Every June, tucked sneakily into envelopes containing final report cards, the dreaded Summer Reading List lies in wait to dampen any student’s end-of-year jubilation. Before they’ve even had a chance to start enjoying their summer vacations, that single sheet of paper gives kids yet another reason to dread returning in the fall.

When I read statistics like: “80 percent of U.S. families did not buy or read a book last year,” or “nearly half of all Americans ages 18-24 read no books for pleasure,” or “from 1984 to 2004, the percentage of 13-year-olds who reported that they “read for fun” on a daily basis declined from 35% to 30%, and for 17-year-olds the decline was from 31% to 22%” , I get it. The truth of the matter is, unless it was required for school, most kids would go the entire summer without ever picking up a book.

But, to what degree does the SR list actually help in this matter? All my life, I’ve been an avid reader; and even I balked at mandatory SR. By the time I got to high school, I don’t think I read a single book on SR lists(thank you, Sparks Notes).

I read dozens of books of my own choosing in the summer—but something about some Anonymous-Till-September teacher dictating what I had to read got my rebellious adolescent panties in a real twist.

In recent years , there has been a trend toward giving students “options” within the required lists (for example, my students had to choose one book from a list of 5; Sophomores at our high school choose two out of 8). However, as is usually the case with SR, students must read one of the books listed under their grade level.

As a teacher, I appreciate the fact that I don’t have to assess 60 different students on 60 different novels–five is tricky enough. But, by limiting students to books that someone, somewhere, decided was “appropriate” for them, are we not also limiting their ability to challenge themselves? Are we not sending the message that reading has very specific (and very rigid) boundaries dictated solely by age?

Is summer reading here to stay? Or will it soon join the abacus, chalkboard, and Scantron machine on their slow march toward becoming obsolete? I don’t know what the answer is. Maybe I’ll come across it somewhere in this yet-ungraded pile of Summer Reading Projects.