Students Ask Why Do We Still Read Shakespeare Today In English Class - Growth Insights
It’s a question students don’t just ask—they demand it, with a skepticism born not from disdain, but from a hunger for meaning. Shakespeare isn’t just a relic tucked into old syllabi; he’s a mirror held up to modern contradictions. Why study him when TikTok sensations and viral algorithms dominate attention spans? Yet, across classrooms from New York to Nairobi, young learners press: what does this archaic language still offer that resists obsolescence? The answer lies not in romantic nostalgia, but in Shakespeare’s uncanny ability to distill psychological complexity—mechanisms of power, identity, and emotion encoded in verse that still pulse with startling relevance.
Shakespeare’s survival in English curricula is less a tribute to tradition than a testament to his structural genius. His plays operate as psychological laboratories: characters like Hamlet—torn between action and inaction—mirror the internal battles students face in a world of endless distractions. This isn’t mere literary exercise; it’s cognitive training. Studies from Stanford’s Graduate School of Education reveal that students who analyze Shakespearean soliloquies demonstrate sharper critical thinking skills, particularly in decoding subtext and recognizing rhetorical intent. The language itself, though unfamiliar, acts as a cognitive scaffold—forcing readers to slow down, parse meaning, and resist oversimplification. In an age of information overload, that discipline is rarer than we admit.
But the real rebellion lies in *how* we teach him. The rigid formalism once associated with Shakespeare—iambic pentameter, archaic syntax—has been reimagined. Teachers now use multimedia: projecting cinematic adaptations alongside original texts, overlaying modern music to highlight timeless themes. In a Brooklyn high school, a teacher transformed *Macbeth* into a detective narrative, framing ambition as a forensic puzzle students solve through line-by-line analysis. The meter isn’t a barrier—it’s a rhythmic anchor, a pulse that grounds abstract emotions in tangible human experience. This pedagogical shift turns Shakespeare from a static canon into a dynamic dialogue across centuries.
Yet resistance persists. Administrators often dismiss Shakespeare as “out of touch,” citing declining engagement metrics—though such data rarely accounts for assessment design. Standardized tests favor surface comprehension over deep analysis, and in underfunded districts, literature electives face elimination amid STEM pressures. The real dilemma: balancing relevance with rigor. Critics argue that forcing Shakespeare onto students who prefer digital storytelling risks alienation, but data from the National Council of Teachers of English suggests the opposite—when taught contextually, Shakespeare ignites curiosity, particularly among students historically excluded from classical canons. His stories, though centuries old, resonate because they’re *human*—flawed, passionate, and unrelentingly self-interrogating.
Consider the numbers: a 2023 survey by the Modern Language Association found that 78% of high school English teachers report improved empathy and argumentation when students engage with Shakespeare’s texts, even when taught through contemporary lenses. The content isn’t just “old words”—it’s a training ground for navigating complexity. In a world where emotional literacy is increasingly undervalued, Shakespeare’s characters offer blueprints for self-awareness. Othello’s jealousy, Lady Macbeth’s guilt, Viola’s gender fluidity—each becomes a case study in human motivation. The language challenges, but it rewards, with insight that transcends time.
This isn’t about preserving a museum piece. It’s about equipping students with intellectual tools that endure. The iambic beats, the layered metaphors, the moral ambiguities—they’re not archaic artifacts but cognitive muscles. Shakespeare endures not because it’s “great,” but because it demands work. And in doing so, he teaches students that meaning isn’t handed down—it’s wrestled with, questioned, and reclaimed. That’s the real reason we still read him: not to admire the past, but to sharpen the mind for the future.
- Why it matters: Shakespeare’s emotional and rhetorical architecture strengthens critical thinking and empathy—skills vital in a fragmented world.
- Pedagogy evolves: multimedia, contextual framing, and inclusive interpretation make him accessible, not intimidating.
- Engagement isn’t passive: when taught dynamically, his works ignite curiosity, especially among marginalized learners.
- Resistance reveals deeper tensions—between tradition and innovation, depth and speed, canon and relevance.