And so it ends. Summer is over and the beach reading has to disappear. Which really is the sorrow of the whole process, the ending. Summer is such a freeing time for us all, a time to read and write without the constraints, and, for me, the requisite guilt that comes with them, of class obligations. Now we're back to it, back to prescribing books and assigning essays. But the hope is that there are readers out there, young people who are as voracious for the text as they are the iPod and the Play Station. I believe that there are, only we don't see them because they are hidden under the blanket of bad press their generation consistently garners. As a society, we'll have to wait and see. As a teacher, I'll get a more immediate chance today.
Students in my senior English classes sit down today to write the traditional summer reading essay, an opportunity for them to divulge what they found exciting or boring about their summer books. We moved to a choice system this year, as opposed to previous years where we simply dictated what books students would read (although I still do that somewhat for my AP class), and I am now anxiously awaiting the results. In my next post I'll share with you some of the books the students read this summer, and give some snippets of their reviews.
The first week is over, and the year has officially started. No turning back, now.
No comments:
Post a Comment