As a full time teacher, I spend a lot of time considering the question: what should teenagers be reading in 2023? In modern education speak: canon vs. choice. Increasingly, and dishearteningly, I find today’s youth aren’t reading for pleasure. I’ve noticed many of my students lack the ability to imagine worlds beyond the literal and immediate realities they inhabit. Furthermore, I’ve noticed students struggling with vocabulary, syntax and inference. I have 102 students, and of this group, approximately five read on their own.
According to a study done by the American Psychological Association, in the 1970s, 60% of high school seniors read from a book or magazine every day. By 2016, this number had dropped to 16%. This percentage appears to be holding steady, with 80% of teens reporting using social media daily. But we already know this.
Is decreasing literacy simply due to technology? Is reading too slow for a mind addicted to snapchat and Tiktok? I place no blame on this generation (they’re children, after all) for faltering over words like “sniveling” and “titillating” (both examples taken recently from my own classroom) at seventeen years of age, but I do wonder about the future for Gen Z-ers, who appear, from my observations, to have lost the art of imagination. What does a society devoid of imagination look like? Pinpointing the steady decline in reading feels both overwhelming and nuanced – about as fruitless as imagining a world where we aren’t all addicted to our phones. The question becomes, what real solutions can educators propose to draw teens into the literary world? Canon or choice?
I work at a traditional public school where we read the classics: The Great Gatsby, The Catcher in the Rye, The Crucible, Lord of the Flies, Julius Caesar, Crime and Punishment, Great Expectations. You get the idea.
I recently rooted out seventeen copies of Sherman Alexie’s The Absolutely True Diary of A Part-Time Indian (now problematic for the 2018 allegations of sexual assault by Alexie) which is one of the more current novels in our book room. It was published in 2007. I’ll go out on a limb and say, on the whole, adolescents find another teenager who plays basketball and likes girls easier to relate to than a conch wielding British boy murdering other little boys on an island. Our book room is certainly not a glowing example of diversity in either content or authorship. One AP instructor does teach The Glass Castle (2005) and Just Mercy (2014) but these books are taught to approximately fifteen students per year. In my current core curriculum for junior level American Literature, every author is male.
Of course the classics themselves can’t be blamed for being white and male. These books represent long held beliefs of the voices we collectively believe(d) we should be listening to. The standard argument for teaching the classics is application later down the road – you might know a thing about Jay Gatsby when you arrive in your college level English course. You might appear more literate at a party, you might make a connection to a theme or motif, or recognize a reference you come across in a song years later. Maybe you’ll be more American, joining the ranks of students who either a. rely heavily on sparknotes or b. have no idea what really happened in the book. In a sense, reading the classics is a rite of passage in American classrooms all across the country.
Research shows the humanities and liberal arts degrees are at risk of being completely eradicated from colleges and universities across the country. My own alma mater, West Virginia University, nearly axed the MFA in creative writing this past fall. Both personally and professionally, my graduate experience changed my life, and I was relieved to see the outpouring of support to preserve the program. Paired with a lack of reading in general, and so few students going on to pursue the humanities, is teaching the classics worth it? Are we hanging on to antiquated pieces of literature that will one day be forgotten by the human race living on Mars?
In light of so many liberal arts programs being cut across the country, I marvel at my immense privilege in my parent’s unquestioning support of my bachelor’s degree in English-on the other side of the equation, I find myself wishing they’d pushed me towards something more practical. Of course this very line of thinking is adding fuel to the humanities burning fire – universities are focused on offering more clear cut majors such as nursing, hospitality or tech.
I don’t think if my school suddenly started teaching more graphic novels or books such as Thirteen Reasons Why or The Hate U Give, we’d convert our population to English majors or library go-ers. Many schools have made a concerted effort to move towards a more innovative and progressive curriculum and with book banning on the rise, I applaud these choices.
All of this is to say-I don’t know which side of the canon v. choice aisle I stand. I would like to see some joy in reading. Perhaps the question is not what students should be reading, but how can we continue to foster the habit of reading? How can we emphasize the importance of seeing into other’s lives? Without imagination and empathy, the fabric of our society starts to fray. Whether you find meaning in Of Mice And Men or The Perks of Being a Wallflower, the point is – you’re finding meaning. You’re reading. You’re thinking. You might be learning along the way. I’m hopeful that some day, the liberal arts degree will rise again. If for nothing else, to allow young people the space and time to wonder and dream.
Through reading we learn to empathize, and without empathy, what type of world would we live in?
