I could think of only one. Now I must first admit that many books have made me want to change my life but few have had any real impetus. [For reason of argument I will exclude the Holy Bible from this conversation.]
I love the book Night. Love it so much that my copy is worn and tattered and dog-eared. Love it so much that I spent three years teaching it in my junior-level American History class. It was one of the few books that drew the students in and kept their rapt attention. Some wept in class. Others refused to believe that this could actually happen. After all was told it was the single most effective tool I used to teach the Holocaust. It led to great discussions and it led to the students wanting to know more about the topic and searching for more information on their own. Here were students who adamatly protested reading in a History class! Heck, they didn't read in their English class! All that said, Night never changed my life or how I go about my daily existence. An incredible book but not "life-changing".
I love the book A Prayer For Owen Meany. Have read it several times. I don't now keep an armadillo in my home nor have I stopped playing baseball. Haven't cut off a part of my body or moved to Canada. But I love the book and think it has some great lessons and ontological truths. The list goes on and on. C.S. Lewis. Jeff and Michael Sharra. Joy Hakim. Jeffery Archer. PAt Conroy. Tom Clancy. William Faulkner. And on and on and on.
Now we get to the one book that borders on "life-changing" for me...and I use that phrase with great trepidation. The book has actually resonated deeply with me and more than any book outside of the Bible has caused me to actually question why I do things and has caused me to consider going in a different direction at various times. The book is Walden by Henry David Thoreau. I first read it while I was a Sophomore at Baylor University. The professor was a Thoreau scholar and could quote from the book with ease. I don't doubt that she had some influence in my enjoying the book but the style and subject matter won me over quickly. For the un-initiated the non-fiction book is an account of a year the Thoreau spends on Walden pond. He lives by himself and ruminates on society, nature, economy, government, taxes, war, peace, spirituality and man's interconnectedness with others and with the Earth. While I was living in NYC I had the opportunity to visit Walden pond and see the small one-room cabin that Thoreau stayed in during his year. I didn't feel like I was on holy ground or anything near to that but it made it come alive and that visit has added to my enjoyment and understanding. Additionally having a grasp one some of the other writings that Thoreau completed and knowing a decent bit about the historical time in which he lived and wrote has also helped in my enjoyement. Lastly an appreciation for how others have been influenced by the book (including Ghandi and Martin Luther King) has helped to understand the text better. Again, I don't know if my life has been changed by the book--I don't know that my life is now different from what it would have been had I not read the book (and wouldn't that be the definition of "life changing"?)-- but I do know that the book has been "life-influencing". I have included a few quotes from the book as examples, I chose just a few that are most memorable to me, I could have chosen dozens more or in one case, I could have just copied an entire chapter.
>>To affect the quality of the day, that is the highest of arts.
>>The greatest compliment that was ever paid me was when one asked what I thought and then attended to my answer.
>>I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by conscious endeavor.
>>We must walk consciously only part way toward our goal and then leap in the dark to our success.****
>>Aim above morality. Be not simply good, be good for something.
>> If a man constantly aspires, is he not elevated?
>>Make the most of your regrets; never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it till it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh.
>>If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.
>>Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity!
I hope that this stirs a bit of conversation about books and their influences. If nothing else it allowed me to share a little bit about a book I love and that I think should be mandated reading. Go pick up Walden and let's have a discussion about his ideas. Until then...live deep, cut a wide swath and know the sublimeness off life!
1 comment:
I found this essay on-line. It was part of a contest. Considering the mention of Night in my blog and my use of Night in my classroom, I figured this was very apropos.
Readers were invited to write an essay about the most significant or meaningful read of the past ten years. I have reproduced the winner below. You can find the full list of runners-up and their excellent essays celebrating a wide and rich selection of books at http://www.powells.com/10years_essay.html .
Never Shall I Forget
by Paige Sechler
"Never shall I forget that night, the first night in camp, which has turned my life into one long night, seven times cursed and seven times sealed... Never shall I forget these things, even if I am condemned to live as long as God Himself. Never."
— Elie Wiesel, Night p. 32
Every year, I read those words aloud to a classroom of 16-year-olds. I have done this for the last four years. Every year, it is the most memorable reading experience I have.
I am a teacher. I teach eleventh grade English at an "urban" high school. For my students, reading books is not a priority. My students live lives that are unfathomable to me. I absorb conversations at the end of class — uttered with unbelievable nonchalance — which force me to consciously keep my jaw from falling slack, so as not to be left standing, mouth agape, as my classroom empties.
I teach kids who are victims of abuse. I teach kids who are drug dealers. I teach kids who live in poverty. I teach kids who are themselves parents. I teach kids who have a mom on Tuesday, and who on Wednesday are orphans. My students don't care about the newest jeans or the latest video game; they ask each other, "Who got shot last night?" or, "When is your dad getting out of jail?" I know that assigning a chapter of reading for homework means they will read while caring for their siblings. Or after they finish work at one a.m. Or that they just won't read. It's not a priority.
Each year, I teach an inter-disciplinary unit focusing on the Holocaust. Elie Wiesel's Night is the centerpiece of the unit. From a literary standpoint, Wiesel's words possess power; as a survivor, the story he tells carries a greater weight for these kids. Real life. True stories. These are what they want to hear. From a practical standpoint, at just over 100 pages, the kids cannot complain that it is "too long."
I first taught the unit to tenth graders, sometimes rough to deal with — on the brink of maturity, but not quite there yet. I was unsure of how students would handle such a serious piece of literature. They reviewed information on the Holocaust — facts the history teachers had been developing. It was my job as an English teacher to go beyond just facts; to begin to examine things thematically, and emotionally. To get them to feel something — sadness, anger, shock, outrage — any range of emotions.
We read together in class. As we read Wiesel's words, a change occured among my students. The clowning around ended, the outbursts stopped, and the laughter ceased. For the first time that school year, I saw 35 pairs of eyes, all focused intently inside the slim white books before them. Every single one. Reading.
This book became a priority.
We started out using one set of books, doing all of our reading in class. By page 27, kids were asking to please take a book home to continue reading. They were astonished by Wiesel's story.
"Miss, is this really true?"
"Did they really do that, Miss?"
"Dat's messed up, yo..."
In a class where I normally beg for volunteers to read aloud, I instituted a sign-up list to ensure that everyone got a turn to read aloud.
The next year, I taught eleventh grade. My former tenth grade students were back in my class again. In my "first-day survey" I ask, "What is the last book you read?" and, "What is your favorite book?" I was not shocked to see that Night was their answer to the first question; I was shocked to see that it was also their answer to the second question.
I still use the sign-up list and I stick to it as much as possible. They read the book themselves. Except page 32 — the end of Wiesel's first night in the camps. I read that passage aloud to them. To impress upon them the gravity of his words. To allow them to absorb what Wiesel is saying. To help them begin to feel what Wiesel felt.
When I finish, there is silence. There are tears. Tears in the eyes of my "gangstas." They glisten brightly in the eyes of boys and girls alike who try so hard to maintain tough exteriors; their defense against the world. In that moment, I know they understand.
And I know, never shall they forget.
And never shall I.
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