Juvenilia

It comes as a surprise to some people when I tell them that English was not my favorite class when I was in high school. No, that honor went to history class — and social studies in general. I always did very well in social studies; earning an A in those classes was very easy for me. I guess I’m just one of those lucky people for whom the names and dates and facts about history tend to stick with me the first time I learn them. When I went to college, I thought about majoring in history, but I decided English would offer the best career options. Knowing what I know now, I definitely made the right choice!

In high school, I didn’t hate English, but I didn’t really like it either. I did enjoy reading books and stories; my English classes introduced me to authors and works that I still enjoy today. But it was all of the other stuff — the assignments and projects — that went along with English class that I didn’t enjoy.

The worst assignment — and the assignment that even today makes me shudder — came whenever we had a new list of vocabulary words. Our assignment was to get a dictionary and copy the definitions out of the dictionary and onto a sheet of paper. With enough words, a teacher could keep the class busy for an hour — and that was probably the point. The assignment was pure busy work, nothing more. It certainly wasn’t meant to teach us vocabulary because mindlessly copying definitions out of a dictionary is probably the least effective way to learn vocabulary words.

Ranked right below the dictionary assignment was the dreaded book report. Like Leah Nells, I didn’t mind written book reports, where the teacher handed me a form and I filled it out with the publication information and a summary of the book I was reading. Those were OK, but just as often, we were required to do some sort of class presentation, and I always hated that. Worst of all was the book report that required students to dress up as a character from the book. I HATED HATED HATED those, mostly because I could never come up with a decent costume.

But then, in my senior year of high school, I had another book report to do. It was a written book report, so that was OK, and as usual, my class visited the school library. But I had come away without having made a decision about a book to read. The next day, at lunch, I told a friend of mine who was in AP English that I was in need of a book. As luck would have it, he had just purchased a used paperback copy of Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy. He hadn’t started reading it yet, so when I told him I needed a book for a book report, he loaned me Jude. I jumped right into it, and by the end of part one of the novel, I was hooked. I thought it was awesome; it was the bleakest, most depressing thing I had ever read. Thomas Hardy’s two great novels, Jude and Tess of the d’Urbervilles are perfect books for angsty teens like I was. I credit Jude for starting me on the path that ultimately led to my declaring English as my major in college. (Later, to honor Hardy, I reference Tess in The Spring. It’s the book Rachel’s AP English class is reading during the story.) Sure, I had enjoyed reading other books before Jude, but Jude was the book that inspired me to start exploring literature more seriously than I had been. I thought, if a book as kick-ass as Jude is out there, what else is out there?