Literacy Dialogue

“I learned to read with a Superman comic book… Simple enough, I suppose.” Sherman Alexia said. “My father loved books, and since I loved my father with an aching devotion, I decided to love books as well.” “When he had extra money, he bought new novels at supermarkets, convenience stores, and hospital gift shops.” “I don’t remember when I started to read. I don’t remember much at all” Interjected Leigh Phillips. “But writing I could tell you …’I am eight years old and I don’t know what I’m writing… My father stops by my room to replace the typewriter ribbon, but I don’t know what I’m doing, there’s just this fun thing to do in the country where there is no TV and when I’m bored the world goes still and when I’m still, it’s not enough.’” “My life was different” comments Min-Zhan Lu. “From early childhood, I had identified the differences between home and the outside world by the different language I used in each.” “I learned to speak English with my parents, my tutor, and my sisters… When I was four my parents sent me to a local private school where I learned to speak, read, and write in a new language—Standard Chinese, the official written language of New China.” “I had also learned in school that the American and British Imperialist were the arch-enemies of New China… From then on, I took care not to use English outside home and to conceal my knowledge of English from my new classmates.” “We’re not so different” remarks Sherman. “As Indian children, we were expected to fail in the non-Indian world. Those who failed were ceremonially accepted by other Indians and appropriately pitied by non-Indians.” “A smart Indian is a dangerous person, widely feared and ridiculed by Indians and non-Indians alike. I fought with my classmates on a daily basis.” “They wanted me to stay quiet when the non-Indian teacher asked for answers, for volunteers, for help.” Min-Zhan Lu rises. “We could encourage students to explore ways of practicing the conventions of the discourses that they are learning by negotiating through these conflicting voices. We could also encourage them to see themselves as responsible for forming or transforming as well as preserving the discourse they are learning” “You know what they say” Said Leigh interrupting the story. “If writing isn’t written out of desperation, I’m not sure I’ll ever have any interest in reading it… you both have it, desperation that is, and look ‘I am in love with The Bell Jar.’” “This is what I get: Virginia Woolf, Toni Morrison, lighting storms that make me cry.” She jesters up “And now it won’t stop raining: Carole Maso is water down the face of my greatest love.” “All day, I was writing. All night, I was reading. Early morning, I was dancing, reaching hands higher into the neon strobe lights in Bacardi nights” “I know something about desperation” says Audre Lorde as he stands and crosses the room. “We practiced drawing letters digging into the top of the desk and Old Sister Eymard rapped our knuckles until they bled… I am a bleak heroism of words that refuse to be buried alive with the liars.” “Yes” says Leigh as she too rises. I am twenty-five, a poet living in a shit-for-nothing shack. I smoke too much, I swear too much, I’m too gay, I’m beautiful.” “Yes” agrees Sherman. “Despite all the books I read, I am still surprised I became a writer… I am smart. I am arrogant. I am lucky. I am trying to save our live.:” “Books, I say to them. Books.”
dialogue