Kristi Schultz Broughton Liberal Arts Essay Contest

Does Reading Matter?

The evidence, statistical and anecdotal, is piling up: in an age of social media and other digital distractions, people are becoming less and less inclined to immerse themselves in a book. One recent study indicates that, over the past two decades, daily reading for pleasure among Americans has dropped forty percent. Middle school and high school teachers are asking their students to read fewer and fewer full-length books. Data released last year by the federal Department of Education indicate that the reading skills of high school seniors in the United States are the worst they have been in three decades. Does reading books even matter? Why or why not? How is your answer reflected in the place of reading in your own life? 

Learning to Read, Again and Again

by Marissa Rodriguez

February 3rd, 2009, was the day my life took a major turn. I was four years old when I moved with my mom and sister from the home I knew in Indiana to Mexico City. We had to pack our entire lives into just a few suitcases. When my mom told me I could only choose one thing from my room, I didn’t hesitate. I walked over, picked it up, and held it tightly. I knew I wasn’t leaving it behind.

“¡Mira, Noemí!” I said with the biggest smile as I showed off my most prized possession: Angelina Ballerina. My cousins stood in awe as they stared at the glossy cover and the pink tutu of a tiny mouse. They didn’t have books of their own, so this was something foreign yet very exciting for them. My mom would read the book out loud for us and translate in Spanish so we could all experience the magic of reading. We’d turn the words on the page into a movie in our heads, and suddenly we weren’t just dancing for fun in our living room – we were ballerinas.

For a young child, reading is an opportunity to broaden perspectives and, more importantly, start dreaming. It’s one of the first times we can learn about worlds we haven’t visited and lives we haven’t lived. At a time when we were living in poverty and our daily focus was simply having enough food on the table, reading offered a different reality. Through those pages, I wasn’t just looking at a story; I was learning to envision a future for myself that went far beyond my current circumstances.

Moving back to the U.S. in 4th grade presented a new set of challenges, specifically a language barrier that made every day a struggle to adjust. I turned to books as my main learning tool because, unlike a lecture, I could control the pace. I could stop, look up a word, and re-read a sentence until it made sense. The first time I read a full sentence in English and understood it without having to translate each word in my head was a major accomplishment. My next goal was to be able to read a full page, then a full book.

If you asked me when I truly learned how to read, my answer would depend on which version of myself you were talking to. I could point back to that four-year-old in Mexico City, smiling as my mom translated the story of a dancing mouse into Spanish. I could also point to my 4th grade self, finally piecing together a full sentence in English without needing a dictionary. At that point I thought I had reached the finish line, however, it wasn’t until college that I realized reading is a skill that never actually peaks. As a Biology major, most of my courses are centered on information-gathering. I am trained to memorize formulas, label anatomy, and follow strict protocols that often feel structured, with clear right or wrong answers. Because of this, I didn’t expect one of my required courses to challenge me in a completely different way.

At Butler University, all first-year students take a two-semester course called First-Year Seminar, designed to help us transition into college through small, discussion-based classes. When it came time to choose a topic, I picked Living Lives That Matter, which sounded interesting, although I wasn’t sure how relevant it would be to my major. I assumed it would be one of those classes you complete, check off, and move on from.
Instead, it pushed me out of the kind of learning I was used to. The readings weren’t about finding a single correct answer – they required interpretation, reflection, and discussion.

In that class, we formed small groups that each chose a book to read over several weeks. My group chose Jason Mott’s Hell of a Book because we were drawn to its unique approach to heavy, systemic issues. Mott’s intentionally fractured narrative, where characters often remain unnamed and key details aren’t revealed until the final chapters, forced us to rely on our own interpretations. We questioned how a story centered on racism and police violence could also carry moments of humor, and how different perspectives could completely shift its meaning. I went from simply understanding what was happening on the page to asking why the author made certain choices and what they meant. It was a humbling realization to recognize that, in many ways, I am still learning how to read.

This shift in thinking has completely changed how I view my future as a pediatric healthcare provider. I used to think that being a good provider was solely about knowing the science and the correct techniques, but I now understand the importance of interpretation in healthcare. In pediatrics, a patient’s story is rarely clear or linear. Children often lack the words to explain their pain or progress. To truly help a child reach their potential, I must go beyond simple information-gathering and learn how to “read” the unspoken needs of the family. My goal is to be a provider who doesn’t just see a diagnosis but understands the full story behind it.

My relationship with reading has changed at every stage of my life because my needs were always changing. At first, reading was just a way to escape a difficult reality and dream about a bigger future. Later, it became a survival tool that helped me break down a language barrier and catch up in a new country. Now, in college, it has become a way to understand the complicated parts of being human. More importantly, it has taught me how to think critically, empathize deeply, and understand meanings that extend far beyond the classroom and into my future career. Reading matters because it is never truly finished; it grows with us, challenges us, and ultimately helps us make sense of both stories and the world we live in.