the thoughts of an avid reader

Is learning for the sake of learning truly worth it? I repeat myself, but do they hear? And is what I am saying true?

“By the time you graduate, a high school diploma will not be enough to get a decent job.”

“I am not a teacher for the money.”

“You are fortunate enough to live in a country where a free education is provided until you are 18. Take advantage of that opportunity. Don’t waste your time.”

Granted I was a self-motivated, needed to read and learn everything kid. I read and read some more. Every time I read something (novel, poem, historical research, grammar textbook), I find something that I never knew and appreciate the fact that I have the freedom to learn, to think, and to have a job that lets me share that love. Is it really plausible that every student who takes advantage of his/her education is going to find success and happiness in the fact that “learning for the sake of learning” is a valuable endeavor?

I asked them, “Why are you here?” It was a rhetorical question that didn’t need to be discussed because I knew everyone would have a different answer varying from, “the Cops’ll get me” or “to learn.” What does that mean, “to learn?” Then I ask myself, “Why am I here?” I usually wake up ready for work because I love to talk about literature. Something inside of me says that teaching is the right thing for me because it is easy. Am I perfect? Far from it. But I don’t want to be perfect. It can’t be that complete this soon in my life.

Metaphor (or simile if you want to insert “like” or “as”). I pick up a book (any length), but let’s say it has 300 pages. I start the book and read as fast as I can because I really want to get into the plot, understand the characters, analyze the authorial perspective, and figure out how history and literary criticism affected the product. I read and read and read. Then I get half way. I get a little sad and somewhat disappointed. I read more. As the end draws near I start to get anxiety because the story is almost done and I eventually have to move on to something else. From page 200 on I usually fan through the end of the book every time I pick it up. I want to see what lies ahead. Then I fan what I have read and see how much I have accomplished. Once I hit the last stretch, 50 pages or so, I numb myself to the world, relinquish sleep, find a comfortable place, and finish. I close the book, breathe, and decide if the experience was worth it. I never really wanted the book to end. It would have been easier to keep reading. Now I have to find a new book. I usually pile 5 or 6 next to my bed and thumb through them until one keeps my interest for a few pages. Repeat.

Can my life, or teaching, be that formulaic? I do. I reflect. I do again. I always have to find new ways to keep myself busy so that I can ignore most other things going on in my life. Teaching and reading have become a crutch, a screen. There is more to life and I can’t find a way to express what I see and what I feel.