Dalton Journal

Edwin Rodriguez
English 16
Professor McCormick
Journal Entry

Judgement

As I read "Horatio Alger," by Harlon L. Dalton I felt the realization of what he was saying. One thing that I would like to discuss is how Dalton mentions judgement of cultures. For example he writes, "I honestly am surprised every time I see a White man who can play basketball above the rim, just as Puerto Ricans and Cubans tend to be surprised to discover "Americans" who salsa truly well. All of which is to say that the notion that every individual is judged solely on personal merit, without regard for sociological wrapping, is mythical at best." Dalton is very true when making this statement. People tend to base a person off of there culture instead of there surroundings or society. This in turn leads to racial segregation and prejudice running through each American. We always identify a person off of their particular race.
One incident I remember was when I was inviting people at my high school to attend one of my birthday parties. There were so many judemental comments made about particular groups of people I was inviting. I gave an invitation to some of my Caucasian friends. My friends that were Hispanic and African American were making fun of the way they would dance. One girl said, "These white girls ain't got no rhythym they won't be able to dance like us." They eat their were because the Hispanics and African Americans were surprised to see how good these "white girls" were dancing at the party.
Overall, We can't just judge someone who is "white" or "black" because you may end up getting the wrong impression of that particular person. The only one who is going to feel bad in the end will be yourself. I can agree with Dalton that most people judge to quickly on personal merit oppose to a persons' sociological surroundings.

Updates

Just so everyone is on the same page... Your final revisions for your first formal essay are due on Monday, March 3rd.


For this Friday:
-Late Dalton response journals will be accepted (still marked late)
-Read The Black Avenger by Ken Hamblin
-Hand in Revisions early!

Dylan Journal Response

Edwin Rodriguez
English 16
Professor McCormick
Journal Entry
Face The Mirror

"Who do you want to be and what is keeping you from being that person?" A question asked in, “The Bird Who Broke Through the Window,” from an unknown writer by the name of Dylan. Dylan is a firm believer in, “every single person can make a difference.” He has trouble accepting the fact that he is in control of his own power and how he can control it. He writes, “I cried in my room that night at my own defeat. I saw how trapped I felt and how afraid I was of my own power.” He consciously knew he was in control of his own power but he felt trapped like a bird in a house and didn’t know what to do with himself. He needed to break free. Dylan wrote in his essay how it felt to him to be like that; “I felt like a bird stuck in a house. I could see the outside through the window, but each time I tried to fly out, I flew smack into the glass. I then realized that I, myself, had constructed the glass. I had created my own fear, and if I was willing to be brave, I could break through it.”
This may be a fear that most people go through, no matter how discreet or extreme it may be. Whether someone is trying to be something as little as captain of a dance team or as big as a political leader; these people go through adversities with themselves all the time, and every decision the make, big or small. They have to question themselves, “Who do I want to be and what is keeping me from being that person?” I even have to ask myself that all the time. People tell me time and time again if I really want to become a professional dancer. So many people doubt that career path and make me question myself. “Do I really want to do this?” No one is going to determine when, where, and how I make it in this industry it is all brought upon how I determine it. Reading this essay opened my eyes up to realize the only real obstacle I have to face is myself. This alone will continue my determination and drive to be successful and prosperous in any future endeavor that comes my way.

STUFF

Class discussion was A+ quality today! We are going to carry over the discussion into class tomorrow before going over the Works Cited format. One of the interesting topics we began talking about is our country's overload of unnecessary and over-priced things: Handbags, ipods, cars, hairstylists... we're talking about a cultural phenomenon that has developed over time.

I will show a short video tomorrow after we discuss Bambara's "The Lesson". If you'd like to watch it before we class, you can write a journal response on it. (For those of you who are behind in journals, I highly suggest you start taking up these opportunities for extra credit.) Click on the link below and watch the intro video.

The Story of Stuff is a little tale that gives us the background stories of the products-- the stuff-- that American's consume on a daily basis. Think about what Annie Leonard is telling us. Do you view your radios, your shoes, your computers or any of your belongings in the same way? What could be the glitch in her views or her delivery?

Last few reminders:

1.) The final draft of our first formal essay is due Friday. Late papers will be marked down a letter grade that cannot be revised.
2.) Overall, the in-class essays today were very impressive! We will be using these in class on Friday.

