The most popular course I had was "Personal Reading for Professional Development". I just wanted to talk about books but some school systems wouldn't reimburse their teachers for the tuition without some twist that implied the course would directly improve their teaching. The notes and much of the material of the course are here http://www.uwsp.edu/education/wkirby/PersRead/index.htm
It says in Ecclesiastes that all the rivers run into the sea and yet the sea is not full. I looked at the endless admonitions to read and assignments to be read and thought, "What about all the reading that has already been done?" So, I asked the students not to read for the duration of the course. For many, this was impossible but the idea at least gave them pause. The only assignment was to make a list of what they had read, from "The Pokey Little Puppy" Golden Book to the latest thriller. Again, for a person of 40 or more, that is an impossible request. They knew it was as soon as they heard it. But making a start helped. Comparing lists being made helped very much. It was surprising how often seeing someone else's citation of a particular book sparked an addition to one's own list. Visiting a childhood bedroom, if it still existed, parents' attics and basements, and libraries used as a child also reminded the students of books they had read.
I asked the students to make the list in the order of the books remembered and to simply note the title and author. In the 80's, we didn't have instant access to the Library of Congress http://catalog.loc.gov/ and Amazon.com http://www.amazon.com/ and many, many other tools that would have helped remember the author and get the title straight. Often, thinking of a book that mattered, a student would find it and look it over or read it again. It seemed about half the time, the original thrill repeated itself. Half the time, the older, more mature reader felt differently. Sometimes, the book seemed much deeper, much richer in meaning. Sometimes, it now seemed silly or spotty and discontinuous. The second look often brought sympathy for one's younger self.
