Prison Studies Malcom X

I saw that the best thing I could do was to get hold of a dictionary- -to study, to learn some words.

I spent two days just riffling uncertainly through the dictionary's pages.

This impression is due entirely to my prison studies.

Funny thing, from the dictionary first page right now, that "aardvark" springs to my mind.

As you can imagine, especially in a prison where there was heavy emphasis on rehabilitation, an inmate was smiled upon if he demonstrated an unusually intense interest in books.

Fortunately, right outside my door was a corridor light that cast a glow into my room.

As you can imagine, especially in a prison where there was heavy emphasis on rehabilitation, an inmate was smiled upon if he demonstrated an unusually intense interest in books.

I certainly wasn't seeking any degree, the way a college confers a status symbol upon its students.

At one-hour intervals the night guards paced past every room.

Anyone who had read a great deal can imagine the new world that opened.

No university would ask any student to devour literature as I did when this new world opened to me, of being able to read and understand.

Actually the dictionary is like a miniature encyclopedia.

Then, aloud, I read back to myself, everything I'd written on the tablet.

So I had come to the Norfolk Prison Colony still going through only book-reading motions.

I'd never realized so many words existed!

So I had come to the Norfolk Prison Colony still going through only book-reading motions.

Each time I heard the approach footsteps, I jumped into bed and feigned sleep.

As you can imagine, especially in a prison where there was heavy emphasis on rehabilitation, an inmate was smiled upon if he demonstrated an unusually intense interest in books.

This impression is due entirely to my prison studies.

Finally, just to start some kind of action, I began copying.

And as soon as the guard passed, I got back out of bed onto the floor area of that light-glow, where I would read for another fifty-eight minutes—until the guard approached again.

Moreover, with a little effort, I also could remember what many of these words meant.

I suppose it was inevitable that as my word base broadened, I could for the first time pick up a book and read and now begin to understand what the book was saying.

In fact, up to then, I never had been so truly free in my life.

But every book I picked up had few sentences which didn't contain anywhere from one to nearly all of the words that might as well have been in Chinese.

So I had come to the Norfolk Prison Colony still going through only book-reading motions.

Funny thing, from the dictionary first page right now, that "aardvark" springs to my mind.

The dictionary had a picture of it, a long-tailed, long-eared, burrowing African mammal, which lives off termites caught by sticking out its tongue as an anteater does for ants.

One was, "What's your alma mater?"

My homemade education gave me, with every additional book that I read, a little bit more sensitivity to the deafness, dumbness, and blindness that was afflicting the black race in America.

There was a sizable number of well-read inmates, especially the popular debaters.

As you can imagine, especially in a prison where there was heavy emphasis on rehabilitation, an inmate was smiled upon if he demonstrated an unusually intense interest in books.

Pretty soon, I would have quit even these motions, unless I had received the motivation that I did.

In my slow, painstaking, ragged handwriting, I copied into my tablet everything printed on the first page, down to the punctuation marks.

In my slow, painstaking, ragged handwriting, I copied into my tablet everything printed on the first page, down to the punctuation marks.

As I see it today, the ability to read awoke inside me some long dormant craving to be mentally alive.

I imagine that one of the biggest troubles with colleges is there are too many distractions, too much panty-raiding, fraternities, and boola- boola and all that.

I suppose it was inevitable that as my word base broadened, I could for the first time pick up a book and read and now begin to understand what the book was saying.

The dictionary had a picture of it, a long-tailed, long-eared, burrowing African mammal, which lives off termites caught by sticking out its tongue as an anteater does for ants.

Each time I heard the approach footsteps, I jumped into bed and feigned sleep.

Bimbi had always taken charge of any conversation he was in, and I had tried to emulate him.

I have often reflected upon the new vistas that reading opened to me.

I would be outraged with the “lights out.”

I imagine that one of the biggest troubles with colleges is there are too many distractions, too much panty-raiding, fraternities, and boola- boola and all that.

