Bak 2 Skule - It's Been a While

  

 

I had no idea!

  I had no idea how much I had missed it (well, I really did, but...)

     I had no idea how much fun it would be to see young people get excited about stories after two years of not being in a school.

       I had no idea how out of shape I have become!

This last week I had two school gigs. And it was brilliant. Both were very different, but both were in-school, in-person and very much live. The organizers, librarians, and teachers were wonderful, and seemed so happy to have in-person events going on. The kids, very much the same!

Curious looks and glances were made by children as I made my way through the halls with my gear. "Hallos" were called out, along with the Big Question: "Who are you, and what are you going to be doing here?" So many crazy thoughts went through my mind in answer to that: special agent, location scout for a film, building inspector, but I just said: "I'm going to be seeing you later, to tell stories to your grade!" Eyes wide! That put a bigger smile on my face!

Tuesday was a big rush of a day. I packed a banana for lunch and an apple for the ride home. It was going to be a half-day visit. Three presentations for second and third graders, then kindergarten and first graders, ending with the fourth and fifth graders. Then a workshop for the latter group - invitation only!

I had my stories polished and planned, the PA set-up in the cafeteria, my drum warmed up! But then the kids came in, we started chatting and things changed. I shared some personal narratives about being a kid, long, long ago, before moving into the folk and fairy stories. I talked about the importance of reading, and playing, and spending as little time as they possibly could on t.v. and devices, and that music was also really cool without the videos and think about playing an instrument. Music is a language spoken all over the world. The principal popped in and out, other teachers who were not looking after the young folks listening came and went.

We laughed a lot. As did the teachers. I told some more thoughtful stories which provoked smiles. One group left and another shuffled in. I grabbed water, looked at my notes, and played the penny whistle. I played the same tune three times, but each time it was a different song. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, followed by the ABC song kids learn, and then Ba-ba Black Sheep. I do not profess to be an accomplished penny whistle player, but the kids and teachers liked it, groaned and rolled their eyes when I started the third song. They waved good-bye and the older kids, the nine and ten year olds came in. Another sip of water, and banter. "Ah, here we have the Big Kids!" They strutted a little taller before sitting down on the cafeteria floor. I showed them a map I had painted of Scandinavia and asked if they knew what was where, and a couple did. I then began a story from Finland. The kids were great. So many smiling faces, so much chatter at the end, talking about the stories, their favourite parts, the wonder of it all.

It was then time to rush into the library and get set up for the workshop. We didn't have much time, but I was able to cram a bunch of stuff in, and have some of the students tell their stories, give them different kinds of feedback, before they had to go. The kids were amazing, as they had chosen to work through their lunch break. Their attention wandered at times, as did mine - we had all been at it for a while, but we got quickly back on track. One young lady who really didn't want to share her story, ended up volunteering to tell her tale! And it was good. There's something so empowering for kids to be actively listened to, to share their own stories, and be heard by their peers and teachers.

I left on a high from that morning.

Tuesday night I had another gig but it was a virtual presentation with TBD Storytellers for grown-ups. A fun night with some great stories, but a late night. The next day was prep for Thursday. Thursday was only two presentations, and no workshop. This school was very different from the previous school on Tuesday. A much larger school. Their policies were slightly different in that the classes, if we were to present inside, would not all be allowed to be together, and that one group would be in the library with me, the other classes would watch through streaming live. It was cold and windy and the report said there would be rain, so we moved into the library. A laptop was set up in front of me, I stuck the map up on the white board along with a photograph of a cave in England's Lake District (it's where a dragon used to live) and I began.

Again watching and listening to the kids, this time fifth and six graders, was wonderful. The story of the cave has a dragon in it. At first it is only a voice, the kids don't know who it is in the cave speaking to the kid in the story. But when it comes out that it's a dragon, there's a rush of quick conversation on what they thought it was. And the look on their faces at it being a dragon was so heart warming.

I say that the kids have similar challenges in both schools, but there were differences. When we talked about sweaty palms (one character was very nervous), I asked who had felt that way, and had anyone ever been the principal’s office. Eighty percent of the kids raised their hands! We talked about devices, writing, stories, books. The laptop was treated as a person in the audience. I got close, very close to the camera lens, I made faces for the camera as much as I did for the audience and I asked teachers to put forward questions in the chat feature. It seemed to work; a teacher came out afterwards to tell me the kids were engaged! This is the first time I have got immediate and unsolicited feedback about virtual work. After two years, it seems I have it.

