One more adult…
I am fascinated with your project; it sounds and feels just right. I am a seventy year old retired physician who is enjoying his retirement. I believe we are all witnesses to our time; we are all making history which succeeding generations will read about in their texts. Real immortality, I believe, is in the passing of ideas from one generation to the next, in holding out our hands to help or to be helped-the gestures are much the same.
Shortly afterward, from the teacher
Ready or not, HERE THEY COME! Thanks for your patience. I hope you enjoy their introductory letters.
>From 'Jessie'
Hi my name is Jessie. I am in the fifth grade. I am a girl. My teacher is Mrs.—- . By the way, she is the best teacher there ever was and she's great at making it fun to learn!
My favorite color is purple. What's yours? Do you have any pets? I have two dogs. I like to read about the past and the future. My cousin wants to be a Doctor. I want to be a Lawyer and yell at people. Allen says I'm good at that!
>From Daniel
I'm ten years old. My name is Daniel. I love to draw and play football.I really love football. What do you like? Do you like to draw? I do.Maybe I can draw you a picture. I have a turtle and a dog and a snakefor a pet. Do you have any pets? Write back please….
>From Joey
How do you do? My name is Joey. Please tell me more about yourself and the newspaper business. My favorite sport is basketball. I like to play Nintendo.
>From Aubrey
Hi. My name is Aubrey, and Amanda and I are sharing you. This is so exciting talking to you online. I'd like to know about you and your great grandparents. Oh! and thank you so much for the postcard, too. I know we are going to have so much fun online. Thanks.
The teacher added: That's all for now! The children look forward to hearing from you all.
>From an older adult
Dear Jessie,
Thank you for writing your very nice little note to me. I think it was very well done and makes me want to write more. Mrs. ——- sounds like a neat teacher; I'm sure she is proud of you. My favorite colors are violet and purple-my wife likes those colors, too. We have a dog and a cockatoo that is getting old. All he does is scratch. He is hard of hearing, which makes for interesting times.
I'm glad you like to read. The past gives you some idea about how other people did things, and gives you a clue of what to do in the future. The present is where we are now. We all make our own futures, which quickly, too quickly, become our pasts.
Actually, (as a lawyer) yelling will lose you more cases than you will win. Lawyers have to be able to argue, that is, discuss the pros and cons of a case. It takes reasoning ability and a calmness of spirit and a love for justice. I'm sure you are good at a lot of things. You sound full of vim and vigor and enthusiasm. That's great!
Please write to me what you are doing, about what you like to study and whatever else you would like. I will try to be more prompt in answering you. These last few days were hectic for me.
Dear Jessica,
It's nice to meet you this way. I'm glad to hear that Mrs. —— is your teacher. She sounds great. I'm in good health, thank you for asking. I have three grown boys, but no grandchildren yet. We have an old dog that thinks he is our boss. We really like cats better, but our dog is too old and set in his ways to tolerate any cats.
My youngest son and his girl friend have four cats between them. I like being a retired physician. I don't have to attend emergencies and I can get all the rest I want. When I go to the hospital it is to get medicines.
I like your goals, they are very nice. If you change your mind as you get to look at different professions, that's OK. Whatever you decide, go for the best. A neo-natal nurse is a very good kind of person to be. I think I will be proud of you.
Thank you for writing to me. I will look forward to your reply.
Another….
Hello Daniel.
It was a pleasant time I had reading your letter to me. Thank you very much. Football and drawing are favorites of yours. I like football also. In fact, I did play football in high school and college. I was a fullback, but never got to handle the ball. In those days the fullback was like a guard or a tackle. All he did was block for guys who carried the ball.
As for drawing, I'm not very good. In fact I'm terrible. Freehand drawing, that is. What I do instead of drawing is use my computer to do graphics and illustrations.
As you work with computers during your school career I'll bet you'll love some of the creative things you can do with computer drawing programs. My favorite drawing software is called 'Arts & Letters'. It has a lot of pre-drawn illustrations. These are called 'clip art'. I can, for instance, call up an illustration of an airplane. Then I can do all sorts of interesting things to change how the airplane looks. It's a lot of fun.
As for collecting things, I like funky menus. The funkier the better. Last month I was in a place in Wyoming where the menu was printed inside an old newspaper. The newspaper had stories that actually were in newspapers from the late 1890s, when trappers and explorers were just pushing into Wyoming territory. I got so interested in reading all those stories the waitperson had to come by twice to get me to order. The menu was in the middle of the foldout old paper. So if you ever run across a funky menu, send it my way. Thank you for your thoughtfulness.
Thanks, and let's keep exchanging information. I enjoy hearing all about you, your school and your friends. And what you like and don't like. Turtles? Snakes? My goodness! I'll pass on both of those. I live in an apartment and no pets are allowed. But for several years, until he died, I had a cat, properly named BearCat. Bear hated to ride in the car. It was an annual battle of wills between Bear and me to get him his shots at the vet. I miss Bear. *** >From the teacher, addressed to all who wrote to her students
Dear friends,
My students have so enjoyed the exchanges we have had so far. I hope you will continue to write to us!
My students are afraid you will forget about them and asked me to remind you that we are here and we love your messages. If we owe you letters, please forgive us; we will remedy that as quickly as we can! If you 'owe' us letters, please write.
I leave you with this somewhat apt quote from LIVE AND LEARN AND PASS IT ON (a lovely little book given to me by a former student):
'I've learned that young people need old people's love, respect, and knowledge of life, and that old people need the love, respect and strength of young people.' (The writer was 85 years old.)
An elderly person wrote and asked, 'How do we get to write to children?'
To which the teacher replied:
Writing to the children is easy! Just jump right in and do it! They are really 'into' this now and will snap up your request. I would like to start having them each (29 of them) choose a particular friend here so I still need a larger pool of adult writers.
What others have done is simply write and post a brief letter telling about themselves, some idea where they live, their interests, anecdotal family history that children might relate to, work background, etc.
Thanks for your interest. We hope to hear from you soon!
Show-and-Tell Expert
An elder, whether he or she is a biological grandparent or not, can be an excellent show-and-tell for a youngster. If you haven't tried it, give it thought, the experience is one of the best antidotes for the 'blahs.' The experiences range from the hilarious to the poignant, and deserve being shared.
During a visit to my distant grandchildren they invited me to accompany them to school to tell a few stories. On the appointed day, waiting in line with my granddaughter to enter her classroom, she glanced around to see if I was still there. Seeing me, she waggled her thumb at me over her shoulder and loudly proclaimed for all to hear, 'That's my Grandpa. He's my show-and-tell today!'
