Lessons Learned from a Debate About the Reading List for an English Class

It all started when my son's English teacher—an extraordinary mentor and all-around wonderful guy named Curt—sent email asking parents and students for their feedback on a list of books he was considering for the upcoming year. Unlike a requisite high school English class, this group was composed of seven homeschooled teens ranging in age from 15 to 18 who had been studying together for the past two years. They were accustomed to working collaboratively with their teacher and each other. Without the carrot-and-stick incentive of grades to motivate them, they had reason to make sure the books would be ones they'd feel inspired to read. So, when Curt asked for feedback, it was a genuine request for responses. 

Here's the list he proposed:

• The Shipping News by E. Annie Proulx
• The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
• Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather
• The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende

Now, before you say what most people say ("Oh, those books are wonderful!"), let me stop you. I am aware that these are all distinguished works by well-respected authors. The Shipping News won a Pulitzer, and The Poisonwood Bible (a finalist for the Pulitzer) happens to be a personal favorite of mine. As models for writing fiction, they all have something to offer, from character portrayals to magical realism.


However, as I looked at the list, I could not imagine my son, a fairly typical teenage boy, enjoying a single one of the selections. His taste in literature runs more toward Terry Pratchett, Kurt Vonnegut, Neil Gaiman, and Catch-22 by Joseph Heller. So, although I should have known better, I decided to be his advocate. 

I wrote lengthy emails explaining why I thought he would dislike the books. Of course, I conceded, there's no harm in reading a few books you don't like, but was it reasonable to ask him to slog through over 400 pages of Allende's prose? I suggested other books he might like better. I asked whether it might be possible to read brief excerpts, a few chapters, to get a sense of the style. Curt waited patiently to see how others (particularly the students) would respond.

What Makes Attending a 4-Year Residential College Worth the Cost?

On a recent tour of Tufts University, I was impressed by the way our guide described his own experiences as a full-time, residential student. There was something about his passion that seemed genuine. He said he liked Tufts because it was a place where "smart is cool" and "everyone is a geek." He talked about meeting other students who were so passionate about their disciplines that "you should sit down before asking them about their research," because you would almost certainly be with them for a while. He described the frequent, positive interactions between faculty and students, interactions encouraged by the school's SPIRIT (Students and Professors Integrating Recreation, Intellect and Teaching) FUND, which pays for the (non-alcoholic) drinks when a faculty member invites a student to an on-campus cafe. He recounted serendipitous experiences, such as going to talk to a professor about a concept mentioned in class and getting so involved in the conversation that the meeting eventually led to a life-changing research internship.

I felt inspired, but also puzzled. I'm sure my son would love to attend a college where faculty are truly "caring and accessible," and students are "interested in serious intellectual discussions, but don't take themselves too seriously." Who wouldn't? What I had trouble understanding was why those qualities were considered noteworthy. Given the extraordinarily high cost of tuition, why aren't most college students highly motivated and engaged? Why is it an anomaly for a student to be interested in serious academic debate? Or for faculty and students to be interacting as equals?

Choices: Too Many, Not Enough, or Just Right?

What could possibly be wrong with having lots of choices? Choices acknowledge our individual differences: when we advocate for choice, we promote diversity, creativity, and critical thinking. As a parent and home educator, I favor creative alternatives to traditional forms of education—choices!—because I have met many students (my own children included) who do much better when they are not forced to conform to a single, prescriptive approach to learning. I have frequently argued that being able to choose for oneself is empowering, especially when it comes to education. Thanks to advances in technology, open educational resources, and online courses, hundreds of thousands of adults now feel empowered to pursue higher education on their own terms and schedules.

So, choice is good; but, what about too many choices? Recently, when I wanted to learn more about blogging, I used Google to search the Web, and I was presented with over 127 million results. Which ones were worth my attention? Later, when I needed to buy sunscreen, I made the mistake of going into a Walmart "superstore" and was stymied by the number of brands and varieties they sold. How is a person supposed to choose from so many seemingly identical choices?

It was after these two experiences that I came across Sheena Iyangar's TED Talks on "The Art of Choosing" (2010) and "How to Make Choosing Easier" (2011). She describes what happens when we are faced with "choice overload," and how some of our assumptions about having an abundance of choices can actually make us miserable. While we Americans like to believe that "the more choices you have, the more likely you are to make the best choice," in practice, people tend to second-guess their choices and thus suffer from guilt, frustration, and even depression as they dwell on the choices they didn't make.

 

Looking back on my experiences as a home educator, I can see how having an abundance of choices has hampered me at times. When I first began homeschooling, I had to decide what sort of method and materials I wanted to use. The New Hampshire Home Education law (RSA 193-A) allowed me to choose any approach or curriculum as long as it consisted of "instruction in science, mathematics, language, government, history, health, reading, writing, spelling, the history of the constitutions of New Hampshire and the United States, and an exposure to and appreciation of art and music." I could also choose which of those subjects to teach each year as long as the annual evaluations demonstrated that my children were "making educational progress at a level commensurate with their ages and abilities."This freedom was both liberating and daunting. How was I ever going to choose the best educational materials from the wide selection available? (Consider: a single homechool curriculum vendor, the Rainbow Resource Center, offers over 40,000 educational products, and there are many other curriculum vendors.) Once I had chosen, would I be plagued with doubt, wondering whether I should have chosen differently?