English was always my favourite subject. Note the past tense in that first line. The days of enjoying an English lesson are a distant memory for most GCSE students, myself included.
Growing up, I knew my route. In year three, it didn’t matter that my division skills left much to be desired, because teachers would brush it off, saying it didn’t matter, “because Orli can write stories.” It didn’t matter in year five, when I couldn’t get my head round the equation for photosynthesis. I was used to stories, where there was always another route, another answer, always another means to express my creativity.
It didn’t matter that the days dragged through lessons of sums and continents, because I always had imaginary friends whispering stories into my ears – my brain was over capacity with stories, so I claimed I didn’t need to know the capital of Brazil. English was my subject. There’s a satisfaction a child feels when they’re good at something – there’s that little smile that turns at the tips of the cheeks when they realise they have something special, and for me that was English.
And so it’s shocking for me to tell you this: now as a 15-year-old studying for her GCSEs, two of which are in the subject I had treasured as a friend for so long, English is my second least favourite. (Second because physics is last – physics will always be last.)
But let me tell you why: thanks to those who think they know the education system better than those teaching and learning in it (ie politicians), the days of any child enjoying an English lesson are long gone. And alarmingly, they may be gone for good.
If you take a seat in my GCSE English class, I’ll give you a tour. I’d like to firstly say my teacher is brilliant. I’m lucky enough to have nearly always had great English teachers, and I hope that shows that the faults that make English so uninspiring are not a result of their teaching abilities.
If you look around my English classroom, you’ll hear 30 teenagers moaning (I quote:), “I curse the day Shakespeare was born.” English GCSE is sucking the life and the love of literature of out of a new generation.
It’s inevitable, no matter what age you might be, that if you are forced to read a text in a language you don’t understand, analysing for interdental fricatives and bi-labial plosives, spending hours of time speculating Mercutio’s motives of his arguably self-inflicted death, that the enjoyment of the subject will start moving into the distance, and yet no one seems to be listening.
This generation has grown up with choice, and with a reaction of rebellion when that choice is taken away. By forcing us to read literature, to analyse language we don’t understand, and to always work towards some kind of exam, you take away our choice of literature, you take away our enjoyment, and you may take away the possibility of us reading for pleasure as adults.
We need a bigger variety of fiction, modern and classics that have themes that can be translated and can be relevant to teenagers today on the curriculum. There have been real rare gems in the past few years, with books that have inspired classes of usually bored teenagers. The proposals a while ago to cut those classics, including Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird are ridiculous.
They are brilliant novels of identity, controversy and are written with the kind of confidence teenagers wish they had.
We have people telling us all the time that we spend too much time on technology and that teenagers are a waste of space. Yet, I can’t blame this generation for switching off when faced with forced literature, and switching on a screen of relevance and interest.
We are missing the core of literature, the excitement, and it is being misunderstood for a lack of intelligence. In a recent class, to explain Romeo’s love for Rosaline, a timeline sheet given to the class read Romeo describing Rosaline as “super hot”. Dumbing down literature doesn’t help: it makes us feel stupid. Shakespeare himself wrote his plays to be acted in a theatre.
I doubt he would be too happy upon knowing they’re boring students who read and analyse his texts to tears. Crucially, we need to see the plays, to read them with passion, not staring at a chewed biro while trying to make sense of Shakespearean English.
We need to inject creativity back in the classroom, we need a route of learning that can inspire. We need books that bring up intense messages of modern themes: sexism, racism, homosexuality. I strongly believe literature is the route to giving teenagers a voice about these themes. It’s not even like these books don’t exist; I can think of hundreds on the spot. Highlights in my classroom are the debates we have, where people who otherwise sit in a corner and highlight their pages have their voices heard after being inspired by literature. This year, every sentence analysed goes towards an exam. To gain full marks, it’s all about knowing what to write, how to analyse – and the sad thing is that this is how intelligence is now measured. By how well you can describe the effect of the iambic pentameter, not by a real opinion on Romeo’s values or how substantial his love really is.
We’ve all moved on from primary school, but most of our classes there had more of an impact than they do now. Even the ability to write short stories at Christmas. I distinctly remember in year three when learning about similes, describing my teacher as being “as big as a bauble”. I was incredibly proud of that, and my teachers couldn’t be angry because they were about encouragement, and it wasn’t that bad of a metaphor! Regardless, English was liberating – as an introverted character, it was and always will be the pen that helps me express myself. It helps me tell you today what English is missing: it’s missing the choice and the chance to be loved.
How can you complain about the lack of motivation a student has, when literature is thrust upon them, when their opinions don’t matter because they don’t raise the grade, when the furthest creativity is able to go in the lesson is absent-mindedly doodling, when the choice to love English is a figment of the imagination, which isn’t even possible, as the imagination is not needed for that A*.
If you want this generation to grow up as readers, let us read for the love of reading, let us discover an identity through the novels we read and enjoy by feeling the pages not analysing emotions, let us see what we read acted out on a stage – don’t let us sit in a grey classroom, flicking through pages we wish to throw in the bin. Above all, give us the opportunity to be bright and decisive young individuals, then we can go further than you ever thought possible.
What do you think? Is your English GCSE driving you to distraction? Let us know by emailing childrens.books@theguardian.com or on Twitter @GdnChildrensBks. Orli herself tweets at @blamebookshelf.