Acknowledging students' stares and giggles with dignified bows to left and right, I trailed along into the classroom, was graciously received, told stories, responded to questions about how the stories came to be, and asked questions in return. I then repeated my performance in my grandson's class. Both sessions went well.
During the storytelling and the discussions that followed, the youngsters were fascinated: they were sharing their thoughts with someone who really wrote stories and, equally important, they were talking with an elder and a grandpa (grandpa-surrogate?) who had come to visit with them from beyond their everyday routines. I was reminded once more that grandparents were nearby for relatively few children, the reasons include circumstances as well as geography. For most, grandparents were distant, deceased, or unknown. *** Some time previously, a friend invited me to accompany him to a children's day care center in his city. He, along with several other elders, visited the center occasionally to interact with the youngsters. Conforming to the center's schedule, we arrived about half an hour before lunch. The children, about 25 three-to-four year olds, were still in the play yard. With permission from the play yard supervisor, we circulated from one group to another and participated in their activities where we could safely do so.
After a while, the attendant assembled the children to return indoors, and we followed. Inside, the youngsters and elders took seats in a circle, the elders spacing themselves about equidistant from each other. To my surprise, it was story time, and we elders were to be the storytellers.
The first storyteller told of a voyage she had taken as a child with her parents, and the second described a winter sleigh ride along a country lane. My friend, a retired aeronautical engineer, spoke of airplanes and spaceships and stars in the skies. Throughout, the youngsters concentrated on the speaker, asked questions, voiced opinions, and, in many ways expressed their wonder and interest. The adults were getting as much from the telling as the children.
I had been engrossed in observing the reaction of the children to the stories being told and I was unprepared for my part. Suddenly, it was my turn. What could I say that would have meaning to these young children? Searching my memory, I recalled that, when my children were young, I had often baked bread for our family. My story would be about baking braided bread, and I would pantomime the process and have all present join in.
The children, and the adults as well, quickly entered the spirit of the story. When, with elaborate motions, I drew forth baking pans and supplies from an imaginary cupboard and placed them on a phantom work table, they did. When I cracked pretend-eggs into an enormous bowl that wasn't really there, they did. Together, we vigorously mixed the invisible ingredients, dumped, floured, and kneaded the phantom mess, centered it on the ghostly table, and raised our arms grandly above our heads and touched fingertips high up to match the height to which our magic dough had risen. Solemnly, we pounded the non-existent lump flat, cut it into unseen chunks, and rolled each chunk into an invisible branch. Watching closely as I solemnly went about it, each child braided their three symbolic branches into their personal loaf, placed it in the shadow oven, and drew it out a moment later, sniffing the fragrance of freshly baked bread.
Faces reflecting their deep concentration, the children were involved. Elders and youngsters had shared an experience, and it had been good. Having worked up our appetites, we were also ready for lunch. *** I've told this story on several other occasions. Preparing for one telling, I rolled three packages of play dough of contrasting colors into eighteen- inch sticks, wrapped each in the clear plastic used for food storage, and secured the plastic with adhesive tape. At the proper moment in the telling, and in elaborate pantomime, I withdrew each colored length, one at a time, from a mysterious-looking case beside me. Youngsters crowded forward, eyes wide and riveted. I held each colored wrap aloft for all to see, and continued with the game. The contrasting colors made the braiding process clearly visible and more understandable. *** I was invited by the Resource Teacher of a local elementary school to participate in their Authors and Illustrators Invitational. Each appearance would be a one man or woman show: a visiting writer or artist and an audience of children. Arrangements fell into place and each of the five sessions I conducted found me in the school library, seated in an ancient wooden grandpa-style rocking chair, with twenty-five to thirty second- to fourth-graders spread out before me in a half circle with their listeners on and tuned in.
To each group I told a story or two, and encouraged questions about how my stories came to be. Planet Jupiter was the setting for one story (told here in another chapter), and I mentioned that the plot and characters had been created by working out details with my grandchildren. Discussing collaboration in writing a story got us into long distance interaction between grandkids and grandparents. With another, middle school group, I dragged out one of my book-length manuscripts and explained the why and how of manuscript preparation and independent publishing and what might happen if (the big IF) the manuscript was accepted by a trade publisher. Questions, lots of questions, no two sessions alike. *** During a visit to my distant grandchildren, then nine-year old Joshua invited me to read a story to his class of about fifteen students during the lunch period. I would have about half an hour, following which the class would break for the schoolyard. Most of the youngsters knew me, as I'd read or told stories to them during previous visits. I was greeted with 'Hi' smiles and hand waves.
The tables had been arranged in a U with me at the open end. Except for the few who hadn't seen me before, they knew I had difficulty hearing. As a reminder I pointed to my two hearing aids and asked the students to speak up when offering opinions or asking questions. This immediately brought comments from several that their grandmothers or grandfathers also wore hearing aids and they knew what was expected of them. To a few, my hearing device was something new. I removed the aid from my ear, opened the battery clip, and walked along the inside of the U to point out up close its major parts and their purpose, then demonstrated how the aid was installed and removed. I activated the acoustic feedback whistle by cupping the device in my palm and rendering a 'shave-and-a- haircut' whistle and this brought several laughs as well as questions. I was off to a good start.
Rather than read or tell a story, I moved on to talk about the United States programs for exploring space, plans for a permanent space station and, in time, a base on the Moon and unmanned and manned flights to Mars. We speculated about the origin of the planets in the light of their relative sizes and orbits along the solar plane. I sketched a rough diagram on the blackboard. The students reeled off the planets' names, and recalled what they knew about this or that planetary satellite. One youngster wanted to be certain that the class was aware that Pluto's orbit was unusual in that it cut across the solar plane inside Neptune's orbit and back out into interstellar space. They knew a lot about the solar system and were proud and pleased to share their knowledge. It was a 'high tech' discussion.
The last item on my agenda was to read several single-page stories, each closing with a dilemma confronting the lead character. The author's answers to the puzzles were included in the text, but before disclosing it I invited the class to suggest their own. They didn't hesitate, and supported their ideas with logic.
As in our previous sessions which, for some students, were as far back as preschool, they felt that they were exchanging views with an elderly adult who had arrived from outside, who wrote stories as well as being a storyteller, and someone who was grandpa to a fellow student. The half- hour passed much too soon.
Talks and readings I've attended over the years gave ample evidence of their value to speakers and listeners. Whether a show-and-tell visitor to a class presents a story, a memoir, an artifact, a skill, or an art form, almost all have something worth sharing with children. The problem is often in bringing the two distant age groups into each other's presence so that the dynamics of their interaction and mutuality can take place. Preparations, as well as the main event, add zest to the experience. A show-and-tell takes many forms, however they occur, one constant prevails: each youngster, while you and I are with him or her, is 'the grandchild.'
