One of my favorite new activities is reading while sitting outside my local coffee shop and liquor store located on the town square of my hometown during normal business hours. While I generally dislike the contrived pretentiousness that often accompanies public reading, I started noticing an interesting trend. Try this sometime. Select a location that you frequent and where you are among people who know you, or at least among people who know who you are in a pedestrian sort of way. Begin reading, and then keep track of people’s good-humored attempts at playful comments as they pass.
“Don’t you have a job?” “You have the day off?” “Cutting school?” “I wish I had time to read.” “Must be nice!”
The older I get, the more these seemingly innocuous comments irritate me. I know these folks are kind and well-meaning, and they intend no maliciousness. We’ve all likely made similar comments in similar situations. This type of lighthearted interaction is simply normative. My irritation is not with the people making these comments but rather with what these norms and comments indicate about our culture and the way we think about and devalue reading.
Many people struggle to actually read books even as they simultaneously state their desire to have more time to read. It’s not uncommon for people to periodically acquire a book, set it somewhere prominent in our home or office, and resolve to spend time each day reading. We may dutifully read for two or three days before days begin to slip by without reading. A week or two later we may put the book on a shelf, promising ourselves that we’ll come back to it when we have more time. More often than not, I think what many of us are confronting in these moments is that meaningful reading is laborious. The prevalent idea that reading is an inherently fun and leisurely activity often collides with our actual experience, and when reading gets challenging and laborious, novice readers often stop making the effort. Reading requires more than time. Reading requires commitment, self-discipline, dedication, persistence, and long-term concentration and focus. Reading requires practice. Reading requires sacrificing time that could be spent on less mentally demanding and more fun activities. Reading can also be, as I’m sometimes told by students, boring. I agree, sometimes reading is boring. For example, try reading Noam Chomsky. With all due respect, the man’s writing is boring. What’s also true is that Noam Chomsky is brilliant. A tenacious reader will eventually come to understand this, but it will require lots of effort and lots of reading other people’s work prior to reading Chomsky in order to even begin to understand him.
It forever astonishes me that college professors are expected to be content experts but that when professors spend time reading to develop and refine our expertise it is largely perceived as non-work. I’ve spent my fair share of time reading during my teaching career. Much of this time was on weekends, and the majority of this time was during the months when teachers are often scorned and denigrated for having the “summer off.” The prevailing attitude is that if professors are reading (or writing), we are not actually working. Even worse, we are perceived as enjoying leisure time that others cannot access as part of their own employment and thus, we are sometimes resented or envied. At the same time, if professors don’t read, we are less able to perform our job well in the classroom and we will be admonished for not keeping up-to-date in our discipline or with our pedagogy. Apparently, teachers are supposed to magically know what to teach and how to effectively teach without wasting time engaged with the non-work of reading.
I am all too familiar with the attitude of reading as non-work. I spent much of my youth making fun of people who read. While I have many fond memories of being read to as a child, by the time I started school I fully embraced the secular cultural doctrine of anti-intellectualism and learned to avoid and detest reading. Furthermore, reading was an activity that was associated in my young mind with being female, and nearly every American boy coming of age in the 1980s got the message early and often that being a boy/man meant the rejection of all things feminine. And even though reading is more widely considered a normative behavior for females, this didn’t stop me from regularly making fun of a girl in my class as early as third grade because of the books that she read. This girl was reading Tolstoy’s War and Peace in Elementary School. Not kidding. She is now a medical doctor.
This culture’s attitude about reading is ripe with contradictions. On the one hand, reading is supposedly a leisure activity for those with the privilege of not needing to perform actual work who can thus enjoy reading in ways that others cannot access. Must be nice, don’t you have a job? On the other hand, reading is a laborious struggle for many people to sustain much less comprehend what they are reading. If I were to lend my book to the people making those playful comments to me on the street, would they be able to sustain the effort to read it? Would they understand what they were reading? I’m not posing these questions in an effort to denigrate people or minimize the knowledge, skills, and work lives of those making these comments to me. I concede that these folks have knowledge, skills, and work lives that I do not understand. What baffles me is that comments that normalize reading as non-work, regardless of intention or tone, denigrate and diminish a form of work that is fundamental to my profession. It is inconceivable that it would be acceptable for me to make comments, playful or otherwise, that would devalue the work and knowledge of others.
Comments that normalize an attitude of reading as non-work underpin more blatant manifestations of anti-intellectualism. Normative comments that belittle reading effectively act as subtle encouragement to avoid reading or to put forth effort to cultivate the literacy skills that allow a person to become a more knowledgeable and informed citizen. In short, we cannot lessen social problems or preserve democracy without a literate electorate. We must consider ways to combat this form of anti-intellectualism. Here is one modest suggestion. The next time you encounter an acquaintance (or stranger) who is reading, please consider alternative ways to interact that will support and encourage the work of literacy and normalize reading as labor.
“Enjoying your book?” “What are you reading?” “Do you think that’s a book I might be interested in?” “What’s your book about?” “What interested you in this book?” Or perhaps after a simple and kind greeting, “I’ll leave you alone so you can get back to work.”
Most new professors learn quickly that failure to read inhibits our development as teachers. You don’t realize how little you know about your own discipline until you are in the position of having responsibility for publicly explaining and teaching your curriculum for 150 minutes a week for 16 straight weeks. When I began teaching, I would prepare pages of notes on a yellow legal pad for each class period only to occasionally come up 10-15 minutes short. This happened periodically during my first couple years of teaching, and I was embarrassed every time. It took me several years to build my knowledge base within my discipline and prevent this. I accomplished this not by taking more classes but by reading. Reading is simply an inherent part of the teaching profession.
Regardless of what professors are reading or writing we are working when we are reading or writing, and this applies far beyond books. We are working when we are reading articles from The Washington Post, The Atlantic, The Guardian, and the like. We are working when we are watching films and documentaries or attending theatrical performances that apply to our discipline or the Liberal Arts as a whole. We are working when we read articles from The Chronicle of Higher Education or Inside Higher Ed. Fun fact, after I wrote the previous sentence I went to the website for The Chronicle of Higher Education and the headline of the story at the top of the page was, “Is This the End of Reading? Students are coming to college less able and less willing to read. Professors are stymied.” How serendipitous is that?
In the spirit of the over-used Gandhi quote about being the change you wish to see in the world, I think I’ll go to my town square tomorrow, a Monday, around 1:00 p.m., first day of the work week, and read. In fact, I think I’ll sit in front of the liquor store rather than the coffee shop just to up the ante and invite playful contempt. Maybe I’ll really turn the screws on people and get a non-alcoholic beer to put on the table next to me as a prop. This will likely further encourage, inflame, and amplify passersby commentary.
“Don’t you have a job?” “Yeah, I do. Right now, I’m working on a book recommended to me by a colleague titled, A Theory of Everyone: The New Science of Who We Are, How We Got Here, And Where We’re Going, by Michael Muthukrishna. It’s a very thought-provoking book, and it’s causing me to reevaluate how I teach certain issues. I highly recommend the book. Now, if you will please excuse me, I need to get back to work.”