Credo: A System of Principles or Beliefs

Today, after learning how easy it is to cite and how hard it is to plagiarize, we discussed our assignment for Tuesday's class. (Happy President's Day, everyone! Enjoy your long weekend!) For Tuesday, we will discuss Toni Cade Bambara's "The Lesson" (on page 270 in Rereading America) alongside our own Credo essays. The Credo essay is inspired by the project I mentioned in class called This I Believe.

I handed out an essay written by a guy named Dylan. Dylan is some average bloke from San Anselmo, CA who decided to contribute to the project by writing his own Credo essay. By reading an essay written by a random guy in California who is unpublished in the academic world, we can start to think about how our essays can actually mean something to someone.

After reading Dylan's essay, The Bird Who Broke Through The Window, consider your own approach to sharing a particular belief of yours with the class. Our Credos will be written in class on Tuesday and may be used in your portfolio at the end of the semester. You might even attempt to write a journal in response to Dylan's question at the end of his essay:
"Who do you want to be and what is keeping you from being that person?"

If any one in the class takes up this challenge, two things have happened:
a.) You have engaged in a conversation with the reading by writing a response
b.) Dylan has achieved his goal: he has made a difference. This achievement of his means that you too can achieve the same thing. Contribute your essays to the project and you could be the next voice to inspire, change or provoke another's mind.

What I found most inspirational in Dylan's piece was when he mentioned that "There are no limitations except the ones we place on ourselves. However, if we replace those limitations with possibilities, imagine what’s capable of the world and humanity".

Imagine. That is what I want you to do. And share your beliefs with the class.
Enjoy Bambara!

Melville Journal

In the reading by Herman Melville believe that there were many elements in his story that confused many of the people in the class as well as me in a way. The story is basically about how a lawyer who has an office on Wall Street and employs a scriver named Bartleby, who is the main focus of the story. He hires Bartleby to do copying work for him since his other two employee scrivers, Turkey and Nippers, seem to not be enough help anymore. At first Bartleby seems to be doing a good job, but then when he is asked to review his own work to make sure it was correct he starts answering with “ I would prefer not to” every time. The lawyer who has no time to put up with the nonsense that he puts him thro simply decides that he will have someone else revise Bartleby’s work for him. He soon asks him to run a simple errand, like go to the post office, and he refuses to do that as well with the same answer. He then one day casually walks into his office on a Sunday and discovers that Bartleby is there and resides there, everyday most likely. The lawyer then claims he has mixed feeling about the situation and then decides that he will simply ask Bartleby about himself and if he does not answer him or “prefer” to answer him then he will simply have to fire him. Since Barlteby did not give him the answer that he wanted he was fired, but soon he decides that he does not want to quit so he stays and does nothing at all. The after the lawyer moves away he is notified that the owner of the building is having problem with Bartleby. HE is them basically sent to prison Afterwards and is then allowed to wander in prison of his own free will. He decides that whilst at his stay in prison he will not eat, so he eventually dies. I think that the character of Bartleby was very strange and a little manic. He also was a little annoying in my opinion and also really abrasive with his responses and what not. If that were me in the Boss’s shoes I think I would have fired him on the spot, but in a way I think that the reason for Bartleby’s distant and cold personality were due to the fact that in his old job he worked in a gloomy and depressing and bleak place, and that obviously took a toll on him. In a way I think that at that point he obviously saw very little hope or reason to try hard in life, that is why most of his personality seemed to be a bit standoffish and somber to the other employees. In all I think that the story was a it long and the point was a little hard to understand in the aspect of the point or interpretation of the reading. But on a good note I can say that it isn’t the worst or most boring thing I have read.



p.s. I'm sorry I'm posting it toda, some idiot yesterday crashed into the telephone pole on my block, and if thats out that means no cable/phone/internet until it gets fixed. >=/
foutunatly I did it on a word spreadsheet and I'm posting it now during my break. Oh and I have to e mail you something as well while i'm here. so check your e-mail


Eduardo Sanchez

Reflection of "Melville" Writings...!!!

