Telling Tales

I go to a lot of libraries. Mostly, I go to them with my toddler grandson, Asher. Especially in winter, when the weather is nasty outside, a library can be an oasis for a little person who is getting cabin fever. Libraries have changed over the years. They are more child-friendly than they were when I was a kid. There are many more activities for young ones in the children’s library nowadays. Sure, there are still plenty of books to read, but there are also games to play. And there are story times. The story times are the big draw.

Asher and I go to a different library each day. Every library has a story time that is a bit different from the others. There are some commonalities. Every story time involves reading a book or two. All of them have some type of physical activity to get the kids moving. Often there is an effort to slip in some kind of academic instruction. Maybe, the story has something to do with letters or numbers or shapes or colors. I think any child who goes to a story time will learn something, without any specific educational goal. Trying to teach a three-year-old a skill that might help later in school is mostly a sop to the parents and caregivers.

Depending on the library, there can be different emphases and styles. On Tuesdays, Asher and I go to the Islamic Resource Center. It has the largest collection of books about Islam in the state of Wisconsin, and it also has a decent children’s library. Story time there is usually an intimate gathering, with maybe half a dozen kids. Ms. Jenny generally reads two books to the children. The first is a story about a Muslim child. That makes sense considering that most of the audience is Muslim. Almost all the moms there are wearing hijabs. Asher isn’t Muslim. Nor am I. However, we like the stories anyway. A story, a good story, can have strong cultural connotations, but the story also transcends the culture. A classic story, like a centuries’ old fairy tale, is universal and can strike a chord in the soul of any child regardless of their background.

Ms. Emma at the Oak Creek library reads from a book too. We visit her on Wednesdays. She, like Ms. Jenny, incorporates music into her presentation. She uses a stuffed animal, Opal the Owl, to help explain things to the kids. She likes to show some things on a screen, like song lyrics. I’m not a fan of having Asher look at a screen more than absolutely necessary, but that is how things are in our day and age. Both Ms. Emma and Ms. Jenny get the children involved. They do a good job.

Today we went to the Greenfield library to listen to Mr. Mark. Mr. Mark has a very different style than Ms. Jenny and Ms. Emma. Ms. Jenny and Ms. Emma read from the book and show the pictures to the children as they read. Mr. Mark has the story memorized. He stands in front of the kids and tells the story with his voice, face, and body. He shouts or whispers. He smiles or grimaces. He waves his arms and stomps on the floor. He is the story. Today he told the children a Vietnamese folk tale about a toad and some other animals who went to the Jade Emperor to end a worldwide drought. Mr. Mark asked the kids to croak like toads. He asked them to roar like tigers. He asked them if they could thunder like the god of lightning. Asher laid on his belly and watched and listened to this myth from long ago. Asher was entranced.

Not everyone can tell a good story. Storytelling is an art, just like painting or music. In traditional cultures, storytellers are admired and respected. These men and women pass down the history and values of their people. As I listened to Mr. Mark, I could imagine him standing in front of a fire at night, surrounded by children. He is follower of an age-old tradition. He is the spiritual descendent of shamans.

A true storyteller sucks the listener into the tale. A child who listens to a good story told be a gifted speaker will learn things, but not about numbers or letters. A story that touches the heart is not like a lesson plan or a sermon. It is more than that. The child will learn about courage and loyalty and kindness, and not even realizes that he or she is learning those things. The child just falls in love with the story, and that is enough. 

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Frank (Francis) Pauc is a graduate of West Point, Class of 1980. He completed the Military Intelligence Basic Course at Fort Huachuca and then went to Flight School at Fort Rucker. Frank was stationed with the 3rd Armor Division in West Germany at Fliegerhorst Airfield from December 1981 to January 1985. He flew Hueys and Black Hawks and was next assigned to the 7th Infantry Division at Fort Ord, CA. He got the hell out of the Army in August 1986.

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