Why My Reading Goal for 2014 Is Only to Read

With all due respect to my avid reading colleagues and friends who set impressive goals to read 100 books or more for the following year, I refuse to set a personal reading goal challenging myself to read a specific quantity of books during 2014. Although since 2009 I’ve kept a list of books I’ve read each year—and will continue to do so—and with each ensuing year I’ve set a goal to read even more, beginning with 2014 that type of goal-setting stops for me. Below are my reasons why:

Quantity reading distracts from quality reading.  Some of my favorite books I’ve read throughout my life have taken me months to read. For example, as a teenager, it took me almost a year to read Gone with the Wind. Perhaps surprising to some, my love for reading didn’t kick in until I was in my 20s; however, I stuck with that saga when I was 17 and loved every moment I was immersed in Scarlet’s undertakings. This past year it took me six months to read The Lords of Discipline; in fact, I finished it at 11:59 p.m. on December 31, not because my goal was to add another book to my 2013 list but because I was so intrigued in the ending I couldn’t put it down. The main reason Conroy’s novel lasted so long is because I have a rule that I read only from tangible books before I go to bed—not from my eBooks—so the story of the Carolina Military Institute was restricted to my bedside. And then there’s my favorite book of all times—Orwell’s 1984—which is by no means a quick read and is one of the few books I’ve read again and again. During the time with those three books alone, I probably could have added numerous other shorter, easier—and perhaps still high quality—books to my repertoire; however, I wouldn’t trade a moment of the quality of experiences those three books have provided me.

Quantity reading sidetracks from purposeful reading and discounts other types of reading experiences. Just as focusing on purposeful reading is so much a part of reading instruction, we know that reading for a purpose is naturally embedded in our personal reading habits. In my case, besides becoming lost in books, I love my magazines, from Real Simple (my favorite) to The O, The Oprah Magazine (especially the book reviews) to Prevention (keeping my mostly healthy lifestyle on track) to Good Housekeeping (thanks to my mom for that hook) to the New Yorker (granted, I skim the selections and focus on the cartoons), and many more. I also enjoy reading several newspapers, blogs, emails, Facebook posts (and links), calendars, daily devotions, and, of course, all those student essays—yes, I enjoy reading those, too, most of the time.  Then, there are the nonfiction books, many in which I read only a few chapters, based on my professional needs and interests or based on the fact that the first chapter, which I often read from the electronic sample, is sometimes the best part of the book, with the remaining chapters being downhill from there. Occasionally—not often enough—I read some poetry, yet I’ve never felt that poetry can be enjoyed by reading entire anthologies all the way through. Finally, based on my mood, my purpose for reading changes from day to day because sometimes I need to learn something right now while other times I need to be inspired or simply need to be frivolously entertained. At the same time, I have to admit that being driven by my mood has led me to a bad habit of reading a chapter of one book and then jumping to a chapter of another book. That’s why on Goodreads, I’m claiming right now to be currently reading a ridiculous amount of books at one time. Perhaps someday I will finish War and Peace, which I started almost two years ago, but I’ll have to be in the mood to return to it. Anyway, reflecting on all the different types of reading I do, I don’t consider many of these selections countable, yet I enjoy each one and consider each type valuable. For example, how many poems does it take to equal one reading toward a quantifiable goal? Likewise, do I have to read an entire magazine to allow it to count at all? And then, to me—being a rule follower and game player—what about those picture books I read to my grandchildren? Can I count them? I’ll leave that answer up to somebody else who’s logging a list.

Quantity reading turns reading into a competition and distracts from immersion. When I used to be focused on reading for quantity, I often read with a great deal of anxiety, constantly thinking I need to finish this book so I can log it and then start the next book. For me, reading this way totally takes away from pleasurable reading and disallows me to lose myself in a book. One time period in which I became a most anxious reader fell during the three years I served on the William Allen White reading selection committee. Granted, I greatly appreciated that honor, but reading all those books during such a short period of time about did me in! At the same time, I was teaching young adult lit, so my entire reading life had to be devoted to YA and children’s literature. As a result, at the end of those three years, I craved something more adult. (Don’t get me wrong, I love YA, and that genre can still speak to me personally as an adult, but after those three years I needed something else for a while.) The goal during those years wasn’t to enjoy—it was to complete—it was to race through my reading to meet a deadline—it was to meet the expectations of claiming I had read every single book on the list or at least as many as everyone else on the committee had read. And I did just that! Similarly, again, with all due respect to my avid reading friends, I don’t want to feel a need to compete with you. Just because you’re setting a goal to read 100 books during 2014, I don’t want to feel as if I’m an inferior reader because I won’t read that many. To you, I say, “Go for it!” but, for me, whether I’d be setting a goal to measure up to you or to measure up to myself, the anxiety of the competition distracts from my ability to enjoy each reading experience.

Life takes over. Regardless of my love of reading, there are times when I just can’t read much at all. Sure, I’m still reading my email and Facebook posts and grading my essays, but being able to concentrate on a plotline or absorb new textual information just won’t happen. Many of those times concur with downtimes in my life (which I won’t go into), but other times coincide with celebratory events, such as spending time with my family and friends, attending performances and sporting events, exercising, and even watching TV. In fact, I watch and enjoy a great deal of TV, despite the fact that, instead, I could be reading. But just as I don’t want to devote hours and hours per week at the gym, I don’t want to devote hours and hours reading. For some days and even weeks, I do spend hours and hours reading, but other times, I’ll go for days without touching a book. I don’t want to feel guilty for that, nor do I want to give up my other pleasures in life because I’ve committed myself to reading a certain amount. If I were to set a goal to read 100 books during the next year, I would be making one of two choices for myself: either I would end up feeling guilty for not meeting my goal or, at least some days, I would be missing out on another experience for choosing the reading over something else just as—or more—important.

Finally, as English teachers, we need to be careful what we model for our students. Specifically, with all due respect to Donalyn Miller’s The Book Whisperer, which was one of my bibles in designing a middle school reading program a few years ago, we need to be careful when we assign our students a certain quantity of books to read each grading period. Even Donalyn backs off her expectation of all students being required to read 40 books per year, depending upon the student. And we know how some students will play that game—only by quantity. Just think how quantity drives student reading in the Accelerated Reading Program, alone. True, especially when students can choose what they read, I’ve seen many students, for the first time, begin and take off on their lifelong reading habits within a reading workshop model and then set and meet their own reading goals, but those goals don’t have to be based on the quantity of books read. Dependent upon quantity reading requirements alone, there are still those students who read—or claim to have read—the minimum amount of books with the minimum amount of required pages. We can’t turn students’ reading experiences into only quantifiable units. Instead, we need to promote reading programs that honor all types of reading occurring at a variety of rates to meet the needs of the diverse abilities and interests of all our students. Focusing on quantifiable goals alone won’t do that!

Before I close, let me make clear that I’m not judging anyone else who sets a quantifiable reading goal. If that works for you, that’s great! Instead, I’m simply sharing why such goals won’t work for me and why we need to be careful about imposing those types of goals on our students. I know I will die with an insurmountable amount of want-to-read books on my personal reading list; however, I want to enjoy whatever I choose to read until then. Also, I’m sure that within this post, I’m relaying my own inclinations toward guilt, goal-setting, and the competitive spirit. I have my own idiosyncrasies, just as everyone else does. At the same time, for those of you who might experience these same characteristics regarding your reading experiences, I encourage you to let go of any self-imposed need to read copious amounts of books and, instead, to read for the moment and enjoy!