Can I read? Active Reading Skills

01.07.2020

This question is often asked by psychologists to students of various ages. The vast majority of respondents are surprised by the question itself, especially if it is addressed to high school students and students. "What a question? Naturally we can. After all, we are not preschoolers. How can you even learn if you don’t know how to read?...”

It is unlikely that anyone will argue with the fact that reading skills are the basis of learning, and all students master them to one degree or another. But how effective are these skills, do they allow one to qualitatively assimilate a variety of knowledge? From our point of view, this is worth thinking about for everyone who studies at school, and especially for those who are going to study further. We strongly advise you to do this not only to students who have been in awe of the hourglass since elementary school, but also to those who had a solid A in “reading technique.” After all, the work of many foreign and domestic psychologists has convincingly shown that reading quickly, correctly articulating all the words (reading technique), and reading, understanding the meaning of what is being read (meaningful reading) are not the same thing.

The results of special studies of the effectiveness of reading by students of different ages are often surprising and depressing. So, in the 1970s, domestic psychologists conducted a survey in which Moscow schoolchildren in grades 4–10 took part, about 1000 people in total. The following results were obtained: only 0.3% of the surveyed schoolchildren were proficient in the most basic techniques of understanding text. Follow-up studies conducted in a variety of regions former USSR, unfortunately, only confirmed these sad results. Various “failures” in working with text were identified for the vast majority of students. These “failures” are mainly associated with a lack of understanding of the meaning of individual words and phrases, difficulties in identifying the structure of sentences and the relationships between them. At the same time, psychologists were particularly alarmed not by the fact that students do not know the meaning of many words, but by the fact that they have no need to find out.

I was struck by the passivity and lack of curiosity among the students. Thus, in one study, high school students were presented with a text that contained several rarely used words. In the experiment, there was a dictionary on the table next to the subject. foreign words. However, most students did not try to look up the meaning of unfamiliar words. They did not make any obvious attempts to “understand through context” and did not turn to the experimenter for help, although this possibility was mentioned in the instructions.

You may ask, how then do students learn at school? After all, learning requires performing tasks such as retelling texts, answering questions, and solving problems. The answer is well known: they “cram”, trying to remember the educational material as accurately as possible. However, the focus on rote memorization, which is detected in 87% of schoolchildren, is by no means the most effective basis for educational work. For example, many of you have already “passed” V.V.’s poem at school. Mayakovsky “Good!” But can everyone not only reveal general meaning of this poem and read some passage by heart, but answer, in particular, the question of why Mayakovsky’s heroes needed to lift this same Alexandra Fedorovna from the “Tsar’s bed.” Did you know that we are talking here about Alexander Fedorovich Kerensky, who, having become the prime minister of the bourgeois Provisional Government, settled in the Winter Palace in the bedchamber of Empress Alexandra Feodorovna.

We strongly advise you to analyze the way you read, whether you have bad habits V educational work, for example, passively skimming the surface of texts, and then direct your efforts to improving reading skills. Getting acquainted with the SQ3R system, which sets the general algorithm for working with text, can help you in this work. Below

We present a graphic diagram of this method, which is contained in the book of the English psychologist and teacher D. Hamblin.

So, the letter “S” in this system means reviewing and reviewing the text, as a result of which you should have general idea about its contents.

Skimming includes reading the title and subtitles, introduction, conclusion, and first and last phrases within sections of the text. Based on such work, we must try to answer 3 main questions: “What is the text about? What do I already know about this? What do I have to learn? In addition, you should try to reformulate the title of the text in the form of a question. After this, you can move on to study reading. This is thoughtful reading with constant self-diagnosis of your understanding. Study reading naturally includes not only a meaningful analysis of the structure readable text, but also consciously drawing on one’s previous knowledge. It is good to study the text with pencil and paper, that is, emphasizing the main points and making appropriate notes. It is very useful to make a plan of the material being studied or draw its structural diagrams. In general, such work should lead to an understanding of the content of newly acquired knowledge, after which one can proceed to verification: active recall and reproduction of the content of the material. In case of difficulty, you can look into the text. But you don’t need to read it again (many students make this mistake).

Your retelling of the text should be complete and coherent. It is very good if this is a retelling “in your own words” with restructuring of the material, since it is known that in this case the material will be remembered 7 times better than with rote memorization. At the same stage of work, try to answer questions about the text and solve the proposed problems. If all this works out, then you can move on to the final stage: drawing up a resume. It should include the main ideas of the text, formulated in a generalized form. In this form, knowledge is relatively easily included in the structures of past experience and is retained for a long time. This last point is especially important because those of you new to the SQ3R system may feel that it is more work than memorization. This is not entirely true. And it’s not even like that at all. Indeed, at first it can be quite difficult to work with educational material the proposed method, although it provides an obvious gain in the quality of knowledge. What is especially important for applicants is that this method provides solid knowledge that can be quickly repeated before entrance exams.

Lissy Moussa.

Either the Rooster will peck me, or I will peck him. Do you know how to read fairy tales for your benefit?

Illustrator Zoya Chernakova

Cover designer Zoya Chernakova

ISBN 978-5-4485-4435-4

Created in the intellectual publishing system Ridero

Yes, there is a hint in it!

