Located in a school at the edge of town split by the major 949 Highway around the district in between the state south-southwest the country at the face of the world are:
2 classrooms
One classroom contains 20 students. They are each staring at a book, eyes vacant, mouths ajar. Someone appropriately told them to read, so they did what they were supposed to do: they looked at the words of the book. Someone else told them to read out loud, so they mouthed the words of the book. Everybody got his or her turn and he and she read in the same monotonous way. In a perplexing sense, it was like watching Shakespeare being read wrong- line after line after line after line
Appropriately, the lights flicker permanently- an observation unnoticed by the readers below.
Routinely they say reading is their favorite hobby.
The other classroom holds twenty students. Each student is holding a book and somebody told them to read. “Out loud?” one girl asked. No, no. Read. And so every single one of the students proceeded to stare at the book, eyes vacant, mouths ajar. Suddenly, the door swang open and an exceedingly strange individual stepped before the readers. The individual proclaimed “To read is to think is to feel is to live and live boldly.” “Out loud?” one girl asked. “Precisely.” The twenty puzzled readers returned to their books, testing the words, and then from the top of their lungs they articulated each syllable. The effect was infectious. One after the other and then altogether they let fly the words, heard the words, played with the words, hated the words, thought the word, felts the words, lived the words.
Appropriately, the lights flicker permanently- an observation unnoticed by the readers below.
Reading is their favorite hobby.