Avoidance of reading now a badge of honor

October 19, 2009 —

While that stupid balloon boy was hogging all the media attention last week, a more disturbing story surfaced. Yes, even more disturbing than parents naming their child “Falcon.”

A transcript stemming from Florida State’s meeting with the NCAA’s Committee on Infractions was made public.

Within the brisk 695-page transcript was an excerpt about one of the university’s tutors, hired to work with athletes. The tutor noted several members of the university’s football team were reading at a second-grade level.

That is to say the athletes in question would’ve been able to comprehend about eight words of what I’ve written so far.

But this isn’t some scathing commentary on the near-illiteracy that characterizes a number of Division I athletes. We all know they aren’t there for their minds.

Rather, this is about our collective society’s general disregard for reading.

I grew up in a home where reading often was stressed. My brother and I read quite a bit as young children.

That dwindled as we got deeper into school and he became more focused on maintaining a 4.0 GPA, while I became more determined not to fall behind on watching old episodes of Family Matters.

By time he and I were both in college, neither of us really read books for reasons that didn’t include the phrase, “A professor is making us…”

Meanwhile, my mom sat on the sidelines, wondering why she’d bought so many Goosebumps books for us and had little to show for it other than a son who could tell you a lot about Family Matters.

It wasn’t until I transferred to SVSU that I rekindled something resembling recreational book reading.

By no means did I become this incredibly well-read intellectual who could discuss Keats while wearing a smoking jacket and swirling red wine in a sifter, as I often envision people who read more than three books in a calendar year doing.

In fact, I still can’t hear Keats’ name and not think about Michael Keaton, which in turn gets me thinking about how underrated Mr. Mom is.

Nevertheless, I can’t help but be taken aback at times by how so many people treat their avoidance of reading like some badge of honor.

Browse through the profiles of many college students and you’ll find the Favorite Books section occupied by things such as “Cosmo” or “A book. Wut is that? Lol.”

Again, I don’t place myself above anyone. I think The Complete Calvin and Hobbes is currently residing in my own Favorite Books section on my Facebook page.

The point remains that a high number of people take pride in their estranged relationship with reading anything that doesn’t have a subscription label smeared across the cover.

I don’t expect anyone to read this and then loudly declare, “Hey, this jerk’s right. I’m gonna go read Ulysses right now!”

But what’s the worst thing that will happen if you pick up a book and read some of it? You realize you’ve been using “there” when you really meant “their?”

It isn’t a matter of having shelves of renowned literature. It’s a matter of absorbing and digesting new concepts, new lines of thinking and further broadening your scope of the world.

These last sentences may sound pretentious, but ultimately, there aren’t many viable reasons for never opening a book someone didn’t tell you to read.

Unless you can catch a football, in which case, you might want to give Florida State a ring.