The fairy tale is a lie, but there is a hint in it -
A lesson to good fellows!

Everyone knows this. And as soon as we talk about fairy tales, people immediately shoot this quote from Pushkin out of a cannon and nod their heads: “We know, we know, a fairy tale is a lie!”

And when I try to talk about hints, I still hear: “well, yes, it’s a hint, of course, but the fairy tale is a lie!”

And then I realized: the words spoken out loud, although they are a sparrow, are still nothing more than a shock of air. And here is what is written with a pen...

So, try to knock it out, or better yet, hack it to death! On your nose: the most valuable thing in a fairy tale is a HINT!

Let's start with hints.

Where and how to find a hint?

The simplest example is from the same A.S. Pushkin. In a fairy tale, of course.

An old man lived with his old woman

by the blue sea...

What is the fairy tale about? Usually everyone talks about exorbitant Greed. Perhaps, at first glance, it is about greed. But this is Pushkin! Because of banal greed, he would begin to creak his pen and write out letters! There are a thousand meanings in a fairy tale. Mikhail Kazinnik, for example, claims that the fairy tale is about love. That the old man, despite the fact that his old woman was the most harmful, quarrelsome, greedy grandmother, still continued to live with her - love because!

If you carefully read “The Tale of the Golden Fish” now, you will discover a bunch of new meanings.

And I found this meaning: This tale is about conformity. Yes - about goal setting and meeting your goals! And she, in the best possible way, demonstrates to us: if you want to be a Star, learn to shine! It won’t work out from a sluggish bagel or a lazy bumpkin, a Star, with all the magical fish tail wagging!

Let me explain:

The old woman is a very illustrative character; from her example we learn not only the great justice of our magical principle “There is never enough!”, but also clearly observe the development of pride, which in many religions is revered as a mortal sin.

The readiness to receive the gifts of the Golden Fish should be mentioned separately. Let's look at the text of the fairy tale:

“...I want to be the mistress of the sea,
So that I can live in Okiyan-Sea!
So that the goldfish can serve me
And she would be on my errands!”

Why do you think I was so outraged by this request? Gold fish? The most common answer is that the fish was indignant that she, the Free Magical Personality, would be urged on by some uneducated, ill-mannered and unceremonious old woman.

And this answer is wrong.

The fish is no stranger to making wishes come true different people, and she had just demonstrated her readiness to help the old man, that is, she worked on his errands several times: she got him a trough, then she built a cottage on the southern bank, and built a luxurious city residence to the envy of everyone; the old woman was appointed president of a large corporation.

The fish did a fair amount of work for the old man.

And she was indignant at the old woman’s speeches for this reason: the old woman was categorically not ready to control the Golden Fish. Let's look at it in detail:

The old woman's contact with water was limited to her trough. No matter how the old woman’s wealth grew, the trough was always with her, only its quality changed: from a broken wooden tub to an ultra-modern model of a jacuzzi. But the old woman had never touched open water, that is, she could not even imagine what it was like to float on water.

It was this shortcoming that the Goldfish saw, became indignant and returned the old man and the old woman to the beginning of the race with the words:

- Old man, I’m returning your family to the shore, closer to the shallow beach: you Teach your grandmother to swim first before she interferes with the mistress of the sea!

Don’t be frivolous and arrogant: don’t be like the old woman from this fairy tale - don’t make dreams of getting something you’re not ready for!

First, let's evaluate our capabilities of accepting certain gifts, make sure that we are able to master them without extra effort, and only then ask the Golden Fish for all sorts of blessings.

Because fairy tales come true!

How to read/write a fairy tale correctly

The very first fairy tale is about Orange, I had just started practicing self-fulfilling fairy tales. There was little experience and things moved slowly. I wrote this fairy tale gradually - as events occurred. But what’s remarkable is that at first I wrote a couple of paragraphs, and then over the course of several days these events happened in reality. I felt like a Demiurge, no less! And when everything happened exactly as I wrote, I realized that I had the most powerful tool of magic in my hands!

Then, with the wonderful storyteller Soloist, we wrote a whole book about fairy tales, and by that time all our wizards already knew: it is not necessary to compose a fairy tale, fairy tales written by someone else work great, even by A. S. Pushkin!

Just read them correctly: if you come across a situation even remotely similar to yours, be careful here: all actions need to be written down and then acted out in reality.

This is how the fairy tale should be played, for example, for those who are planning to improve their living conditions:

If you remember, it all started with a trough: the first upgrade took place here. Therefore, without stopping to watch various options housing, we buy ourselves a new “trough”. What you mean by this action is completely individual: it could be a new bucket, or a basin, or a bathtub: it’s all up to you.

Then you need to send the old man to the sea with instructions.

Which old man you find and how you punish him is again up to you. It’s not at all necessary to register as an old man and drive your own grandfather to the sea: you can call a friend who is going to Turkish beaches and ask him:

- Old man, hint to the fish there that it’s time to build us a bigger house!

And when you are planning to become rulers of the sea, be sure to first make friends with the elements of the sea: learn to swim, master diving, learn to be friends with fish. Then the Golden Fish is yours forever!

And don’t forget – smile!

