YA in the College Setting

Listening to nothing, but you'd better believe That Girl is playing on repeat in my head. Oh, JT...
Thinking about how daunting this semester is going to be.
    Before finalizing his plans for the semester, one of my professors did something that none of my other professors have done before. He did two things, actually. First, he sent the whole class a survey with about twenty books on it, asking us which we were most interested in reading. Secondly, almost every book on that list (it might have even been every book - I don't remember them all) was YA Lit.*
    Finally. Finally someone sees the significance of YA literature. Finally someone realizes that there is so much to be learned from these authors and their stories. Finally, y'all. There is hope for the future of YA. And I have to say I'm most excited that John Green's wonderful The Fault In Our Stars is on the list. I've been dying to read this book, but as an English/English Ed./Latin major, I really don't have time to read for pleasure during the semester. Oh, delight, someone's finally realized this book is worth studying in a class.
    Now I realize that so many educators have already seen the importance of these books, but not at my university. I've been reading the same books over and over for classes for the past nine years. I can't tell you how many times I've read Uncle Tom's Cabin (yes I can. Twice, and I didn't like it either time), and it's on yet another class's book list for this semester. At least one professor has finally realized that there is significance and import in contemporary YA authors' works that should be studied at a collegiate level. Studied, for that matter, so that it can be taught at a high school level.
    Thank God I have at least two classes I can look forward to this semester, because the other three will likely destroy me with the canon. (Get it? Lit pun. And you thought I was over those.)

Have any of your professors introduced YA into the college classroom?

 

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*Which is what I have always loved, read, and write.

**He was supposed to post the finalized book list today, and has not yet done so (it's nearly midnight), but I'm resting assured that most of the books on the list were books that I'd like to read.**

Lucille's Tragedy

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Humming Starlight by Muse
Craving Pretzel M&Ms. I had a bag earlier. And by a bag, I don't mean 99 cents at the register. I mean, search for it by the five-packs of gum in the candy aisle.
I swear I have an excuse this time. No, really, I do. My hard drive crashed. Lucille - my laptop - was in the shop for two weeks, and she now has a new hard drive and none of my old data. Except for my book, which I thankfully had the insight to rescue and move to a jump drive. I now understand the importance of "backing up" one's hard drive. I now also know the definition of "backing up" in reference to a hard drive. Yes, I am that technologically illiterate.
    At least I'm not grammatically illiterate.Which would be unfortunate for an English major.
    Or just illiterate. Equally unfortunate.
    Poor joke.
    So there's that. Also, I have been working quite a bit, and babysitting (which I honestly haven't done in quite some time), and some other things which I shall probably tell you about tomorrow(ish) or Saturday. And classes started yesterday. I'm taking fifteen hours, which is really not that bad, but the load will be heavy, so I'll have to get on a set schedule for posts.
    Here's what I'm thinking. Letters to Inanimate Objects (and Random People) at the end of the week - think Saturday nights, so I can write letters to Panera's new toaster. Let's call 'im Squealer. And either Sunday or Monday will be "Punday," depending on when I have time to be clever, and how much cleverness I can remember. And if I can think of any other clever posty ideas, I'll definitely squeeze them in. Along with a few sporadic ramblings about books, literature, and writing. I am, after all, in two English classes. And this blog is, in fact, called Dang Write! I might as well write at least a bit on the subject of writing itself.
    On that note, I've been reading The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Now, the movie The Secret Garden (yes, the one with Maggie Smith, who plays Professor McGonagall in Harry Potter, as Mrs. Medlock), was always a favorite movie of mine as a child. I loved the gray, Gothic moors and how much it contrasted with the beauty of the garden once Mary and Dickon had tended to it. I loved the magic of Colin's walking, and how he acted like a little Rajah, and how Mary was the only person who could control him at all. The whole thing was just so magical, and as a child obsessed with magic, you can understand the draw. Well, when I was about ten, I got my hands on a copy of the novel from the church library (which was also the school library) and readied myself to be equally impressed with Burnett's writing.
    But I wasn't. I was impatient, and though the writing really wasn't that heavy, it was just too much for my ravenous mind to chew. So I returned it to its shelf, and didn't look back.
    Until a week and a half ago at Barnes and Noble. It called to me from the Classics shelf, I swear. My mom was in the bathroom, and I already had a twenty dollar hardbound collection of Poe in my grip, but I reached for it. I haven't been able to put it down since. The book, as they almost always are, is so much better than the movie I remember as a child; I am, however glad I saw it first. I still have those actors' faces and voices in my mind's eye (and ear) as I read, and it's like I can see it so much more clearly for being familiar with the characters already.
    Anyway, I digress. The purpose of this was to recommend it to you. It's fantastic, a quick read, and everything is simply put. I didn't have to re-read a single sentence, unless I wanted to. And some were just so beautifully written, that I did. So go buy it. It's cheap, and wonderful. (Which sounds dirty.) Get your mind out of the gutter and into The Secret Garden.