I Want My Reading Period

It's a plot. Slowly, surely, they're taking reading period away from us. The official calendar lists "reading period" as starting May 3. So then why do I have lecture and section all this week?

Clearly, someone has not defined the terms correctly.

In my book, reading period is that strange institution that justifies almost all of Harvard: the stress, the exams-after-winter-break-tradition, the lack of real vacations. It is a block of time with no academic commitments besides those you impose upon yourself. Having successfully conquered the daily bustle of a Harvard semester, you are given a few weeks respite before being sucked into the vortex of exams.

Not this year. I find on my calendar sections, lectures, and even new assigned reading! It was the same story in the fall semester. Are these assignments from obscure concentration courses that naturally require extra effort from students? No! The classes I am taking that have met in "reading period" are Historical Studies B-42 (The Civil War) and Ec 10! Two core classes that together enroll hundreds of students!

The most devious part of it all is that they're suckering the first years, who make up the majority of the enrollment in these classes. The poor kids won't even know what hit 'em.

There ought to be a law. Someone in Mass. Hall should just send down a pronouncement from on high: There shall be no lectures or sections during reading period.

I remember, back in the day (during my first year), when reading period was reading period. It was an unbroken stretch of days in which you could embark upon the process of psychologically preparing yourself for those fearsome three hour trials by fire that lay ahead. The weather that spring of my first year was better than this semester and I was, ahem, perhaps less than attentive to my studies during the term than I should have been.

But even the grand sweep of Western civilization was no match for an unadulterated reading period. No classes, no sections, no unit tests; just me and my books. It was glorious. In the morning, I'd tackle the Industrial Revolution. In the afternoon, World War I. And in the evening, that memoir by Orwell. Sounds absurd--but by the time my exams rolled around, I was thoroughly steeped in the coursework, spouting facts out every orifice, composing essays on the way to breakfast.

That won't happen this year. Dashing between lecture and section, I doubt I'll have time to look over that book about Southern women in the Civil War. In January, I know an economic theory or two slipped through the cracks as I trudged into Mem. Hall.

Beyond the simple fact of having ample time to study, review and synthesize, there is a psychological component to reading period--or the lack thereof. It is extremely comforting at the beginning of May to look at the calendar and see two free weeks available to study.

Of course, not all of us choose to study. Some of us go out to play frisbee or head down to the Grille. But those things are important, too. Everyone has their own trick; the key element is the freedom involved, the security of knowing the hours are available to you if you need them.

We're Harvard students, we can handle anything you throw at us. But isn't it enough? We've already sacrificed our winter break to the false idol of fall reading period. This year they didn't even have the grace to extend intercession until February.

We all know what the Harvard name will do for us after graduation (ha, ha). But shouldn't we get something along the way? Some compensation for long hours, hyper-competitive classmates, lost vacations, and April snowstorms?

I want my reading period back.

Jennifer L. Burns '97-'98 is a Crimson editor and a history concentrator.