Without expecting it myself, I made up real awards for myself, which I’m very proud of: it’s nice to open a locker when you get a huge medal from there.” National treasure“glitters, and not only she is alone - I, of course, did not receive all twenty-seven medals, as in the fairy tale “Prize” I ordered, but I also have an order, and medals, and the little books, by the way, came out like that - a whole brood!

Therefore, arm yourself with a pencil and notepad - we will turn fairy tales into reality!

And after the fairy tales, I will leave small comments - short tips on rituals.

We have a rooster in the symbolism of this book, and how this all relates to us - I’ll tell you about that at the end of the book.

The laundress does laundry all day...

I love this song very much and I really like it when it suddenly suddenly comes to mind and its simple tune begins to sound there, and simple words creep into reality:

The laundress does laundry all day long,
the husband went for some water,
a dog is sitting on the porch
with a small beard.
She stares all day long
stupid eyes,
if someone suddenly cries -
will be sad on the sidelines.
Who should cry today?
in the city of Taru-u-u-use?
There is someone to cry today -
girl Marusa...

- I won’t fly, nothing works! - Orange sobbed bitterly and inconsolably in the phone receiver: - They don’t do that, you see!

Orange, my old friend, who suddenly got married in Belgium, was now experiencing unusual, and therefore seemingly ridiculous, customs and laws on her own delicate skin. Western Europe:

– Felix said that since we are now husband and wife, we will go everywhere together, and he cannot allow me to go to Moscow, because then he will have to explain to everyone why I left without him, and tell them that nothing bad happened and nothing terrible happened - we are not getting divorced and no one got sick or died, but they still won’t believe him, because that’s not the custom here...

In winter, she went to Europe to study stained glass, she needed to touch them with her hands, because we had conceived a grandiose project, and Orange, a chic designer, in this project had to roam with all her might in the stained glass business. And in one of the cathedrals of Ghent, she met Felix, who at first politely accompanied her under the pretext of showing her the city, actually helped her get her hands on the stained glass windows, because the headman of one of the local Catholic parishes was his uncle, and then quietly bewitched my girlfriend, and they got married. She woke up from his spell a month after the wedding, when the details of the life and way of life of the local residents began to emerge.

Trap

Now she was separated from participation in the project not only by kilometers, but also by the strange custom of the tiny town of Hasselt, which ordered all townspeople to walk in pairs if they were a couple. And besides this, Orange was now forced on Fridays to go to the bar at midnight, where Felix’s friends gathered, and for four hours to watch how they got drunk to the point of being pigs, and then the action began, which was considered the height of fun: everyone climbed onto the bar counter and began yell and stomp, pretending to dance. The music, which had been quiet and rather pleasant at the beginning of the evening, was now roaring so loudly that the poor ears were numb, and it all resembled a Sabbath in a madhouse. But there was no other way to have fun on Fridays in this Belgium, and this was a weekly punishment, because it was a tradition.

Orange was hovering in the corner, covering her ears, while this strange fun was going on. She hoped that it would end soon, because she knew what Felix was like - caring and interesting, excitedly talking about the architecture and painting of Belgium and Holland, about Roman roads, fragments of which are well preserved in this part of Europe, about the wines of France and the flowers of Holland, about the mountain steeps of the Alps and the expanses of Flanders. She believed that these forays into the bar were just his desire to show everyone that he was now married to a young beautiful woman- he was already a big boy: his daughter was already studying at the university, his previous wife divorced him two years ago, and divorced people - both men and women - were not welcome here, it was indecent to be divorced here. But it turned out that the bar is exactly what is unchangeable, that Europe is strong precisely in traditions, and no one is going to break these traditions, and some Russians themselves do not understand what they want. They forgot their traditions, and what did this lead to? She could not stand these conversations, and therefore suffered in silence.

The rest of the days were not so annoying, although rather monotonous. In the morning, Felix left for work in the Dutch city of Maastricht, Holland was only forty kilometers away, and traded Dutch tulips from there, sending them all over the world. And Orange sat at home and tried to learn Flamish - the Flemish language.

But, one way or another, she suffered a lot. With her restless character and ebullient energy, she was happy in noisy and bustling Moscow, and in tiny sleepy Belgium she was a seagull in a cramped cage. And although our Project was looking forward to her, Felix didn’t want to know anything about Russia, or about the projects, or about Orange’s previous professional achievements, or about her future career. He believed that now she had begun a different life, and all her interests concerned only Belgium and his person. I was seething with indignation: well, just Babai Babai!

- Now I understand why you, Lissichka, call the West a Trap - because it really is a trap! So I fell into a trap... Lissitsa, think of something, otherwise I’ll just disappear! - Orange sobbed at the end, - otherwise I’ll walk from here soon, on foot with a bag! Dedko Morozko will come to you - this is in the month of July! – She sobbed again and passed out.

I bit the telephone receiver, but nothing magical came to mind - I was too angry with her Felix! Babai is a fool with medieval Asian habits, but he certainly thinks of himself as an enlightened Europe! He had no idea what a treasure he got! And what does he do with this treasure? He simply buries his precious talent in the ground! I seduced a girl, and how cleverly I fooled her: I took her to Italy for alpine skiing in February, and in March we went kayaking once, and we went to Bruges - the gingerbread city, and my beautiful girlfriend melted in April: so interesting, multifaceted, smart, caring! And he draws, you see, and does ceramics, and is well versed in architecture... And after the wedding, it all ended immediately. However, this happens to many people, and not only in Belgium. But it was necessary to scratch Orange to Moscow before she completely withered there!