Introducing yourself to a distant grandchild as a teller of stories or of family, cultural, or other anecdotes, or as someone who cares about him or her, calls for some initial groundwork. For instance, does your grandchild know you or only of you?
With increased life expectancy and life experience, grandparents of this era have more to offer youngsters than ever before. As life expectancy increases, our children and grandchildren, in their turn, will have more to offer their succeeding generations.
Grandchildren need easy access to grandparents. Casting the elderly into physically remote and psychologically passive roles works against the interests of grandchildren and their parents, as well as their grandparents.
For grandparent-grandchild interaction to flourish, if it is to exist at all, grandparents, themselves, need to take initiatives to reach out. This could call for unusual assertiveness to open lines of communication where there are none, and at keeping them open for a two-way flow.
Don't Just Ride Off into the Sunset
Recalling that far more assertive and influential time in their lives, the elderly insist on their right to age gracefully, usefully, and so far as they possibly can, their way. Rather than merely riding off into the sunset, older adults choose to brighten the horizons of their minds and lives through continued involvement in family, schools, work place, and community. Most elderly reject the diminution of their abilities and interests, although as they age into the seventh and eighth decades they may be compelled to restrict their direct involvement somewhat. Their capabilities, reduced by time and the tides, are nevertheless firmly based on direct on-the-job experience in managing households, family affairs, and professional and technical careers. With such knowledge and experience the elderly will remain a vital resource.
(From Surviving The Future, by Arnold Toynbee, Oxford University Press, 1971) Man is a social being, and therefore, among all the objects for his love that there are in the universe and beyond it, he ought, I suppose, love his fellow human beings first and foremost. But he should also love all non-human living creatures, animals, and plants as well because they are all akin to man; they too are branches of the great tree of life. This tree has a common root; we do not know where the root comes from, but we do know that we all spring from it. Man should also love inanimate nature, because this, too, is part of the universe which is man's habitat.
(Our grandchildren) are not responsible for the existing state of the world. The reality is that the middle-aged generation (the parents of the rising generation) brought them into the world and is educating or miseducating them, or just ignoring their educational needs. If the middle-years or older generations are indignant at the rising generation, who is really at fault? Who shirked their responsibilities to their children and grandchildren? And with whom lies the initiative to resolve these inadequacies? In effect, it is up to the older generation to take the initiative to bring about reconciliation between itself and the generations that are to follow them.
Stories for three to five year old children are best told within their range of comprehension and imagination; stories that tell of things, activities and places to which the age group can readily relate. In fantasies, for example, I might animate familiar toys or modify characters from the youngster's favorite books and send them off on adventures that do not raise apprehension for the toy's or child's safety. Invariably, the stories close with the characters back in a secure and familiar setting.
Beyond the immediate pleasure of a grandma or grandpa story itself, the shared grandparent-grandchild experience transforms over time into recollections of enjoyable times in one's early childhood. The process helps to lay a foundation for a positive relationship between the generations and opens doors to future confidences and dialogues as the grandchild matures.
Stories from distant grandparents have a special aura. Young children remember the warm glow of family readings where Mom and Dad add their own versions of the story. ***
Grandpa Takes a Walk
Here's a simple letter-story that I mailed to my grandchild. Change it to one of your routine activities that you would like to share with Grandchild when next he or she visits. Add a bit of whimsy. When your story is read aloud to him or her at home, before the visit, it adds to the youngster's anticipation.
It is morning. I look out my window. The sun is shining. It's a good time to take a walk. I put on my sweater, leave the house and close the door behind me. Off I go on my walk, up one street and down another.
I come to a park. All about me are trees and shrubs and open fields. I start across the grass. A kite is high in the sky. The kite has red and white stripes, and looks like a bird with a wide tail.
'Who is flying this enormous kite?' I wonder.
I look about to see who is holding the string that stretches from the kite to the ground. What a surprise! It's a black and white spotted kitten. The kitten scampers back and forth with the kite's string gripped in its mouth.
After watching the kitten for a while, I go along on my walk. I reach the other side of the park and see a row of houses. One house has a window shade raised and a flowerpot on the windowsill. The pot has a plant with a single yellow flower growing straight up.
A boy and a girl are on the lawn in front of the house. The boy is pushing a wheelbarrow with a yellow shovel in it. The girl is holding a pink parasol, folded closed.
'What will you put in your wheelbarrow?' I ask the boy.
He lowers the wheelbarrow and points to a pile of sand in the driveway.
'I'm helping my Dad move that pile of sand to the back yard,' he says.'We're filling our sandbox.'
I turn to the girl.
'What will you do with your parasol?'
'When the sun is high,' she says, 'I will open my parasol. It will shade me.'
I nod, wave good-bye to the boy and girl, and continue walking. I come to a hill and climb to the top. In the sky is a small white cloud. In the distance is a rainbow.
I start for home. I pass the house with the boy and girl. The boy is pushing the wheelbarrow. It is filled with sand. He pushes it toward a walk leading to the back yard. His sister has her parasol open. It is shading her. She waves at me. I wave back.
The yellow flower on the windowsill makes the house look cheerful.
I come to the park. The black and white spotted kitten is still flying the kite. I stop to watch. It is a strange sight.
I keep walking. In a little while I am back home. I had a nice walk.
When you visit us, you and I will take a walk along those streets and across that same park. On the far side of the park we will look for the house with the flowerpot in the window, and for the boy and his wheelbarrow and the girl holding her parasol. We will climb the hill and look for a rainbow in the sky. If we are lucky, we might be surprised by a black and white spotted kitten-flying a kite.
Dooby and Katrinka Have an Idea
A popular story theme portrays friendly animals at play in a familiar setting. The story may be enhanced by the animals cooperating to overcome a problem to which the youngster can relate.
Dooby, the dog, has red fur, a droopy tail, and sad eyes. His friend, Katrinka, the cat, has striped gray and black fur, and a tail that usually sticks straight back with a little kink at the tip.
Sometimes, Katrinka makes her tail stiff and points it straight up like a telephone pole. That doesn't happen very often. Katrinka always has a cheerful smile.
Dooby wears a dog collar. Katrinka wears a ribbon around her neck. A tiny bell is attached to the ribbon. They live in a green house beside a road that disappears over a hill on one side and into a grove of trees on the other.
Dooby and Katrinka are great friends, and they love to play together. They chase a ball in the back yard, roll in the grass, or chase each other around tree trunks. Almost every day they sit side by side and watch the sun set. Dooby and Katrinka like to take walks and explore.
