On Required Summer Reading

On the book shelf in my basement right now are 3 copies of Farewell to Manzanar, 3 copies of The Bell Jar, 2 copies of The Song of Solomon and countless copies (in multiples) of other literary works.

None of those books belong to me.

They are relics of my daughters’ past—from a time long  ago, but not forgotten.

Those paperbacks were conversation starters. Because for 8 straight summers no less than 10 times a week they initiated the following inquiry from my angry lips: Did you start that book yet?

The reply almost always was Yes.

And what was meant by that response was: I read the title.

Reading the prose of the book was an entirely different issue.

Because there is no thorn in a parent’s side more pernicious than required summer reading. It is one of the most divisive pieces of a child’s (and thus a parent’s) educational puzzle.

It is what summer arguments are made of.

And while it is understood that summer reading primes the brain for school work in the fall, the reality is it is summertime—which by definition means no academic work necessary. Summer is the allotted  time for recreation and non-intellectual pursuits. It is a 10 week period when the most challenging reading material ought to be People Magazine and not Why the Caged Bird Sings.

The brain was just not designed in the months of June, July and August for ideas more complicated than Christina Aguileras’ Hot New Body.

And so there lies the conundrum: to read or not to read? To go with, or go against what human nature dictates you do.

Because not reading, while it may be the body’s natural response, invites disaster. For come September, an exam will be issued--an exam which factors into the first quarter’s grades. And this exam is never easy—it is designed to impugn the slackers. The exam is designed to hinder not help. It is an obstacle to success; not an enhancement to course study.

And I clearly remember being at the beach, seeing Samantha holding one of the three copies of The Bell Jar that I currently possess in the basement in her hands. She had been staring at the same page for about 10 minutes. Finally in frustration, she announced Oh my God if this woman [Silvia Plath] doesn’t kill herself soon I might just kill myself. This book is the worst thing ever—what am I exactly supposed to be getting out of this anyway?

And the answer to that question is: Nothing.

No one ever gets anything from their required summer reading. It is glaring example of good intentions gone academically awry. Required summer reading is failure ad infinitum---an exercise in futility for all parties involved—students, parents and teachers.

And its only redeeming value is that strangers might ask Why do you have so many copies of the same book on your bookshelf? Which is a cyclic tale of purchase, loss, repurchase and rediscover for another day.