Wow, Bartleby really is weird. After reading the story, all I could think of saying is"I would prefer not to" comment, (just kidding). Well in the reading, is a man named Bartleby, who is a law-copyist and has a boss who assigns him a task just like any other job. He starts out as an excellent copyist, but when he is asked to examine his work for errors, he replies that he "would prefer not to." Bartleby soon answers anything he is asked to do with "I would prefer not to," and he slowly drives the Lawyer and his fellow scriveners crazy. I think that would drive me crazy also, it sounds "politically cold" and kind of rude. Its like as if he has nothing better to say or he is ashamed at his work, or for some reason has very "cold like" personality.
There are other characters in the story, whom are named Turkey, Nippers, and Ginger Nut. Personally I think all of those are very peculiar names for lawyers. Anyhow, Turkey is the eldest of the lawyers, Nippers is young man , but is also a law-copyist, and last but not least, Ginger Nut, who's name is given to him for buying ginger nut cakes all the time. He is the errand boy, a boy that does errands for the lawyers. All these are nicknames, but I think its strange to choose halirious nicknames to put in story entitled "A story of Wall -street", how ironic.
The character that is most suspicious to me in the story, is the unnamed lawyer, who is also the narrator of the story. He is a sixty year old lawyer who has good mind for business, is industrious, and level -headed, but all of that changes when he meets Bartleby. The lawyer doesn't fire Bartleby, for his non responsive attitude, but I guess its because Bartleby does a good job. The questionable unnamed lawyer, made me wonder who he really is, is he really the boss ? " Does he have a purpose for being the way he is?
I think these questions are left to be responded by the author Herman Melville. Meville charater is probably similar to Bartleby' passive resistant attitude.The way the story is written, its not using the right forms of grammer, its just weird, and sort "inhuman" like its impossible to understand. Just like the author, I think Melville wanted for people probably decode the way he speaks, and the characters he makes in the story are the same way ( being impossible).
Overall I think the story was okay, a bit long, but after reading it twice I undrestood it a little better. I realized that people may say or do things, that are strange, but in time you adapt to it, and just makes you understand life just a little better.

Long-winded Melville

Although Melville's writing may seem harsher than the slicing winds of Brooklyn these past few days, we need to learn how to critically analyze and discuss literature as well as essays, speeches, poems and personal narratives.

You do not have to like Bartleby; in fact, you can hate him, his boss, and all of Wall Street if you'd like. The point in reading Melville is to read challenging material and find a way to think and write about it comprehensively. I am asking you to find a specific focus so that you can extract as much as possible analytically.

We will be getting into groups on Wednesday to share our writing and ideas with each other. Every person in each group will have to contribute by presenting to the class what they focused on in their journal. Therefore, you must be prepared with your journals written on Wednesday!

Embrace Bartleby!

Melville Essay

Edwin Rodriguez
English 16
Professor McCormick
Journal Essay

Bartleby, the Scrivener: A Story of Wall Street

"My chambers were up stairs at No. - Wall Street. At one end they looked upon the white wall of the interior of a spacious sky- light shaft, penetrating the building from top to bottom. This view might have been considered rather tame than otherwise, deficient in what landscape painters call "life." But if so, the view from the other end of my chambers offered, at least, a contrast, if nothing more. In that direction my windows commanded an unobstructed view of a lofty brick wall, black by age and everlasting shade; which wall required no spy- glass to bring out its lurking beauties, but for the benefit of all near- sighted spectators, was pushed up to within ten feet of my window panes. Owing to the great height of the surrounding of the surrounding buildings, and my chambers being on the second floor, the interval between this wall and mine not a little resembled a huge square cistern." Melville


As I read a particular paragraph from "Bartleby, the Scrivener: A Story of Wall Street," by Herman Melville I got the impression of his artistic and creative side. In the beginning of this paragraph Melville talks about his offices on Wall Street in a rather descriptive way. The way he describes it without exactly naming what he's talking about shows what an amazing writer this man is. He starts off the new paragraph talking about his offices. Instead of calling it his actual offices he calls it his chamber. Melville writes, "My chambers were up stairs at No. - Wall- Street."

Melville pokes fun at the view people have from the windows. He writes, "This view might have been considered rather tame than otherwise, deficient in what landscape painters call "life." When he talks about the landscape painters call life, it came to me as he was talking about the view of New York City from the building. We can all call that "life" seeing the everyday activity going on that we always ignore. In opposite to the view he describes the other side of the building as a view of a brick wall.

I fully don't understand the whole descriptions and metaphors Melville uses when he writes. But when I try to decode his writing such as this paragraph, it became clear to me. Melville is very descriptive when he writes. I commend him on his intellect and creativity with words especially on this paragraph of his descriptions.