As we look in on Dooby and Katrinka this morning, we see Dooby dashing past Katrinka. Dooby barks as he runs, 'Katrinka, let's race along the road and have an adventure.'
That is all Katrinka needs to get her to tumble out of her comfortable bed, stretch along the carpet, and dash out of the house after Dooby.
Dooby is well on his way down the road. Katrinka runs fast and catches up. They race each other toward the hill, and then up one side and down the other.
They pass a shopping center and an office building, and are soon at a park with tall trees and wide playing fields. In they go.
Along one side of the park is a lake with rowboats, geese, ducks and swans. Dooby and Katrinka pay no attention to the rowboats, geese, ducks or swans.
They have something else in mind: the children's playground. There it is, up ahead. Along one side of the playground are a climbing maze, swings, and a seesaw. On the other is an large sandbox where children can play and build sandcastles. The sand can also be shaped into hills with roads winding along their sides, and long twisty rivers that run from one end of the sandbox to the other.
Dooby and Katrinka jump into the sandbox and chase each other from one end to the ether. They stop now and then to turn over pebbles and acorns with their noses or paws. They dig holes into which they push and bury the pebbles and the acorns.
Suddenly Katrinka stops playing and looks around.
'That's strange,' she says. 'Whenever we come to this park it's full of children. I usually see them with their mothers and fathers in rowboats on the lake, or along the shore feeding the ducks, geese and swans. I also see lots of children here on the swings and seesaws, or playing here in the sandbox. I don't see them now.'
Dooby stops digging, walks to the edge of the sandbox and looks around.
'You're right,' he says, and his tail droops.
A drop of water strikes Dooby on his nose. It goes splat. Dooby squints down his nose at the water trickling from its tip. His eyes widen with surprise. Another drop strikes him, this time on the top of his head. Still another, on his ear.
Three drops of water spatter Katrinka; two on her back and one on her tail. They both look up. The sky is full of gray, racing clouds. It's starting to rain.
'That's why there are no children here,' says Dooby. 'Their mothers are keeping them indoors because of this rain.'
Dooby and Katrinka continue their romping in the sandbox, but the sand is getting wet and harder to dig. They leave the sandbox and slip under a picnic table to get away from the rain. They shake the wet from their coats.
'Being caught in the park during a rain is a sort of adventure, I suppose,' says Katrinka, 'but I like to be where it's dry.'
They watch the rain falling. The raindrops are now larger and heavier.
'I'd like to start for home,' says Katrinka, 'but I don't want to get my fur coat any wetter.'
'I don't mind getting wet,' says Dooby.
He thinks about how to keep Katrinka dry on the way home.
'I know,' he says. 'Here's what we'll do.'
Dooby explains his idea to Katrinka. She chuckles. Dooby also chuckles. They look at each other and their chuckles change to laughter. They laugh and they laugh.
Dooby stands up. Katrinka, who is much smaller than Dooby, comes alongside and then slips in underneath him so that Dolby's body acts as an umbrella.
They walk all the way home, heads high, looking very proud and pleased with themselves.
It's still raining when they get home, but Katrinka didn't get more than a few drops of rain on her fur coat. She moves out of the way as Dooby shakes himself real hard, spraying water droplets in all directions.
Dooby and Katrinka have a late breakfast and head for their corners to take naps.
Circus Adventure
A favorite setting for a children's story is the circus, and following an alligator that sneaks about the grounds searching for an adventure offers the listener a sense of involvement.
The circus is in town. All the boys and girls and their mothers and fathers are excited by the posters and the circus parades along Main Street.
Abercrombie, the alligator, wants to visit the circus. The morning the circus opens, Abercrombie rises from his nest in the riverbank mud, climbs on to his bicycle, and sets off for town. He has lots of friends at the circus, and they like to have him visit with them.
Abercrombie also has a secret plan, but we won't talk about that yet.First we'll introduce a few of Abercrombie's friends.
One of Abercrombie's close friends at the circus is JoJo, the juggler.JoJo juggles three plates or, sometimes, three bottles.
Then there is Jingo, the jester, who struts along the circus Midway, looking important. He's OK, though.
Abercrombie also has friends among the clowns who do somersaults and fancy rolls, and play violins as they do their tricks. He knows the elephants that ride around the ring on huge, funny looking bicycles and the jugglers and clowns and elephants that enjoy making children laugh.
Finally, there is Bumble, the Bee. Bumble is the Circus Ringmaster. He buzzes from one place to another in the circus rink, telling people what to do and when to do it. He's bossy, but he's OK, too.
Let's return to Abercrombie. He has been planning his secret adventure for a long time.
We see him close to the circus tent with colored flags flying from the top. He sniffs the air and smells the popcorn, and he hears the booming of the drums and the blaring of the trumpets. Crowds of children and their parents are heading for the circus tents. Some of them stop to watch JoJo, the juggler and they laugh at JoJo jumping up and down, and twirling plates and bottles, catching them on their way up or down. It's lots of fun to watch.
Abercrombie walks up to JoJo and whispers in his ear. Then Abercrombie leaves JoJo; he's in a hurry to begin his adventure-his secret adventure.
Flattening down to the ground on his stumpy legs and arms, Abercrombie slithers into the big tent. All the boys and girls and their mothers and fathers and grandmas and grandpas fill the seats around the circular rink. They are concentrating on the clowns rolling and tumbling and standing on the heads and shoulders of other clowns. They are also watching the elephants ride their huge bicycles.
No one notices Abercrombie, and that is the way Abercrombie wants it.He doesn't want to be noticed until he is ready.
Carefully, Abercrombie works his way around a circus wagon, looking back over his shoulder to be sure he is not seen. Quickly, he climbs over a large red and white striped box, slips around a corner and, fast as an alligator can, he wiggles up, over the side and into an orange-colored barrel.
He waits inside the barrel. He peeks out through a bunghole in its side. He does not see or hear anyone close by, so he knows he has not been noticed. He grins, chuckles, and gleefully rubs his palms.
Abercrombie takes another peek through the peephole. The way is clear.Taking a deep breath, he tightens his muscles, and leaps out of the barrel.
Rearing up on to his hind legs, his heavy tail straight out behind him Abercrombie dashes into and across the circus rink. His stumpy arms wave furiously, and his head is high and wags from side to side for balance. His legs pump and pound so fast they look blurry, like bicycle spokes when the wheels turn fast.
Bumble, the Bee, Ringmaster of the circus, sees Abercrombie racing across the ring and the direction in which he is heading.
'Stop, stop,' he shouts.