The dictionary had a picture of it, a long-tailed, long-eared, burrowing African mammal, which lives off termites caught by sticking out its tongue as an anteater does for ants.

I have with me a book that I want to read—and that’s a lot of books theses days.

As I see it today, the ability to read awoke inside me some long dormant craving to be mentally alive.

You couldn't have gotten me out of books with a wedge.

It always seemed to catch me right in the middle of something engrossing.

I woke up the next morning, thinking about those words-- immensely proud to realize that not only had I written so much at one time, but I'd written words that I never knew were in the world.

I was so fascinated that I went on--I copied the dictionary's next page.

I preferred reading in the total isolation of my own room.

The glow was enough to read by, once my eyes adjusted to it.

As I see it today, the ability to read awoke inside me some long dormant craving to be mentally alive.

Actually the dictionary is like a miniature encyclopedia.

They were almost celebrities.

An inmate who was known to read a lot could check out more than the permitted maximum number of books.

In my slow, painstaking, ragged handwriting, I copied into my tablet everything printed on the first page, down to the punctuation marks.

Let me tell you something: From then until I left that prison, in every free moment I had, if I was not reading in the library, I was reading on my bunk.

Fortunately, right outside my door was a corridor light that cast a glow into my room.

No university would ask any student to devour literature as I did when this new world opened to me, of being able to read and understand.

I certainly wasn't seeking any degree, the way a college confers a status symbol upon its students.

Between Mr. Muhammad's teachings, my correspondence, my visitors--usually Ella and Reginald-- and my reading of books, months passed without my even thinking about being imprisoned.

My homemade education gave me, with every additional book that I read, a little bit more sensitivity to the deafness, dumbness, and blindness that was afflicting the black race in America.

Between Mr. Muhammad's teachings, my correspondence, my visitors--usually Ella and Reginald-- and my reading of books, months passed without my even thinking about being imprisoned.

I preferred reading in the total isolation of my own room.

As you can imagine, especially in a prison where there was heavy emphasis on rehabilitation, an inmate was smiled upon if he demonstrated an unusually intense interest in books.

That was the way I started copying what eventually became the entire dictionary.

Some were said by many to be practically walking encyclopedias.

I had really begun back in the Charlestown Prison, when Bimbi first made me feel envy of his stock of knowledge.

And the same experience came when I studied that.

Where else but in prison could I have attacked my ignorance by being able to study intensely sometimes as much as fifteen hours a day.

I suppose it was inevitable that as my word base broadened, I could for the first time pick up a book and read and now begin to understand what the book was saying.

I knew right there in prison that reading had changed forever the course of my life.

At one-hour intervals the night guards paced past every room.

I certainly wasn't seeking any degree, the way a college confers a status symbol upon its students.

Pretty soon, I would have quit even these motions, unless I had received the motivation that I did.

Not long ago, an English writer telephoned me from London, asking questions.

If I weren’t out here every day battling the white man, I could spend the rest of my life reading, just satisfying my curiosity—because you can hardly mention anything I’m not curious about.

My homemade education gave me, with every additional book that I read, a little bit more sensitivity to the deafness, dumbness, and blindness that was afflicting the black race in America.

Every time I catch a plane.

As you can imagine, especially in a prison where there was heavy emphasis on rehabilitation, an inmate was smiled upon if he demonstrated an unusually intense interest in books.

At one-hour intervals the night guards paced past every room.

As I see it today, the ability to read awoke inside me some long dormant craving to be mentally alive.

I woke up the next morning, thinking about those words-- immensely proud to realize that not only had I written so much at one time, but I'd written words that I never knew were in the world.

No university would ask any student to devour literature as I did when this new world opened to me, of being able to read and understand.

My homemade education gave me, with every additional book that I read, a little bit more sensitivity to the deafness, dumbness, and blindness that was afflicting the black race in America.

