1 . We are seeking volunteers to join our program and make a difference in the lives of young children by sharing the joy of reading. As we know, in the field of education, the ability to read fluently and comprehend written text holds the key to unlocking a world of knowledge and opportunities. For children between the ages of 5 and 10, this skill is particularly crucial, as it forms the foundation for their academic and personal growth.

An Hour a Week from You

You’ll spend one hour a week reading stories with a child aged 5 to 10 years, on our secure online platform. The program involves two 30-minute sessions a week with the same child, spanning six weeks. Our online volunteering can fit around your schedule and there’s no need to travel. We ask all our volunteers to complete at least three programs a year, so we can continue to support as many children as possible.

A World of Opportunity for Them

With just one hour of your time each week, you can make a profound difference in a child’s life, nurturing their love for reading and fostering (促进) their ability to navigate the vast ocean of written communication. In essence, you help young readers make progress and open up a world of opportunity for their future.

Remember: YOUR TIME, THEIR FUTURE

As a bookmark volunteer, you’ll:

**help children gain the reading skills they need to progress at school and in life.

**help boost a child’s confidence by giving them one-to-one attention.

**show that learning to read can be fun! It’s amazing when you introduce a young reader to a book, comic, or poem that they love.

Join our community! Join us on this incredible journey! Volunteers can share tips and stories on our online forum and meet like-minded people at the online events. Enrich your week. Taking time out of your day to read with a child can support your own well-being as you enjoy a new experience. Together, we can create a world where every child has the opportunity to succeed both in school and beyond.

3 . I grew up in libraries, or at least it feels that way. I was raised in the suburbs of Cleveland, just a few blocks from the brick-faced Bertram Woods branch of the Shaker Heights Public Library system. I went there several times a week with my mother. She and I would walk in together, but as soon as we passed through the door, we each headed towards our favorite sections. The library might have been the first place I was ever given autonomy.

Even when I was maybe four or five years old, I was allowed to head off on my own. Then, after a while, my mother and I would reunite at the checkout counter with our finds. Together we’d wait as the librarian pulled out the date card and stamped it with the checkout machine — that giant fist thumping the card with a loud chunk-chunk, printing a crooked due date underneath a score of previous crooked due dates that belonged to other people, other times.

Those visits were dreamy, frictionless (没有摩擦的) periods that held the promise of leaving me richer than I’d arrived. It wasn’t like going to a store with my mom, which guaranteed a tug-of-war between what I wanted and what my mother was willing to buy me; in the library, I could have anything I wanted.

After we had finished checking out the books, I loved being in the car and having all the books we’d gotten stacked on my lap, pressing me under their solid, warm weight, their Mylar covers sticking a bit to my thighs. It was such a thrill leaving a place with things you hadn’t paid for; such a thrill expecting the new books we would read. On the ride home, my mother and I talked about the order in which we were going to read our books, a serious conversation in which we planned how to pace ourselves through this charmed period of grace until the books were due.

When I was older, I usually walked to the library by myself, lugging back as many books as I could carry. Occasionally, I did go with my mother, and the trip would be as engaging as it had been when I was small. Even when I was in my last year of high school and could drive myself to the library, my mother and I still went together every now and then, and the trip unfolded exactly as it had when I was a child, with all the same beats and pauses ‘and comments and daydreaming, the same perfect rhythm we’d followed so many times before. After my mother passed away two years ago, I plunged into a deep shadow of grief for a long time. When I miss my mother these days, I like to picture us in the car together, going for one more magnificent trip to Bertram Woods, during which we talked, laughed — as if she were still in my company, giving me inexhaustible strength.

Science has a lot of uses. It can uncover laws of nature, cure diseases, make bombs, and help bridges to stand up. Indeed science is so good’ at what it does that there’s always a temptation (诱惑) to drag it into problems where it may not be helpful. David Brooks, author of The Social Animal: The Hidden Sources of Love, Character, and Achievement, appears to be the latest in a long line of writers who have failed to resist the temptation.

Brooks gained fame for several books. His latest book The Social Animal, however, is more ambitious and serious than his earlier books. It is an attempt to deal with a set of weighty topics. The book focuses on big questions: What has science revealed about human nature? What are the sources of character? And why are some people happy and successful while others aren’t?

To answer these questions, Brooks surveys a wide range of disciplines (学科). Considering this, you might expect the book to be a dry recitation(背诵)of facts. But Brooks has structured his book in an unorthodox (非常规的), and perhaps unfortunate, way. Instead of introducing scientific theories, he tells a story, within which he tries to make his points, perhaps in order to keep the reader’s attention. So as Harold and Erica, the hero and heroine in his story, live through childhood, we hear about the science of child development and as they begin to date we hear about the theory of sexual attraction. Brooks carries this through to the death of one of his characters.

On the whole, Brooks’ story is acceptable if uninspired. As one would expect, his writing is mostly clear and, to be fair, some chapters stand out above the rest. I enjoyed, for instance, the chapter in which Harold discovers how to think on his own. While Harold and Erica are certainly not strong or memorable characters, the more serious problems with The Social Animal lie elsewhere. These problems partly involve Brooks’ attempt to translate his tale into science.

7 . Coolest Bookstores in the World

Where did you buy your last book? Chances are that you bought it on the Internet. But if you did, you missed the remarkable experience of browsing in a real bookstore. As British author NeilGaiman once said, “A town isn’t a town without a bookstore.” These days, bookstores offer lots of great books and plenty more.

Time magazine once named Eslite Dunnan Store in Taiwan province, China “Asia’s best bookstore”. One visit to the store tells you why. The store, spread across five floors, offers a combination of restaurants, music and over 200,000 books. With its comfortable reading spots, visitors sometimes say it’s like a library. Others have called it the “7-Elevent of bookstores” because it’s open 24 hours a day.

The world’s biggest bookstore is Tehran, Iran’s book Garden with 700,000 square feet of space. In addition to restaurants and a theater, the Book Garden features a park on the roof. Visitors can pick up one of1,000 free books to read while enjoying the fresh air and sunshine from the Book Garden’s rooftop park.

Rio de Janeiro’s Saraiva Bookstore might be the world’s most colorful bookstore. The visible upper level is lined with books arranged (排列) by their colors. This rainbow effect provides a colorful greeting for shoppers as they arrive. A rainbow path also leads young readers into the children’s section.

Venice, Italy, is a city surrounded by water. Its books are displayed in all things related to water, such as boats and bathtubs to protect them when the shop floods during high tide. It overlooks one of Venice’s many canals, and the smell of old books fills the air.