Abercrombie pays no attention. He reaches a ladder attached to a red and white pole on the side of the center ring. The top of the pole is close to the tent's peak, and that's really high. A ladder is fastened to the pole all the way to the top.
Abercrombie wraps his stumpy arms around the pole and begins to climb the ladder. He climbs and he climbs. Finally, he is at the very top and stands on a tiny platform. Abercrombie leans out and twists his head to look at the crowd far below.
The crowd is silent. They stare up, watching Abercrombie high up on the tiny perch. Bumble, the Ringmaster, stands at the bottom of the pole and shakes his fist up at him.
Abercrombie's secret ambition is that ever since he first attending a circus he wanted to swing from a trapeze-a circus trapeze. The tiny platform to which he climbed has a trapeze fastened to its railing. The trapeze is now a few inches from where Abercrombie is standing.
No one can stop him now.
Abercrombie unties the trapeze, grasps the bar with both hands and takes a deep breath. He looks down at the crowd once more and gripping the trapeze tight, leaps from the platform. Away he G O E S!
Oh, what an adventure! What AN ADVENTURE! Back and forth, back and forth from one side of the huge tent to the other.
First, Abercrombie holds on with both hands, then he holds on with one hand and waves to the crowd below with the other. He twists and he turns, then holds to the bar with only his teeth and waggles both arms and stumpy hind legs. To cap that, he does somersaults and back flips, and then twists himself so that he catches the bar with his hands, his feet, and his teeth. Once, even with his tail!
The boys and the girls and the mothers and the fathers and the grandmas and the grandpas watch Abercrombie from far below. They shout and laugh and clap their hands. They're having a wonderful time, too.
Well, as you can imagine, after a while Abercrombie gets tired. It's time to rest. He takes a few more swings, does a somersault and a back flip, and catches the rail on the tiny platform where he started. He ties the trapeze back to the railing, and climbs down.
When he steps away from the ladder at the bottom, the crowd welcomes him with smiles, shouts, and clapping hands. Even Bumble, the Ringmaster, is happy to see him and they shake hands.
Abercrombie waves to the crowd and makes his way to where he left his bicycle. He heads for home.
Arriving home, he enjoys his supper and, as he is very tired, he puts on his red pajamas and slips into his nest on the riverbank.
As he closes his eyes he says, 'I sure had a fine adventure today.'
Dinosaur's Nest
The introduction to this next story is about an experience I had ten or so years ago at the Portland Museum of Science and Industry. My daughter was a volunteer at the museum at the time and, often, when I visited she invited me along to help at the museum too, which, of course, I did.
A popular exhibit at museums everywhere is one that displays models of the large reptiles that roamed the Earth millions of years ago. During one of my visits to my grandchildren in Portland, Oregon, the local museum had such an exhibit. There were so many different reptiles in the exhibit that, for my convenience in stories I hoped to write, I assigned each a popular and easily pronounced-and remembered-name. The names appear in this story: there was Albert the Apatosaurus, Pete the Pentaceratops, Palmer the Parasaurolophus, Sally the Stegosaurus, and Alice the Ankylosaurus. The exhibit also included a Petrushka the Pterodactyl and a Tallyrand the Tyranosaurus.
The museum's Albert the Apatosaurus had a baby daughter, Alexandra, and she slept in a doughnut-shaped nest after the museum closed for the night. As you can imagine, a doughnut-shaped nest, for even a toddler apatosaurus, is not the size of the bakery doughnuts with which you and I are familiar. Alexandra's doughnut-shaped nest was about ten feet across. The model had eighteen-inch diameter inflated tubes that enclosed a soft brown plastic floor.
When children touring the museum saw Alexandra's nest they rushed to climb the tube, jump down inside, and land hard on the soft plastic floor. With hundreds of jumping children each day, four or five at a time, the soft plastic soon scuffed and frequently needed repair. Alexandra didn't care to see her nest abused like that, and I felt sympathy for her. Fortunately, I was able to help; my job was to be the museum's official Fixer of the Apatosaurus Nest's Floor. My tools and supplies were a large roll of aluminum-colored adhesive tape, a tape measure and shears. Twice each day I inspected and repaired Alexandra's nest.
'Stand back for one moment, please.' I would say as I approached and identified myself to the jumpers. 'It is time to inspect the dinosaur's nest.'
The youngsters gathered round as I removed my shoes, stepped across the inflated tube into the nest, lowered to my knees, bent, and carefully inspected the nest's floor. With elaborate gestures I inspected all surfaces and seams, measured the damaged areas with my ruler, cut the proper length strip from my large roll of duct tape, and pressed it into place.
Children and mothers and fathers and grandparents came from nearby exhibits to observe the Apatosaurus Nest Floor Fixer at work. When the repairs were done I rose, stepped back over the side and out of the nest and waved to the jumpers, saying, 'OK, have at it!' And they did.
My grandchildren were proud to see grandpa at work repairing a baby Apatosaurus's nest so that it would remain a safe and comfortable place to sleep after the museum closed for the day.
Several times, as I made my way back from the nest to the shop in the basement below the museum I happened to glance up at Alexandra's dad, Albert. I think I saw him wink at me, as if to say, 'Thanks for fixing Alexandra's nest.' ***
Dinosaurs? Having a Birthday Party?
Albert, the Apatosaurus, lives with his mother and father in a huge forest at the edge of a swampy lake. Every morning, soon after the sun is up, Albert awakens, crawls out of his nest, and shakes himself to get the sleepy out of his eyes. Awake and stretched, Albert waddles down to the lake to munch the sweet grasses that grow along its shore. He has reached an age that he doesn't need to be constantly watched over by an older Apatosaurus.
This morning, when Albert awakens, he looks around to see if his friends, Pete, the Pentaceratops, Palmer, the Parasaurolophus, Sally, the Stegosaurus and Alice, the Ankylosaurus are also awake. They are, so Albert visits with them for a while. They chase each other around the trees of the forest, and then head for the lake to seek their breakfast.
At the lake, they nibble at the tall grasses that grow along the shore, or in the shallow water. Now and then, the leaves of a bush or a tree look appetizing and become part of breakfast.
Finished, Albert waves good-bye to his friends and heads off deeper into the forest. Albert likes to explore. He is also looking for another Apatosaurus like himself. He wants very much to find one about his age.
It's a cool and pleasant morning. Albert comes to a meadow, crosses to the trees on the other side and continues on. Finally, he arrives at a lake that is almost as long and as wide as the lake where he had breakfast.
The lake's shore is quiet and Albert looks about for a snack. He waddles into the water and lowers his long neck. He yanks up a mouthful of grasses and water plants and chews.
