As someone who’s mother used to tell her, “It’s a beautiful day. Get your nose out of your book, and go outside,” I don’t quite understand the reluctant reader. Okay, I’ll admit it. I don’t. I understand not wanting to read something you’re forced to read (Moby Dick), I understand not having time to read (writing grad school papers), I understand needing a break from reading (yeah, sometimes I do). But I just don’t understand not ever wanting to read. Because I don’t understand it, as a language arts literacy teacher, I’ve become a bit fascinated by it.