Speed Reading is the Devil!

In the first MP3 lecture of one of my correspondance courses, one of my professors took half an hour to give us a mini-lecture on speed reading. It made me really upset, and I think I've finally figured out why.

First of all, let me say that this professor isn't doing anything for my stereotype of female academics. Coming as she does from a literary background (all her studying was done in English lit.), she fits into the model of so many other female english professors I've met. Career driven, over-commited, passionate, flighty -- they've got so much to say and so much to do that their lectures are a bit like watching a barnyard chicken cull -- lots of running around, sans head. To be fair, these women are definately good at their jobs -- frequently prolific publishers and lecturers who will do anything to help their students understand the material. Some of these professors are also quite well organized (unlike this one, who is constantly losing her papers, which, when you can't see her shuffling for them, just sounds dumb), and live lives of modelled efficiency. But they need that efficiency (whether it be organized or not) because they've always got so much going on that I get the feeling they never stop to breathe.

And it's that sense of "I'm late I'm late for a very important date!" hurried-ness that inspires the need for speed-reading, I think. The professor taught it to us as a survival technique -- "Reading at 800 words a minute is not fun, but it gets you through that textbook in a hurry and frees you up to do other things." She admitted to frequently reading four or five books at a time, and likened reading academic articles to being a sea bird skimming over the surface of the water, diving down when she sees something of interest.

But this is wrong. Just plain wrong. I love text, and I love words, and I love books. Why would I want to speed my way through good writing? Why would I want to have a life so full that I have no other choice but to read 800 words a minute just so that I can fit in a few more facts into my already overstuffed brain? I can't know everything, or even 1% of 1% of everything, so why not just sit back, relax, and enjoy things a bit more?

Furthermore, the best of kind of reading for 'speeded reading', according to my professor, are academic articles. As I said before, I'm apparently supposed to fish for the information that will be useful to me, then cast the article aside and move on to the next thing. But how is that honouring the person who worked hard to craft this article? Furthermore, how is that going to make me feel about my own article, which I have poured myself into and which (if everyone follows this scheme) will never be anything more than a piece of fish to be picked over and used for other people's similarly fishy articles. It's a never-ending cycle of speeded-up production and consumption, with little space afforded to thought and reflection and genuine human care.

This is not the way it should be, and this is exactly the reason why I decided not to be an academic in the world of English Lit. It seems like everyone's so busy following the 'publish or perish' rule that they've forgotten why they got into this in the first place -- because words are precious, are important, are powerful. To speed-read anything but fact-based textbooks and the newspaper (which is tomorrow's bird-cage linings) is, to me, a travesty and an insult to both the practice of writing and the writer herself. This whole notion of speeded reading is a symptom of the modern world where faster is better and extra time means an extra book or activity to be squeezed in. Any wonder why we're all stressed and over-tired?

Much as I love efficiency, I would rather read less (do less, see less) and know more. And have time in between to breathe deep and appreciate (slowly, langourously) the wonders of the world around me.

A Long Time Coming

For years I've been hearing from friends who tried out swing dancing and loved it that I had to try out this fun, slightly frazzled, and yet still pretty organized form of dancing (hmm, who does that remind me of? ;). I finally got to do it last night -- Toria and I went to the University of Toronto swing dance night, and, although I worried about Toria hating me forever because seven years of music class have given me a pretty good sense of rhythm, I had a LOT of fun.

It's a dance with pretty easy basics, which then get jazzed up (Lindy'd up?) depending on the ability of the dancers involved. Seeing as how I was a beginner and a 'follower' (the PC term for the girl's part in the dance), my night consisted of three kinds of dancing: the blind leading the blind, the experienced graciously coming down to my level to teach me some new things mid-song, or me getting frustrated with geeky guys (who were way too excited because they were touching an actual girl to be concentrating on their dancing) and taking over the lead. For the record, those three forms of dancing were: surprisingly fun, sometimes not-so-fun if the experienced guy was snobby, and, a really bad idea on my part (it just added to the confusion).

Fun dancing though, and a good way to exercise my social skills and remind myself that talking to new people can be fun and exciting, as long as I keep ignoring the little wallflower voice in my head telling me no one will like me. And *really* good exercise.

I think I'll go back again soon...

Did you know you can get a Charley Horse in your forearms?

I spent the weekend helping Toria move, which was very tiring and kind of stressful but left me feeling like I'd done something good and useful. This is the way moving other people usually leaves me feeling, since as much as it sucks for the person moving (who's left to deal with dozens of boxes and new place that's not quite home yet), I get to go home to my bed and not have to deal with things anymore. I'm working on not feeling guilty about that...

It was a pretty good weekend though, as moves go. I've got lots of tired muscles and I've eaten more sugar in the last 24 hours than in a long time (even more than all the Norwegian chocolate when I was in Vancouver!). But there was only one serious injury (a pinched finger which seemed to be okay today), a few minor mishaps (there was a power outage at one point on Saturday, and a few problems with elevators), and no car accidents (which is very important when every vehicle being used is either rented or borrowed). Plus we moved everything we needed to. So that's as good as things can be expected, I think.

Tomorrow I'm off to a private boy's school to teach a class of Grade Four's for a day. I haven't taught kids who speak English fluently in a while, so we'll see how that goes. I'm hoping for lots of quiet, studious kids who revere me as a scary adult/teacher/authority figure, and a distinct lack of lifting any boxes. Sadly, I think only the latter will be realized.

Theological Thoughts

In case you're interested, I've set up a new blog -- www.lydia-does-theology.blogspot.com

I've spent the last four years occasionally being bowled over by Christianity-related thoughts/semi-sermons/rants that I've been compelled to write down, and seeing how I'm studying theology now, those thoughts will probably increase rather than decrease. I promise I won't neglect this blog in the meantime, but the new one should provide an outlet for all those explicitly religious things I still find myself kind of embarrassed to write down here.

The Grass on the Other Side

A full time job that's not perfect, but another rung on a real career (and a good way to pay the bills). A fabulous new apartment minutes from the subway with a view of the downtown core. Good friends who are happy to buy you things on your birthday and get all your jokes (obscure as they may be), and a full social calendar of dancing, time spent with adorable nephews, and just relaxing at home with a movie. There's nothing like reconnecting with a best friend on her birthday after a year away to make you more aware of the allure of roads not taken. Not that those roads haven't been bumpy (I know they have...), but that doesn't mean that they're not enviable.

Happy Birthday, B. Here's to another year of fabulous grown-up existence!

In other news, and since I can finally publish this without giving away the secret to various people as to what their souvenirs/birthday presents might be: domo-kun invasion!