I reviewed the words whose meanings I didn't remember.

In fact, prison enabled me to study far more intensively than I would have if my life had gone differently and I had attended some college.

Finally the dictionary's A section had filled a whole tablet--and I went on into the B's.

But every book I picked up had few sentences which didn't contain anywhere from one to nearly all of the words that might as well have been in Chinese.

This impression is due entirely to my prison studies.

My homemade education gave me, with every additional book that I read, a little bit more sensitivity to the deafness, dumbness, and blindness that was afflicting the black race in America.

It was both ideas together that moved me to request a dictionary along with some tablets and pencils from the Norfolk Prison Colony school.

I certainly wasn't seeking any degree, the way a college confers a status symbol upon its students.

Actually the dictionary is like a miniature encyclopedia.

And as soon as the guard passed, I got back out of bed onto the floor area of that light-glow, where I would read for another fifty-eight minutes—until the guard approached again.

Many who today hear me somewhere in person, or on television, or those who read something I've said, will think I went to school far beyond the eight grade.

I woke up the next morning, thinking about those words-- immensely proud to realize that not only had I written so much at one time, but I'd written words that I never knew were in the world.

I reviewed the words whose meanings I didn't remember.

When I had progressed to really serious reading, every night about ten P.M.

I was lucky enough to reason also that I should try to improve my penmanship.

It went a lot faster after so much practice helped me to pick up handwriting speed.

Bimbi had always taken charge of any conversation he was in, and I had tried to emulate him.

I have often reflected upon the new vistas that reading opened to me.

No university would ask any student to devour literature as I did when this new world opened to me, of being able to read and understand.

I suppose it was inevitable that as my word base broadened, I could for the first time pick up a book and read and now begin to understand what the book was saying.

There was a sizable number of well-read inmates, especially the popular debaters.

Fortunately, right outside my door was a corridor light that cast a glow into my room.

I had really begun back in the Charlestown Prison, when Bimbi first made me feel envy of his stock of knowledge.

I couldn't even write in a straight line.

With every succeeding page, I also learned of people and places and events from history.

I preferred reading in the total isolation of my own room.

I certainly wasn't seeking any degree, the way a college confers a status symbol upon its students.

An inmate who was known to read a lot could check out more than the permitted maximum number of books.

I certainly wasn't seeking any degree, the way a college confers a status symbol upon its students.

If I weren’t out here every day battling the white man, I could spend the rest of my life reading, just satisfying my curiosity—because you can hardly mention anything I’m not curious about.

When I had progressed to really serious reading, every night about ten P.M.

If I weren’t out here every day battling the white man, I could spend the rest of my life reading, just satisfying my curiosity—because you can hardly mention anything I’m not curious about.

But every book I picked up had few sentences which didn't contain anywhere from one to nearly all of the words that might as well have been in Chinese.

With every succeeding page, I also learned of people and places and events from history.

If I weren’t out here every day battling the white man, I could spend the rest of my life reading, just satisfying my curiosity—because you can hardly mention anything I’m not curious about.

I had really begun back in the Charlestown Prison, when Bimbi first made me feel envy of his stock of knowledge.

Moreover, with a little effort, I also could remember what many of these words meant.

I certainly wasn't seeking any degree, the way a college confers a status symbol upon its students.

With every succeeding page, I also learned of people and places and events from history.

Where else but in prison could I have attacked my ignorance by being able to study intensely sometimes as much as fifteen hours a day.

And the same experience came when I studied that.

If I weren’t out here every day battling the white man, I could spend the rest of my life reading, just satisfying my curiosity—because you can hardly mention anything I’m not curious about.

It went a lot faster after so much practice helped me to pick up handwriting speed.

I'd never realized so many words existed!

I suppose it was inevitable that as my word base broadened, I could for the first time pick up a book and read and now begin to understand what the book was saying.

So when “lights out” came, I would sit on the floor where I could continue reading in that glow.