Reading in Public No. 52: What is English class for?

Another literary panic strikes the internet

It’s starting to seem like every year we get some sort of essay in panic about the state of the field of English. Last year was The End of the English Major followed by this truly mind-boggling, evidence lacking opinion piece from Pamela Paul (sorry, I’m not wasting a NYT gift link on it). Both essays considered why fewer students than even are graduating from college as English majors. While Paul blamed the inclusion of overly accessible books in the curriculum, Nathan Heller’s piece in The New Yorker explored a variety of possibilities, most intriguing and compelling to me was the idea that focusing on deconstructing texts without making room for awe and appreciation was keeping students from falling in love with the subject in the way they once used to. I wrote about both of those essays here if you’re curious to read more of my thoughts.

Reading in Public No. 4: Much ado about English majors

Last week we got another English-is-in-crisis essay (gift link) from The Atlantic this time exploring why students are arriving at some of the best schools in the country without being able to read whole novels. The article waffles a bit between whether students can’t read them or won’t read them, but the revelation within is that many of these young people aren’t being required to read full novels in high school.

I believe this is probably true, though most of the evidence comes from college professors¹ rather than students or high school English teachers. (

Carrie M. Santo-Thomas

, one of the few high school teachers cited in the article, has written about her experience being interviewed and what the article left out. She considers some aspects of this I hadn’t thought about at all and her essay is a must read.) One reason I believe this is probably true for many schools is because during my seven years teaching English we definitely decreased the number of full texts we required. But another reason comes down to the book discourse I witness online. If a book doesn’t pull readers in immediately, keep them entertained, and offer something relatable, the criticism is loud. If adult readers aren’t able or willing to put in work to read complex, challenging texts, are we surprised that teenagers won’t? And why should they want to when the example we’re setting is that only books that are easy and entertaining are worthwhile?

So, yes, I think the issue this article identifies is likely real, and I also agree that it might be a problem². Reading complex texts across time, making inferences and connections, picking up on motifs, developing interpretations of theme—these are important skills. It’s not the same to read an excerpt. And it’s not the same to read more obvious text. Learning how to pick up on subtlety and subtext are crucial for media literacy and being able to engage in the world with nuance.

Do I think much of this is likely overblown? Yes. Do I think students must read the Western canon to succeed in life? No. And, of course, I also get unbelievably frustrated with these ongoing conversations because I know that the blame lands on the shoulders of English teachers who are already asked to do far too much and who got into this field because they wanted to read and discuss books with students!

But, in spite of my annoyance and my caveates, today I want to engage with this issue in good faith to explore something I wonder about a lot: what does our culture at large think English class is for?

For a long time there seemed to be some consensus that English class is in part of instilling cultural literacy. There are still vocal advocates for that but its certainly not as big of a talking point as it once was. When I started teaching high school people would still really say that our students needed to read The Great Gatsby in order to one day make small talk at a dinner party³. Whether or not people still believe that, I don’t think that’s the argument being made in most schools anymore.

In my former department of approximately twenty English faculty, there seemed to be a pretty clear division in our approaches: skills-driven educators and content-driven educators⁴. Let me be clear that both camps cared very much about both skills and content. The division came from where each of us started in our own planning. Skills-driven instructors started with the skills they needed to impart (close reading and explicating a passage, for example) and then would choose content (the books, stories, poems, essays) to help practice that skill. Content-driven educators preferred to choose their texts first and then build the skill work around those books. Within these camps it was certainly true that skills-driven educators were more likely to believe they could teach their classes with a wide range of texts while content-driven educators were more likely to want to stick pretty closely to the canon.

But regardless of which direction educators approach their planning from, we all know the two biggies that shape any English class: reading and writing. Sometimes thinking about that astounds me. I mean, reading AND writing! Those are perhaps the two most foundational pieces of education and we put the responsibility for both in the purview of a single class. Sure other classes help develop these skills, but if students leave high school unable to read critically and write well, where do we place the blame?

And we are so used to this that we don’t take time to question if this is really the best way to teach critical reading and writing. For example, being able to read, comprehend, and analyze The Scarlet Letter is a very different skill than being able to write an argumentative paper on whether or not the United States Post Office should be privatized. Does doing one help the other? Sure. All reading helps with all writing. But to be able to write well students need exposure to model texts, which means they need to read essays in order to write essays—this cuts back on how much fiction students can read in a given year. It also divides the focus of the classroom so that it’s difficult to get as in depth with the novels we do read. Add to this that state standards, administrations, and College Board are assessing students more on their ability to read and understand short (often nonfiction) passages and, yes, it’s really hard to read those novels.

All of this is to say that I think what so many of these articles are missing is a full consideration of all that is asked of high school English teachers and a reevaluation of what ought to be prioritized in our current times. English teachers are doing this reevaluation, but in spite of the many thinkpieces about the field, the larger conversation has not kept up.

Is English for developing cultural literacy? Is it about exposure to the Western canon and “the great books?” Is it for teaching students to recognize and analyze the way rhetorical arguments are at work on them? Is it for media literacy? Is it to expose students to as many different perspectives and life experiences as possible? Is it for helping them feel seen in a text? Is it for introducing them to approachable books? Or helping them through dense and difficult novels? For reading short stories? For understanding poetry? For processing informational texts? For reading plays? For learning mythology? Is it for improving vocabulary? Is it for helping craft a solid college admissions essay? Is it for learning how to write a poetry explication?…a definition essay?..an argument essay?…a research paper?…a short story?…a poem?…a personal reflection?…a literary analysis paper?…an email? Is it for preparing them for A.P. exams so they can test out of college composition, which they probably actually need no matter their score since so little writing happens in high school?

