Some classics are good enough to read. The problem is in forcing kids to try to do in-depth analysis. Even Charles Dickens or Charlotte Bronte isn’t all that bad to read, until you are squinting at every third word and wondering if this could mean something in the context of the whole book and just maybe you can write about it well enough in your stupid journal that you really want a B in so your parents don’t whip you with the belt again.
As we got to that middle part, I was hoping it was going to turn into a neat critique of the idea of slaving yourself to a job to survive. Just really turning the screws on the idea that 18 year old kids should be planning for a career so they can “thrive” and then… that’s the sum total of life’s goals. No adventures, no exploring of the self; simply a job and maybe kids. Then it just became a straight faced sad ending.