When I read Peter Elbow’s comment that he has “come to want some kind of workshop” in his literature classes instead of a straight discussion, I thought “No.” I like discussions in literature classes. In fact, my favorite literature classes have been ones that required absolutely no writing at all. The lit class that I taught without any writing was a Great Books class. We met once a month, discussed the novel that we had read and chose the next novel to be read and discussed. The class ran for about four months. Attendance was perfect except for one student who had surgery. Discussions were lively. Opinions were varied. Of course, the class was voluntary and filled with adults who wanted to be there and were interested in the topic. And yes, I was actually PAID to do this.

I often wish that I could teach an introductory lit class like that one which did not require writing. Students are frequently so worried about the PAPER that will be due that they fail to focus on the reading at hand. They are worried about analyzing and critiquing. They are worried about abiding by STANDARD AMERICAN ACADEMIC PROSE. The are worried about proper MLA documentation. They are worried about writing the correct “thing.” They are worried about their grade. Unfortunately, this worry overshadows the simple pleasure of reading and discussing the text at hand. My favorite part of teaching literature is actually talking about it in class with students, not forcing them to write about it. In a perfect world, students would come to class having read and contemplated the assignment. They would have annotated the text, writing in the margins and adding sticky tabs to the pages to mark what they deemed as relevant passages or areas where they had questions. In a perfect world this would happen. Perhaps I am lucky because this does sometimes happen in my classes. These are the days that I live for.

Unfortunately, not all students are so dedicated. There are students who come to class without having contemplated, without having annotated, sometimes without having even read the text. While I LOVE the prepared students who are already making personal connections with the texts, it is the latter students who challenge me. I somehow want to reach those students and convince them that reading can be entertaining, enlightening, and down right fun, even if it does take work. So for them, I choose such selections as “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas” and Gattaca. These are accessible and entertaining readings (or viewings). Unfortunately, some students are already so jaded that they don’t even want to give the assignments the benefit of the doubt. So along come the dreaded journals mentioned by Lovitt.

Though I use these as a way to ensure that students are doing the readings (I collect them at irregular, unannounced intervals), I also use them as prompts to help students begin to connect with the readings. I tell my students that grammar, spelling, and documentation do not count. I provide them with a prompt that asks them to note passages that affect them, images that they think are strong. These are followed by the question “Why.” I encourage them to note any questions (think difficulties) they encounter while reading. I have found this assignment to be successful in getting most students to engage with the text. Of course, there will always be those who simply do not want to read. For many, however, the journals help to focus their own thoughts on the texts. Many students have told me at the end of the semester that they actually have begun to enjoy reading. Be still my heart!!! This is my goal in a literature class. My goal is not to create the next generation of literary critics turning out pages of Shakespearian interpretation. It is to engender a love, or at least a greater like, for reading.

While I recognize the relevance of writing, while I realize that writing forces rigorous thought, I do not think that is always needed. Sometimes a good discussion is more than adequate. Sorry Uncle Peter.

Edith