I’m a walking paradox, friends. I’m an English teacher who hates reading. Hated reading. Had a love-hate relationship with reading. Let me explain.
I grew up an avid reader and was even teased for carrying a book wherever I went. I can’t exactly pinpoint the moment when my love for reading started to dwindle, but I assume it was around college and/or graduate school. The more classes I took, the less time I had. The more technology advanced, the more I depended on it. The more school required me to analyze and analyze, the less I enjoyed reading. Former U.S. Poet Laureate, Billy Collins, says it better than I can. In school, I had to “tie the poem [or any other written work] to a chair with rope/ and torture a confession out of it./ […] beating it with a hose/to find out what it really means.” When I started higher education, reading was no longer a wonderfully enjoyable experience, and with every book I was forced to read for class, I hated it more and more…until now. Thank you, Nicola Yoon.