"I would prefer not to.............."

In the first utterance of these words, " I would prefer not to" Bartleby , has established his defiance towards stepping out of his chosen role. In speaking those words in a quiet manner of defiance, Bartleby decided on how he is willing to engage the world. It made me wonder one what caused him to hold off the world in that manner, to prefer not to engage the world. In hiding behind the parchment and written word as a scribe, Bartleby passively has turned his back on daily affairs.
When Bartelby is first hired it was his " pallidly neat, pitiably respectable, incurably forlorn " manner that was considered an asset. After his defiance his neat quietness and forlorn manner been looked at with an unease. What possessed this man to decided not to perform his job as required by his employer. What possessed him to say " I would prefer not to"...................

Scrivener: The Ancient Copy Machine

Again, here is the link to the reading we will discuss on Monday: Herman Melville's "Bartleby, the Scrivener: A Story of Wall-Street".

http://www.bartleby.com/129/

For your journals, I want you to choose a specific character, theme, idea or passage to closely analyze. I don't want any plot summary in the journals for this week. We will discuss the story thoroughly in class.

I will hand back the drafts and peer-reviews on Monday. For those of you who have not turned in the draft yet, email it to me this weekend so I can give you feedback! Have a great weekend!

A good question...

Nancy raised a few good questions so I thought I'd address them in a post.

As far as Herman Melville is concerned, I know we haven't gone over the reading yet in class but I did email the link out January 30th in a mass email. A hard copy of "Bartleby, the Scrivener: A Story of Wall-Street" will be handed out tomorrow for us to discuss on Monday. It will work as a segue into Cycle II: Success, Fame & Money. Here is the link again:

http://www.bartleby.com/129/

In terms of our first formal essay, Melville doesn't have to be included in your papers unless you want to use him.

If you look at the assignment closely, I want you to focus on one or two of the readings we've done in class. You don't have to include them all.
As an outside source, you could use articles, journals or books from the library. LRC (Literature Resource Center) is a good search engine. I think it can only be accessed online if you are on campus. JSTOR is available online anywhere, as well as many other of the library's resources:

http://www.brooklyn.liu.edu/library/eresources/databases.htm

We will have the time to discuss any further questions you have in class while we go over the drafts, so have questions ready! See you all tomorrow for our first class focused on revision!

jm

Hi proffesor, I have a question, In the essay assignment worksheet it says that we should use the reading of Herman Melville, did we do that reading? And also can u give me examples of what other valuable outside source would you like us to use? Thank you!

Education & Power: First Formal Essay

Using the readings by Michael Moore, Mike Rose, Malcolm X, Frederick Douglass, Inés Hernández-Ávila and Herman Melville as well as one valuable outside source (not Wikipedia or someone’s personal website) determine the value of a formal education. Think of the cultural aspects of American education. What is the purpose of a higher education? How do social issues (race, gender, class) affect the type of education one receives? After college, what is expected from a graduate? You do not have to answer all of these questions, these are just ideas to get you thinking about how education and college enter your own life. Instead of passively accepting the school system as a perfectly paved road towards knowledge, success and a comfortable career, question it!

Reflect on your own educational experiences thus far in respect to some of the issues we are facing in these readings. Whether you’ve been brought up in the American school system or a foreign school system, use your own experience as another secondary source. What are your own reasons and goals for being in college? How do these compare to cultural norms and expectations? Is there any way you can contribute to your own education in order to help yourself achieve more than what is offered to you from your professors? Are you being challenged in the ways you want to be challenged?
Again, not all of these questions are to be answered in the paper. They are just igniters, or catalysts, to stir further critical thinking on the topics we are reading and discussing in class. The paper must be 4-6 pages in length, double-spaced in MLA format.

Draft is due 2/8/08 and Final is due 2/22/08

We will be peer editing in class tomorrow with the drafts!

Inés Hernández-Ávila

Since a journal wasn't required for today's class, I thought I'd share a blog written about the poem "Para Teresa" that I found online. Enjoy this student's perspective and respond accordingly! Try to incorporate what we spoke about in class!

http://h-avila.blogspot.com/

REMEMEBER:

DRAFTS ARE DUE FRIDAY!!! We will be doing peer-editing in order to develop and shape our work into a beautiful final product to be a part of our Final Portfolios!