And I began to think logically: what is the best thing for us in this situation? The best thing is if Felix own initiative will say to Orange: “Go to your Moscow, at least for a month, at least for two!” And she would have rolled... She would have rolled like a sausage along Malaya Spasskaya. We have this polite Moscow expression: “Roll like a sausage along Malaya Spasskaya.” Malaya Spasskaya is a street in Moscow. Impolite is when they send “to...” and “to...”, but to Malaya Spasskaya is the same option, but polite, and even decent. Eureka!!!

In my head there was a magical action of fantastic, one might even say deafening power!!!

What happens: we need Felix to send Orange himself - right? And so that it rolls quickly - right? And the expression “roll like a sausage” is just a message, but also quite polite, which means that there is no family scene, that is, everything will be very decent, and should be resolved peacefully!

That is, if Orange starts to “roll like a sausage,” then one way or another, according to Felix’s message, she will roll out to Malaya Spasskaya! Oh, my brilliant Logic! I adore you!!!

And my hands were already dialing Orange’s number.

- Sontsa, Orange, listen here, and better write it down: now you will be Sausage and you will ride along Malaya Spasskaya.

- Moussa, are you delirious? - Orange asked me carefully.

- No, this is not nonsense! This is a demonstration of OXHUMORON in action! – I answered proudly.

OXHUMORON in action!

– Urrrrrrrraaaaaaaaa! – Orange screamed into the phone in her normal, lively and joyful voice, which cut through at the moment that she understood what I meant. - Hurray, Lissichka, hurray, dictate!

- So, write it down: draw the name of the street in life size - “Malaya Spasskaya”. Lay out a carpet in your hallway. You lay it down tenderly and with meaning: after all, you are laying out a soft, comfortable path for yourself. Again, carpets are laid for those who will not be contradicted and who cannot even stumble - by definition. To all respected royal persons. And on the wall in the corridor you hang the name of the street - Malaya Spasskaya...

– And I start rolling around like a sausage!!! - Orange screamed, laughing at the top of her lungs. - I understood! Rolling like a sausage along Malaya Spasskaya! And since Malaya Spasskaya is located in Moscow, then I’ll go to Moscow!

After a heated discussion, we added some small details: before rolling like a sausage, you had to smear yourself with butter, so that you could also roll like cheese in butter, which meant the height of well-being. This action would provide Orange with good parting words and funds for the journey.

She enthusiastically began preparations. There was no trace left of her suffering - such exciting game leaves no room for nonsense. Having rolled around on the rug to her heart's content, she fell into the arms of her husband, who was pleased with her cheerful appearance, but she did not dare to ask him about the trip to Moscow.

“Felix kissed me all over yesterday!” - Orange giggled. - Are these men reacting this way to sausage? Even when I put on the best perfume, such a kissing flurry never happens, but here they just smacked me half to death! But I can’t bring myself to ask him about the possibility of my trip. You say he will offer it himself, but such a thing would never even occur to him!

“Huh...” I thought. This was bad luck: Orange was quite timid and really didn’t like any showdowns, so she was afraid to ask something that could displease Felix and lead to a family scene, even a small one. But if you think logically...

“There is a rule,” I said confidently (and I was a master at making up rules on the fly, even a Super-Master), “that says: “If you want something to happen, act as if it has already happened!”

“Yes, I heard something like that,” agreed Orange.

- And then everything is simple: you tell Felix your request in such a form, as if he had already invited you to go to Moscow! – I continued to build a logical structure. Men generally absolutely love to be agreed with and said, “You are right, as always, dear.” This means that you don’t even ask if you can go, but just tell him: “You’re right as always, dear, perhaps I really should go to Moscow!”

-What nonsense are you talking about? - Orange was indignant. - Yes, he will eat me whole if I make such an impudent statement to him!

“He won’t choke, and he won’t even forget to tuck a napkin into his collar,” Orange sneered at her supposed death.

- Don't grumble, peasant girl! – I became poised (and giggled). – Russians don’t give up! – and she herself was stunned by the beauty of what was said. – Listen here - I’ll tell you a terrible secret! I used this technique, which I’ll tell you about now, when I was sitting in the exhibition committee of the artists’ union, that is, a hundred years ago. When our elders did not accept any of the talented young people into the section, this was the only opportunity to accept the talent into our union: it was this trick: “You’re right, dear comrades! That is, I declared: “You are right, dear comrades, this artist is really worth accepting to us. I saw that I was wrong, and in vain I resisted, because you turned out to be right, and I admit my mistake!”

(“Oh, and I’m good at lying!” I was both horrified and proud of myself.)

– And you’ve never punctured yourself? – Orange asked cautiously.

- Not even once! I'm not sure this trick would work women's team, but it hits men without missing a beat!

