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Reading selection: “Learning to Read” excerpt from The Autobiography of Malcolm
X
MALCOLM X
Born Malcolm Little on May 19, 1925, Malcolm X was one of the most articulate and powerful
leaders of black America during the 1960s. A street hustler convicted of robbery in 1946, he
spent seven years in prison, where he educated himself and became a disciple of Elijah
Muhammad, founder of the Nation of Islam. In the days of the civil rights movement, Malcolm X
emerged as the leading spokesman for black separatism, a philosophy that urged black
Americans to cut political, social, and economic ties with the white community. After a
pilgrimage to Mecca, the capital of the Muslim world, in 1964, he became an orthodox Muslim,
adopted the Muslim name El Hajj Malik El-Shabazz, and distanced himself from the teachings of
the black Muslims. He was assassinated in 1965. In the following excerpt from his
autobiography (1965), coauthored with Alex Haley and published the year of his death, Malcolm
X describes his self-education.
It was because of my letters that I happened to stumble upon starting to acquire some
kind of a homemade education.
I became increasingly frustrated at not being able to express what I wanted to convey in
letters that I wrote, especially those to Mr. Elijah Muhammad. In the street, I had been the most
articulate hustler out there. I had commanded attention when I said something. But now, trying to
write simple English, I not only wasn’t articulate, I wasn’t even functional. How would I sound
writing in slang, the way 1 would say it, something such as, “Look, daddy, let me pull your coat
about a cat, Elijah Muhammad—”
Many who today hear me somewhere in person, or on television, or those who read
something I’ve said, will think I went to school far beyond the eighth grade. This impression is
due entirely to my prison studies.
It had really begun back in the Charlestown Prison, when Bimbi first made me feel envy
of his stock of knowledge. Bimbi had always taken charge of any conversations he was in, and I
had tried to emulate him. But every book I picked up had few sentences which didn’t contain
anywhere from one to nearly all of the words that might as well have been in Chinese. When I
just skipped those words, of course, I really ended up with little idea of what the book said. So I
had come to the Norfolk Prison Colony still going through only book-reading motions. Pretty
soon, I would have quit even these motions, unless I had received the motivation that I did.
I saw that the best thing I could do was get hold of a dictionaryto study, to learn some
words. I was lucky enough to reason also that I should try to improve my penmanship. It was
sad. I couldn’t even write in a straight line. It was both ideas together that moved me to request a
dictionary along with some tablets and pencils from the Norfolk Prison Colony school.
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I spent two days just riffling uncertainly through the dictionary’s pages. I’d never realized
so many words existed! I didn’t know which words I needed to learn. Finally, just to start some
kind of action, I began copying.
In my slow, painstaking, ragged handwriting, I copied into my tablet everything printed
on that first page, down to the punctuation marks.
I believe it took me a day. Then, aloud, I read back, to myself, everything I’d written on
the tablet. Over and over, aloud, to myself, I read my own handwriting.
I woke up the next morning, thinking about those wordsimmensely proud to realize
that not only had I written so much at one time, but I’d written words that I never knew were in
the world. Moreover, with a little effort, I also could remember what many of these words meant.
I reviewed the words whose meanings I didn’t remember. Funny thing, from the dictionary first
page right now, that “aardvark” springs to my mind. The dictionary had a picture of it, a long-
tailed, long-eared, burrowing African mammal, which lives off termites caught by sticking out its
tongue as an anteater does for ants.
I was so fascinated that I went on—I copied the dictionary’s next page. And the same
experience came when I studied that. With every succeeding page, I also learned of people and
places and events from history. Actually the dictionary is like a miniature encyclopedia. Finally
the dictionary’s A section had filled a whole tablet—and I went on into the B’s. That was the
way I started copying what eventually became the entire dictionary. It went a lot faster after so
much practice helped me to pick up handwriting speed. Between what I wrote in my tablet, and
writing letters, during the rest of my time in prison I would guess I wrote a million words.
I suppose it was inevitable that as my word-base broadened, I could for the first time pick
up a book and read and now begin to understand what the book was saying. Anyone who has
read a great deal can imagine the new world that opened. Let me tell you something: from then
until I left that prison, in every free moment I had, if I was not reading in the library, I was
reading on my bunk. You couldn’t have gotten me out of books with a wedge. Between Mr.
Muhammad’s teachings, my correspondence, my visitors—usually Ella and Reginaldand my
reading of books, months passed without my even thinking about being imprisoned. In fact, up to
then, I never had been so truly free in my life.
