Willing to Read and Write: Reprise

Last week, this post – first published in September of last year – spiked in my blog stats.  It seemed a whole pile of people were reading it, but I couldn’t figure out who or why, although the search term “effort” had a corresponding spike.  Maybe now, at midterm, teachers and students are being hard hit by the reality of the reading and writing demands of college.  Or maybe it’s bots.  Regardless, I like this post, and am still asking myself these questions: is college the best place for students who find reading and writing a chore?  Is it a place where they can learn to love these activities, or at least see their value?

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Yesterday, I told my college students that they need to read the next 150 pages of the novel we are studying, Life of Pi, over the next seven days.  This is not news – they got a reading schedule on the first day of class, and were told to read ahead.  Nevertheless, there was a collective gasp and more than a little laughter.  A few moments later, during a close reading exercise, I asked them to talk about a passage with a group and come up with a point that they might focus on “if you had to write a couple hundred words about this piece.”  Around the room, students looked at each other with horrified amusement.  A couple hundred words?  About this?  What does she think we are, writing machines?  There were quiet snorts and groans, subtly and not-so-subtly rolled eyes.

It’s early in the semester, and I still have reserves of patience that I won’t have in a few weeks’ time.  By October, I may break down and say something like:

“If you’re not sure you can read one hundred fifty pages of clear, simple prose in a week, or if you’re not sure you can write two hundred words about a two-page passage, that’s ok.  It’s not a problem if you don’t know how to do it – you can learn.  However, if you don’t want to learn how to do these things – if you don’t want to practice and get feedback and meet that challenge, and if you resent me for asking you to – then college is not the place for you.”

The previous class, I’d asked students to interview each other about their reading habits, and write a paragraph about their partners’ reading lives.  A predictable number of students said that they don’t like to read, never read for enjoyment, and last read a novel in the ninth grade, because it was required.  (The number was predictable to me, that is – anyone who doesn’t teach college might be astonished by the number of college students who have absolutely no interest in reading.)

I would like at some point to ask similar questions about writing, but they seem redundant – surely people who don’t read also don’t write?  However, “writing” has become a much more complicated phenomenon in the age of digital communication, and many would argue that our students “write” all the time, although a middle-aged fuddy-duddy like me might be reluctant to call much of the texting, messaging and Facebook posting they do “writing,” any more than I’d call a to-do list “writing.”  Maybe what I’m talking about is long-form writing: long emails in the spirit of “letters,” diary entries that go on for pages and pages, poems and stories and even stabs at novels, blog posts.

A few weeks ago, an article appeared in The Chronicle of Higher Education called “We Can’t Teach Students to Love Reading.”  In it, Alan Jacobs explains that

“‘deep attention’ reading has always been and will always be a minority pursuit, a fact that has been obscured in the past half-century, especially in the United States, by the dramatic increase in the percentage of the population attending college, and by the idea (only about 150 years old) that modern literature in vernacular languages should be taught at the university level.”

Jacobs points to the American GI bill, and the influx of soldiers into American universities after WWII.  From then until now,

“far more people than ever before in human history were expected to read, understand, appreciate, and even enjoy books.”

Once, only a tiny minority of people were expected to get a post-secondary education; now almost everybody is.  However, it is still unreasonable to expect everyone to enjoy reading, even though a university education – at least a traditional one – is difficult to pursue if you don’t.

Jacobs divides people into those who love reading, those who like reading, and those who don’t.  Universities, he says, are full of

“…often really smart people for whom the prospect of several hours attending to words on pages (pages of a single text) is not attractive. For lovers of books and reading, and especially for those of us who become teachers, this fact can be painful and frustrating.”

Jacobs says this is genetic – such people are “mostly born and only a little made.”  A furor has arisen around this assertion – here’s one post that takes it on – but I think he may in part be right.  But if readers and writers are at least “a little made,” what can teachers do to help make them?

According to Jacobs, maybe nothing.

“[The] idea that many teachers hold today, that one of the purposes of education is to teach students to love reading—or at least to appreciate and enjoy whole books—is largely alien to the history of education.”