Malcolm X Journal

Malcolm X is a great writer. I've read "Learning to read" twice, and each time I read it I learn something new. In this essay Malcolm talked about primarily about how he educated himself. Being that Malcolm X was one most articulate and powerful person for the black community, he had to struggle to eduacate himself.
I enjoyed reading about many accounts of Malcolm X. I liked when he talked about learning to read from a dictionary, how he never realized so many words that existed. I thought to myself while reading that, wow he must have found the dictionary fascinating, even I still the dictionary fascinating , I should read it more often.
The part of this essay that touched me the most was when he said" 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 bloodon the white man's hands, are almost impossible to believe." When he said those words, I thought he is deeply hurt by slavery, and he holds this anger inside of him and it leads him to become powerful and achieve so much in his life.
Malcolm X gained knowledge by learning to read and he educated himself to the best of his abilities. Now a days because of people like him, its not much of a struggle to learn how to read. Their are thousands of people out there willing and able to help and teach someone who to read and learn. Malcolm X speaks very strongly, he may offend many people, but I has reason to. Not that I agree with everything Malcolm has to say, but I agree with his willingness to learn and educate himself.

The power of words

I read the story of Fredrick Douglass as a teenager, learning of the struggles of slaves to be free. I heard my Grandparents tell me of their flight from Terry Towne, South Carolina, running ahead of a lynch mob. When my Grandfather found out I was joining the Army, he sat me down and told me of how the military was during the Korea War. He told me of how the doctors would not treat his friend who had been hit by a mortar round. My grandfathers’ friend died of blood lost in a foreign land serving his country because he was a black man. My Grandfather was a very large black man; he did not take the death of his friend lightly and made his anger know by hospitalizing a platoon of Military Police. My Grand Father told me this story and made me promise not to fight or do anything that would that would get me into trouble while in the military.
It was hard to do, like Fredrick Douglass; I understood that knowledge makes you free. I was a black man with knowledge of myself and that made it harder for the military to re-make me in an image of their choosing. I was rebellious of authority but amiable in manner, I was willing to follow orders but willful in my actions. I learned to operate within the boundaries of a soldier. I came to understand that knowledge is the key to freedom in all manners of existence. The slave cannot stay a slave if he begins to find himself with more knowledge then the Master. As Malcolm was in slaved by his own ignorance so are many others. I can remember my platoon sergeant telling me that in order to beat the man you have to know the rules of the game. In most occasions knowledge marks the difference between freedom and servitude. I followed the example of those in authority and learned the rules of military life, although they told me that it was something I didn’t need to learn. The books that held the rules and regulations of military law were obscure and hard to find. Knowledge is something that you have to want and to aspire to earn. For me it was that same way in my trying to get into college, it was an effort to find the right person or to find the right paperwork. Freedom is something that is found in the strokes of the pen; it sparks the tinder of knowledge and fires the flames of freedom. In the bible it is written that in the beginning there was the word. Words are the tools of creation, words live in books. When Fredrick Douglass learned how to read words, he found the power of the written word. When Hajj Malik Shabazz began to understand the power of words he worked to learn them and their meanings. There is power in the written word, for Fredrick Douglass it helped him free him from the chains of slavery. For Malcolm little it transformed him and freed him from the chains of his ignorance

Mike Rose Journal

Overall, Mike Rose is a good writer. He speaks his feeeling and views upon many topics that interest him, especially on education. I never heard or read of Mike Rose before, after reading his essay I was happy that I read his words.
In "I just wanna be average " Rose talked about his teachers and his experience in school. He describes his educational life how he was bored in some classes, such as history and shakespeare. He is even being honest that he fooled around in class and went to school with half a mind, meaning that he didn't put his full attention in school. He had teachers that were unprepared and incompetent, being that he went to a vocational high school. In a vocational school, means you must learn something outside of school that were better your chances in life. Since I went to a vocational high school, I graduated with not only a high school diploma ,but with a medical assistant certificate. I assumed that's the kind of educational experience ,one should recieve when they enter a vocational high school.
Rose says he took college prep courses, he claims " it was mixed blessing. I believe Rose was able to observe, learn and teach, from vocational and college prep courses. I think this one of the reasons why he became a successful writer, journalist and teacher. One of Rose inspiration could have been his teacher Mr. MacFarland who asked him where his going to college.Rose didn't know at the moment but his teacher helped with the process.
In a person's life ,their is always one teacher that a student admired. Rose had one who lead him to success, and I had one that belived in me and now I'm pursuing my goal into becoming nurse. I think Rose writes to inspire and speak of school reform. Also to show how going to school and listening to teachers was boring, yet he learned and went on to becoming a teacher himself. So this goes to show, you may never know what you may become in life, all we have to do is stay in school and learn as much as we can.

