Reading is the key to Plant High’s SilentBook Club

Tampa – shhh. Pull up the chair. I’ll be participating in the yen. But shhh.

It’s an exquisite afternoon. Breezy, 75, Golden Hour shows off. This weather begs for the dangerous 5pm latte, a little walk, a deep breath, and the richest texture of life. And this weather is definitely looking for books.

Approximately 30 students from Plant High are spread along the grass of Armature Works, several token adults, and other school children in the mix. Teens are launching new silent book clubs. It’s like a normal book club, but rather than talking about one title, they meet to read whatever they want.

They hold onto “interviews with the Vampire,” “Beljar,” “The Housemaid,” and “A Little Life.” A love story between Colleen Hoover and Emily Henry. A book of thrillers, mystery and thick non-fiction.

The leader is Matt Pen, a high-media specialist at an animation plant, dressed in highlighter yellow shoes. He wears an “I <3 reading" pin attached to the tie-dye tea. He explains that everyone has 35 minutes to sink to their pages. Finally, there is space for chat.

shhh. Time to start.

Penn peers through the pages of his own book on healing from the narcissist and sees the students come and go. He has been in the factory for eight years and has worked in the school library.

On school day, his media center captivates the legendary lunch of curious students navigating clubs and AP credits rather than the loneliness of the library. He sits at his desk while they eat. They may think he has an adult force field that interferes with hearing, but he is paying attention.

Here’s the sign on his desk: The Internet can give you a million answers, but the librarian can give you the best answers.

Anyway, that was once true. The 58-year-old Pen is frequently dominated by artificial intelligence. The power of the bot is cheerful and frightening, but in most cases, the constant placement of what Penn calls the “main question” is a reminder that it remains grounded.

What are we for? Humans, that is.

In the sea of ​​technology, students still feel satisfied with physical books. In Armature Works, you’re either curled up with sock feet in an Adirondack chair or spread flat on your back. They read the Bachelorette and House Music and the Dogs of the Dinner.

shhh.

Elpsche.

35 minutes shhh.

After that, Pen gently announces that it’s time to come along.

“Talking about reading your book or actually leading the conversation,” he says. “That’s really the best part about this.”

Three students turn towards each other. All jeans and sweatpants and Converse and Stanley Cups. They appreciate the time to read, they agree. It’s a bit troubling to do it in public, but that’s the point and it feels free to do.

They talk and speak. Let them talk.

“There is this government company called Death. If you die too early, they will call you on your mobile phone, and they say, “Hello, I regret letting you know, you have 24 hours to live” It’s really sad, but you can meet someone through it. You can make friends who will die that day too. – Natalie Martin, 15, “They both die in the end,” read Adam Silver.

“They blow something like this in the war with Eurasia, then they take everyone around. They start screaming on TV. The creepy part is how they explain it. The hero actively knows what’s going on, but they’re still wiped out, they start screaming on TV, and they have no control over themselves.” – Maggie Welch, 17, reading “1984” by George Orwell.

“Everything has led to the destruction of Isengard. You can finally actually meet Salman. You can see how far corruption has come from him, and that he cannot even trust the people he once became friends with.” – Reading “Two Towers” by Chloe Waite, 16, Jrr Tolkien.

Club members begin to drip down to get into the armature and get those wise coffees. Penn cleans up, says goodbye to people and hopes they will come back. He hopes to join more students and teachers from across Tampa Bay. He can see the vision. These short brain bonds form in what continues.

The three students put together a lecture in the book, not before a major realization rolls over human pods in artificial grass.

What are we for?

“Wait,” says Natalie. “Why are everything in our books connected in a way?”

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