Suddenly, he hears a splashing sound behind him. Turning his head he sees another, smaller Apatosaurus. Albert quickly finishes chewing, swallows, and smiles.
'I'm Albert,' he says. 'What's your name?'
'Alexandra,' replies the smaller Apatosaurus. 'Where are you from,Albert?'
'I live near the lake on the other side of the forest.' Albert waves his long tail in the direction of his home. 'I was out exploring and came here to see if any neighbors moved in recently. I haven't seen you before. Are you new here?'
'Yes, I am,' Alexandra replies. 'My Mommy and Daddy and I just moved here and we think we'll stay. It's quiet in this forest, and the lake's shoreline has plenty of the food we like. I hope that we'll remain here for a long time.'
Albert tells Alexandra about Peter, Palmer, Alice and Sally. 'Oh, I want very much to meet them.' Alexandra is excited at the thought of making new friends.
'I'm sure they want to meet you, too.' Albert wiggles his tail as he speaks.'Do Apatosaurus children play coconut ball where you came from?'
'Sure do,' Alexandra says.
Albert stretches his long neck and plucks a large coconut from the top of a nearby palm tree. He flips the coconut over his shoulder and as is falls he bats it toward Alexandra with his tail.
Alexandra, who has studied ballet, is well balanced. She catches the ball easily in her mouth. Tossing it high with a graceful twist of her body she bats it with her tail in a high arc back to Albert. He dashes toward the coconut and, with a tail flip, returns it for another round.
Albert and Alexandra play with the coconut ball for a while. They stop for lunch along the shore, and then rest and chat.
When the day moves into afternoon, Albert says good-bye to Alexandra and promises to return soon. They are friends.
'My birthday is coming soon and my mother and father are giving me a party,' Alexandra says as Albert turns to leave. 'Will you come to my party and will you bring along Pete, Palmer, Alice and Sally?'
'Of course I'll come,' Albert says as he waves at her over his shoulder, 'and I'll tell my friends about you. I'm sure they'll want to come to your party.'
Albert heads for his home near the lake on the other side of the forest.
Alexandra rushes home. She tells her parents about Albert, and they're pleased that Alexandra has found a friend.
Alexandra has her supper and plays with her toys. Then, feeling tired, she climbs into the nest her father had just lined with fresh twigs and leaves, and is soon asleep.
When Albert arrives home he tells his friends about Alexandra. They are excited to hear that another dinosaur family has moved into their neighborhood, and that a birthday party was coming soon.
Of course they accept Alexandra's invitation.
On the day of the party Albert, Pete, Palmer, Sally and Alice race each other to Alexandra's home on the far side of the forest.
Colored streamers, bunting, balloons and 'Happy Birthday' signs stretch between trees. Cookies and candies for Alexandra's friends are in dishes on tables and gifts are stacked everywhere.
Children from different reptile families play games among the trees, sing songs, and swing on an enormous rubber tire hanging from a tree branch. Near the tables, other reptile children laugh and eat cookies, candies and ice cream, and drink sodas or milk.
Albert invites Alexandra to meet his friends. Alexandra's father snaps their picture with his camera. The camera is the kind that makes instant pictures, so he passes them to the guests as soon as they are dry.
'These are very interesting pictures,' says Albert. 'Please take some more and let us have them to show to our parents?'
'Of course,' says Alexandra's Daddy. He takes many snapshots ofAlbert and the others and gives a few to each to take home.
After the children have played for a while Alexandra's mother slaps her long tail on the ground to get their attention.
'Let's all gather around at the table,' she calls to the children.
As everyone moves toward the table Alexandra's father carries out a huge, three-layered chocolate cake with whipped cream all over the top and sides. The cake has four candles on it for Alexandra's fourth birthday.
When the cake is on the table Alexandra stretches her neck forward slightly, takes a deep breath, and with a single whoosh blows out all four candles.
Everyone shouts 'Happy Birthday, Alexandra!' and they waddle-dance around the table. Alexandra is very happy. Her daddy plays on his fiddle.
It's time for Alexandra to open the many gifts that her friends and parents piled on the table.
Alexandra unwraps a special Apatosaurus doll that goes 'beep' when she squeezes it, a dinosaur doll's nest lined with tiny leaves and twigs, and a blackboard on a tripod with different colored chalk sticks. There are many other gifts, too. Alexandra holds her gifts up so that everyone can see them. Then, with a big smile, she hugs her mother and father and thanks her guests for their gifts and for coming to her party.
All too soon, the party is over. Time to start for home. The children wave good-bye to Alexandra as they leave. Sally and Alice hug Alexandra.
'We must see each other again,' says Alexandra.
'Yes, real soon,' says Sally.
Sally and Alice nod.
Albert is sorry the party is over. He waits until the very end, when all the others have left.
'Thank you for inviting us,' he says to Alexandra. 'I'll come again soon and we'll play coconut ball. Would you like that?'
'Oh, yes,' she replies. 'I'd like that very much.'
With a wave of his tail Albert turns toward home. He catches up to Pete and Palmer, who are waiting for him. They all run ahead and, with Sally and Alice, reach their side of the forest by late afternoon. They wave good-bye to each other as they separate to go to their family nests.
When Albert reaches his nest he tells his mother and father about the good time he had at Alexandra's Birthday Party. He shows them the pictures Alexandra's Daddy gave him.
Then Albert moves to his part of the nest, curls his tail around to cover his toes, and falls asleep.
The sun sinks behind a low hill and night settles on the forest.
Leah and the Family Meeting
In their early years, many children create a relationship to an imaginary friends with whom they play. Without getting into child psychology, these friends are often partners in adventures as well as conversations. Think back to when your children, now parents, were very young and romped in the back yard with their personal frontiersman, pardner or 'friend' who was steadfast and always alongside. They climbed trees together, sat side by side in the swing, or shifted the furniture about in the dollhouse.
Inevitably, the time arrived to replace a companion of imagination with the reality of growing up. The 'friends' or 'pardners' become memories, but do not fade away entirely?
This story reflects reminiscence by an older person and, in that respect, it serves as a model through which to welcome back pleasant memories from childhood. The memories may be expanded and transformed into a story to share with grandchildren. The grandchildren, in their turn, might take it along with them into adulthood and share it with their progeny.
***
All the woodchucks in Woodchuckaton crawled deep into their burrows. The chipmunks crept under piles of chips. Even the beavers, over on the other side of town in Beaverton, stayed home.
It was raining. It had been raining all day, and here it was now, late afternoon. It was time for the rain to move along somewhere else.