The answer to every single one of these is yes. Plus make sure to build meaningful relationships with all 120+ teenagers you see every day. Be sure to give them ample feedback on the essays they write during your evenings and weekends (which you are not compensated for). Assign books that are relevant and interesting to the students, but that don’t offend anyone so as not to be challenged. And do make sure you are prepared to defend any and all of the books you do assign if they are challenged. While we want diverse voices, we can’t forgo the canon completely so make sure you touch on the classics too. Of course, you’ll also need to write dozens of college recommendations because—as the English teacher—every kid thinks you write the best ones no matter how much they care about English. And don’t forget to make sure the kids all love reading by the end of it too—it is, after all, your responsibility to create life long readers.

This is a lot for a single class and a single educator to bear. It takes many multiple repetitions of practicing something to master it. How many poems and novels and essays and practice tests is there time for? A math teacher may be able to assign 20 problems a night. English teachers can’t even assign 20 essays in a year—maybe not even 20 essays over the course of an entire high school education!

I’m not sure what is to be done here, and I don’t want to suggest that English teachers are unwilling to take all of this on. In my perfect version of a high school there would be separate literature and composition classes to give both skills the time and space they need to develop. But no one asked me and until they do, of course, teachers and administrations have to prioritize. And is it any wonder that what gets prioritized are the skills that can be more easily assessed? Trust me, it’s not the teachers who want to be removing full texts from the curriculum. Nobody gets into English education because they are passionate about teaching kids how to answer multiple choice questions about informational texts. Teachers want to be engaging in difficult and important books (which is not synonymous with the Western canon). They are good at this; they love it; they know how to do this! But they do not have infinite time.

English teachers must do all of this while surrounded by a culture that does not place a high value on intellectualism and being a reader. Book bans are at an all time high and readership is low—with a particular decline in the number of books college graduates are reading each year. It is hard to convince young people that something has value in the classroom if they don’t see it valued in the real world.

Articles that decry the state of the high school English classroom often position this as a broader problem for our society. I agree with that. But if we’re all shocked by these revelations and if we’re all stakeholders in the cultivation of deep, thoughtful, critical readers, we all need to take some responsibility for developing the next generation of readers.

So here’s my proposal: if you read that Atlantic article and were outraged, take a minute to consider how you personally might be able to offer some assistance. Maybe buy some books for your nephew. Take your grandkids to the library. Tell your niece about the classic literature you loved in school. Or, better yet, reread a classic. Remember that it’s hard work to read those books and invite a young person you love to read with you. Offer to read the books your kid is assigned with them so you can discuss. Pick up a book you find challenging and tell your kids why you think it’s important to continually push yourself intellectually⁵. Read books you love in front of kids and talk to them about why books matter to you. Go to a school board meeting and advocate for keeping diverse books in school libraries. If you teach history, add some historical fiction into your curriculum. If you teach math, ask your students what they’re reading outside of school. If you’re a college English professor, teach your students how to read a long, challenging, complex novel⁶. That’s your job too, I fear.

A large part of creating patient, careful readers is modeling and valuing intellectualism and curiosity as we ourselves engage in deep reading. Yes, English teachers should be doing this too, and they are! But with everything on their plates, young people need more points of exposure to books, more opportunities to engage in deep reading, and to be surrounded by a culture that truly values books. If you think that English class is for fostering a love reading, exploring challenging books, and grappling with big questions, I have good news for you: that’s an area where we can all help pick up the slack.

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-Sara

1. I won’t name names but I was actually in class with of the professors cited in this article, and I could just hear their sarcasm as I read their remarks. That didn’t help me read this piece generously.

2. I’ll also state here that I strongly disagree with the cheeky closing line of the piece: “To understand the human condition, and to appreciate humankind’s greatest achievements, you still need to read The Iliad—all of it.” You might need to read to understand the human condition, but it certainly doesn’t need to be The Iliad.

3. I feel like we need to conduct a poll to determine how many times the average American has in fact discussed The Great Gatsby at a dinner part and (vitally!) if they really needed to have read the book in order to participate or if SparkNotes and the movie versions sufficed.

4. I was lucky enough to have two really wonderful mentor teachers at the onset of my career. One of them told me that schools used to be where people came to access knowledge. Now knowledge is everywhere and schools must evolve to teaching students how to access, evaluate, interact with, and make use of that knowledge. The other told me that all you really need to teach English is a good book and a good question. I think about both of those statements all the time. I think they shaped me into a primarily skills-driven teacher but one who believes that English classes are best conducted with really good, challenging, chewy books for students to grapple with.

5. Modeling any type of reading is great, of course, but if young people never see adults grappling with difficult texts ourselves, how can we expect them to value it at all?

6. I know many wonderful college professors are doing this, but I also know that many professors do not and are not expected to engage in pedagogical training. That means if students show up and they can’t do something that professors have always relied on them doing, it’s going to take work to figure out how to teach that skill.