Introduction to this Stone Soup Writing Activity Ogechi’s story, The Baron, the Unicorn, and the Boy, is about an ordinary boy, Albert, and how he is rescued from the boredom of a school outing by a dream-like adventure in a fairy-tale past. Ogechi’s writing is clear and forceful. Like all good fairy tales, her story can be read as a pleasant tale. The familiar elements — the kind, bewitched king, the lovely unicorn, the powerful ruby, and the arrogant baron — are like familiar friends or favorite foods that make for a satisfying few minutes’ entertainment. Also, though, like all good fairy tales, Ogechi’s story can be read on a deeper level. Albert was lost in a museum. But at some point in most people’s lives they feel themselves to be lost and without purpose. At those times it is natural to dream of adventure and radical change. This is the spirit behind the fantasy of daydreams. Rarely, but it does happen, adventure reaches into our ordinary lives as it reached into Albert’s. By some amazing chance we win a game when usually we are a terrible athlete. Or there is a hurricane or some other natural disaster and suddenly there is lots to do and we do it. Albert woke up from his adventure to find a necklace around his neck. Others wake up to find a trophy on their bedroom shelf or read about themselves in the morning paper. Did I really do that? Most of us are like Albert. The adventure suddenly appears in our life and when it is over we have little more than a memory and a souvenir. Project: Write a Story in Which an Ordinary Person Is Suddenly Involved in an Adventure and/or Fiction Becomes Real Whether your adventure is grounded in reality, like a sporting event or a natural disaster, or whether it is a fantasy, like Ogechi’s story, try to create a believable world. Ogechi’s treatment of the unicorn provides a model for how to make a fictional creature seem real. Notice that, in addition to mere physical descriptions, Ogechi show us the unicorn as a living, thinking creature. She does this by showing us how the unicorn and Albert communicate with each other. When writing your story, always remember that if you can show how living things relate to each other, through words, gesture, or even by some mystical tie, your imaginary world will seem real. The Baron, the Unicorn, and the Boy By Ogechi Cynthia Njoku Illustrated by Andrew Ujifusa Albert gazed listlessly at everything before him. Statues and tombs stood around him, both of great and delicate antiquity. People shuffled noiselessly past him, admiring the artifacts set before them. As you can imagine, Albert was at the museum. This was one of the numerous outings he’d been obliged to take part in during the school year. Thus, he was spending hours in the detested place. “Can we leave now?” he asked. His voice hung in the heavy silence, and, receiving no answer, he looked up to find himself alone. Panicking, he ran to the exit,thinking that his class had perhaps gone or moved on to another interesting display, but, instead of facing the usual glass panels, he found himself facing an old door. It was so gray with dust and veiled with cobwebs that Albert could hardly see it. Curiosity, with a thread of fear accompanying it, forced him to open it. He stepped over the threshold. The room was covered with layers of dust with an open grime-covered window showing glimpses of a barren and desolate land. The room was empty except for a large figure at one corner. Albert shivered and took a few steps backward. Just then something stirred and some dust brushed off the figure’s face. Its eyes blinked open and stared at Albert. He turned with his heart in his throat, his sole intention to run out of the place, when the voice arrested him. “At last you are here. I have waited for a long time.” Albert turned slowly and stared at the man, for man he was! While he was busy brushing himself off, Albert diligently studied him. He was young with stalwart features. His face was kind but with a hint of sadness and suffering hovering around it. His clothes suggested long ago prosperity but were now in rags. His limpid eyes lifted to meet Albert’s and he smiled. “I am Raymond Fitzgerald,” he said. “I am a king but have not seen much of that aristocratic world. At an early age, I lost my father and mother in tragic circumstances, indeed, there was a lot of mystery surrounding their death. I was made king, and, as young as I was, I was made to do a number of duties. In one of them, I was visiting a nearby kingdom. I took with me enough sustenance to last a month, my unicorn, and the baron. I once trusted. My unicorn was envied in many kingdoms for its strength and spirit. My baron, as I found out later, also liked it, and, halfway through the journey, he attacked me. Taken by surprise and totally unarmed as I was, he easily defeated me. He took my unicorn and kept me captive here. Even then…,” he shrugged. “Without that unicorn I am nowhere. Luckily, the baron informed me of the unicorn’s whereabouts, thinking that I’d never be able to reach it. The unicorn is in a cage situated about three miles from here. Give him this flower.” He withdrew a crushed flower from the tattered folds of his cloak. “It will enable him to free himself from the cage. Beware of the baron for he is very sly. You may use no arms as only the ruby can kill the baron. Do you agree?” Silence followed in which Albert trembled. His instinct told him that to agree was to sign his death sentence. But maybe he was thinking of the long-ago sense
