Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Maryanne Wolf

Quote by Maryanne Wolf

“That is what I want our young nascent readers to become: expert, flexible code switchers -- between print and digital mediums now and later between and among the multiple future communication mediums....I conceptualize the initial development of learning to think in each medium as largely separated into distinct domains in the first school years, until a point in time when the particular characteristics of the two mediums are each well developed and internalized. That is an essential point. I want the child to have parallel levels of fluency, if you will, in each medium, just as if he or she were similarly fluent in speaking Spanish and English. In this way the uniqueness of the cognitive processes honed by each medium would be there from the start.”

Quote by Maryanne Wolf

Work

Reader, Come Home: The Reading Brain in a Digital World

Browse quotes and source details for this work. more

Author

Maryanne Wolf

Browse famous quotes and profile details for Maryanne Wolf. more

You May Also Like

“It's a matter of reasoning," said Poirot. "The dog, he argues from reason. He is intelligent, he makes his deductions according to his point of view. There are people who may enter a house and there people who may not - that a dog soon learns. Eh bien, who is the person who most persistently tries to gain admission, rattling on the door twice or three times a day - and who is never by any chance admitted? The postman. Clearly, then, an undesirable guest from the point of view of the master of the house. He is always sent about his business, but he persistently returns and tries again. Then the dog's duty is clear, to aid in driving this undesirable man away, and to bite him if possible. A most reasonable proceeding.”

“And so many things get lost. Not just a set of keys or a photograph of your father with his first truck, but the door those keys once opened, the childhood house you long ago walked into, the father who used to carry you on his shoulders high above the crowds at the summer fair, his body now ashes and shards of bone. You hold these things in place on a page, you walk through that door, touch his face and smell the cigarette smoke on his breath and in his shirt, you make things breathe again in words. You feel the lightness of a ghostly touch across your skin. In that small house on the corner, the porch light suddenly comes on.”

“देखता नहीं उसके दिल की गहराई अपनी चोट का नाप बता देता है व्हेल नालों में नहीं रहती पगले DEKHTA NAHIN USKE DIL KI GEHRAYEE APNI CHOTT KA NAAP BATA DETA HAI WHALE NALE MEIN NAHIN REHTI PAGLE HE DOESN'T ESTIMATE THE DEPTH OF HER HEART AS HE POURS OUT THE DEPTH OF HIS OWN HURT WHALES DON'T LIVE IN DIRTY DRENCHES, IDIOT”