Point

"What's the point?!?!" I hear. Every semester, without fail, a voice pipes up from the back of the room, usually accompanies by a snicker. Sometimes punctuated with "This is stupid."

Not many words bring me pain the way these do. I am not an English teacher because I got good grades in English when I was in school. I am not an English teacher because I love grading essays and assignments. I am not an English teacher because I wanted summers off (that's a myth, actually). I am an English teacher because I love language. I love to read, I love to write, I love discovery through the written word. I love the fact that, throughout history, writers have put quill to parchment and pen to paper and created enduring works that speak a language larger than themselves.

To the question "Why we gotta read this?" (which is painful in its own way) I respond "Because you will be a better person for doing it." Human nature knows no century, no social class, no genre. Regardless of place or time, characters live on in volumes of greed, desire, madness, loss, love, and hope. There is an inherent immortality in writing that is the reason we peruse the stories of Beowulf and Hamlet.

Words = knowledge = power. People don't hesitate to feed their cars, their egos, and their wallets. Why on earth would someone choose not to feed their heart, mind, and soul?