My Summer Reading Challenge: Battle of the Books Edition

Every summer since I made the switch to teaching middle and high school, I’ve taken on a surprisingly rewarding challenge: read every single book on both the middle school and high school Alaska Battle of the Books lists before school starts again.

Yes, it’s a lot of reading. Yes, I bring a tower of books with me on every ferry ride and weekend trip. And yes, the Homer Bookstore staff can recognize me on sight. (I regret nothing.)

 

This tradition started as a way to keep up with what my students are reading—and to give me a nudge out of my usual reading comfort zone. Battle of the Books titles are a mix of genres, styles, and perspectives I might not reach for on my own. But every year, I’m reminded how powerful it is to read what my students are reading. It gives me concrete ways to connect with them, recommend books they'll actually enjoy, and build a classroom reading culture that feels fresh and relevant, even when I taught high school math.

Plus, when a student shrugs and says, “I don’t know what to read,” I love being able to slide a book across the table and say, “Try this. I just read it. I think it might be your kind of story.”

So here we go again. Two fresh stacks of books, one determined teacher, and a whole summer to read. Let the reading begin.

Battle of the Books Challenge: Two Old Women

Since I'll be taking college classes to get my masters in teaching high school mathematics over the summer, I kicked off my 2025–2026 Battle of the Books reading challenge earlier than usual this year with a familiar favorite: Two Old Women by Velma Wallis. It’s been over two decades since I last read it, but diving back in felt like revisiting a well-worn trail—still sharp, still stunning, and still just as powerful as I remembered.

If you're not familiar, Two Old Women is an Alaska legend retold—It’s the kind of story that sticks with you—not because it’s flashy or dramatic, but because it quietly knocks the wind out of you. Two elderly women are left behind by their tribe during a brutal winter (which, let’s be honest, is a pretty solid reason to hold a grudge), and instead of giving up, they decide... nope, not today. They rely on what they remember, what they’ve learned, and a stubborn streak a mile wide to make it through. It hits that sweet spot of being both deeply Alaskan and universally resonant.

That said, I forgot just how quickly the story wraps up. I found myself wishing Wallis had lingered just a little longer—maybe given us a few more chapters about the women after their summer harvest. What did they do with their second chance? How did they shape the community that once left them behind? Honestly, I just wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

Still, that might be part of the book’s magic. It leaves you wanting more. It reminds us that strength doesn't always look the way we expect it to, and that quiet stories can carry loud truths.

Also — I read this one with a scoop of salted caramel gelato. Highly recommend.