The Norfolk Prison Colony’s library was in the school building. A variety of classes was
taught there by instructors who came from such places as Harvard and Boston universities. The
weekly debates between inmate teams were also held in the school building. You would be
astonished to know how worked up convict debaters and audiences would get over subjects like
“Should Babies Be Fed Milk?”
Available on the prison library’s shelves were books on just about every general subject.
Much of the big private collection that Parkhurst had willed to the prison was still in crates and
boxes in the back of the librarythousands of old books. Some of them looked ancient: covers
faded; old-time parchment-looking binding. Parkhurst, I’ve mentioned, seemed to have been
principally interested in history and religion. He had the money and the special interest to have a
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lot of books that you wouldn’t have in general circulation. Any college library would have been
lucky to get that collection.
As you can imagine, especially in a prison where there was heavy emphasis on
rehabilitation, an inmate was smiled upon if he demonstrated an unusually intense interest in
books. There was a sizable number of well-read inmates, especially the popular debaters, Some
were said by many to be practically walking encyclopedias.
They were almost celebrities. No university would ask any student to devour literature as
I did when this new world opened to me, of being able to read and understand.
I read more in my room than in the library itself. An inmate who was known to read a lot
could check out more than the permitted maximum number of books. I preferred reading in the
total isolation of my own room.
When I had progressed to really serious reading, every night at about ten P.M. I would be
outraged with the “lights out.” It always seemed to catch me right in the middle of something
engrossing.
Fortunately, right outside my door was a corridor light that cast a glow into my room.
The glow was enough to read by, once my eyes adjusted to it. So when “lights out” came, I
would sit on the floor where I could continue reading in that glow.
At one-hour intervals the night guards paced past every room. Each time I heard the
approaching footsteps, I jumped into bed and feigned sleep. And as soon as the guard passed, I
got back out of bed onto the floor area of that light-glow, where I would read for another fifty-
eight minutesuntil the guard approached again. That went on until three or four every morning.
Three or four hours of sleep a night was enough for me. Often in the years in the streets I had
slept less than that.
The teachings of Mr. Muhammad stressed how history had been “whitened”when
white men had written history books, the black man simply had been left out...I never will
forget how shocked I was when I began reading about slavery’s total horror. It made such an
impact upon me that it later became one of my favorite subjects when I became a minister of
Mr. Muhammad’s. The world’s most monstrous crime, the sin and the blood on the white
man’s hands, are almost impossible to believe...I read descriptions of atrocities, saw those
illustrations of black slave women tied up and flogged with whips; of black mothers watching
their babies being dragged off, never to be seen by their mothers again; of dogs after slaves,
and of the fugitive slave catchers, evil white men with whips and clubs and chains and guns...
Book after book showed me how the white man had brought upon the world’s black,
brown, red, and yellow peoples every variety of the sufferings of exploitation. I saw how since
the sixteenth century, the so-called “Christian trader” white man began to ply the seas in his
lust for Asian and African empires, and plunder, and power. I read, I saw, how the white man
never has gone among the non-white peoples bearing the Cross in the true manner and spirit of
Christ’s teachingsmeek, humble, and Christlike…
Showing Page:
4/4
I have often reflected upon the new vistas that reading opened to me. I knew right there in
prison that reading had changed forever the course of my life. As I see it today, the ability to read
awoke inside me some long dormant craving to be mentally alive. I certainly wasn’t seeking any
degree, the way a college confers a status symbol upon its students. My homemade education
gave me, with every additional book that I read, a little bit more sensitivity to the deafness,
dumbness, and blindness that was afflicting the black race in America. Not long ago, an English
writer telephoned me from London, asking questions. One was, “What’s your alma mater?” I
told him, “Books.” You will never catch me with a free fifteen minutes in which I’m not
studying something I feel might be able to help the black man.
Question Week 2 Discussion Post
Good Day,
“Learning to Read” excerpt from The Autobiography of Malcolm X, talks about the life he lived.
Describing him as whom he was when he lived. Malcolm X, he was the black political leader during the
time of civil right movement. He had a unique learning style different from the traditional, typical
learning style as he learned words directly from the dictionary. He learned everything by memorizing as
many as the word he could, it is said that he was self-motivated and wanted to learn all the book offered
to him; his desired to learn and gain knowledge motivated him to learn. His writing tone is formal and
relaxed, the writing is in the past tense and he is passive. Malcom X has specific views when it came to
political issues, he was the supporter of black pride. His references on a history show his in-depth
knowledge about politics and against the civil rights movement. Malcolm x was in favor of separation in
terms of race. He rejects the views of Martin Luther Jr. And Civil right movement. He proposed that
African American should either move to Africa or demand for separate nations for black. He also said
that African people were self-sufficient and able to defend themselves. He believed that Civil right
movement is not capable to provide the Justice and equality for African American community. Politics is
a very controversial topic and many of us may never agree with the views and beliefs of others. We have
all hear people say, we don’t talk about religion and politics.

