Reading in Public No. 84: Teaching Literature in a Changing Classroom
Why balancing classics with modern works may be the key to creating lifelong readers
This week’s Reading in Public comes from one of our own, Katie Brownfiel McDonald, a thoughtful and passionate member of our community. Katie invites us into her classroom, where she wrestles with the balance between honoring the classics and bringing in the books that make today’s students light up. It’s a generous, nuanced reflection that reminds us why the conversation around what we read—and why—matters so much.
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-Sara
There are few things more difficult about being a teacher than hearing the discourse around education. We aren’t doing enough to prepare our students, and they’re falling behind academically. We’re doing too much academically, and they’re falling behind socially and emotionally. The magnifying glass seems especially focused on English teachers who carry the brunt of creating mature and nuanced writers, critical thinkers and analysts, public speakers, empathetic and compassionate citizens, and creative and imaginative artists. No big deal, right? The tools we’re given are the literary canon, and while the history of the written word is long, storied, and filled with possibility, the list of works that appear in the classroom are redundant, predictable, and narrow. Is this a bad thing? Is this a good thing? The answer to both can be yes. The answer to both can be no. I am not saying this because I am being vague and wishy-washy. I’m saying this because the answer is complicated and nuanced.
When I was in college, my first writing professor had us choose a book that we thought had literary merit and explain why it should be added to our syllabus. This led to an exploration of what literature actually is, and, while there is a definition, it is not so easy as differentiating a dog from a cat or an apple from an orange. The dictionary definition of literature hits two main criteria: “having excellence of form or expression” and “expressing ideas of permanent or universal interest.” Both are entirely subjective, but most of us know it when we see it.
Let’s look at that first statement. We want to show students writing that is of a high quality: writing that should be emulated, that shows craftsmanship and artistry. We call this kind of writing a “mentor text,” and there is no arguing that students benefit from working with high quality examples. I certainly don’t want to try to inspire students with mediocre writing or have them emulate poor writing habits. But who determines excellence? There are certainly plenty of prize committees out there that award medals and newspapers and magazines and podcasts that make “best of” lists. There are anthologies and textbooks that compile short stories and poems and suggested reading lists from the College Board. It’s a lot to sort through as an educator, and it’s so easy to listen to the siren’s call of “we’ve always read this one.” When we look at our dated textbooks, our busy schedules, and the pressure from administration and families, it’s easy to repeat what we taught the year before, what we’ve been taught ourselves, and what our students’ parents were taught. But if we can only justify that we teach something because, well, we teach it and we can’t justify why that novel over another, are we creating the best plan for our students?
It’s a lot to sort through as an educator, and it’s so easy to listen to the siren’s call of “we’ve always read this one.” When we look at our dated textbooks, our busy schedules, and the pressure from administration and families, it’s easy to repeat what we taught the year before, what we’ve been taught ourselves, and what our students’ parents were taught.
But this is not an attack on the classics. Part of what I think makes writing excellent is that it inspires imitation, reproduction, and cultural conversation. If we think about the allusions, the references, and the nods that have shaped our reading today, we can thank Shakespeare, Austen, Homer, Twain, Dickens, and the like. The tropes and trends we accept as commonplace began somewhere, and looking to the origin of them helps us to appreciate and understand them more. Yes, I loved reading Percy Jackson as a teenager, but I also loved reading the myths that inspired it. Yes, I love reading Emily Henry, Abby Jimenez, and Talia Hibbert, but their work would not have been possible without Jane Austen and the Brontë sisters. Coming of age stories shaped my adolescence, but they wouldn’t have been possible without Dickens and Salinger. Mystery and horror find their origins in Poe, and the list goes on and on.
There is merit in seeing how literary periods developed and shaped the writing we know and love today, and these texts often inspire future reading and writing. Such books and authors are classics for a reason, and they very much deserve a place in the curriculum. However, the canon is not meant to be static, rather it is meant to grow over time. Genres are evolving right before our eyes, and the books we see on the bestseller lists today may very well find themselves on the required reading lists of the following generations. But why can’t some of these modern books find their way to our reading lists now if they’re being proclaimed as “modern classics?”
Does a book have to be an old and dusty “classic” to be excellent or to inspire excellence from our students? I don’t think that’s the case, and I think often our syllabi are giving students the wrong impression about what counts and what good writing can look like. In my personal educational experience, my 8th grade teacher used The Hunger Games to teach us about conflict and symbolism. Nearly 15 years later it remains my most distinct reading memory from my middle school classroom because of the excitement it generated. This text was relatable, not because of the literal fight for our lives, but because the language felt like ours, the characters were close to our age, and the book was genuinely written for and actively marketed towards teens. We had read The Outsiders the year before, which time and time again is seen as the “relatable” young adult book for teens. Yes, we enjoyed it, but is its classroom value any greater than The Hunger Games, another book that helped to shape the YA genre as we know it today? Too often we ignore the more modern award-winning options and publishing houses dedicated to championing stories about young people that young people are actively reading and excited about, which can make them feel like their reading lives don’t count. Yes, I believe in understanding and reading the origin and inspiration and that The Outsiders checks that box, but when it comes to coming of age stories and middle school students, can we not find modern examples with buzz and momentum to win them over while still hitting our teaching checkmarks? Taking the risk and swapping just one book could make all the difference in connecting young readers with books.