The next day she reported

“At first I told the truth: “You, Felix, are right - food looks much more appetizing on large plates!” I myself can’t stand these plates – they’re as big as an airfield! And that’s why they’re heavy, and I’ll lift them five times while I’m setting the table, and then clean them up later... well, it doesn’t matter, the most important thing is what I said! He became very pleased and began to smile! And then I say – you’re always right! He was literally flushed even with pleasure! I took out my favorite wine, a cigar... That’s where I blurted out: I’ll probably even agree with what you’re suggesting to me - to go to Russia for a couple of weeks, I shouldn’t lose my profession. Indeed, my profession is our family capital, and in this you are also, of course, absolutely right. There's no point in arguing with you.

Orange turned out to be a master of deception! This is the speech she wrote! Word designer! And she continued:

– Can you imagine how surprised he was? Surprised is an understatement - he was shocked! But since he was very afraid of losing face, he quickly pulled himself together and said: “Yes, you just need to think about what time is best to choose for the trip.”

“Felix then walked along the corridor for a long time and shook his head,” Orange laughed, telling me last news, – I couldn’t remember when he offered me to go to Moscow for a month. But he also couldn’t admit to forgetfulness, and he also couldn’t say that he was wrong when he sent me to Moscow. This is hilarious! I couldn't even imagine this! Fox, this is truly a Weapon of Persuasion of Stunning Power!

It soon became clear that Orange couldn’t come right away, she had to wait until six months of her marriage, only then would she be given an Ausweiss - a European resident card for unhindered travel, otherwise she would not be able to enter back into Belgium without a visa.

But these were already the little things in life. She enthusiastically studied airline schedules, ordered tickets, cleaned feathers and chose gifts for us.

And for some reason, the local bureaucracy began to delay issuing the card, because it turned out that her marriage with Felix was registered incorrectly: she did not have a bride’s invitation, and no one received the queen’s permission (after all, Belgium is a kingdom) to marry a foreigner, so The marriage is kind of dubious.

And the marriage took place a week after her tourist visa, on which she entered the country, had already expired. And meticulous officials dug through the papers, hoping to dig up something else seditious. A little voice muttered mockingly in my ears:

They were disgusted with Marusya
Roosters and hoo-oo-oo-oo-si.
How many of them are there in Tarusa?
Lord Jesus!

The orange blossom wilted again and was losing hope...

– Don’t you dare become limp! Now we'll come up with something! – I grumbled at her, but I myself gave up. Hands down... Hands down...

- Orange! Tell me immediately - what does it mean when you give up? There’s something spinning in my head, but I can’t grab it—the image is slipping away! Look: our hands were raised, and then smoothly lowered... I know for sure that this is good, but I can’t figure out why it’s good...

– This means that we have stopped giving up! - Orange was delighted. - Because they found a way out.

