Submitted By: Afsana Rahman
Profession/Background: High School English Teacher & Lifelong Daydreamer
Book Title: The Phantom Tollbooth
Author: Norton Juster
Before reading the Book:
Before I stumbled upon “The Phantom Tollbooth“, I was in a creative fog. Life had taken on a dull rhythm. I woke up, went to school, taught grammar and literature, came home, made lesson plans, and went to bed. There was nothing inherently wrong with my life—but it felt flat. Even as someone who taught literature for a living, I was starting to forget why I fell in love with words in the first place. I often found myself recycling the same examples in class, giving the same tired speeches about the importance of reading, without feeling any spark myself. Honestly, I was on autopilot.
Books used to be my escape, my playground, and sometimes even my lifeboat. But somewhere between adulthood and responsibility, I had stopped reading for joy. I missed the magic, but I didn’t even realize how much—until one afternoon in the school library, while helping a student pick a book, I randomly pulled “The Phantom Tollbooth” off the shelf.
Discovering the Book That Changed Everything:
I picked it up expecting a quick children’s story—something simple, a nostalgic walk through a book I might have missed as a child. Instead, what I found was a whimsical, brilliant, and deeply philosophical tale that spoke to me like few books ever had. Within the first few pages, I met Milo—the bored little boy who felt like nothing was interesting, nothing mattered, and time just dragged on pointlessly.
Sounded familiar.
As I read, I followed Milo through a magical tollbooth that transported him into a bizarre and beautiful world filled with pun-filled places like the Doldrums, Dictionopolis, and Digitopolis. Along the way, he met the watchdog named Tock, a humbug with too much confidence, and kings who argued over whether words or numbers were more important.
But what hit me most wasn’t just the cleverness of the world—it was the wisdom tucked inside every encounter. The book used childlike wonder to explore deeply adult questions: Why do we stop questioning things? Why do we forget to appreciate learning? Why do we let routine dim our imagination?
After the Book:
After finishing the book, I closed it gently and sat in silence. I felt as though someone had shaken me gently awake. It was the strangest and most wonderful feeling—like remembering something I didn’t know I had forgotten.
I went back and reread entire chapters, not because I didn’t understand them, but because I wanted to experience them again. It reminded me why I became a teacher in the first place—not just to help kids pass exams, but to help them think differently. To help them stay curious, to see that the world is strange and beautiful if you’re willing to look.
The next day in class, I brought in “The Phantom Tollbooth” and read aloud the first chapter. I watched as a few sleepy eyes lit up. I changed my approach to teaching that week. I swapped out dry grammar drills for creative writing exercises based on the “Word Market” in Dictionopolis. I asked my students questions like, “If you could ride through a magical tollbooth, where would you go?”
Something shifted in me—and in them.
The Transformation:
Reading this book didn’t just inspire me—it rekindled a part of myself I had quietly buried under adulthood. It reminded me of the power of nonsense, of play, and of asking questions that don’t have clear answers. It made me want to chase curiosity instead of running from it. I started journaling again, writing poems and short stories for no reason other than the joy of it.
I even built a “classroom tollbooth” out of cardboard and turned it into a writing prompt corner. Each week, a student would pass through it and pick a whimsical challenge on the other side: “Invent a land where sound has color,” or “Describe a day when clocks go backward.” The creativity that poured out of my students—and myself—was astounding.
My Favorite Line & How It Helps Me Every Day:
“So many things are possible just as long as you don’t know they’re impossible.”
That line sticks with me daily. I think about it when I try a new teaching method, when I write something without knowing where it will end, or when I encourage a hesitant student to share their voice. It reminds me that the limits we often accept are usually self-imposed.
To Anyone Considering This Book:
Don’t let the fact that it’s labeled a “children’s book” fool you. “The Phantom Tollbooth” is more than a quirky tale—it’s a mirror, a guide, and a gentle rebellion against the dullness that can settle into our lives. It’s for anyone who has forgotten how to wonder, anyone stuck in the daily grind, anyone who once asked, “What’s the point of learning this?” and then stopped asking anything at all.
Read it slowly. Let it surprise you. Let it teach you again to ask silly questions and chase strange ideas. I promise—it’s not just a book you read. It’s a tollbooth you drive through, and you come out the other side a little more awake, a little more alive.