At the beginning of summer vacation, I received an email with a list of recommended books from the Andover faculty. We’re not required to read these books–the list is merely a compilation of books that the teachers think we, as PA students, would enjoy. I hadn’t heard of most of the recommended books. Some teachers had suggested books within their field of study, while others had suggested eclectic titles. Though all of them sounded fascinating, I was especially drawn to the philosophy books, despite the fact I have never taken a Religion or Philosophy course at Andover. As soon as I got home, I ordered several of the books recommended by Mr. Hodgson. I actually started one. I was about to get into bed when the title, “The Philosophical Baby” by Alison Gopnik, caught my eye. I tried to remember the last time I had read a book that wasn’t assigned, that I didn’t have to annotate or analyze for a paper. I was reading for pleasure, without any other outside motivation, and it felt great. The book itself is captivating. The author uses babies’ natural tendencies to explain adult altruism, empathy and familial bonds. However, every time I mention a quotation that I loved or an intriguing anecdote, I am met with the same responses: “What class is this for?” or, my personal favorite, “You read?” Believe it or not, every student who goes to Andover can read. In fact, a majority of my peers are assigned 50-100 pages of reading per night in their English classes alone. So why is it that at such a rigorous academic institution, where all of the students can read, many in multiple languages, that the students around me are shocked when I show them a book with clean pages? In elementary school, your intelligence often is measured by how well you read. Since pre-school, “She’s a great reader” has also meant, “She’s a great student, and a pleasure to teach.” It is the ultimate compliment for all students under a certain age. Reading was a separate category on my report cards until fifth grade, and even today some college applications ask what books you have read for fun. Parents, teachers and administrators alike prioritize it on a daily basis, so why don’t we as students, follow their example? The sad fact is, maybe we can’t. When I say that I “read,” I actually mean that I digest a chapter right before I got to sleep as my roommate is getting ready for bed. Time at Andover is too precious to read simply for pleasure, because time is stretched tremulously among classes, extracurriculars and social life. Debatably, sleep is even more important. No student ever seems to get enough of it. In kindergarten, I would grab a book during naptime and go read by the window. Now I use my lunch period to nap if I haven’t gotten eight hours of sleep the night before. Why the shift in our priorities? If our moral fibers grow consistently as we grow from three to 30, why can’t our desire to sit down with a book in our hands? My favorite parts about Andover are the awesome people who go here. Andover students are passionate about sports, clubs, procrastinating or all of the above. The discussions I have had with others on this campus have completely changed my outlook on what we learn here. In the library, gym and classroom, there is always a title, headline or cover page that grabs our attention and inspire us. Don’t ignore your curiosity! Pick something up and read it little by little. Choose something with short chapters, so you do not have to wait until Thanksgiving break. Sometimes taking 15 minutes to relax before bed helps you to fall asleep faster. I doubt any Andover student anticipated that by coming to such an amazing academic place we would be quieting part of our intellectual spirit – checking out more calculus answer books than poetry anthologies. Remember the “beach reads” that we devoured in the summer time, and bring that appetite back to campus. We’ll all be better fed, and rested, for it. Kate Wiener is a three-year Senior from Greenwich, CT.
