A Look Back

My twelfth-grade English teacher kicked off the semester with a startling admission: he had never assigned a grade higher than 80. “Well, forget this,” I might have said a bit too audibly.

Growing up in the 1990s, I was the type of student who thrived on the structured beauty of math. Numbers, equations, and formulas were my playground. But ask me to read a book from start to finish or tackle a significant project, and I would vanish faster than you could mention the Pythagorean theorem.

Long readings felt tedious and disconnected from the instant gratification I derived from math. I preferred the clear-cut nature of math to the vagueness of lengthy narratives or the ambiguous nature of extensive projects with no definitive criteria for success.

As I progressed through school, my passion for mathematics remained unwavering, and I pursued it with the enthusiasm of someone avoiding the traditional 9-to-5 grind in favor of perpetual education.

However, despite my love for math, my primary waking activity was playing video games. Like many of my contemporaries, I found comfort in digital realms that offered immediate feedback, clear objectives, and the thrill of solving puzzles.

Video games served as more than mere entertainment; they were an immersive retreat where I could exercise my problem-solving abilities in fulfilling and engaging ways—a domain where I had control.

The Transition

The shift from high school to university was gradual yet transformative, introducing new expectations and responsibilities. For the first time, I had significant autonomy over my choices—what to study, how to allocate my time, and even when to eat or sleep. This newfound freedom was both exhilarating and intimidating.

I began to recognize something significant: the importance of agency. Unlike the rigid structure of high school, where every minute was orchestrated, university life demanded that I make my own decisions. With this agency came a deeper sense of ownership over my education.

In retrospect, I see that agency was the key element missing in my earlier schooling. Just as Maslow’s hierarchy of needs identifies fundamental requirements for psychological well-being—autonomy, competence, and connection—agency is vital for motivating students to engage deeply with their studies.

When students have a role in their learning, it satisfies their need for autonomy, prompting them to invest more wholeheartedly in the experience. Conversely, when every step is predetermined and every task micromanaged, we rob them of the opportunity to cultivate self-direction and the intrinsic motivation that accompanies it.

It's no surprise that today’s students appear disengaged. We’ve engineered an educational system where their paths are straight and unvaried, lacking choices and opportunities to explore their interests. By planning every detail for them, we overlook their psychological needs—control over their own learning.

We’ve effectively truncated Maslow’s pyramid.

This issue transcends mere elective choices or project topics; it concerns fostering a profound sense of responsibility and connection to their work. In the absence of this, it’s understandable that students might gravitate toward distractions like social media or video games, where they at least have agency over the narrative.

I, too, turned to video games—the “TikTok of the 90s”—for this very reason.

The Connection Between Writing and Reading

As I continued my academic journey, a pivotal moment arose when I faced the necessity of writing. Initially, it was a practical requirement—composing lab reports, essays, and eventually, research papers.

I didn’t read for enjoyment; I read to write.

I shifted from skimming pages for answers to immersing myself in the material, seeking connections, drawing insights, and striving to articulate complex ideas clearly in my own writing.

It was through writing that I truly learned to read—not in the passive, obligatory manner I had once approached it, but as an active process of inquiry and synthesis. Writing compelled me to think critically about the material, challenge assumptions, and explore various perspectives.

For me, writing didn’t just lead to reading—it transformed it. I wasn’t merely consuming information; I was interacting with it, engaging with it, and claiming it as my own.

When you write, you teach.

The act of teaching is one of the most effective ways to solidify your understanding of a subject. In preparing to explain concepts to others, I had to dissect those ideas thoroughly, anticipate potential misunderstandings, and address them proactively. In essence, I had to create my own narrative.

This teaching mindset redefined reading from a passive act into an active, purposeful endeavor. The lengthy articles and research papers that once appeared daunting and frustrating became invaluable resources—maps guiding me through the complex terrain of knowledge I needed to navigate.

The Downturn

Although I am a STEM professor, I have witnessed the concerns raised by arts educators: students can only manage short, isolated, and information-driven readings.

However, this isn’t solely an issue for the arts; it is impacting STEM disciplines as well. In my classes, students are not only grappling with math and physics concepts; they are also struggling with the skills required to handle ambiguity, think critically, and engage with open-ended challenges.

Here’s my “kids these days” complaint.

STEM students often view reading and writing as irrelevant to their technical careers. Yet my own experiences tell a different tale. The ability to read deeply and communicate effectively is not just an academic exercise—it is essential for addressing real-world problems and comprehending complex ideas.

The current digital landscape has exacerbated this divide. Students are reading less, and when they do, it tends to be in brief, superficial snippets—tweets, headlines, and quick opinions. They are accustomed to rapid information consumption and moving on.

Students conditioned to expect immediate answers struggle when confronted with tasks requiring patience and deeper engagement. I observe students seeking shortcuts, hoping for simple solutions where none exist, influenced by habits formed in a world of digital immediacy.

A Way Forward?

So, how do we bridge this gap? How do we encourage students to recognize the value of skills that may not align with their immediate interests?

Teaching students to teach can serve as a powerful strategy. As I learned through my journey, explaining a concept to others necessitates a more profound engagement with the material. It transforms learning from a passive reception of information into an active, iterative process of questioning, connecting, and articulating.

Teaching is often regarded as the ultimate form of understanding. It requires not just knowledge of the content but also the ability to view it from multiple angles, anticipate questions, and tailor explanations to various learning styles.

For students who may not naturally lean toward reading or writing, teaching provides a dynamic avenue to develop these skills. It shifts the focus from the task itself—reading a textbook or writing an essay—to the outcome: effectively conveying knowledge.

So, without further ado, here are ways I’ve encouraged students to engage with reading.

1. Compose a Children’s Non-Fiction Book: Have students simplify complex concepts into engaging stories for kids. This not only necessitates a deep understanding but also compels them to communicate clearly and concisely. Tip: use one of my books as an icebreaker.
2. Design a Game: Whether digital or physical, crafting a game based on a concept or topic can be an excellent way to explore and explain it. It’s a fun approach to encourage critical thinking about simplifying and teaching a subject.
3. Script a Video Explainer: With video becoming a prominent learning tool, creating concise, engaging explainer videos on challenging topics is a valuable skill. Students can write scripts focusing on breaking down complex ideas into digestible, visually appealing segments. Most students will likely create and edit videos more effectively than we can!
4. Edit a Wikipedia Page: Wikipedia is a treasure trove of information, and editing or creating a page on a subject compels students to conduct thorough research, write clearly, and present information impartially. (This has been successful for obscure technical topics lacking substantial Wikipedia pages.)
5. Write an Introductory Blog Post: Blogs serve as excellent mediums for explaining concepts in an accessible manner. Assign students to write a blog post on a topic they’re studying, aiming to make it comprehensible for a general audience.

These activities not only enhance reading and writing skills but also help students learn to teach, a process that deepens their understanding and connects their learning to real-world applications.

The Future of Reading

The decline in student reading is not merely a question of preference or generational difference—it signifies a broader transformation in how we all engage with information in an era marked by distraction and immediacy. We are all at risk of losing our agency, and we must not deny students the opportunity to gain it.

Through writing, teaching, and creativity, we can not only reclaim our agency but also cultivate the skills—critical thinking, effective communication, and the ability to engage profoundly with complex ideas—that will benefit us in all aspects of life.

The “end of reading” need not signify the end of learning. With the right strategies, it can herald the beginning of something far more engaging, meaningful, and rewarding.