We talked about all sorts of things related to the stories I told, and it was wonderful. Again the kids left chatting about what had happened and the tales told. Teachers talked about the way the kids were not used to having to sit for so long and pay attention (class periods are not sixty minutes long), and how much joy they exhibited - some kids who had not done so since March of 2020. It was great to hear. And I hear similar things from other storytellers - the joy stories bring, the connection stories create with the kids, the peering over the walls some teachers have slowly built up since the beginning of the pandemic.

One thing I did discover today, Friday morning, was that I am Exhausted! Before the pandemic I was doing this sort of work all the time, in and out of schools, dashing around the countryside, presenting, working with teachers, but since March 2020, not so much. So I now need to get this Dad-bod into shape so when I next go out (in a few days) I won't be quite as tired at the end of the day!

Do you feel like too?

Peace,
Simon

Diving into Stories

For me, storytelling is sometimes like diving!

With the Olympics on, I was reminded of what it feels like standing on the high boards about to jump or dive. There is this fear, this sort of trepidation that goes along with a buzz, excitement and a knot in your stomach.  At least that is how it is for me.  I first want to put it out there that I am NOT a high diver, although I can dive.  And I am not talking about scuba here, I am talking about jumping off a bouncy fiberglass board, or a rock solid piece of a high concrete slab.  I am self taught and have never had a lesson.  I am a point and shoot diver and for me it was all trial and error.  Quite a fair bit of error too!

Stick Person

At first I jumped.  Nothing can go wrong, it is a straight, feet-first fall into the pool; you just need to remember to have your lungs full of air before you hit the water and your toes are pointing down.  If you flat foot it, it hurts - a lot.  If you don’t have enough breath, it seems like you might just gulp in a litre or three of water before hitting the surface once you are under the water.  You know you can do it, but standing on the edge looking 30 feet down into the water - well it is a long drop.  I have to admit there were a couple of times I walked back down the steps before I plucked up the courage to jump off that top board at my local pool as a kid.  A friend of mine, however, just went up there the first time, walked to the end and jumped.  At that point of leaving the concrete platform he could not swim. When he got to the side after coming up to the surface, he could!  That was how he taught himself to swim.

So I jumped a lot to get used to the height.  Figuring out breathing patterns is pretty important too.  I knew the time it would take to fall from the board to the point where I hit water after jumping a few times and getting the breathing wrong. It was quite a drop so I had filled my lungs the first couple of times way too soon and had to breathe out before hitting the water.  Not good!  But eventually I figured it out. For me, it was basically a little longer than a full lungful of drawn-in breath - I had to breathe out first, before that long slow pull of air in as I dived down.

Next, I plucked up the courage to sit on the end of the concrete board, feet dangling down, hands up in the air at a point, leaning back a bit, then rolling forward and dropping towards the water. I had of course done this a lot on the second board when I started diving, which was about 15 feet from the water and springy so I had an idea of the force of roll needed to not flip over and land on my back. The first few times the back of my legs got smacked by the water as I had not quite judged it right and spent a few moments waiting with smarting legs before trying it again.  But I tried over and over again until I got good at it.  Then I stood and dived, and although I had only one dive technique (jump, bend and go straight down), I got pretty good at it.  I got to the point where there was only a little splash.  And I can dive from rocks too, but only after watching others so I know there are no hidden rocks below a strange surface!  And I love to do it!  There is something about that moment when you leave the safety of the board and you are flying through the air, hoping that the angle is right and you’re not going to go over too far, or not enough and land on your back, or front.  I have done that and it hurts. A lot!

As I was thinking about this, it occurred that for me, it is very much like learning a new story. Or even storytelling!  You start with the smaller stories, or easieror sillier tales (the first board about a couple of feet or so off the water), until you can wind back the wheel so the board is at it’s springiest.  You can run the board, bounce really high, fold up in half and come gracefully down into the water.

Then you try the longer tales (the second board) until it feels as good as the first board.

