Commentary On The Book 'The Grinch' By Malcolm X

One of my first memories as a child was my mom reading to me. There was a tornado warning, so we all rushed to the basement and crammed ourselves into the back bedroom. To calm my hysteria from wailing sirens and howling winds, my mom pulled Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone off the shelf and began to read. The storm faded away and I was absorbed in a magical universe. Over the next year, she read the whole series to me, and ever since then, the power of words and the English language fascinated me.

Some of the oldest and fondest memories I have from my childhood are those of my mother reading to me. Before I even began Kindergarten, I remember my mom reading stories to me from children’s books, or making up stories as she went along. I enjoyed listening to the stories and still remember some to this day. She also taught me how to write my name, count, and recite the alphabet. I loved the time I spent reading with my mom because she made it fun, so much so that I didn’t realize I was learning.

Most of what I can remember from my childhood is being read to by my mom and her teaching me how to read, alongside my older sister. During the day all that I wanted to do was have my mom read to me, so she would. And every night before I went to bed she would let me pick one book for her to read to me. It was my favorite part of everyday. It wasn’t just at home that people would read to me, my grandma would too whenever we went to her house. She had this book full of short stories that always had a good lesson at the end. I loved hearing my grandma’s soothing voice right before I fell asleep. My favorite book was “One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish” by Dr. Seuss. Since my mom read it to me at least once everyday, I began to memorize it. I wasn’t actually reading the words on the page, I just knew the story so well that I could recite it.

I remember back in second grade my mom used to read books to me. I remember being all cuddled up in a bed with some hot chocolate by my side, just lying there listening to my mother read me chapters from the books that I was supposed to read. The only reason why she read them to me was because she knew that I was not going to read them myself. It’s not that I couldn’t actually read

Growing up, both of my grandmothers was school teachers who enjoyed reading to me and my cousins whenever the opportunity arose. Many of my favorite memories as a child learning to read lead back to my favorite book my nana would always read to me, The Napping House by Audrey Wood. I would quote the book cover to cover, before actually learning to read, pretending that I was reading in the meantime. My mother also played an important role in my learning to read and write, she and my nana were always encouraging me to read book series like Junie B. Jones, The Little House on the Prairie, The Boxcar Children, Nancy Drew,

When I was a younger I don’t remember if I was read to or not, but I read a lot of books. I enjoy reading books because they allow me to reach new heights in my imagination. At my age many kids say that reading is boring and is for losers. I think it’s cool to read and will continue to read throughout my life. I have read many different types of books from fiction to biographies. The longest book I ever read was a book called Dragon Rider by Cornella Funke. It was five hundred and thirty five pages! When it comes to reading I am a superstar! When I’m reading I am able to get a moral lesson from what I read, so it ends up helping me in the long run of my life

One of the most important skills one can have, is the ability to read. This allows one to not only educate themselves, but also break out of a vicious cycle of ignorance. In the short essays, “The Joy of Reading and Writing: Super Man and Me”, by Sherman Alexie, and “Learning to Read”, by Malcolm X, both men discuss how they had taught themselves to read from a passion inside of them. While both of the men grew up in completely different times and locations, against the odds, they both learned to read and completely passed the standard of literacy at the time.

When my parents first started to read to me, I was not but a year old. They read to me every night, Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown. Goodnight Moon was my favorite bedtime story, and I probably could have recited the whole book word for word back then. It was a book made to lull small kids to sleep with the content of the book. Then, when I grew up a bit, they started reading the Magic Tree House books by Mary Pope Osborne to me. I loved those books because they were interesting and informational. I finally got to the point where I could read the Magic Tree House books by myself, so I read one every night before bed.

I was never one of those kids who loathed bed time. I always looked forward to it. Every night my mom would let me pick a book off of the bookshelf for her to read to me. I remember books such as Goodnight Moon and If You Give a Mouse a Cookie completely fascinating me. From the brightly colored pictures to the different voices my mom would speak to portray the characters, I remember these nights and stories very fondly. The first person to introduce the joys of reading to me was my mother.

If I do not enjoy the book, I adore to think of other readers and their perspective on the book. I can easily change my perspective of how I see the book, and it seems to become a new book. While reading books I loved from early on, I will be locked in for hours. No matter how long, I will not stop the book until it is over. I often will lock myself in my room, and read until the sun is up. There are many reasons of why I read. As a child, I was hated reading, for all the books seemed to be boring or “girly”. I always wondered why our classes would read the Little House on the Prairie, instead of books of war and violence. My previous school really delayed my love for reading. We had a strange A.R where some students would read a total of six points a year, where I was required to read on an upward of 250 points annually as young kids. I was forced to speed read, and read books I didn’t enjoy just for the high points value. The change of schools caused my love of reading to excel. I learned about many amazing books that I could read without a nearly impossible deadline. I read more and more, and learned to love the books for the content, not the forced

The very earliest or first time I can remember being read to was probably with my mom. I can remember being in my room with my younger brother the lighting was very dim. We would all lay on my bed before it was time to go to sleep. She would always read our favorite book which was Skippyjon Jones. It was about a tiny little cat whose head was too big for his body and he would always get into trouble. My mom would read this every single night to put us to sleep.

The very first memory I remember of someone reading a book to me would have to be when I was about four or five years old. It was back when we lived in the small town called Rockville. I had many books i enjoyed in my youth, but only one book really stands out to me the most. My mother would read it to me at night before i would close my eyes and fall asleep hearing her beautiful voice read the story to me.

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I do not have very many memories of my parents reading to me, but my favorite book that I read over and over again is called Jamberry by Bruce Degan. I vaguely remember my dad telling me

I have been told that my first sentence as a child was “I want to read” and this short sentence became the song of my childhood. As a young child I would listen to my mother read an abundance of stories aloud to me. It was my absolute favorite part of the day. I was homeschooled from kindergarten to second grade and the curriculum my mother chose was reading based. This emphasis on reading inspired me to learn how. I was fascinated by the strange figures I would later learn were letters with specific meanings. When at last I achieved what I so desperately hoped for, literacy I experienced pure joy from the new world that opened up to me. I was sitting in the backseat of my family’s minivan looking at the signs for restaurants along a busy