I can... - I can’t... I don’t know. Although, on the one hand, I seem to be able to do it. I figured out how to apply a letter to a letter early - when I was five years old or even a little earlier. This fact can be stated quite confidently, since there is tangible, I would even say documentary, evidence of this. Here, the whole point is that I happened to celebrate my sixth birthday in a hospital ward. And at the hospital, on such a special occasion, I was entitled to an additional gift (read: gift). And in a gift package, on top of apples and caramels, lay greeting card, signed by Dad’s hand: “Our dear son...” - well, and so on. I, in the manner of a church sexton, solemnly sounded this text to the entire chamber, which aroused suspicion among the unicameral members, among the sympathizers, and even among the nanny of open, undisguised hypocrisy - of lying, to put it simply. Well, I immediately convinced them - I sent a response “telegram” to my parents in front of their eyes. On the back of some medical form, puffing and sniffling, using an inky “chemical” pencil (such a thing was in use in those days), I wrote quite recognizable capital letters: “My dear dad, mom, sister...” - well , and so on throughout the text. At the end there is a date and signature, as expected in a telegram. Later, these two “documents” migrated to the “family archive” - they lay between the pages of an album with old family photographs, where I discovered them many years later, being already a mature, failed person, but withstood the dark hard times.
In fairness, it must be said that there is no merit in the fact that I learned to read early. It's all our fault Communal apartment, "communal". It may seem strange, but I have the warmest memories of our “communal apartment”. Suffice it to say that I seriously considered Uncle Vanya and Aunt Masha Litovkins, who lived behind the wall, to be my own uncle and aunt. From them one could get a well-deserved slap on the head, and the first, piping hot, piece of pie, or even a gingerbread. Their son Petka, of course, was almost like a brother to me. In our fights with him, I always suffered a shameful defeat, due to the fact that Petka was three whole years older than me. But in the yard I always felt under his reliable protection. In the yard and its surroundings, no one even dared to think about laying a finger on me.
But one day, our friendship began to crumble - Petka went to school. He became so important. Now, you see, he has no time for me - the lessons were given above his head. Fortunately, he performed sacred work on his lessons in the kitchen and I, almost unhindered, could look at the primer and leaf through Petka’s notebooks. Petrukha carefully folded the notebooks into some kind of cardboard cover with ties. On the cardboard, as in the primer, there were also letters - these mysterious signs of some kind of transcendental, magical wisdom. There was some kind of inaccessibility in these signs; I felt that I would never master this wisdom.
And yet, that great day came when the cardboard revealed its secret. The letters written on it, for no apparent reason, suddenly came together and formed a meaningful word. I didn’t even immediately realize what had happened. I looked at them again, then again - and each time the letters were connected into the same word. It was then that I became delusional and began to cry out from the excess of feelings overwhelming me: “Folder! Folder!".
- "What else?" - Dad took my exclamations personally.
And I was already thrusting the cardboard at him, pointing my finger at these most beautiful letters: “Folder!”
“Oh, how...” said the father and wrote something in the margins of the newspaper, “can you handle this word?”
Actually, there were two words, and for some reason there was also a stick of some kind between them. There were a lot of letters, but they didn’t resist for very long. “Hay is straw” - that’s what dad wrote. He gently pushed me on the forehead with his palm and said: “Head..., you’re growing up like your father, boy.” It was clear that he was pleased.
Most of all, my mother was happy about this event. In loving memory, my mother, being illiterate, was most afraid that her children might remain ignorant and, until the end of their days, would do day labor. Well, she ate the daily porridge to the fullest, being a “Western”, that is, born in Western Ukraine - both her childhood and youth were spent outside the “indestructible” Union, in that hopeless day labor.
Mother and father were happy - but for some time I received an indulgence for all my pranks. Yes, I had no time for pranks anymore. As soon as I opened my eyes in the morning, I was looking for something to read. Anything was suitable for reading: sheets of a tear-off calendar, a cut-up newspaper taken from a hook in the toilet, Mikhalkov’s fables, “Capital” with a portrait of Santa Claus on the cover, although without a fur coat or cap.
And then came a day that is forever etched in my memory. I was terrified by a curly-haired guy whose beard grew on his cheeks and whose chin remained completely “barefoot.” I read his name without much difficulty under the portrait: “A.S. Pushkin." He scared me so much that at first I completely refused to sleep alone and persistently crawled under my mother’s warm side. Judge for yourself - it’s necessary to write something like this: “Daddy, daddy, our nets brought in a dead man.” This is not Baba Yaga, whatever. This is a drowned man! Real!
Oh, it was a golden time when I was in a happy delusion, thinking that everything, once written on paper, was the ultimate truth, capable of materializing at any moment. Many more years will pass before I understand the meaning of the words that paper will endure everything. She is white and is not going to blush for other people’s sins. But I always remember that manuscripts don’t burn. They live their own lives, in their own spaces. And their life is similar to the life of people - with their falls and with an irrepressible striving for the heavenly heights of perfection.
But all this will happen much later. In the meantime, I grew in my reading day by day and was completely convinced that I could read.
And it was then that an event occurred that left no trace of my confidence.
This event is associated with the appearance of a new inhabitant in our communal ark. That evening our apartment was plunged into darkness for an hour. The only light source was a filmoscope, projecting filmstrip frames directly onto the whitewashed corridor wall. And then it creaked, never locked, Entrance door, letting in an oblique ray of light from the landing into the hallway, which was immediately blocked by someone’s huge shadow. The shadow stood in confusion for a second or two and rumbled in a low, well-placed voice: “Hello, good people. Do Litovkins live here?
Aunt Masha, as if someone had been stung by an electric shock. First, her stool fell to the floor with a crash, then Aunt Machine’s shadow rushed into the hallway, immediately dissolved in the impenetrability of this monument and howled in an evil voice. Through the howl, one could guess the words: “Brother…. Dear.... Came back...” The good-natured rumbling bass tried to calm her down.
