Storytelling Arts' mission is to preserve, promote and impart the art of storytelling to develop literacy, strengthen communities and nurture the human spirit.

Friday, September 8, 2017

Interview with Storytelling Teacher, Diane Rudd

by Julie Della Torre

A Storytelling Chart created by Diane and her kids
Storytelling Arts began a three year residency in 2013 at Alexander Hamilton Academy in Paterson, NJ. I worked with 4 teachers the first year and then exclusively with Maureen Errity in fourth grade and Diane Rudd in Kindergarten. Diane Rudd’s goal was to learn to tell stories and integrate storytelling into her classroom. (See blog post: September 4, 2015 to see some of the work we did together) I keep in touch with Diane and she told me recently that she was busy setting up her room for storytelling. I decided to interview her to find out more. Last week we met and talked.

JDT: You told me recently, “I’m setting up the room for storytelling.” What does that mean, setting up the room for storytelling?

DR: That means to teach the students where to sit number one. Their body language number two. And the whole protocol how are they going to act when they tell or listen to a story? What’s their job, what’s my job?

JDT: And what do you tell them?

DR: I tell them to sit on the outer part of the carpet in a horseshoe. But, with 25 kids well, to sit close, but not that close. Cross-legged if possible, hands in their laps, some in chairs. It takes a while. Then we have our yellow tape border, one in front of them, one in front of me. That’s our stage area. It takes practice.

I start slow with them. We do fairy tales they are familiar with.
Maybe just two characters to start with. Grandfather Bear and Chipmunk is a good one to start with. Just two characters. I’ll have them draw one of the characters, or both. Then I bring them back to the carpet and ask them, “Now where do you think the story takes place?’ It’s all new to them so you have to go step by step with them.


JDT: Tell me about your storytelling sessions.

DR: For instance, if I want to get a lot of kids involved I’ll do characters. We did Boney Legs. I told the story, then we acted it out. That was fun because the kids really go into that and then they went back and drew a picture of what they thought Boney Legs looked like. I don’t like to show them the pictures. I like them to use their imaginations. They love Boney Legs. They want me to do it again and again.

We act out the stories, or parts of a story. You pick the kids who are really good for the parts sometimes. I model. I’m the mean, big Billy goat, I’m the little baby Billy goat, this is how I would walk. I’m the Troll. Some of the trolls are great and some of them are, uh, that’s a terrible troll. You can be meaner than that. You’re giving them permissions to be angry. You’re giving them permission to be mean. It gives them permission to act out all these feelings which are not really acceptable during the course of the day.

You’ve got to get the kids ready to tell stories.

JDT: I remember when we were there you were doing charts with them, mapping charts, character charts, problem/solution charts?

DR: I don’t have as many now because I have to hang up other things. But, I hang up the work they do with the stories.
Another chart in Diane's classroom

JDT: When do you fit storytelling into your day?

DR: I try to have storytelling either after reading or before a writing activity. It depends on what my goal is. If I want them to develop characters I’ll do a story with a lot of different characters. If I want them to do settings I’ll do a story with a good visual setting. It depends on what I’m teaching for that day and it depends on the group of kids, too. I tell stories about twice a week. Last year I made sure to tell stories on the days we didn’t have breaks for specials. I also break up a long language arts period with storytelling.

Or I’ll do it if they’re off the wall. They’re all over the place, can’t focus, then I’ll bring them to the carpet and I’ll tell them a story.

JDT: And that seems to focus them?

DR: Yeah, because they know it’s time to act out and have fun.

JDT: I know your curriculum, and I know the standards for Paterson in general. You work on finding the meaning in a story and Beginning, Middle and End and...

DR: Always Beginning, Middle and End, characters, setting, finding the problem and the solution. Storytelling ties right in with our writing program which is having them draw pictures and tell stories.

