your understanding of philosophy? Are textbooks the best way to teach our next generation of scientists? Are arbitrary paper limits really helpful, or just irritating? Let’s involve the class in significant ways, not story-time or waste-time time (we all know what I mean). Let’s make school more like being someone’s protégé, or apprentice. More personal, more substantially, more significant.
The real problem is this: the teachers are lazy, and the students are lazy. Of course, those who I have offended, I don’t mean you. I merely mean your neighbor or co-worker. Yeah, that one. The one you don‘t like. Well anyway, this he or she is indisputably the overwhelming majority. Many of the teachers don’t, in fact, want to BE teachers (I can think of a few that have even said that before) because they are busy with their own careers, like research or writing professional articles, or like many others they merely picked the wrong career. Let’s remain painfully honest and say – hey! – most students just want an easy class where they aren’t challenged in any way, and hopefully (for this majority) they won’t ever ever ever have to think about the class material when the lecture is over and the class is out.
Because of this overwhelming laziness, there is a strong demand for simple, easy classes. People who are concerned with self-growth and obtaining knowledge are frequently left disappointed. Like me. Like you, Zach, and I hope, like many many other students.
School is — a business. Bottom line is the primary objective, and many of these luxurious amenities that hide this from us (the library, UMC, gymnasium, free career counseling, etc) are all bent on keeping us from realizing that we are merely consumers, and our academic life may not be as spectacular and profound as our parents, teachers and room-mates have spouted about for so long.
Who will we be when we graduate? Probably the same person we were before.