Now, I’m ok with the fact that a lot of people don’t like reading and writing.  I think they’d be better off if they did, but I also think I’d be better off if I liked playing team sports, going to parties full of strangers, and drinking wheatgrass.  And I’ve written before about the wisdom or lack thereof of pushing your children to love writing.  If it’s possible for me to help my students like reading and writing more than they do, I’d love that – and I dedicate a lot of thought and time to this end.  But if not – if many students will never like to read or write no matter what I do – I can accept this reality.

I do, however, want and expect my students to be willing to read and write.  I want and expect them to see college as an opportunity to practice these activities, and to even be open to enjoying them.  I know that teenagers are not usually “open” by any measure.  Much of their energy goes into defining themselves as “this not that” – athlete, not reader; gamer, not writer.  However, I’m irritated at the prospect of another semester of complaints about being expected to read a lot and write a lot in English class.

Are there things we can do to make our students willing, if not eager, to read and write?  We can try to give them “books that interest them,” but in an extremely diverse class of 42 students, coming up with books that will please everyone is not possible.  We can give them choices about what they’ll read and what they’ll write about, but if reading and writing are themselves the problem, even making such choices can be difficult and frustrating.  By the time they get to college, is it too late?  Do I just have to grit my teeth and say, “I know you don’t like it, but you’re in college”?  Or is it time to start asking less of them?

Jacob believes that we should ask, if not less, then at least different.

“Education is and should be primarily about intellectual navigation, about…skimming well, and reading carefully for information in order to upload content. Slow and patient reading, by contrast, properly belongs to our leisure hours.”

If this is true, then there is no place for the study of literature at college, at least not as core curriculum for readers and non-readers alike.  Can we extrapolate from this that there is no need for “deep writing” either?  That asking students to write longer pieces – which is not to say two hundred words, which they would call long, but perhaps one-thousand-word essays – is asking too much of most, that the ability to do such a thing can only “arise from within,” as Jacobs puts it, and cannot be explicitly taught to anyone?

I would argue that the skills of deep reading and deep writing can be taught to anyone.  The caveat is that students must be, not necessarily enamoured of these activities, but simply willing to engage in them.  They must open to the possibility that they may enjoy them more than they expect, but also to the possibility that they may not.  They need to be prepared to keep stabbing away at them even if they find them difficult, boring or even infuriating, in the hope that they will get better, and with the faith that they will learn something.

Is this skill – openness, or gameness, even in the face of obstacles and possible failure – something that can be taught?  Because if we can teach our students (and ourselves, for that matter) how to be willing, how to relish trying, then we will all truly be learners.

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Go to Siobhan’s Facebook page and hit “Like”!  Follow Siobhan on Twitter!  And if you’d like to know more about Siobhan’s life and thoughts outside the classroom, follow her Tumblr blog.

Image by Peter Galbraith

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13 responses

  1. My question, over and over, is if these “students” are so averse to reading and writing about the experiences, why are they in college? Isn’t college all about reading, thinking, and writing? Alas, there I go again, speaking from a pre-social networking arena that requires little or none of what was traditionally expected from college students. How sad!

  2. One idea would be, for those students who don’t love reading and then analyzing (in writing) what they’ve read: break them into different reading/writing classes based on their interests. A few might be based on novels of differenet sorts; some based on current events articles; some based on repair manuals (I’m not kidding; that’s the only thing that would have elicited enthusiasm from some of my nephews). If we want pretty much everyone to go to college, but are then disappointed when they don’t cooperate with the traditional college curriculum, then we need to tweak the curriculum so that they still improve their reading and writing.

  3. I am a university professor at U de Montréal and I encounter the same challenges. I really like and admire the deft way in which Siobhan has articulated the problem, as well as the status of reading and writing in higher education. I would say that a third of my students have neither interest nor talent, yet our culture tells them that they have to go to university. What is to be done? I think that students should figure out in high school, or at the very latest in CEGEP, whether they are gifted with language or gifted with numbers. If they are neither, then university is not the place for them. Why is university valued more than the trades? Is an electrician or a plumber or a drywall installer or a chef of less value to our culture than a journalist or a lawyer? God, no. Maybe high schools, and parents, should do a better job of directing young people to the learning institutions, and the careers, where they will find fulfillment rather than frustration. As for whether the skills of close reading and careful writing can be taught, I have my doubts. Facility with advanced literacy is not unlike a quickness with math or a good ability to learn languages or design buildings: beyond a certain basic level, these things cannot be taught. They can certainly be nurtured, but if the innate ability isn’t there, then there’s little in store but unhappiness.