homeschool
Time Is Short: a meditation on teaching art
Perhaps it’s a vestige of the agricultural heritage here in the Grand Valley in western Colorado, but our school children are released for the summer in mid-May. Growing up in California, we went from Labor Day to Memorial Day, at least. Beginning of September to end of May, or early June. Here, it’s been tradition to let them out in May to help on the farms and ranches. Since January I’ve been squeezing in days that I can work with my fifth graders at one of the school district’s most rural elementary schools. Set literally between cow and horse pastures, our school is comprised of an interesting mix of ranch families, folks who bought cheap land and built a big house, and folks who pretty nearly live off the grid even though it’s not really their choice. Our little school (300 students more or less) hunkers down between a stretch of a highway that leads into the mountains and to the backcountry of Utah, and horse and cow pastures. When I drive to work, I get into my car in my neighborhood of mature trees and cozy cottage houses stretched between a major medical center complex and a university campus. I emerge 30 minutes later in the parking lot of the school, which seems like an extension of the surrounding fields. There is always a meadowlark that trills when I get out of the car. This transition always reminds me of who my kids are, and allows me to adjust my head before I walk in. Earlier this year while my students were working on the raw clay, rolling out slabs to work with, busy with the kinetic tasks of modeling and shaping images, they were talking. I don’t subscribe to silence while artists are at work. My rules are simple. Keep it clean and keep it nice. No dissing ANYONE, even yourself. That said, it is highly fascinating to listen to the conversations that occur when kids have their hands in wet clay, or are focused on painting glaze (which doesn’t behave like any kind of paint they’ve ever used, and thus gives them an opportunity for problem solving). So one young man says to another, “I can’t believe they won’t let us wear our work boots to school anymore. They said we’ll track feces all over” (said with an audible eye roll). Probably not a comment you’d hear in your average school setting. Tomorrow I will fire the last batch of clay tiles. Last week the students painted on the glazes they want, making decisions that will be permanent, but will not ever be “wrong.” One child decided to mix two colors of glaze to get a different brown than I had available. When glaze goes on, it is chalky and a completely different color than it will turn out when it’s been fired. The student asked me how much to use, and I told her I had no clue. Baffled looks. I’m the art teacher, right? But I don’t know how it will turn out. So many possibilities. So I told her to just do what seemed right, and we’d see how it looks. She said “It’s okay, it’ll work”. Bam. Yes. In the past few weeks I’ve been fitting work on the tiles between standardized testing and regular classwork these children need to be ready for middle school. They are tired, grumpy, stressed. Some of them are SOOOO ready to be in middle school, but some are really grieving for their loss. One girl just wants to stay with her “favorite teacher of all time.” Another is hoping her parents will agree to homeschool her so she doesn’t have to see “all those girls running around with tank tops on.” She goes back to painting glaze. “Can I use this line painter to make dots?” I ask her what she thinks. She tries it out, and gleefully paints dots on her ladybug. Another student uses this new tool to fill in the depressions where she has pressed letter stamps into the clay. They share it around, show each other how to hold it and squeeze the bottle just enough. Tactile. Small motor skills. Learning through teaching. Problem solving (with no set answer). Predicting results. Flexible thinking. Tolerance. Self-critique. Cooperation. Group work. I recently read an article about how visiting a museum can make young people measurably more tolerant and kinder. Plus, they actually remembered what they learned in discussion groups about the pieces they saw. Combine visual with kinetic with oral and the experience implants itself in a young brain. A pattern is set, an indentation on the smooth surface of their memories, which will receive information again and again over their lives, and it will fit into this indentation, and be familiar. Our new Education Secretary, John B. King, Jr., has expressed concern that the testing models now are taking up instructional time, and have squeezed out science, social