Leah rested her elbows on the sill of the big picture window and cupped her face in her hands. Shifting about on the big red cushion, she stared out through the misty pane. Sheets of water billowed along the street, one following close behind the other like a parade.
Leah heard her mother humming in the kitchen preparing the evening meal. The evening meal was special. Daddy left home for work early each day, before anyone else was awake. The evening meal was when they all came together for the first time each day as a family.
Mother hummed or sang often as she went about the house. Leah loved to listen, and, staring out the window, she sang the words. Their voices blended and finished the song together.
The sounds of pots and pans and mixers also meant that Daddy would be arriving soon. When Daddy showed up, David would wake from his afternoon nap, and then Daddy, David, and she would play, roll about on the rug, and talk until it was time for her to help Mother set the table.
Meanwhile, Leah was restless. She felt her left foot falling asleep so she left the window and jumped up and down to get rid of the tingling pins and needles. The tingling gone, she ran to the patio screen door in the dining room and peered into the back yard. She knew it would be raining there too, but at least the scenery was different.
There was another reason.
Twisting so that she could see into the far right corner of the yard, Leah imagined the little house under the oak tree where Sarah had her stall. Sarah was her personal flying unicorn. Leah waved and, in her mind, Sarah answered by tossing her mane and scraping at the ground with a front hoof. It was time for another pretend adventure.
Sarah poked her white horn through the doorway of her little house and shook her head from side to side. When Sarah-a flying unicorn- waggled her long white horn like that, it carried only one message: Sarah wanted to fly. Leah sat on the floor, next to the doorway, and missed being with Sarah.
Leah glanced up at the sky again. The rain had changed to a fine misty drizzle and the clouds to light gray with patches of blue peeping through. A shaft of sunlight cut through the clouds and the patches of blue widened.
Suddenly, the rain stopped. Off in the distance a rainbow formed an arch across the sky. Leah dashed to the kitchen. 'Mommy, mommy,' she said excitedly, tugging at her mother's apron. 'The rain is over. Sarah wants to play and so do I. May I go out to play with her?'
Mother knew, of course, that when Leah and her pretend friend, Sarah, played together, Sarah would often nuzzle Leah. That would be Sarah's invitation to Leah to climb up on to her back and twist her hands into Sarah's white mane. Once that happened, Mother was certain, Sarah would spread her feathered wings and, in Leah's imagination, they would leap to the skies.
Smiling to herself, Mother looked out through the kitchen window at the sky. The clouds were breaking up, but the grass was still wet, the ground soggy, and the trees dripped.
'Daddy will be home soon, Leah,' she said, 'and he'll be looking for big hugs from David and you. Then we'll need to prepare the table for dinner. I'll need your help. You know you have a job to do, don't you?'
'Oh, yes.' Leah's curls bounced as she nodded. 'But I won't be long. Sarah and I have been cooped up all day. The rain has stopped. I want to skip and jump.'
'… and fly.' Mother's eyes twinkled as she stooped, laughed, and smoothed Leah's ruffled hair.
'Well, maybe.' Leah grinned as she hugged her mother.
'I suppose you and Sarah do need some fresh air,' Mother sighed as she rose and looked out the window again. 'Wear your rain boots and red raincoat, and don't go beyond Daniel's back yard, next door. When Daddy comes home he'll call you in.'
Leah rushed to the hall closet and rummaged about among the shoes and boxes on the floor. In the far corner, a round red boot toe stuck out from under a large paper bag. That was one found. Pulling it out, Leah searched nearby for the other. There it was, behind the umbrella. Waving them high, she jump-skipped to the big cushion beneath the picture window, sat, and pulled them on. Mother came in with the red raincoat and helped Leah into it.
Ready.
Dashing to the back yard doorway, Leah jumped the short step to the patio.
'Sarah, Sarah,' she shouted, 'come on. Let's go.'
That was all Sarah needed. She came frisking and prancing out of her little house, raising first one hoof and then the other as she came close. She nuzzled Leah's shoulder, and then unfolded and stretched her wings so they would be out of the way for climbing aboard. That was the invitation Leah was waiting for.
Taking a tight hold on Sarah's mane, Leah swung her leg across the unicorn's back and she was on. Twisting both her hands into the long silky hair Leah pulled herself forward until she was well out of the way of Sarah's wings.
'All set,' Leah shouted. 'Away we go!'
Sarah trotted to the far end of the yard until she was close to the fence. She faced about and began to run, faster and faster. Suddenly her wings spread wide and with a leap they were in the air.
Up. Up. They spiraled around the old oak tree, rising higher with each loop. From far out, they dipped into a long glide and swooped down under the tree's branches, around and around the swing that grandpa had made for David and her, and up and around again. They flew along the top of the back fence, lifted, and cut across the roof of their house from one end to the other. Twisting about, Sarah hovered above the front yard.
Along the horizon, Leah saw the city of Portland hidden in rain curtains and mists.
Leaning forward, Leah spoke into Sarah's ear. 'Let's fly over to Daniel's back yard and see if he and Herbie the Lion are at home.'
Sarah snorted her understanding. She could talk, but did that only when it was absolutely necessary. She had a soft gentle snort and would rather speak her thoughts that way. It was a lot simpler, and Leah understood.
Curving around toward Daniel's yard, Sarah cleared the top of the fence, swooped, and held steady just above Herbie the Lion's house.
'Herbie,' Leah called out. 'It's Sarah and Leah. We're just flying by today and stopped to say 'hi' to Daniel and you. Come on out.'
Herbie the Lion stuck his shaggy head out of his house, blinked, and opened his jaws in an enormous drowsy yawn. Looking up, he grinned and said, 'Hi, there. Where are you off to?'
'Oh,' replied Leah, 'we're keeping close to home today. Rain, y'know. Also, Daddy will be home soon and I want to be with David to welcome him and roll on the rug and talk. I'll also be helping my mother get ready for dinner.'
'Quite right. Quite right,' Herbie said, shaking his head wisely, 'that is as it should be.'
'Where's Daniel?' Leah asked.
'Daniel and his mother are at the library,' Herbie answered. 'Daniel's books were due to be returned today.'
'I see. Well, Herbie, we must be off. Please tell Daniel we stopped by to say 'hi' and that we'll see him another time.'
'Will do.' Herbie the Lion yawned again and pulled his shaggy head back in.
Sarah's wings fluttered and they rose higher and higher. A moment later they were looking down on Daniel and Leah's homes and all the other houses on their street. Leah saw the glowing signs of the shopping center a few blocks away. The mists and rain curtains still hid the tall buildings of Portland in the distance.
Looking toward the end of their street Leah saw Daddy's car turn the corner.