Unformatted Attachment Preview

Reading selection: “Learning to Read” excerpt from The Autobiography of Malcolm X MALCOLM X Born Malcolm Little on May 19, 1925, Malcolm X was one of the most articulate and powerful leaders of black America during the 1960s. A street hustler convicted of robbery in 1946, he spent seven years in prison, where he educated himself and became a disciple of Elijah Muhammad, founder of the Nation of Islam. In the days of the civil rights movement, Malcolm X emerged as the leading spokesman for black separatism, a philosophy that urged black Americans to cut political, social, and economic ties with the white community. After a pilgrimage to Mecca, the capital of the Muslim world, in 1964, he became an orthodox Muslim, adopted the Muslim name El Hajj Malik El-Shabazz, and distanced himself from the teachings of the black Muslims. He was assassinated in 1965. In the following excerpt from his autobiography (1965), coauthored with Alex Haley and published the year of his death, Malcolm X describes his self-education. It was because of my letters that I happened to stumble upon starting to acquire some kind of a homemade education. I became increasingly frustrated at not being able to express what I wanted to convey in letters that I wrote, especially those to Mr. Elijah Muhammad. In the street, I had been the most articulate hustler out there. I had commanded attention when I said something. But now, trying to write simple English, I not only wasn’t articulate, I wasn’t even functional. How would I sound writing in slang, the way 1 would say it, something such as, “Look, daddy, let me pull your coat about a cat, Elijah Muhammad—” Many who today hear me somewhere in person, or on television, or those who read something I’ve said, will think I went to school far beyond the eighth grade. This impression is due entirely to my prison studies. It had really begun back in the Charlestown Prison, when Bimbi first made me feel envy of his stock of knowledge. Bimbi had always taken charge of any conversations he was in, and I had tried to emulate him. But every book I picked up had few sentences which didn’t contain anywhere from one to nearly all of the words that might as well have been in Chinese. When I just skipped those words, of course, I really ended up with little idea of what the book said. So I had come to the Norfolk Prison Colony still going through only book-reading motions. Pretty soon, I would have quit even these motions, unless I had received the motivation that I did. I saw that the best thing I could do was get hold of a dictionary—to study, to learn some words. I was lucky enough to reason also that I should try to improve my penmanship. It was sad. I couldn’t even write in a straight line. It was both ideas together that moved me to request a dictionary along with some tablets and pencils from the Norfolk Prison Colony school. I spent two days just riffling uncertainly through the dictionary’s pages. I’d never realized so many words existed! I didn’t know which words I needed to learn. Finally, just to start some kind of action, I began copying. In my slow, painstaking, ragged handwriting, I copied into my tablet everything printed on that first page, down to the punctuation marks. I believe it took me a day. Then, aloud, I read back, to myself, everything I’d written on the tablet. Over and over, aloud, to myself, I read my own handwriting. I woke up the next morning, thinking about those words—immensely proud to realize that not only had I written so much at one time, but I’d written words that I never knew were in the world. Moreover, with a little effort, I also could remember what many of these words meant. I reviewed the words whose meanings I didn’t remember. Funny thing, from the dictionary first page right now, that “aardvark” springs to my mind. The dictionary had a picture of it, a longtailed, long-eared, burrowing African mammal, which lives off termites caught by sticking out its tongue as an anteater does for ants. I was so fascinated that I went on—I copied the dictionary’s next page. And the same experience came when I studied that. With every succeeding page, I also learned of people and places and events from history. Actually the dictionary is like a miniature encyclopedia. Finally the dictionary’s A section had filled a whole tablet—and I went on into the B’s. That was the way I started copying what eventually became the entire dictionary. It went a lot faster after so much practice helped me to pick up handwriting speed. Between what I wrote in my tablet, and writing letters, during the rest of my time in prison I would guess I wrote a million words. I suppose it was inevitable that as my word-base broadened, I could for the first time pick up a book and read and now begin to understand what the book was saying. Anyone who has read a great deal can imagine the new world that opened. Let me tell you something: from then until I left that prison, in every free moment I had, if I was not reading in the library, I was reading on my bunk. You couldn’t have gotten me out of books with a wedge. Between Mr. Muhammad’s teachings, my correspondence, my visitors—usually Ella and Reginald—and my reading of books, months passed without my even thinking about being imprisoned. In fact, up to then, I never had been so truly free in my life. The Norfolk Prison Colony’s library was in the school building. A variety of classes was taught there by instructors who came from such places as Harvard and Boston universities. The weekly debates between inmate teams were also held in the school building. You would be astonished to know how worked up convict debaters and audiences would get over subjects like “Should Babies Be Fed Milk?” Available on the prison library’s shelves were books on just about every general subject. Much of