Mike Rose

I believe that Mike doesn't really lay his goal out there. When I was reading the document, I had to be really paying attention so I can see what his interpretation meant. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the reading, but If I were to compare it to Michael Moore's I would prefer Michael Moores. I feel that Michael Lays more things out there, than Mike. He says it like it is. Overall Mike's document was inspiring, because it made me realize that there is going to be alot of people in your life, who will influence you to do ggod, and one day you will have to appreciate that.

Excerpts from Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, An American Slave

For Monday, read the following chapters from Frederick Douglass' autobiography along with Malcolm X's "Learning to Read" on page 210 in Rereading America. I think everyone will enjoy both of these readings very much. I have read Douglass three times when I was an undergrad and each reading gave me a whole new appreciation of his life and writing. Write a journal response on either one or both. I hope to see people posting their responses on the blog! Contribute! We will discuss both of them together in class on Monday.

Chapter IV
My new mistress proved to be all she appeared when I first met her at the door,--a woman of the kindest heart and finest feelings. She had never had a slave under her control previously to myself, and prior to her marriage she had been dependent upon her own industry for a living. She was by trade a weaver; and by constant application to her business, she had been in a good degree preserved from the blighting and dehumanizing effects of slavery. I was utterly astonished at her goodness. I scarcely knew how to behave towards her. She was entirely unlike any other white woman I had ever seen. I could not approach her as I was accustomed to approach other white ladies. My early instruction was all out of place. The crouching servility, usually so acceptable a quality in a slave, did not answer when manifested toward her. Her favor was not gained by it; she seemed to be disturbed by it. She did not deem it impudent or unmannerly for a slave to look her in the face. The meanest slave was put fully at ease in her presence, and none left without feeling better for having seen her. Her face was made of heavenly smiles, and her voice of tranquil music.

But, alas! this kind heart had but a short time to remain such. The fatal poison of irresponsible power was already in her hands, and soon commenced its infernal work. That cheerful eye, under the influence of slavery, soon became red with rage; that voice, made all of sweet accord, changed to one of harsh and horrid discord; and that angelic face gave place to that of a demon.

Very soon after I went to live with Mr. and Mrs. Auld, she very kindly commenced to teach me the A, B, C. After I had learned this, she assisted me in learning to spell words of three or four letters. Just at this point of my progress, Mr. Auld found out what was going on, and at once forbade Mrs. Auld to instruct me further, telling her, among other things, that it was unlawful, as well as unsafe, to teach a slave to read. To use his own words, further, he said, "If you give a nigger an inch, he will take an ell. A nigger should know nothing but to obey his master--to do as he is told to do. Learning would ~spoil~ the best nigger in the world. Now," said he, "if you teach that nigger (speaking of myself) how to read, there would be no keeping him. It would forever unfit him to be a slave. He would at once become unmanageable, and of no value to his master. As to himself, it could do him no good, but a great deal of harm. It would make him discontented and unhappy." These words sank deep into my heart, stirred up sentiments within that lay slumbering, and called into existence an entirely new train of thought. It was a new and special revelation, explaining dark and mysterious things, with which my youthful understanding had struggled, but struggled in vain. I now understood what had been to me a most perplexing difficulty--to wit, the white man's power to enslave the black man. It was a grand achievement, and I prized it highly. From that moment, I understood the pathway from slavery to freedom. It was just what I wanted, and I got it at a time when I the least expected it. Whilst I was saddened by the thought of losing the aid of my kind mistress, I was gladdened by the invaluable instruction which, by the merest accident, I had gained from my master. Though conscious of the difficulty of learning without a teacher, I set out with high hope, and a fixed purpose, at whatever cost of trouble, to learn how to read. The very decided manner with which he spoke, and strove to impress his wife with the evil consequences of giving me instruction, served to convince me that he was deeply sensible of the truths he was uttering. It gave me the best assurance that I might rely with the utmost confidence on the results which, he said, would flow from teaching me to read. What he most dreaded, that I most desired. What he most loved, that I most hated. That which to him was a great evil, to be carefully shunned, was to me a great good, to be diligently sought; and the argument which he so warmly urged, against my learning to read, only served to inspire me with a desire and determination to learn. In learning to read, I owe almost as much to the bitter opposition of my master, as to the kindly aid of my mistress. I acknowledge the benefit of both.

