It is Sunday morning. Easter Sunday, to be exact, at least for those who observe this day. My observance includes hard-boiling two dozen medium eggs from Ralphs. Katie and I will dye them later this morning. I don't think I'll be going to church. There is something odd about going to church on major religious holidays when it's a Unitarian-Universalist church. Of course others who go to this church don't feel the same way I do.
I think I am becoming less religious as I get older. I am not too worried about it.
Okay. I have two sections of pop quizzes to grade this morning. My students are reading Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury, and many of them are either stymied by the style or are simply not reading the book. Not all, of course. But a lot of students put off reading for English class until late at night, when they are too tired to do the work or retain the information. This is one of the banes of my teacherly existence. I have one or two students this year who openly tell me they hate to read. I am dismayed by this, of course, and I want to do what I can to help change their attitudes. But I feel I have to be careful about this. I can't stomp around and demand they begin to enjoy reading. I have to be stealthy. These are, after all, seventh graders. They are on the lookout for adult coercions all the time. I just have to make sure interesting reading material is always available for them, and hope that my own attitude toward books and reading will filter down to them.
Right now I am glad I have this job. It has been a series of challenges for me over these past six years, but I really do enjoy it all very much. I get nervous on the weekends sometimes, and during vacations, thinking I won't be able to do a good job, or it will be too hard, or whatever. But then I get to school and I see the kids and it all seems very doable. And fun. There is that.
2 comments:
Why is it that an assigned book or story often (if not always) suddenly becomes the least appealing piece of literature on the planet? It doesn't seem to matter if it's truly boring, e.g., the sermons of William Bradford, or truly wonderful, e.g., To Kill a Mockingbird. Once it's a class assignment or on a reading list, almost anything else appears more compelling.
This is the huge challenge for English teachers who use novels in their curricula. Huge. I hate that kids see assigned books as horrid mountains that must be scaled. It often feels like it serves to ruin the book, just as you say. But how else does one get young people to read particular books that they would otherwise not be introduced to? Let me know if you have an answer to this question. I haven't figured it out.
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