the big private collection that Parkhurst had willed to the prison was still in crates and boxes in the back of the library—thousands of old books. Some of them looked ancient: covers faded; old-time parchment-looking binding. Parkhurst, I’ve mentioned, seemed to have been principally interested in history and religion. He had the money and the special interest to have a lot of books that you wouldn’t have in general circulation. Any college library would have been lucky to get that collection. As you can imagine, especially in a prison where there was heavy emphasis on rehabilitation, an inmate was smiled upon if he demonstrated an unusually intense interest in books. There was a sizable number of well-read inmates, especially the popular debaters, Some were said by many to be practically walking encyclopedias. They were almost celebrities. No university would ask any student to devour literature as I did when this new world opened to me, of being able to read and understand. I read more in my room than in the library itself. An inmate who was known to read a lot could check out more than the permitted maximum number of books. I preferred reading in the total isolation of my own room. When I had progressed to really serious reading, every night at about ten P.M. I would be outraged with the “lights out.” It always seemed to catch me right in the middle of something engrossing. Fortunately, right outside my door was a corridor light that cast a glow into my room. The glow was enough to read by, once my eyes adjusted to it. So when “lights out” came, I would sit on the floor where I could continue reading in that glow. At one-hour intervals the night guards paced past every room. Each time I heard the approaching footsteps, I jumped into bed and feigned sleep. And as soon as the guard passed, I got back out of bed onto the floor area of that light-glow, where I would read for another fiftyeight minutes—until the guard approached again. That went on until three or four every morning. Three or four hours of sleep a night was enough for me. Often in the years in the streets I had slept less than that. The teachings of Mr. Muhammad stressed how history had been “whitened”—when white men had written history books, the black man simply had been left out...I never will forget how shocked I was when I began reading about slavery’s total horror. It made such an impact upon me that it later became one of my favorite subjects when I became a minister of Mr. Muhammad’s. The world’s most monstrous crime, the sin and the blood on the white man’s hands, are almost impossible to believe...I read descriptions of atrocities, saw those illustrations of black slave women tied up and flogged with whips; of black mothers watching their babies being dragged off, never to be seen by their mothers again; of dogs after slaves, and of the fugitive slave catchers, evil white men with whips and clubs and chains and guns... Book after book showed me how the white man had brought upon the world’s black, brown, red, and yellow peoples every variety of the sufferings of exploitation. I saw how since the sixteenth century, the so-called “Christian trader” white man began to ply the seas in his lust for Asian and African empires, and plunder, and power. I read, I saw, how the white man never has gone among the non-white peoples bearing the Cross in the true manner and spirit of Christ’s teachings—meek, humble, and Christlike… I have often reflected upon the new vistas that reading opened to me. I knew right there in prison that reading had changed forever the course of my life. As I see it today, the ability to read awoke inside me some long dormant craving to be mentally alive. I certainly wasn’t seeking any degree, the way a college confers a status symbol upon its students. My homemade education gave me, with every additional book that I read, a little bit more sensitivity to the deafness, dumbness, and blindness that was afflicting the black race in America. Not long ago, an English writer telephoned me from London, asking questions. One was, “What’s your alma mater?” I told him, “Books.” You will never catch me with a free fifteen minutes in which I’m not studying something I feel might be able to help the black man. Question Week 2 Discussion Post Good Day, “Learning to Read” excerpt from The Autobiography of Malcolm X, talks about the life he lived. Describing him as whom he was when he lived. Malcolm X, he was the black political leader during the time of civil right movement. He had a unique learning style different from the traditional, typical learning style as he learned words directly from the dictionary. He learned everything by memorizing as many as the word he could, it is said that he was self-motivated and wanted to learn all the book offered to him; his desired to learn and gain knowledge motivated him to learn. His writing tone is formal and relaxed, the writing is in the past tense and he is passive. Malcom X has specific views when it came to political issues, he was the supporter of black pride. His references on a history show his in-depth knowledge about politics and against the civil rights movement. Malcolm x was in favor of separation in terms of race. He rejects the views of Martin Luther Jr. And Civil right movement. He proposed that African American should either move to Africa or demand for separate nations for black. He also said that African people were self-sufficient and able to defend themselves. He believed that Civil right movement is not capable to provide the Justice and equality for African American community. Politics is a very controversial topic and many of us may never agree with the views and beliefs of others. We have all hear people say, we don’t talk about religion and politics. Name: Description: ...
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