from Chapter VII
From this time I was most narrowly watched. If I was in a separate room any considerable length of time, I was sure to be suspected of having a book, and was at once called to give an account of myself. All this, however, was too late. The first step had been taken. Mistress, in teaching me the alphabet, had given me the ~inch,~ and no precaution could prevent me from taking the ~ell.~

The plan which I adopted, and the one by which I was most successful, was that of making friends of all the little white boys whom I met in the street. As many of these as I could, I converted into teachers. With their kindly aid, obtained at different times and in different places, I finally succeeded in learning to read. When I was sent of errands, I always took my book with me, and by going one part of my errand quickly, I found time to get a lesson before my return. I used also to carry bread with me, enough of which was always in the house, and to which I was always welcome; for I was much better off in this regard than many of the poor white children in our neighborhood. This bread I used to bestow upon the hungry little urchins, who, in return, would give me that more valuable bread of knowledge. I am strongly tempted to give the names of two or three of those little boys, as a testimonial of the gratitude and affection I bear them; but prudence forbids;--not that it would injure me, but it might embarrass them; for it is almost an unpardonable offence to teach slaves to read in this Christian country. It is enough to say of the dear little fellows, that they lived on Philpot Street, very near Durgin and Bailey's ship-yard. I used to talk this matter of slavery over with them. I would sometimes say to them, I wished I could be as free as they would be when they got to be men. "You will be free as soon as you are twenty-one, ~but I am a slave for life!~ Have not I as good a right to be free as you have?" These words used to trouble them; they would express for me the liveliest sympathy, and console me with the hope that something would occur by which I might be free.

I was now about twelve years old, and the thought of being ~a slave for life~ began to bear heavily upon my heart. Just about this time, I got hold of a book entitled "The Columbian Orator." Every opportunity I got, I used to read this book. Among much of other interesting matter, I found in it a dialogue between a master and his slave. The slave was represented as having run away from his master three times. The dialogue represented the conversation which took place between them, when the slave was retaken the third time. In this dialogue, the whole argument in behalf of slavery was brought forward by the master, all of which was disposed of by the slave. The slave was made to say some very smart as well as impressive things in reply to his master-- things which had the desired though unexpected effect; for the conversation resulted in the voluntary emancipation of the slave on the part of the master.

In the same book, I met with one of Sheridan's mighty speeches on and in behalf of Catholic emancipation. These were choice documents to me. I read them over and over again with unabated interest. They gave tongue to interesting thoughts of my own soul, which had frequently flashed through my mind, and died away for want of utterance. The moral which I gained from the dialogue was the power of truth over the conscience of even a slaveholder. What I got from Sheridan was a bold denunciation of slavery, and a powerful vindication of human rights. The reading of these documents enabled me to utter my thoughts, and to meet the arguments brought forward to sustain slavery; but while they relieved me of one difficulty, they brought on another even more painful than the one of which I was relieved. The more I read, the more I was led to abhor and detest my enslavers. I could regard them in no other light than a band of successful robbers, who had left their homes, and gone to Africa, and stolen us from our homes, and in a strange land reduced us to slavery. I loathed them as being the meanest as well as the most wicked of men. As I read and contemplated the subject, behold! that very discontentment which Master Hugh had predicted would follow my learning to read had already come, to torment and sting my soul to unutterable anguish. As I writhed under it, I would at times feel that learning to read had been a curse rather than a blessing. It had given me a view of my wretched condition, without the remedy. It opened my eyes to the horrible pit, but to no ladder upon which to get out. In moments of agony, I envied my fellow-slaves for their stupidity. I have often wished myself a beast. I preferred the condition of the meanest reptile to my own. Any thing, no matter what, to get rid of thinking! It was this everlasting thinking of my condition that tormented me. There was no getting rid of it. It was pressed upon me by every object within sight or hearing, animate or inanimate. The silver trump of freedom had roused my soul to eternal wakefulness. Freedom now appeared, to disappear no more forever. It was heard in every sound, and seen in every thing. It was ever present to torment me with a sense of my wretched condition. I saw nothing without seeing it, I heard nothing without hearing it, and felt nothing without feeling it. It looked from every star, it smiled in every calm, breathed in every wind, and moved in every storm.

