Between classes at Case Western Reserve University, third-year student Joy On finds a sliver of time where she refuses to surrender to her phone. She settles into any comfortable place she can find, pulls out her electronic reader and disappears into her book. Around her, students scroll, swipe and tap. On does not look up.
“I’ve always liked reading,” On said. “I don’t remember a time when I didn’t.”
One of her oldest memories is of her curled up with her father, exploring Narnia through C.S. Lewis’s “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.” Since then, reading has been a major part of her life. At her local library, she once checked out 23 books in a single visit and returned them within a week. She saw it as a challenge, and it was.
For On, and many students like her, the library was never just a building. It was a sanctuary. It was a place where she could go to travel to an endless number of worlds, learning and growing with every page turned. It also acted as a system of reward, belonging and becoming. On’s school ran a yearly contest tracking who could read the most books, and she won. She loved reporting her progress to her teachers, stacking up written summaries to prove she had been there, inside those pages.
“People liked me reading, and I liked reading,” On said. “The net positive was: keep reading.”
But as she grew older, the stakes grew higher. As academic pressure weighed on her in high school, she recalled reading less during her junior and senior years. In college this trend continued. With fewer blocks of time, reading began to fade because she felt like she didn’t have time for it anymore. The cognitive load of university classes and extracurriculars made her want to just pick up her phone and doomscroll like many others.
But reading is not just a part of On’s life. It’s a part of who she is. She began to find time by any means necessary: walking home, while eating, in the early mornings before class or at night even when she should be sleeping.
Now, On sits as the president of Cracking The Case, a CWRU book club. She helps create a sanctuary for students like her, just like the library once was. In Guilford House, students can hear them as soon as they walk through the door as club members engage in passionate, respectful conversations. What the club members found is that they share many similar interests beyond reading, and many have become close friends. A love for reading acts as a string of fate, weaving together like-minded people until they find one another.
“Being a part of a club helps force me to keep my passion,” On admits.
Structure, she has learned, is not the enemy of love. Sometimes it is the condition for it. This structure can be observed far beyond reading, but in all aspects. Fourth-year student and avid reader Chloe Chen describes how she structures her free time.
“If I have the free time, I’d rather be learning and being productive,” Chen said. “I don’t let TV or social media overwhelm my life.”
Chen keeps a strict rule of only 40 minutes of Instagram time a day and does not use TikTok. She hides her phone in another room when she reads to avoid distractions. Fourth-year student Veronica Maciag takes a similar approach, turning on Do Not Disturb to stay focused. Despite balancing a triple major, double minor and part-time jobs, Maciag still finds time for both reading and a vibrant social life.
While Maciag juggles more work than that of many students, it seems possible through reading. Research suggests that deep reading stimulates the brain to build a greater sense of empathy, attention and critical thinking skills. On, who plans to become a therapist, speaks from her experiences.
“Reading a lot of books is very important for psychology,” On said. “It teaches empathy. It helps you develop your own philosophy of life.”
Chen, providing another angle, puts it more plainly: reading boosts attention span, media literacy and the ability to sit with something long enough to understand it.
“There’s always time to read, even if it’s just ten minutes every night,” Chen said.
Now, back between classes, On finishes her chapter before her next lecture begins. She closes the e-reader, gathers her things and merges into the flow of students meandering the hallways. The story she’s reading is one droplet in an ocean of stories that defines her life for the better. Maybe there’s something to reading after all. Maybe I should instead pick up a book the next time I reach for my phone.