I didn’t get another opportunity to read a modern book in the classroom until college, but I don’t think I suffered as a student for it. My wide range of classics helped me in my English major to pick up on allusions, to understand how texts worked in conversation with each other, to feel confident with language that was old enough to feel foreign and tedious, and to feel comfortable reading across time periods and cultures. But I can’t say that the classics are what made me a reader. I became and stayed a reader because of young adult literature and genre literature that are seen as the “special treat” in most classrooms if they get to appear at all. In an age where AI can write an essay in a fraction of the time and plot summaries abound on countless websites, it’s more important than ever that students learn to engage with reading and writing in an authentic way. If we focus on buy-in during these critical early years, could we change a student’s trajectory from a Sparknotes skimmer to a lifelong reader?
I know that the reality is that there is so little time for “appreciation” with the pressures of “achievement,” but if we want to reverse the trend of fewer and fewer people reading for fun, we need to think outside of the literary canon box.
The English classroom, like all things in life, needs a balance. We show students excellence in classic writing, and we owe it to our students to show them excellence in modern writing to help them connect with books about their present moment. I know that the reality is that there is so little time for “appreciation” with the pressures of “achievement,” but if we want to reverse the trend of fewer and fewer people reading for fun, we need to think outside of the literary canon box. There is such a thing as a modern classic, after all.
This leads me into the second criterion for literature in the classroom: it has to showcase ideas that last or are felt by all. This is where I think the divide between the traditional canon and the more modern offerings is at its most miniscule. Love and hate, belonging and isolation, grief and joy are universal feelings that drive literature and life for all of history. From the earliest of oral histories to the social media posts of today, people are concerned with familial and social relationships, class status, and safety. You can read Beowulf or Bridgerton or Beloved or The Book Thief or Brideshead Revisited and find commonalities in the base feelings and emotions and wants. It’s the circumstances and contexts and diction that change. Romeo and Juliet is a love story read by 93% of ninth grade students according to professor Jonathan Burton, and while the language and the setting and the conflicts may feel foreign to 14 year old Americans, the story is about love and hate at the end of the day. And it’s important that students see that they are not alone in what they feel and want and think. They have the company of the billions who come before them and after them. What better way to foster empathy and kindness than to see the commonality in the human experience?
Throwing away the classics destroys this lesson, but ignoring more modern writing sacrifices students’ interest and buy-in. Romeo and Juliet is an important text, but the language is daunting. In my freshman year of high school we read Great Expectations, The Odyssey, Romeo and Juliet, and The Catcher in the Rye. Each of these books held important lessons and relatable moments, but the language and context were intimidating for a 14 year old.
I don’t have a magical ratio of modern to classic literature or any single book that is guaranteed to light a fire within young readers, but I know that following the mantra of “we’ve always done it this way” isn’t going to help students or educators. I do think that one book can make a difference, and I hope that we’re brave enough and vulnerable enough to get out of our own way and try to find it.
5 Modern Must-Reads for Today’s Classroom
The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan. If you want to hook students on mythology and the hero’s journey, this modern day adventure story brings Greek mythology to life and has a popular Disney + adaptation to go with it. This would scaffold well with The Odyssey, Beowulf, and other classic epics.
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. If you want to teach students about the Holocaust, the importance of doing the right thing, and the powers of kindness and language, this historical fiction novel engages students with a young protagonist and unusual narrator. This would scaffold well with Night or The Diary of a Young Girl.
The Anthropocene Reviewed: Essays on a Human-Centered Planet by John Green. If you want to raise students’ interest in essay, narrative, and memoir writing, this collection from the ever-popular YA author John Green discusses a wide variety of topics from the QWERTY keyboard to the Canada goose. This would scaffold well with the variety of essays, speeches, and letters often read in AP Language and Composition classes.
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. If you want to introduce dystopian worlds and the varying roles of conflict in a story, The Hunger Games is a pop culture hit with teenagers and ties in well with other classic dystopian and survival stories like Lord of the Flies and Fahrenheit 451.
Long Way Down by Jason Reynolds. If you want to show that poetry is alive and well in the modern day and have discussions about violence and revenge, this novel-in-verse is a great choice. This would scaffold well with classics like Hamlet and Wuthering Heights.
Katie Brownfiel McDonald has taught at the middle and high school levels at both public and private institutions. She is currently teaching and writing in Guam. You can follow her reading journey on her blog, Katie Reads.
I love the exploration of this topic. The other tragedy of only studying the old classics is that it gives the impression that new and current literature isn't worthy of deep study and consideration. I fear this also induces an unspoken feeling that modern writers just don't "write like they used to" and subtly discourages new, young writers.
I love this and absolutely second the idea that educators could stand to add some more modern literature to their curriculum.