studies, art and music in the race to improve English and math skills. He has proposed that perhaps different models could be used to measure students’ abilities, rather than “low-level bubble tests” such as essays and research projects, which would, one would hope, be assessed by the teachers. This is a big, fat “NO, REALLY?” for me. With the testing load teachers have now, especially in states where Common Core has been interpreted to mean that test scores determine teacher pay, the result is that teachers are not given the respect of their education and professionalism to determine how and when and how much to teach which subjects in order to best serve their students’ needs. Weren’t we there, with teachers assigning essays and projects to gauge student work, before we got so bogged down with tests? Please let this new acronym ESSA (Every Student Succeeds Act) be code for “give the respect of professionalism back to the teachers” and not “here are some more hoops to jump through”. Time and respect. A few
Writing Process: How a Reluctant Reader Can Soar Now
I have a reluctant writer at home. My son, a fifth grader whom I homeschool, is very curious and very inquisitive in an understated way. When we take trips to the library, he immediately visits the animal books: dinosaurs, sharks, reptiles, all creatures that interest him most. Learning to appreciate reading, however, continues to be a battle. It isn’t something that comes naturally to all students. We thought early on as parents that if we read to our children, if we exposed him to books at an earlier age, if he sees me enjoying a good novel, or sees me writing my fiction, well, it is all a matter of genetics then which will kick the proclivity for language arts into high gear. But that was wishful thinking. We are not surprised that our reluctant reader would be a reluctant writer as well. We had to ask ourselves, How then are we to help our son enjoy reading while we help him overcome his apprehension for writing? When my husband and I began to explore language arts curricula over a year ago, we found the answer we believed would be fitting to our son’s interests while engaging him in the skill of writing. The language arts curriculum my son used last year in fourth grade had plenty of instruction on the topics of sea snakes, pill bugs, desert tarantulas, and starfish. It proceeded to teach about historical figures like George Washington, Andrew Jackson, and Genghis Khan. Eventually, he read fables—such as The Boy Who Cried Wolf, The Princess and the Pea, and the Lion and the Mouse. For his final research paper, he chose to study the Komodo dragon, which gave him a sense of relief because he was finally able to elect his favorite subject to write about. We found out not only through other homeschool parents that one of the main culprits of the reluctant writer is the unfounded interest in the subject matter. We truly favored the curriculum and are using it again this year because it continues to feed the hunger my son has for reading about these topics, and writing about them as well. His approach to his writing holds a focus that we thought we’d never see. Even though he will slowly get drawn into a book, he won’t pick up a story and read it for pleasure. What matters in this instance is that he isn’t as apprehensive about reading as he was before. We’ll change things up a bit, knowing the tools we have help him learn, but motivating him is another feat. What has helped is the participation in the library’s summer reading program, and the Cover to Cover Club by In-N-Out Burger. Rewards, incentives, payoffs remain the crucial motivator for the reluctant reader. It’s been a long enough road to see my son, who really struggled to read prior to being homeschooled—when he was attending a private school—look forward to reading chapter books with attentiveness. It is a season, it seems, when the embers are still hot and then they cool after burnout in the homeschool. In fact, to encourage my son further, we challenged him to write a short story. Earlier this year, a short story writing contest for homeschoolers had an open call for submissions. We thought it was a perfect exercise for my son. Being the sequential, logical mother that I am, I was relieved to have followed a systematic plan that guided me in the process. My son, on the other hand, being apprehensive about all things language arts, was stretched enough to have a chance at exploring creative writing. The fixed prompt of the contest, the deadline, and the toolbox from his curriculum were what helped him accomplish the assignment with minimal frustration. I don’t know if my son will win the contest in his age category, but I can say that the introduction to a challenge outside of the homeschool, a panel of judges that are lined up to judge his work, is reward enough. It is already a victory to know that he set his hand to the plough through every sentence, every sequence of events, every moment of tension, and every line of dialogue that was necessary to tighten his story, and to loosen the grimace on his face.