I often found myself regretting my own existence, and wishing myself dead; and but for the hope of being free, I have no doubt but that I should have killed myself, or done something for which I should have been killed. While in this state of mind, I was eager to hear any one speak of slavery. I was a ready listener. Every little while, I could hear something about the abolitionists. It was some time before I found what the word meant. It was always used in such connections as to make it an interesting word to me. If a slave ran away and succeeded in getting clear, or if a slave killed his master, set fire to a barn, or did any thing very wrong in the mind of a slaveholder, it was spoken of as the fruit of ~abolition.~ Hearing the word in this connection very often, I set about learning what it meant. The dictionary afforded me little or no help. I found it was "the act of abolishing;" but then I did not know what was to be abolished. Here I was perplexed. I did not dare to ask any one about its meaning, for I was satisfied that it was something they wanted me to know very little about. After a patient waiting, I got one of our city papers, containing an account of the number of petitions from the north, praying for the abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia, and of the slave trade between the States. From this time I understood the words ~abolition~ and ~abolitionist,~ and always drew near when that word was spoken, expecting to hear something of importance to myself and fellow-slaves. The light broke in upon me by degrees. I went one day down on the wharf of Mr. Waters; and seeing two Irishmen unloading a scow of stone, I went, unasked, and helped them. When we had finished, one of them came to me and asked me if I were a slave. I told him I was. He asked, "Are ye a slave for life?" I told him that I was. The good Irishman seemed to be deeply affected by the statement. He said to the other that it was a pity so fine a little fellow as myself should be a slave for life. He said it was a shame to hold me. They both advised me to run away to the north; that I should find friends there, and that I should be free. I pretended not to be interested in what they said, and treated them as if I did not understand them; for I feared they might be treacherous. White men have been known to encourage slaves to escape, and then, to get the reward, catch them and return them to their masters. I was afraid that these seemingly good men might use me so; but I nevertheless remembered their advice, and from that time I resolved to run away. I looked forward to a time at which it would be safe for me to escape. I was too young to think of doing so immediately; besides, I wished to learn how to write, as I might have occasion to write my own pass. I consoled myself with the hope that I should one day find a good chance. Meanwhile, I would learn to write.

The idea as to how I might learn to write was suggested to me by being in Durgin and Bailey's ship-yard, and frequently seeing the ship carpenters, after hewing, and getting a piece of timber ready for use, write on the timber the name of that part of the ship for which it was intended. When a piece of timber was intended for the larboard side, it would be marked thus--"L." When a piece was for the starboard side, it would be marked thus--"S." A piece for the larboard side forward, would be marked thus--"L. F." When a piece was for starboard side forward, it would be marked thus--"S. F." For larboard aft, it would be marked thus--"L. A." For starboard aft, it would be marked thus--"S. A." I soon learned the names of these letters, and for what they were intended when placed upon a piece of timber in the ship-yard. I immediately commenced copying them, and in a short time was able to make the four letters named. After that, when I met with any boy who I knew could write, I would tell him I could write as well as he. The next word would be, "I don't believe you. Let me see you try it." I would then make the letters which I had been so fortunate as to learn, and ask him to beat that. In this way I got a good many lessons in writing, which it is quite possible I should never have gotten in any other way. During this time, my copy-book was the board fence, brick wall, and pavement; my pen and ink was a lump of chalk. With these, I learned mainly how to write. I then commenced and continued copying the Italics in Webster's Spelling Book, until I could make them all without looking on the book. By this time, my little Master Thomas had gone to school, and learned how to write, and had written over a number of copy-books. These had been brought home, and shown to some of our near neighbors, and then laid aside. My mistress used to go to class meeting at the Wilk Street meetinghouse every Monday afternoon, and leave me to take care of the house. When left thus, I used to spend the time in writing in the spaces left in Master Thomas's copy-book, copying what he had written. I continued to do this until I could write a hand very similar to that of Master Thomas. Thus, after a long, tedious effort for years, I finally succeeded in learning how to write.


Source:
http://sunsite3.berkeley.edu/Literature/Douglass/Autobiography/