Comics in The Classroom

If we taught comics in the classroom, would it legitimise the artform, or just chase the kids away? English teacher Mike Sims reports from the front lines.
28 December 2001

Before I start, let me get one thing straight - I like comics. I believe them to be a valuable artform that can tell stories in a way unique from any other medium. If I had my way, everyone would read comics as well as 'normal' books. But they don't.

There has been a movement in comics fandom that claims that the reason why comics have been declining in popularity is that the kids just aren't reading them. They suggest that if the kids got to read comics in school and study them that they would become transformed into comic book fans by mere exposure. They are wrong.

Let me talk from my own experience as a High School English teacher.

I started my teaching career in Australia where there is a lot of freedom given as to what you use to teach the kids. As long as they learn the necessary skills, and read the occasional book, I was as free as a bird. So with my sights set high and a fire in my belly I decided that the time was right to use comics in the classroom.

The ideal class seemed to be my youngest, which was made up of 12 and 13-year-olds. They'd already shown an interest in cartoons - especially DRAGONBALL Z and X-MEN. They'd also displayed a healthy interest in the stories attached to computer games, most of which feature larger-than-life characters who can do amazing things. The stage was set.

I prepared resources and a solid program of teaching that would provide them with all the usual English skills, such as how to identify key features of texts and how to discuss them with clarity, as well as showing them how to read comics. In my research prior to my planning, it was this point that stood out above all others - reading comics is a learnt skill, not a natural ability. Some people may have natural aptitude, but in general people need to learn how to read comics.

Taking this into account, and equipped with an armload of recommended comics, I went into the classroom and tried. I'm sure the use of the word 'tried' gives you an idea of what happened.

Now, I have a friend - a media teacher - who loves the film BATTLESHIP POTEMKIN. She doesn't just appreciate the film as an important and influential part of cinematic history; she adores it with passion. Every year, she uses it in her classroom and tries to show the students why they should at least acknowledge it's importance as a piece of film history, if not love it as she does.

And every year, she despairs. Not one student can even see the importance of the film, let alone show any form of appreciation for it. And she doesn't understand why the children react as they do, so she tries again every year, hoping desperately to win a convert, like an out of luck street-corner preacher.

So what happened in my classroom? Well, some kids totally rebelled against the idea of learning, and attempted to do absolutely no work at all. Some kids tried to understand, but had difficulties learning to read the comics. After all, for some of kids it's a challenge to even read a sentence. But most of the kids applied themselves and worked hard. They wrote pages and pages of notes, they could discuss the key design features of comics, and they even wrote and created their own mini-comic books to demonstrate their understanding.

But did any of the kids fall in love with the artform and crave more? No.

And here's why: until you're able to legally leave school, you're effectively in a prison-like environment. You have to follow rules and are made to do things that you don't want to do. No matter how good the comics they got to read were, they were being effectively forced to read them. Their only free choice was which comics to read - which is really no choice at all. So of course they rebelled against the form - what else could they do?

I came to the conclusion that the appreciation and study of comics is either best left to older students or to people who are choosing to be educated - such as college students. Then you'd avoid the same kind of immediate resistance to the form that I faced in my classroom. People would be receptive to experiencing comics as an artform that can be appreciated because they would be approaching their learning in freedom. Well, that was my theory at least. So I sighed to myself and went back to work.

I didn't despair though. I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and moved on. Metaphorically and literally. To the United Kingdom, land of pubs and rain.

Where I found a bloated education system weighed down by archaic ideals and a National Curriculum that allowed for very little freedom in choice of texts. Children move through their entire school lives from one exam to another, never really learning any skills outside of exam skills. There is barely any time left to try to teach anything else.

There certainly doesn't seem to be, in the government-run High School system at least, any room for a serious approach to studying comics. As an English teacher I seem to be too busy teaching set texts within a rigid system that fails to recognise most modern artforms. Not that there is anything wrong with Shakespeare, but the children I teach have to study a Shakespearean play every single year. And when I'm not teaching a set text, I'm consolidating basic skill deficiencies that arise from the work the children do. There isn't time for anything new.

But, in the words of BLACKADDER's Baldrick, I have a cunning plan.

I don't teach comics specifically, but I refer to them to illustrate points. I mention comics I've read with the same ease that I mention films I've seen. I cross-reference between films, books, television and comic books, discussing the similarities and differences between the forms. I use comics to provide examples of character, plot and theme, and discuss similarities between characters in comic books and literature (e.g. The Hulk and Lenny in OF MICE AND MEN). I don't only do it with comics - I just place them in the same context as all forms of creative expression. And I do it without making a big fuss.

So what does this do? I feel that my actions justify comics as legitimate material to read and appreciate. I'm demystifying the artform and debunking all the cultural snobbery that plagues comic books in everyday culture. In short, I'm making comics 'normal'. Rather than 'cool', which seems to be what a lot of comic fans want them to be. Not me. Things that are cool one day are uncool the next - like legwarmers, yo-yos and big hair. So I'll settle for normal, thank you very much.

And you know something? I've had kids come up to me in the corridors at school, showing me comics that they've picked up and asking if I think they're worth reading. I've seen kids who refuse to read class novels sitting quietly in the school library engrossed in the WATCHMEN trade paperback. I've seen kids drawing their own comics in their own time and showing them to each other in between classes. They don't do this all the time - they still kick footballs, listen to music, and write love notes to each other. They have simply made comics an additional form of leisure.

To these kids, comics are becoming normal.

And I think that's pretty cool.

Mike Sims is a teacher, stand-up comedian and author of several short films.

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