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Mar 13, 2004 It’s time we did something about banned books. For some time now, school boards have taken it upon themselves to ban classic literary works for a variety of lame reasons, ranging from “excessive violence” to “not enough small, furry, cute animals.” Banning books is one of the fun things school board members get to do, along with eliminating fun activities, slashing teacher salaries, and generally making life miserable for everyone involved in the school system. They also get a lot of vacation time, and a really great parking spot. People should be angry that schools are eliminating classic literature. Children will no longer have the opportunity to read the same books their ancestors read (literally the same exact copies, since most schools recycle books for hundreds of years.) It’s not like kids aren’t into reading anymore, and the success of “Harry Potter” is a perfect example of this. “Harry Potter” is about a boy (Harry) who becomes a wizard, even though his mother (Mrs. Potter) wants Harry to be an accountant like his brother (Dave). The “Harry Potter” series has exploded into a 34-book, 22-movie extravaganza, spawning its own line of action figures, video games, maternity clothing, skillets and personal watercraft. The books offer children action-packed reading and valuable life lessons, like how it might be really cool to turn your best friend into an ashtray, but you probably shouldn’t. Since there’s hard and fast proof that children do enjoy reading, then why get rid of the reading materials? People always worry that kids will act out what they read in books or see on television or in movies. Well, I read “The Outsiders” twice in ninth grade, and I didn’t have the slightest desire to ensconce myself in denim, then go out and stab someone with a pocketknife. And don’t get me started on “Dracula”…that book scared the hell out of me. All parents should have their teenagers read “Dracula”. Their son or daughter will be home before dark every night until they’re 35. Most classic literature is harmless by today’s standards. Would you rather see kids nosing through smutty romance novels? “Okay, students, please take out your copies of ‘Loins On Fire’. We’ll take it from the part where Lance begins seducing his Venezuelan love slave.” The only problem I have with literature of any kind is that certain people tend to overanalyze it. Rich snobs are particularly good at this. They’ll say something like, “I think the discarded bologna sandwich on page 54 represents Trent’s desire to rid himself of the shackles of ignorance.” And people will nod and say “Great point!” No! It’s not a great point! It’s a SANDWICH! I’ll bet that whoever wrote the book wasn’t sitting there thinking to herself, “Hmm…what’s a good metaphor to use here? I know…I’ll throw in a sandwich. That’ll REALLY screw up the readers. Ha ha!” Yet, while we may not be able to stop the elimination of classic novels, at least our kids still have access to some of the world’s greatest poetry. Writing poetry is one of the best creative outlets you can find that doesn’t involve the use of a firearm. You can rhyme if you want to, but it’s not necessary. Your poem could be five words, or it could be fifty thousand words. You could even arrange the words in the shape of something dear to your heart, like a bunny rabbit, or a pancreas. It’s completely up to you, because there are no rules in poetry. But try telling that to your English teacher, who will still find some reason to think your poem is a bucket of crap. I discovered this firsthand in eleventh grade, when I wrote what I considered to be the best poem of this or any generation in history: My tattered left sock Sits limply next to my hamper Wrought with holes as big as golf balls It is dying. Do I wear it once more Knowing that if I do The fabric may wear away into nothing? Or do I let go And send my tattered left sock to the place Where tattered left socks go? O, sock! I shall miss you Dearly. Though my teacher applauded the creativity of my piece, I was given a “C” because, as he put it, “Nobody on Earth wants to read a poem about a sock.” Shortly after, I decided to take up humor writing. There’s plenty of room for socks in humor writing. ------------ About the author: James Bisson is a reporter/editor for Canadian Press in Toronto. So yes, he does have a real job. And no, he's not in a mental institution. Yet. Email James A. Bisson: jbisson@cp.org Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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