We live in a post-literate world. Many people don’t read for pleasure due largely to electronic distractions. Many young people adopt the habits of their parents and only read books assigned for school or college courses. Although some teenagers enjoy reading good books, the vast majority of them do not. Bookstore employees and librarians tell me the same story. They look at me strangely. “Well, no. They don’t read that any more.” Most teens look for two genres of fiction—lurid fantasy and horror. They avoid classic literature unless a teacher requires them to do so. And they’re more likely to read a book if it’s been made into a movie, or they simply rely on synopses. They love graphic novels. Apparently, publishers of children’s books clamor for diverse books on questionable subjects so that children can read about these issues in an allegedly safe environment. (What’s happened to parental supervision?) It is a tragic state of affairs. Today’s teens and young adults are engrossed in their electronic gadgets, and they have after-school jobs. They also struggle with issues such as peer pressure (reading is boring) or hormones or challenges at home or school. Their lives are so busy that reading is crowded out. But the dedicated teacher can reverse this distressing situation.

Teaching literature is a joyful thing. It offers the teacher an opportunity to open up new worlds for young people—cultures, time periods, problems and circumstances they’ve never thought about before. The study of great literary works allows teenagers to vicariously experience new ways of looking at life and to ponder decisions people make, emotions they yield to, hardships they suffer. Via reading, they learn how to relate to others in their own lives and how to cope with their own conflicting impulses. Reading great literature matures them into thoughtful, compassionate human beings and instills in them the joy of reading. Teaching the subject is challenging, but it yields delightful benefits for both teacher and students.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry once commented, “If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up people to collect wood and don’t assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea” (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Citadelle LXXV, Paris, France: Gallimard, 1948). Instead of telling students that many works they are about to read are esoteric pieces they’ll have to stumble through, the wise teacher talks about the benefits they will gain from the literature they read and the sheer fun of literary study. After all, God made human beings to want to learn. That’s a crucial point to bear in mind. Teachers should do their best to ensure that young people understand that God created them to learn, so it is their God-given responsibility to learn to the best of their ability.

It’s essential to bring good literature off the page. Make it fun. One way to make it enjoyable is to make sure the class participates. Young people like to talk and share their ideas. Let them. Ask questions about the material; if someone refuses to respond, let that student know you’ll get back to him or her and that you will require a response. No one wants to appear ignorant in front of one’s peers. Ask the class about a character’s handling of a difficult situation: Was it wise? How would you have handled it? Does everyone agree? Show a brief movie clip of a major novel before a reading assignment. Cut the showing at a dramatic moment. What happens next? Well, you’ll have to read on and find out.

Reading Shakespeare provides an ideal opportunity for fun. Allow your class to act the final scene of Macbeth or the assassination scene in Julius Caesar, complete with simple costumes and props. The “actors” read from their books while the rest of the class follows along in the text. I remember on one occasion the class was reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The front of the classroom was cluttered up with “actors.” One tall boy wearing a dress was playing Thisbe and doing crazy things with a realistically blood-stained veil, Pyramus was stabbing his sword at various girls in the audience, two boys were getting tangled up with “Wall” who was holding up a huge piece of cardboard with a hole in the middle, and another boy playing the part of “Lion” was cavorting around the floor on all fours roaring loudly. At that moment the door opened, and the headmaster informed a group of astonished visitors, “And this is the high school English classroom.” Not a moment I’ll forget.

You can contact me directly with comments or questions at eamarlow0103@gmail.com