Immediately there was a slight commotion. The spacious corridor suddenly became crowded. In the darkness, chairs and stools moved, a bottle crashed on the floor, someone stepped on someone’s foot, everyone had to go into the hallway. Finally the light came on. The ceremony of kissing, hugging, shaking hands, and cheering began. Then the guest began to get to know everyone. It was my turn. Smiling, the giant looked at me as if he were all these long years All he did was wander around the world and look for this most beautiful, most intelligent, in general, the very little boy, and then he found him. The guest carefully placed his huge palm on my shoulder and said: “And I am Uncle Borya.”
- “And I, too, Borya.”
The giant literally lit up with joy at this news. He picked me up in his arms, lifted me to the very ceiling and trumpeted: “Yes, we are namesakes!” Well, brother, I’m lucky!”
Needless to say, I immediately fell in love with this big man. And there was something to love him for. And it's not that he was handsome. Handsome, with some real masculine beauty, a little rough and that makes it even more expressive. And not even that he exuded power and physical health. The most important thing was that he literally shone with kindness, some kind of unspent love for all living things and, especially, for us boys. And from him there was a whiff of distant lands, foreign winds, different grasses, different snows. And somehow I immediately decided that Uncle Borya was the same Robinson Crusoe that “grown-up” guys, ten-year-olds who had read every book in the world, told me about. This same Robinson Crusoe lived for many, many years in the distant desert island and there was no way he could sail from there to his home, to his beloved sister, Aunt Masha. When Uncle Vanya and Dad carefully asked him about those distant lands, he smiled and said: “You can live anywhere. A person gets used to everything.”
And this is what a strange thing happens. It seems that the furniture of our ark has not changed, and the walls remain the same, but life has become a little different. Everyone began to smile more often and sing songs more often. About Mother Volga, about the daring Cossack, about the curly rowan tree. There were now always guests for dinner, and everyone was welcome. Except that I was a little capricious. Well, yes, you can understand me, I was jealous of my great friend even of the cat Barsik - a great hunter of Borya's uncle's affection. And there’s nothing to say about the guests.
But in the mornings, Uncle Borya was entirely mine. I woke up early. Together with my friend, I accompanied the elders to work, supposedly helped Petka get ready for school, and only then plunged into the world of a magical game with a fairy-tale giant.
But, only on that memorable morning, the magical game was preceded by a magical ritual. The ritual was called "shave". A mirror disk on a stand, an aluminum cup with soap were placed on the kitchen table, a well-worn shaving brush - a brush, and a “dangerous” razor lay next to it. Shaving, like any sacred act, requires a certain concentration, and the fact that Barsik and I, at the moment of this sacred act, were rubbing against Uncle Borya’s knees did not contribute to the mood for concentration. Simply put, we were in the way. It was then that my great friend decided on a little trick. To begin with, he smeared a soapy brush over my face, then pulled back a little, looking at me like an artist who had just put the finishing touch on a painting and was now evaluating his work. Then he chuckled with satisfaction and said: “What if you, dear man, read something for your namesake? I would listen." Anticipating the pleasure of listening, he clicked his tongue and squinted like Barsik in the sun.
Reading is something I do instantly, I just run to get a book. Instead of a book, I found a magazine. I already knew that it was called “Ogonyok”. Actually, Ogonyok is a colorful, bright magazine, but this issue was black and white. Because it was all dotted with war photographs - tanks, planes, destroyed cities. Only the red inscription shone on the cover. That's where I started reading. Here, however, I cheated a little - first I put all the letters together in my mind, and only then rattled off the entire inscription syllable by syllable: “Battle of Stalin-grad.” He rattled off and waited for praise. I have already begun to get used to being praised for reading.
Instead, I heard the razor that had fallen from Uncle Borya’s hands clatter on the table, and Uncle Borya’s already low voice, which had completely sat down, slowly, slowly rumbled: “It says there - Vol-go-grad-ska-ya.”
Well, I knew it - Uncle Borya doesn’t believe that I can read. And I began to insist: “Nope! It says here - Sta-lin-grad-ska-ya! Just like that!”
Now, Uncle Bori’s voice became like an approaching thunderstorm: “I said Volgograd!”
Why is he arguing? Everything is clearly written here! Now I will prove to him: “Here, look: this letter “se”, this letter “te”, this letter “a” is Stalingrad!”
Somewhere on our Earth thunderstorms thundered, hurricanes raged, volcanoes erupted, earthquakes occurred, but all this was nothing compared to what Uncle Borya discovered in himself. He grabbed my shoulders with his huge hands, began to shake me like a broken rattle and rumbled: “Volgograd! Volgograd! Volgograd! Repeat - Volgograd! Volgograd!
And then I became scared. No, not because Uncle Borya shook the soul out of me. And not because wild, absolutely insane eyes were now looking at me on a face distorted by rage with a lathered left cheek. It’s just that behind the back of my glorious uncle Bori, I saw a muddy, impenetrable abyss, in the depths of which that same one was hiding Mysterious Island, where Uncle Borya was Robinson Cruz for many, many years. And there were many such Robinson Cruises on the island. And all the barmalei, immortal kashchei and all kinds of evil spirits lived on it. Some swamp kikimora shook a clumsy finger at me and laughed: “Oh, look, guy! If you get me, you get me, Robinson Crusoe!”
I was so scared that I barely found the strength to mutter: “Volgograd...”.
And Uncle Borya fell on a chair, began to torment his throat with his hand, as if he could not breathe, and suddenly began to cough often, often, shaking his whole powerful body.
. I realized that it was Uncle Borya who was crying like that when I saw his eyes full of tears. And I also heard his words: “Well, forgive me, namesake, forgive me.”
Why should I forgive him? I felt sorry for him. I rushed to his chest, trying to hug his large figure, feeling his big, so kind, completely tormented heart whooshing and beating against my cheek and howled: “Volgograd, Volgograd, There is no Stalingrad!” I cried and thought that all I had learned was to add letters. And I can’t read at all. And whether I would ever learn to read for real, I didn’t know then. Yes, I still don’t know. One thing consoles me - I’m still alive. And I will definitely learn to read. And there, God willing, maybe I’ll even learn to write. I know how to transfer letters onto paper.