'Daddy's home. Daddy's home,' Leah shouted. 'Time to head back,Sarah.'
Sarah snorted and dipped into her landing approach. Circling, she lost altitude each time around. Finally, coming in over the fence, Sarah arranged her wings for landing and bent her legs slightly to soften contact with the ground. Leah tightened her grip.
Close to the soft earth near the patio, Sarah's wings beat the air. She hovered for an instant, then lowered until all four hooves touched down. A four-point landing. The flight was over.
Leah slipped off Sarah's smooth back, wrapped her arms around her neck and gave her a tight hug. Sarah's hoof scraped the ground and she gave another of her soft, gentle snorts.
Daddy stuck his head out through the patio doorway.
'Hi, there,' he laughed, 'what's happening.'
'Out and about, Dad, been flying, don'tcha know?' Leah answered.'Sarah and I just got in from a short flight around the yard and over toDaniel's place.'
'I see,' Daddy said. 'Well, I'm pleased you made it back in time for our before-dinner get-together. David is up. Come on in and we'll roll on the rug and talk for a minute before you help set the table.'
Daddy smiled down at her.
'Leah,' he said. 'Your mother, you and I are also going to have a talk this evening. A meeting; very important. Coming in?'
'Yup, Daddy, just about ready.'
She turned back to Sarah and gently pretend-stroked the unicorn's nose. Turning away, she crossed the patio and stopped at the short step to the dining room. Daddy opened the screen door and bent down. Leah wrapped her arms around his neck. Daddy rose, lifting Leah as he did, and caught her rain boots as they slipped from her feet. He stood them up outside, beside the doorway, to dry. Hugging each other, Daddy and Leah turned back into the house.
Leah hesitated, and glanced back. In her imagination, she saw Sarah fold her wings gracefully along her sides, lower her head and nibble at the soft, green grass. It was also time for Sarah's dinner. *** With dinner behind them, Leah joined Mother in clearing the table. Nesting one plate into another and picking up a few utensils she carried them to the kitchen counter near the dishwasher.
Daddy rose from his chair, went into the kitchen, and dampened a cloth.On his way back to the dining room he winked at Leah as they passed.Leah turned to watch.
Daddy tiptoed behind David's high chair. David, finished with his eating, busily rolled leftover peas round and round his food dish. Without warning, Daddy quickly reached around and with the damp cloth wiped breadcrumbs, mashed peas and potatoes, and smears of chocolate pudding from David's face and from behind his ears.
David howled and twisted away, but Daddy was ready for him. A moment later, his face and hands cleared of food-well, as much as could be expected with only a damp cloth-Daddy hoisted David from his chair and lowered him to the floor.
Looking back over his shoulder as he scampered on hands and knees into the living room, David tangled with a fire engine. He rolled over on his back, looked up at Daddy, and laughed. The laugh stopped Daddy from rushing forward; the tangle had not been hurtful.
Daddy stooped and pushed the fire engine toward David, then joined him on the floor. They put their heads together, and as their hands touched and explored the fire engine they explained to each other how the different parts worked.
Leah, drawn from her work by the sounds of David's tumble, peered into the living room. Seeing all was well, she smiled, and carried another armful of dishes and tableware to the kitchen counter.
'Looks like our men are busy,' she said.
Mother nodded as she spooned leftovers into containers for the refrigerator.
'It's always good to relax after dinner,' she said. 'When we're done here, we'll join them. Then, in a little while, I'll bathe David and put him down. You will take your bath, and then you, Daddy and I will have our meeting.'
'Daddy did say something about a meeting when I came in from the yard,' Leah said. 'What's up?'
'Let's just wait and see,' Mother smiled mysteriously as they loaded the dishwasher. *** Finished with her work, Leah skipped along the hallway that connected her room to the living room. Little brother was down for the night. Leah, bathed, hair washed, blow-dried and brushed, was squeaky clean in her red nightgown.
She squeezed a space for herself on the couch between Mother and Daddy and they eased aside to make room. Daddy put his newspaper aside and Mother placed a card in her book to mark her place.
Glancing up at one, then the other, Leah put on her serious business face.
'Meeting time?'
'Meeting time,' Daddy said.
'What's the problem?' Leah folded her arms across her chest, straightened her legs, and fixed her eyes on the opposite wall to help her concentration.
Family meetings were important. The meetings were still only for the three of them. When David was old enough to share in the family responsibilities, he would join the meetings.
'It's not really a problem,' Daddy said, 'but we're going to have a change in the way we live.'
'A change?' Leah frowned. 'Everything is going fine. I'm satisfied with the way we're living now. Why change?'
Leah turned to stare at Daddy, then shifted about to look at Mother, who smiled at her. Daddy put his arms around Leah and pulled her close. Mother reached over and straightened a wisp of her hair.
'Leah,' Daddy said, 'you may be a child, but you're no longer a baby. You're growing up. Before long, you'll be a young woman. Young women and young men need to learn about the world in which they live. Mothers and fathers, and grandmas and grandpas teach children much about the world and about what is right and what is wrong. That's fine, but knowledge about the world around you also can be given to you from somewhere else. Do you know of another place where a youngster learns about the world?'
'School?' Leah's voice rose.
'School.' Daddy nodded slowly.
'School.' Mother's soft voice repeated.
'I'm going to go to school?' Leah wriggled from Daddy's embrace, slid off the couch, and hop-skipped to the middle of the living room. Whirling to face her grinning parents, Leah bounced with excitement.
Daddy motioned Leah back to her place on the couch.
'Our meeting is not finished,' he said. 'We have more to talk about.'
Leah immediately stopped her bouncing. Meetings, she knew, were not to be interrupted by rude behavior. Climbing back onto the couch, she leaned back, folded her legs under her, and folded her arms again. Only now her eyes were sparkling with excitement. Pressing her lips together tightly, she forced the no-nonsense business look back to her face.
'OK,' she said, I'm listening.'
'We'll tell you what to expect, Leah,' Mother said, 'and, afterward, you may ask questions.'
Leah nodded.
'Not far from where we live here in Woodchuckaton,' Mother began, 'is the city of Portland.'
'Right,' Leah cut in. 'We've been to the city lots of times on shopping trips and for sightseeing and for visiting parks and….'
'Leah,' Mother put her hand on Leah's arm. 'Concentrate on what we say. OK?'
Leah looked sideways at her mother and her eyes twinkled. 'You mean no more interruptions. Right?'
'Right.'
'OK, I'm switched to my listener.'
'In Portland, and in all the cities and towns around it, are schools where children go to learn about the world. You're going to be a student in one of those schools. You will attend every day except weekends and holidays. Is that clear to you?'