Close reading as close writing (and close teaching)

One creative and wonderful way around the problem of close reading--which I have outlined before, but which mainly consists of the fact that we are always much more distant than we think, unless we set up some standard for what counts as "close," as intimate, (or) as scientific--one way around close reading is to say that it simply does not exist except in the process of, on the one hand, writing (this is Geoffrey Hartman's thesis, and Frederi Jameson's), or, on the other, teaching (this is mine, though I'm sure others have made it too).
Think about it: how closely can you read, if you are not already writing about something or are forced to look at a text in order to be able to teach it? This seems to be the only time in which close reading appears. When you read without writing or teaching, you usually skim--or at least don't pay as close attention to the text compared to these other two times in which you do. Novels bring this out clearly: I may only remember a few scenes in detail--only a few hit home to me. I rarely remember--or perhaps it is better to say that I rarely attain any intimacy or familiarity with--the words themselves. Poetry is better in this respect, but that doesn't mean it solves this problem. Reading aloud, which is something readers of poetry usually do, forces you to slow down--but if you do scansion, which is what is produced eventually by the oral (a greater emphasis upon the stress of syllables eventually emerges), you are already writing. There might be one really crucial exception to this, which René Girard (among others) might have something to say about: ritual. But is ritual reading? Some may say that it is, some may say that it isn't. And how far away from this is pedagogy--that is, teaching?
But isn't it more interesting to flip the old emphasis on close reading and think of reading closely already as a process of writing or of teaching? When I really read, I am teaching myself--am I not? Isn't this closer to the phenomenon? I'm not really doing it when I just turn the pages there in my chair--or even really strain over a line. Unless I am somehow reinscribing the text, repeating it to myself or others, it isn't really reading in a significant sense. This is perhaps what Derrida most hit home to the Yale School, when it comes down to modes of reading--and even though this misses much of what Derrida has to say about the topic.
An even more radical question remains, however: whether this close writing or close teaching is itself impossible without some standard for what counts as "close." I suspect that the answer is yes (and this is also where notions of a reading that does not read to the reader, that does not simply repeat but repeats with a difference--which is also a question of sociology and Marxist analyses of the dissemination of texts--appears), but that is an issue for a different time.