What Happens If Students Only Read Contemporary Books In School?

Can't relate to the pressure to read the latest thing. I just pick up what looks interesting, whether it came out last week or fifty years ago. The whole 'must be current' vibe seems exhausting.

Reading herstory books in school isn't just about filling gaps in the curriculum—it's about reshaping how we see the world. Growing up, most of my history classes focused on wars, treaties, and 'great men,' but discovering books like 'Hidden Figures' or 'The Diary of Frida Kahlo' flipped something in my brain. Suddenly, history felt alive with voices I'd never heard before. These stories showed me resilience in ways textbooks never did, like how Rosalind Franklin’s overlooked contributions to DNA discovery mirrored so many unsung women in science. What’s powerful is how herstory humanizes progress. When students read about Malala’s fight for education or Wangari Maathai’s Green Belt Movement, they aren’t just memorizing dates—they’re seeing how ordinary people challenge systems. It fosters empathy, too. I remember debating with classmates after reading 'Persepolis'; we argued about cultural identity in ways our standardized lessons never prompted. That’s the magic—herstory doesn’t just inform, it ignites conversations that stick with you long after the bell rings.

Student age is the ultimate filter. A book banned for sexual content might be deemed inappropriate for middle school but acceptable for high school seniors. The decision is heavily tiered. 'A Clockwork Orange' might be on a college syllabus but never in high school. So the 'must read' mandate is always relative to the grade level and the perceived maturity of the students. A committee spends a lot of time debating appropriateness for age, not just literary merit.

It's wild to think we have near-instant, free access to almost the entire sum of human literature up to about a century ago. A student in the 1990s had to hope their local library had a copy or spend $15 on a paperback. Now, in seconds, you can have Shakespeare, Austen, Dickens, Twain, and thousands of others. The barrier isn't access anymore; it's knowing where to look and having the discipline to actually read it.

The simplest reason: they're there. They're promoted, available, and discussed. It's the default option. Thinking takes energy, and choosing a book from the vast ocean of everything ever written is paralyzing. The contemporary shelf, whether physical or digital, is a manageable subset. It narrows the choices from millions to thousands. That curatorial assistance is a relief. The 'must' is just the path of least cognitive resistance. We read contemporary books because it's easier than deciding not to.

It might be about meeting standards in a new way. Common Core and similar frameworks emphasize 'complex texts' and 'evidence-based analysis.' A tightly-plotted YA novel with clear themes can be a complex text for the grade level, allowing teachers to check those boxes while using material that doesn't cause a mutiny.

The pace of a novel itself can teach something. A slow, meditative literary novel forces a patience and depth of attention that counteracts the frantic, swipe-right pace of social media. In a society geared toward instant gratification and hot takes, the sustained focus required to follow a complex narrative over hundreds of pages is a cognitive antidote. It builds the capacity for nuance, for sitting with ambiguity, for following a thought to its conclusion. That kind of deep attention is becoming a rare commodity, and it's essential for any meaningful understanding of complex social issues. The novel, as a form, is a training ground for a more thoughtful, less reactive mode of engagement with the world.

I worry that in focusing on 'essential' novels and poems, we neglect essays and criticism. The essays of D.V. Gundappa or A.R. Krishna Shastri are models of clear, elegant thought. They teach students how to form an argument, how to observe society, and how to write persuasively in Kannada. Reading literary criticism about the very books they're studying can open their eyes to layers of meaning they missed. This is about building not just readers, but thinkers and writers. The essay form is direct, personal, and powerful. It demonstrates that Kannada is a language for rigorous intellectual discourse, not just storytelling.

Mine doesn't insist, but we lean that way because the discussion questions are better. Publishers provide extensive, polished discussion guides for new releases to promote them. For older books, you're often scouring the internet for questions or making them up yourself, which is extra work for the moderator.