Each of us knows what letters are. We all know how to put words together, and words into sentences. Reading these sentences is also not difficult for us, because we were taught this almost from the beginning. kindergarten. However, we often get the feeling that after reading a book, we have nothing left in our heads. Why?

Because we are reading incorrectly.

This is not about fiction

After all, when we read fiction, we are, roughly speaking, having fun. But if you are reading informative reading, a textbook, or another type of non-fiction book, then the techniques that we will now tell you about will be very useful.

Do you want to know or do you want to understand?

Familiarization with facts without a deep understanding of them does not in itself give anything. We often feel smarter after reading yet another article filled with interesting facts. But whether these facts remain in our heads is a question. There is a difference between flipping through facts—informative reading—and digesting information—in-depth understanding of what is written.

Let's remember: basically, everything that is easily digested is informative reading. By reading newspapers, we do not become smarter, for example.

There is nothing wrong with reading the facts. Most people read this way, but, unfortunately, do not learn anything new. Reading like this may keep you busy for a while, but it is unlikely to make you a better person. Learning something new is not always an easy task. It often requires systematic effort.

Four ways to read

Elementary
Inspection
Analytical
Synoptic

Remember that reading is different from reading, and the “levels” of reading are cumulative, and in order to start reading at the synoptic level, you first need to master the analytical one.

Let's take a closer look at the reading "levels":

Beginner level is the reading level we were taught in primary school.

According to the rules of reading at the inspection level, first of all you need to carefully consider the cover, table of contents, index of the book and inner part covers. This preview will give you an idea of what the book is about and whether it meets your needs. The benefits of this level are difficult to assess; familiarizing yourself with the book in detail before reading it will significantly save your time and money. Don't neglect them.

WITH detailed description The next reading levels can be found in the next article!

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Either the Rooster will peck me, or I will peck him

Lissy Moussa

Illustrator Zoya Chernakova

Cover designer Zoya Chernakova

ISBN 978-5-4485-4435-4

Created in the intellectual publishing system Ridero

Yes, there is a hint in it!

The fairy tale is a lie, but there is a hint in it -
A lesson to good fellows!

Everyone knows this. And as soon as we talk about fairy tales, people immediately shoot this quote from Pushkin out of a cannon and nod their heads: “We know, we know, a fairy tale is a lie!”

And when I try to talk about hints, I still hear: “well, yes, it’s a hint, of course, but the fairy tale is a lie!”

And then I realized: the words spoken out loud, although they are a sparrow, are still nothing more than a shock of air. And here is what is written with a pen...

So, try to knock it out, or better yet, hack it to death! On your nose: the most valuable thing in a fairy tale is a HINT!

Let's start with hints.

Where and how to find a hint?

The simplest example is from the same A.S. Pushkin. In a fairy tale, of course.

An old man lived with his old woman

by the blue sea...

If you carefully read “The Tale of the Golden Fish” now, you will discover a bunch of new meanings.

Let me explain:

The readiness to receive the gifts of the Golden Fish should be mentioned separately. Let's look at the text of the fairy tale:

“...I want to be the mistress of the sea,
So that I can live in Okiyan-Sea!
So that the goldfish can serve me
And she would be on my errands!”

Why do you think the Goldfish was so indignant at this request? The most common answer is that the fish was indignant that she, the Free Magical Personality, would be urged on by some uneducated, ill-mannered and unceremonious old woman.

And this answer is wrong.

The fish is not the first to fulfill the wishes of different people, and she has just demonstrated her readiness to help the old man, that is, she worked on his errands several times: she got him a trough, then she built a cottage on the southern shore, and built a luxurious city residence to the envy of everyone ; the old woman was appointed president of a large corporation. The fish did a fair amount of work for the old man.

And she was indignant at the old woman’s speeches for this reason: the old woman was categorically not ready to control the Golden Fish. Let's look at it in detail:

It was this shortcoming that the Goldfish saw, became indignant and returned the old man and the old woman to the beginning of the race with the words:

- Old man, I’m returning your family to the shore, closer to the shallow beach: you Teach your grandmother to swim first before she interferes with the mistress of the sea!

Don’t be frivolous and arrogant: don’t be like the old woman from this fairy tale - don’t make dreams of getting something you’re not ready for!

First, let's evaluate our capabilities of accepting certain gifts, make sure that we are able to master them without extra effort, and only then ask the Golden Fish for all sorts of blessings.

Because fairy tales come true!

Just read them correctly: if you come across a situation even remotely similar to yours, be careful here: all actions need to be written down and then acted out in reality.

This is how the fairy tale should be played, for example, for those who are planning to improve their living conditions:

If you remember, it all started with a trough: the first upgrade took place here. Therefore, without stopping to look at various housing options, we are buying ourselves a new “trough”. What you mean by flooring with this action is completely individual: it could be a new bucket, or a basin, or a bathtub: it’s all up to you.

Then you need to send the old man to the sea with instructions.

- Old man, hint to the fish there that it’s time to build us a bigger house!

And don’t forget – smile!

Without expecting it myself, I made up real awards for myself, which I am very proud of: it’s nice to open a cabinet when a huge “National Treasure” medal shines out at you, and not only that, but I, of course, did not receive all twenty-seven medals, as in a fairy tale “Prize” ordered it, but I have the order and medals, and the little books, by the way, came out like that - a whole bunch!

Therefore, arm yourself with a pencil and notepad - we will turn fairy tales into reality!

And after the fairy tales, I will leave small comments - short tips on rituals.

We have a rooster in the symbolism of this book, and how this all relates to us - I’ll tell you about that at the end of the book.

The laundress does laundry all day...

I love this song very much and I really like it when it suddenly suddenly comes to mind and its simple tune begins to sound there, and simple words creep into reality:

The laundress does laundry all day long,
the husband went for some water,
a dog is sitting on the porch
with a small beard.
She stares all day long
stupid eyes,
if someone suddenly cries -
will be sad on the sidelines.
Who should cry today?
in the city of Taru-u-u-use?
There is someone to cry today -
girl Marusa...

- I won’t fly, nothing works! - Orange sobbed bitterly and inconsolably in the phone receiver: - They don’t do that, you see!

Orange, my old friend, who suddenly got married in Belgium, was now experiencing the unusual, and therefore seemingly ridiculous, customs and laws of Western Europe on her own delicate skin: