“Class, I would like you to meet Kenta.” Illustrator Gordon Su, 13, for “Conrad and Fate” by Nate Sheehan, 12. Published January/February 2015. A note from William Welcome back to school! If you are like my daughter, then you’ve just finished one of those incredibly long (and yet at the same time incredibly short) summer vacations. At the start, it seems you’ve got ages—and what a relief to not have school! By the end, it flew by, but even so school can’t start soon enough. Everyone here at Stone Soup wishes all of you a fabulous, successful, and creative school year. We are looking forward to seeing your creative work in the 2019/20 terms. The September issue was shipped this week, so subscribers to the print edition will be receiving it soon. (The digital version will be online on the first of the month, as usual.) If you want Stone Soup delivered to your door, then you have to subscribe, and there is no better time to do so than now, at the start of school. William’s weekend projects Art I’m really impressed with Gordon Su’s illustration, “Class, I would like you to meet Kenta.” What impresses me are the many gestures. It is clear that everyone isn’t exactly paying attention to the teacher. One boy is looking over at his friends, one of whom has his back to the teacher. Like a snapshot taken with a camera, the artist has captured a moment in time. For this project, make a drawing from memory of some place at school—a classroom, the cafeteria, the library—in which there are several people doing different things, looking in different directions, and carrying on different conversations. Or, make a drawing of family or friends at your house or in your yard who are at the same time together as a group, and doing individual things within the group. Writing The story “Conrad and Fate” is about prejudice based on a student’s ethnicity. This story, set in the late 1950s (when I was in elementary school) is about prejudice against Japanese people, something that was very strong in in the United States during and some time after World War II, which ended in 1945. Perhaps some of you have had personal experiences of prejudice of these kinds—I have. It has been 55 years since I was in middle school and bent down to pick a penny up off the concrete in front of a classroom only to discover it was glued down and that I was surrounded by a group of boys shouting “Jew!” and laughing. This memory is fresh, like it happened yesterday. This week, I want you to write a story from the viewpoint of a person who is thought of as “other,” like the Japanese boy in the story included in today’s newsletter. What does it feel like to be mocked, teased, excluded, or worse because you are not seen as a person by other students? This is a story, so show us what it feels like. Visit our website to read and follow the whole activity. As always, when you complete your story or any art you are happy with, send what you create to Stone Soup’s editor, Emma Wood, via our Submittable links. Until next time, Contest, partnership, and project news This week we are excited to tell you that the winning stories and the dramatized readings of the winners of our Podcast contest have been published! You can read all of the winning and placed stories on the blog, and hear winner Olivia Park’s “No Longer Blue” and Sabrina Guo’s honorable mention “Lilith’s Quest” in dramatized form by following the links in the blog section below, as well as on the contest winners’ announcement page. Thank you to our friends at By Kids, for Kids Story Time Podcast for this fun collaboration and their amazing work. It’s exciting to hear our writers’ stories in dramatic form. It gives them a whole new dimension. Have a listen and tell us what you think! In other contest news, our summer book-writing contest is now closed for entries, and the judging has begun! Congratulations to everyone who finished something to enter into this contest. It’s a real achievement to have written a long-form piece, and we cannot wait to read what you’ve written and announce the winners in late September. Finally—we always like to challenge you with a contest, and we will be publishing all the details of our next contest in early September. Watch this space! Highlights from the past week online Don’t miss the latest content from our Book Reviewers and Young Bloggers at Stonesoup.com! As mentioned above, this week we published the winners of our Climate Change Stories podcast contest on the blog. Olivia’s “No Longer Blue” won first place in the contest and examines the potential for people to exploit climate change for their own gain. Claire’s “The Dreamer” imagines a dystopian future in which climate change has changed all aspects of life on Earth. “A Splash of Water,” by Tara, tells the story of a girl accompanying her father on a climate change research trip. Gemma’s story, “Back in the Days,” also takes an interesting perspective, incorporating time travel. Sabrina’s story, “Lilith’s Quest,” explores climate change from the point of view of animals. Check out all the incredible winning stories on the blog, and leave a comment to let us know what you think. From Stone Soup January/February 2015 Conrad and Fate By Nate Sheehan, 12 Illustrated by Gordon Su, 13 PROLOGUE I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to move to America on July 17, 1956. My life was perfect in Japan. I had good friends. I had finally made the baseball team. Everything was perfect, but then I had to move to the US. The same country that fought a war against Japan. The same country where everybody who looks Japanese is an enemy. Learn a new language. Make new friends. So, basically I had to start over when everything had been perfect. “Perfect” was the only word going through
Stone Soup Magazine for young readers, writers, and artists
Writing Activity: challenging prejudice and developing empathy through storytelling
The story by 11-year-old Nate Sheehan, “Conrad and Fate” is about prejudice based on a student’s ethnicity. This story, set in the late 1950s is about prejudice against Japanese people, something that was very strong in in the United States during and some time after World War II, which ended in 1945. If you follow the news at all, then you know that today (in 2019) there is a big rise in prejudice in the United States and in other parts of the world. People trying to come to the United States for a safer and better life are being stopped at the Mexican border. People who get caught sneaking through are being put in prison. This includes children. Adults and children are being treated badly. And in our schools, and on our streets, there is increasing intolerance for people born in other countries, or whose parents were born in other countries, especially if their skin tone is not “white.” And also an increase in prejudice against people who are not Christians. It is very easy to write an essay that talks about why prejudice against others is bad. But essays rarely convince people. Fiction can be a more effective way of arguing for things you believe in. Empathy, the ability to share and imagine the feelings of others is one of the most powerful human emotions. Empathy is what makes it possible for a writer to create convincing fictional characters. Your job as an author highlighting how it feels to be discriminated against is to make your readers identify with the character so that they can imagine what it would be like for this to happen to them. The activity In this writing activity we want you to write a story from the viewpoint of a person who is thought of as “other,” like the Japanese boy in the story “Conrad and Fate” published in the January/February 2015 issue of Stone Soup. Write about what it feels like to have to fight for acceptance because of something you have no control over–your religion, where you were born, or where your parents were born, or because of the color of your skin. Perhaps you have had personal experiences of prejudice of these kinds–I have. It has been fifty-five years since I was in middle school and bent down to pick a penny up off the concrete in front of a classroom only to discover it was glued down, and that I was surrounded by a group of boys shouting “Jew!” and laughing. This memory is fresh, like it happened yesterday. Think about your own experiences and the feelings you had at the time, and try to imagine them happening to someone else. What does it feel like to be mocked, teased, excluded, or worse, because you are not seen as a person by other students? This is a story, so show us what it feels like.
