Is it better to have read and learned, than never to have read at all? The question is posed by Chicago school teacher Will Okun on the New York Times website. His essay is titled “None,” the response he gets when he asks his high school juniors and seniors, many low-income and minority, to list their favorite books. They literally sleep through “The Great Gatsby” and “The Scarlet Letter,” but come alive when the book being discussed is “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings” or “The Color Purple.”
Dutifully reflective, Okun blames himself for his failure to get his students interested in the classics. But he’s not exactly beating himself up. “Why should we continue to mandate the teaching of British literature (for instance) if teachers such as I are unable to provoke such little student thought, reflection or learning in the classroom?” he asks. “All the benefits of studying and learning the classics are irrelevant if few students are actually reading or engaged in the material.” I’m not about to be dismissive of how hard it is to get students interested in classic literature, but no teacher can do so if he’s not excited by his subject, and Okun makes it clear he was just as indifferent as a student, calling his high school literature classes “tiresome, uninteresting and irrelevant.”
The real treat is reading the passionate responses to Okun’s post. which is playing to mixed reviews, with some agreeing, but many raising the roof. “Perhaps the classics should be scaled back, but can Toni Morrison really replace Homer? Can Raisin in the Sun replace the Oresteia?” writes one. “It would be a shame if schoolchildren in Germany read Shakespeare, in English, and children in the United States were unable or unwilling.”
Left undiscussed: Is it enough to be familiar with the classics or must they be read cover to cover? If someone describes a relationship as a real life Romeo and Juliet story, and you don’t know the play, you might say “how nice!” If you’ve seen West Side Story and learned it’s based on Romeo and Juliet, you’d say “how sad!” Just knowing that the play is about star-crossed lovers in the middle of a family feud is what allows you to appreciate the allusion. If someone describes her new boss as Lady Macbeth, you might think she’s regal and elegant. If you’re even passingly familiar with the play, you’d offer to help write her resume.
Breadth and depth are ideal, but if I had to choose one or the other for my students, I’d choose breadth.
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