I was incredibly saddened to wake up this morning, take my first sip of coffee, click over to cnn.com and read that Kurt Vonnegut, a writer who I not only loved more than most but who I always secretly hoped would be my adopted grandfather, had died. Second only to JD Salinger, Vonnegut is the writer who made my teenage years a little more bearable. Like Salinger, no teacher ever made me "study" him, so Vonnegut was one of those fantastic writers who not only spoke to me, but who I could discover and make my own meaning of without the annoying encumbrance of being "educated" on the subject of him.
I remember sneaking copies of Welcome to the Monkeyhouse and Breakfast of Champions inside more than one textbook that I pretended to read in class, nearly getting fired from my summer job as a day camp counselor because I was reading Cat's Cradle instead of paying attention to my young charges while they were swimming, and always being delighted to meet someone else who loved him like I did.
To this day, I refuse to "teach" Vonnegut. Instead, I make sure that my classroom library is well-stocked with him and his books are by far the most popular titles that my students borrow from me. I've caught more than one "sneaking Vonnegut" in my class, but because it's Kurt they're reading, I always ignore it when it's happening. As he was for me, let him be their little nerdy act of rebellion too.
I remember sneaking copies of Welcome to the Monkeyhouse and Breakfast of Champions inside more than one textbook that I pretended to read in class, nearly getting fired from my summer job as a day camp counselor because I was reading Cat's Cradle instead of paying attention to my young charges while they were swimming, and always being delighted to meet someone else who loved him like I did.
To this day, I refuse to "teach" Vonnegut. Instead, I make sure that my classroom library is well-stocked with him and his books are by far the most popular titles that my students borrow from me. I've caught more than one "sneaking Vonnegut" in my class, but because it's Kurt they're reading, I always ignore it when it's happening. As he was for me, let him be their little nerdy act of rebellion too.
1 Comments:
From some sports blogvia deadspin...
Kurt Vonnegut worked briefly at SI until being told to write a story about a race horse that had jumped the rail and terrorized the infield at a local track. Vonnegut stared at his desk for what seemed like hours before finally departing the building without a word. Inside his deserted typewriter was this: ''The horse jumped over the fucking fence.''
He was a funny dude.
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