Climate Change stories from our 2019 Podcast Contest: “No Longer Blue,” by Olivia Park, 12
https://soundcloud.com/user-28081890/no-longer-blue/s-3Ks0r I walked back and forth in my room, looking out at skies that were no longer blue. The television droned on. “Oxygen levels are steadily decreasing, and oxygen costs are higher than ever. On to today’s weather, in New Delhi, 679 micrograms of PM 2.5 and high temperatures of . . .” I laughed, the sound becoming louder and louder, and I knew I had to stop. I couldn’t. I rolled around on the cold blankets. I could become rich. All I had to do was tell the people that oxygen was running out. Raise the prices. The world would believe that I was diligently handing out oxygen to the poor people of India. Everyone was overreacting, talking about how people needed more oxygen, blah blah blah, but I didn’t believe them How bad could conditions be? I laughed and laughed, until my throat was hoarse, and then laughed some more. I jumped on my bed, onto my couch, trying to touch the ceiling. Someone pounded on the door and yelled, “Stop screaming!” I looked up and sighed. No one could stop me. I skipped outside and yelled at the buildings, “Take THAT!” I stretched luxuriously, and walked up to my car. I drove to my factories in my family mountain, where we produced oxygen. I got out of my car to remove the heavy metal fences that were filled with stickers like “Private Property” or “No Trespassing.” I stopped by the factory to get a bottle of water. One of the only clean places in India, Mt. Kodachadri was perfect for hiking. I payed no attention to the road as I walked, watching concerts of my favorite artist. A few minutes later, I was hopelessly lost. It was dark and foggy, and I thought I could hear a tiger in the distance. I shivered. It was getting colder by the minute. My battery was running out, and I kept tripping over roots. I kept walking for who knows how long, faulting my neighbor. Stupid neighbor. If she hadn’t yelled at me, I wouldn’t have had to walk around my mountain. I wouldn’t be here, lost and hungry and cold. Worse, it started to rain. Soaked to the bones, I walked and walked until I stumbled upon a small tent. A small fire remained near the foot of the tent. There was light inside. The whole mountain was surrounded by signs; it was impossible not to run into one, especially this deep inside, not that I knew where I was, but I just had this feeling I was near the heart of the mountain. Anyhow, it was their fault for trespassing. I unzipped the entrance and crawled in. A man, maybe in his mid-forties, looked up, surprised to see someone crawl into his tent. In his lap was a 4-ish looking little girl, with her dark hair in a braid. The girl was tiny, and had sallow, sunken skin. Her lips were tinged blue, and her big eyes stared at me. An intruder. She lifted her head, and as soon as she did, she started coughing. It was a while before she stopped, and even then, she was wheezing, She hugged her little teddy bear tight and coughed, as if it was her lifeline. I stared at her, a small lump forming in the pit of my stomach. “Natasha has asthma. It’s a result of the pollution.” I looked up. I had forgotten he was there. I cleared my throat. “This is private property.” He nodded, and said, “I only stay here for a day. Once a month.” As if that made up for trespassing. He pointed his chin to his daughter. “She. . . has trouble breathing in the city. But both my wife and my work are there, so. . .” Thunder tumbled, and I flinched. “Would you like Bee-Bee?” She caught me cringing, and offered her tattered old teddy bear, its once-polished eyes dulled from all the times she had rubbed it. I slowly took it from her. Our hands touched, and she smiled at me, eyes sparkling. And then she started coughing. She hacked. She coughed. Her lips took a shallow blue hue, and I thought I could see blood on the edges. Her father put a cloth to her mouth, and patted her on the back. I could only look on, horrified, as red blossomed onto the white cloth. The stone became heavier. It dropped lower into my stomach, and I realized what the dirty feeling was: guilt. Why was I feeling guilty? I held the teddy bear, thinking. Strangely enough, I didn’t feel the need to chase these strangers away. I sat thinking for some more. Soon, I stood and left without a word. Now, three years later. I am walking around, looking at the kids covered in dirt. I help a child struggling to depot a sapling. Brushing dirt off my shorts, I walk into the building. Avoiding various tents, I check the oxygen income, and straighten the sign that reads: “Free to Those in Need.” Glancing at the capsules full of oxygen, and within them, children, I smile. I breathe deeply, a feeling of accomplishment creeping through me. I open my eyes, only to see a blur of pink running towards me. Natasha flies up into my arms. Her eyes sparkle even more than the first time I met her, and she looks healthier than ever. Her cheeks are rosy, and her face is no longer blue. Sources: New York Times: Choking in New Delhi https://www.vox.com/energy-and-environment/2018/11/8/18075340/delhi-pollution-diwali-india
