"Martin, Ann M - BSC029 - Mallory And The Mystery Diary" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin Ann M)

"We-ell, I don't know. My teacher said they're trash. But he didn't say we couldn't read them."
"What does your mother say?"
"About comic books? Nothing."
"Then we're going to read them," I said.
My reasoning was that Buddy didn't think reading was fun. He didn't enjoy it. If I could show him that reading can be fun, maybe (later) he would start reading things besides comics, like mysteries or animal stories. And when his reading improved, his schoolwork would become easier.
I fanned the comic books on the bed between Buddy and me. "Pick one," I told him.
Buddy considered the selection seriously. At last he chose a book. He opened it to the first page.
"I like comics!" he announced, sounding truly excited for the first time since I'd started tutoring him. "I like the pictures!"
"Try the words," I suggested.
Buddy drew in a deep breath Ч and began reading. He read haltingly at first. Then he began to sound more confident. When he stumbled over the words "ice-cream cone," I said, "Look at the picture. Does that give you a clue?"
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Ice cream ... I mean, ice-cream . . . cone?"
"You got it!"
"Hey!" Buddy sounded quite pleased with himself.
He read along. When he came to a word he
didn't know, he looked at the pictures and then sounded the word out. Buddy had been right. He could read more easily when he read words "together," instead of single words on flash cards. And he certainly read better when he liked what he was reading.
After Buddy had read two episodes in the comic book, I said, "Okay, we're going to stop now."
"Oh," groaned Buddy, "just when we were having fun."
"The next thing will be even more fun. I promise," I told him. "Do you have some notebook paper at your desk?"
Buddy nodded.
"Great. Go get it. And a couple of pencils with erasers, too, please."
Buddy did as I asked.
I took a piece of paper and, with a pencil, divided the paper into squares. Then I handed the paper back to Buddy. I put a book under it so that he could write on the paper.
"What's this for?" asked Buddy.
"Well," I began, "you've just read some comics. Now you're going to make your own. They can be Archie comics, or any comics. You could even invent new characters."
"I'm going to make a comic strip?"
"Sure," I replied. "I'll make one, too."
"I don't know, Mal/' said Buddy. "I'm not very good at drawing."
"Just give it a try."
So Buddy sat and thought while I divided my own paper into squares. By the time I'd finished, he had begun working.
My comic was about a mouse, a squirrel, and a crow that lived in some woods and had adventures together. I was dying to peek at Buddy's paper and see what he was doing, but I didn't want to make him nervous.
Buddy worked and worked. He erased a lot. Every now and then he would glance at one of the Archie comics, probably to see how to make "thought bubbles" and things like that.
"Hey, Mal! This is fun!" said Buddy at one point.
I smiled at him. "I'm glad you think so. I'm having fun, too."
"Are you sure you're acting like a tutor?" asked Buddy.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm having too much fun. Reading work isn't supposed to be fun."
"But reading is. And reading and writing go hand in hand. Believe me."
Buddy shrugged. Then he returned to his
comic. After a few more moments of laborious effort he announced, "I'm finished!"
"Terrific. May I read it? You can read my comic."
"Okay," said Buddy uncertainly. "Are we going to read aloud or to ourselves?"
I thought for a moment. "We'll read each other's silently. Then we'll read our own aloud. We know how our own should sound."
Buddy grinned. "Okay."
So I read Buddy's comic. He had misspelled a lot of words, but he certainly had gotten the hang of the project. His comic was about three children (an older brother and his two younger sisters) with familiar-sounding names Ч Bubba, Sally, and Marie. The kids took an unexpected rocketship ride into outer space and then had to figure out how to get home again. The comic was full of things like this:
"Hey, Buddy, this is great," I said.
"Really?"
"Honest. I mean it. Let me hear you read it. I bet that will make it even better."
Buddy read his work with lots of expression and sound effects. When he was finished, he asked, "Can I show this to Mom?"
"Right now?"
"I'll only take a minute."