    • Eric-
      I agree that the system should be refined so that students are directed into career paths for which they have natural ability and innate interest. However, college degrees are stressed because employers require them. How many jobs that require a college degree could easily be done by someone without one? I would say thousands. However, we can’t fix the education end of the problem without addressing the employment end.
      Great post.

  4. Siobhan, You have very cleverly presented us with two different attitudes about the purpose of reading. One, apparently is concerned with information, the other with encouraging empathy.

    Education is and should be primarily about intellectual navigation, aboutskimming well, and reading carefully for information in order to upload content. Slow and patient reading, by contrast, properly belongs to our leisure hours.

    Happily ignoring the fact that the whole point of reading is to force us into an encounter with the other, our high schools and colleges labor mightily to provide students with mirrors of their own experience, lest they be made uncomfortable, effectively undercutting diversity in the name of diversity.

    With the limited information at hand, it is easy to think that Jacobs is largely biased toward a left-brain dominant model, and that Slouka tends perhaps in the other direction. As though there were only two kinds of writing, which we conveniently call fiction and non-fiction. Which ain’t exactly so. If you have ever read Simon Schama or John McPhee (to name but two) it is possible to tell a rousing good story with solidly factual information. I hope at least some of your students find this as interesting as I do. Thanks, JML

    • The point of some reading is to force us into an encounter with the other. Not all reading. By the time they are 18 or 19, some students have opted out of encounters with the other mediated by print. It is fairly arrogant to assume that there is no other way to encounter the other, although print (and other media) certainly do give us access to many far-away others (or fictional others) that we won’t meet in real life.

      Agree with you about McPhee!

  5. As long as there are teachers such as yourself, we need not worry about our children’s education. I mean not to fill your pockets with piss but to doff my cap in respect to you. Peace. Out.

  6. I believe a love for reading and writing can be taught. I love to read and am a manic writer. I read aloud to both of my sons as soon from birth forward. Neither of them is that enthralled with reading. Why would they be? It takes so much effort to wade through words so a picture can be created in the mind. It’s just easier to watch movies (which they both love and can have intelligent conversations about character arc, theme, plot, etc. about) and computer games let you interact with the story.
    My oldest son never liked writing until 8th grade. I’m not sure what the teacher did, but my son wrote two fictional short stories without being assigned to over the next two years. My youngest son enjoys writing because he likes to make up stories. Neither of them have the best grasp on grammar and mechanics, but those things aren’t stressed in our public school system like they were “back in the day.”
    Both of my boys will read a novel if it interests them or if they are assigned it by a teacher. My older son is more involved in reading than the younger. Their dad reads for work or class and that’s it, but they see me reading all the time. They have never complained too loudly about reading for school. They see the importance of literacy.
    Sorry that I’m rambling on, but I think if they were raised in a different environment, they wouldn’t be readers and maybe not writers. But they see the passion in others and they enjoy the idea of “story” and so they can be coerced into reading and writing about what they read. I think focusing on storytelling is one way to get kids interested but it has to start young. The way to get them to write is to give them something they’re invested in to write about. I’ve already went on for too long or I would recount the persuasive essay assignment that has over 100 7th graders completely engaged at our school.
    Great post, as always. I agree that with you teaching, there’s a good chance education will succeed.

  7. Well, I think if we kick out 40-50% of college students. It might not be a bad idea. It would deal with debt crises and make Master’s degree useful again.
    So, yeah. Just tell them they’re in the wrong place.
    Then your problem will be how to actually teach such a thing as deep reading and writing.

  8. Many people don’t like to read and write because they don’t like to think. I’m not being cynical. It’s just that thinking is hard work. Many young people do find they like to read when they find texts that interest them. They’ve just been repeatedly steered to works that don’t. But college isn’t about reading fun books. It’s about thinking. And a lot of people aren’t used to doing much of it, and would prefer it stay that way.

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