And after that there are the deeper, meaningful tales.  Tales that you don’t just love, but stories you connect with on a deep level; stories that you find resonating within you like a tuning fork, a story that demands to be told – whether it is a personal tale or a folk tale. A story you put your whole being into.  You’re on the top board looking over the edge.  You might walk back down the steps, but you might just jump.  After all, when you bounce on the second board, you go almost as high (so it feels) as the top board.  So you take the story you have learned and you have it in your hands and you do that first jump.  Then you try the roll dive and then you stand and dive.  Will I make it to the water?  Will I fly through the air gracefully, or will I go over too much, or not enough?  Will it hurt when I hit the water? Will someone clap or appreciate what I just did?

Tonight I told a tale for the second time in public.  It was like walking up those steps, getting closer and closer to the ceiling, and the butterflies setting in.  But I had made the decision to tell it.  I made it my first tale so I could not back out and walk down the steps to the second board and choose another story.

The story is one I heard 4 years ago and love.  I have not heard it since, but it has been rattling about in my mind, demanding to be told.  So I learned it.  Then I got in touch with the storyteller I heard tell the story, Bob Pegg, and asked if he was okay with me telling it and if I had it right.  He told me "almost" and fixed my errors.  I have to tell a tale correctly or I would not be honouring it, or respecting its tradition. So I re-learned it. And checked again with materials Bob had generously provided.

When I told the story tonight it was a little like synchronized diving.  Bob was next to me on the board as I jumped, and his words were coming out, but as I got closer to the water, to the end of the story, I knew I was diving on my own.  And I know the more I tell the story it will become more of my own telling and less and less of Bobs.  They will be my words and phrases, my life experiences I bring to the story, my ‘spin’ if you like, but it will be true to the original, as true as it can be.  And then when I tell it, I know I will be alone on the board and the flight to the water will be filled with joy.  The name of the story?  Margaret of the Three Gifts, from way up in Scotland.

Giving kids a voice

Gran and Simon 1997

This week I did an hour long workshop at a school in Enfield, NH.  It is a wonderful little school that is still in its original building (albeit with a few additions built on).  Some of these old schools are the best, with winding corridors leading all over, wooden paneling and beautiful wooden floors in places.  Trying to teach storytelling to kids so that they can take the skills and use them is not an easy thing in one hour!  It is rushed to say the least.  But still they got it!  From the first telling, the three kids picked grew to be able to tell a rich story worthy of listening too and holding anyone’s attention.  Teaching students how to tell stories gives children a voice through which they can be heard.  In our overly busy schedules I know that there are times when we tune children out.  We fail to hear what they say.  I have met kids that rarely get a voice. Or the voice they get is one that is telling them to go and watch tv, or play outside, or read (if they are lucky).  By teaching a child how to tell a story, their voices become compelling.  We want to hear what they have to say, we want to help them find the right words and increase their vocabulary.  Being able to tell stories empowers the child, not just with adults, but with their peers, too.  When the child is empowered, the child’s confidence grows and when that grows they become better students and better people too.

And it is not just at school where storytelling is important.  Growing up at home, I had two ‘camps’ as it were: one where my voice was heard and another where it was not.  I ended up going to where I was listened to, where I was nurtured.  I also had grandparents nearby who always listened to me.  I loved to jump on my bike and ride to their house and just be with them to ‘swap stories’.  It did not feel like that, it was just ‘what are you doing today?’ or ‘how are things?”  To listen to my grandparents and be listened to, by my grandparents was a wonderful experience, one which gave me a close relationship with them that is still strong today with my surviving Granny who was still up for telling stories 12 months ago (stories I was able to record)!

Not everyone these days has that luxury.  Many grandparents in America live hundreds or thousands of miles away as our jobs take us from our roots, or we move to more agreeable climates! So take time in your day to ask your kids (no matter what age they are – whether they are five or fifty) how their day was, and what they got up to.  They love to be asked, even if they only grunt a monosyllabic reply! Tell them your stories too. It doesn’t have to be a story about the office, but maybe something that happened between you and your parents.  It might give them a deeper understanding about you and who and why you are the way you are.  I know I am guilty of this, so step away from the computer, the bills, the emails, and sit down with your kids, or phone them up if they are at college or far away, and share some stories.  Make a ritual out of it.  Stories are powerful things that, like boots, love to travel!