Poised for Extinction

The Love of Reading

One post-school afternoon, a passing parent popped her head into my classroom, introduced herself as Zach’s mother, and thanked me for teaching her son “to appreciate literature.” This memory was triggered recently by a headline, “Only 10% of boys aged 14–16 read daily for pleasure, National Literacy Trust.” Following this line of logic, Zach was one of the 90% or so when he reached 16 or 17 years of age, but something happened during the course of his American Literature class that potentially shifted him to the 10%. This conclusion begs the questions, “What? … What changed for Zach? How can ELA teachers replicate it to teach all students to not just read literature but to appreciate it? To find value in it? To keep coming back? To, dare I say, love it?” As with any topic involving the brain and motivation, there most certainly isn’t only one viable strategy. But, in reflecting back, I have one response.

Reading Isn’t a Passive Pursuit

In all the flurry over the Science of Reading (SOR)—phonics, foundational skills, and finally literal comprehension—a focus on building the motivation to read in young readers is lost. Think back to the texts you love, I mean, really love. Why do you love them? I have a theory that the books we love are, at their essence, about us—the reader. These texts help us learn about ourselves and the people we know, put language to our experiences, find ourselves reflected back to us without a filter, allow us to safely experiment with alternative ways of thinking, or permit us to follow different paths to their conclusions. In the end, we leave these texts changed. And the reason books can do all this for some readers is because these “elite” readers consciously or subconsciously join the author in the process of constructing meaning. At some time and in some way, we learned the process of active reading. We are readers who challenge, question, and test the text for its truth. And, through this process, we leave a text we love battle-scarred.

Quit Starting with the Deficit

Creating a classroom of active readers requires an elemental shift in the way reading is approached. Too often, students have learned that books are about all the things the students are not: well-spoken, educated, intellectual, knowledgeable. In this way of thinking, students are empty vessels waiting to be filled by text. And from the student’s point of view, what a lot of work! You aren’t able to read this text until … you memorize these vocabulary words and learn how to identify point of view and its effect and define the plot elements and, and, and … How discouraging the process of reading must seem! Why does anyone bother? But what if students bring everything they need to a text, a surplus rather than a deficit? They bring their life experiences, their interests, and their expertise in a myriad of topics to a text.

• What if Julius Caesar is approached as a play about friendship and betrayal, and language and history reveal themselves naturally along the way?

• What if The Great Gatsby is presented as a novel about constructing an identity—trying to figure out who you are in the world—and the symbolism and cultural context reveal themselves organically en route to the “ceaseless past”?

Students may not come to the text with an expertise in Shakespeare’s language or an understanding of Fitzgerald’s social criticism, but they certainly know a friend’s betrayal and a search for identity. In fact, these topics are likely very fresh and easily accessible in their lives.

Maybe It’s Time to Love Reading Again

With this shift in approach, students would be empowered to perform as elite readers—challenging, questioning, and testing a text for its truth: Why and how do the characters in Julius Caesar engage in betrayal? In what ways do these reasons and strategies match up with what I know or have observed? Which of Gatsby’s strategies for constructing an identity are familiar to me? In what ways am I Gatsby? In what ways am I Nick?

In the end, loving stories is about loving the human experience and seeking to understand it. Perhaps we should “teach what we know to be true” and start with the guts of a story rather than a list of vocabulary words and mini lessons on literary skills that students are expected to apply as they read. After all, if they aren’t motivated to keep coming back to the stories, none of the rest of it will matter.

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