We are also teaching them to work indepently both personally and in small groups. While I’m working with one or two students the others have work to do at their tables. Storytelling fits in perfectly with this as well. I told the Gingerbread Boy and each table had to do one part for the story. One table did characters; one group did setting and so on.  They did a really good job. I put them all together and made a book of it.

Storytelling is fun. I enjoy it. I’d rather tell a story than read a book because, when you tell a story, they get much more out of it. Especially when you get to ‘what’s the problem in the story?’ How did the character solve the problem? Some of the things they say are amazing.

JDT: It’s amazing the difference in listening between read-alouds and storytelling.

DR: Yeah, when I read a story aloud they’re in la-la land. They’re not paying attention. You have to pull this one in or that one. With storytelling, they’re all engaged because they have to listen. If they want to act it out they have to listen. There is an extra layer that helps them get the most out of the story.

JDT: What are some of your favorite stories to tell?

DRL Oh my goodness. Lizard’s Song, Mabela the Clever, I did that for my observation last year. Tops and Bottoms. Goldilocks, The Three Billy Goats Gruff, Oh, Frog and Toad: The Lost Button, The Lion and the Mouse, The Big, Noisy House, that’s a good one. Why Bat Flies??? (Diane was unsure of the title)  Wait; let me look at my journal. (She opened an old journal she started when we worked together in 2014.  Her goal that year was to learn how to tell stories and become a storytelling teacher. As she looked for and learned stories, she kept a journal of different exercises she did to learn stories, lists of stories and what made a particular story good to learn.)

JDT: You still have your journal?

DR: Oh yeah, I look back at it to remind me of the stories. Oh, The Little Red Hen. Oh, The Name of the Tree, that’s good. Another one is Anansi and the Yam Hill, remember that one? I love that story! Some of them better than others?

JDT: What makes some of them better?

DR: Maybe the more involved I get in telling the story.  When there is a lot of action, things they can identify with. It has to be a certain type of story. You know what the problem is with read-alouds with 25 kids? It’s always, “I didn’t see the picture.” With storytelling I tell them, “think about it. Whatever the picture is that’s the picture.” And they have to listen.

JDT: Does anyone else in the school tell stories?

DR: I think Ms. Z does. Maureen E. is now in second grade. Maybe she’ll tell stories. I’ll help her find some good ones for second grade.

I’m going to start right away. I’m going to tell the first day.

JDT: What are you going to tell?

DR: I don’t know I’ll find one. Last year I started with Grandfather Bear and Chipmunk.









Thursday, August 10, 2017

A Revelation

by Julie Pasqual


Julie telling to the littles
There have been a lot of articles, lectures, and discussions about how storytelling makes connections between people.  How the audience and the storyteller have a shared experience.  How there is no storytelling without the audience – teller and listener are in this thing together.
         And I have experienced that – from the adult that begins to reminisce after hearing a story, to the jaded teen that reveals themselves when they say they “get” where a character is coming from – even if that character is an animal, or a wizard, or has 16 arms - to the youngest listeners who are eager to tell me about their dog, after hearing about a dog in a story, or calling out that they know someone named Jack, like the boy in the story.  These little revelations are often touching, sometimes amusing, but one that happened just recently was troubling, and reminded me, once again of the need for folktales.
          For the last three summers, I have been fortunate enough to tell stories at day camps and child care centers in Paterson, NJ, through a program of the Paterson Library.  Instead of the children – mostly ages 4 – 6 years old, having to be brought to the library, this program brings several professional storytellers to the facilities, as well as providing volunteer readers, that come regularly.  Each site has been a joy, full of eager listeners and lots of fun!!
           On my next to last day, I went to a day camp that was run in a school.  I felt bad for both the children, and their teenage counselors, because there was ZERO air conditioning, and it was a REALLY hot day.  It would be too hot for the kids to go out even, so it was a day they would stay indoors.  The volunteer reader must have been great, because when they heard there was someone from the library there, the kids perked up!  The overheated, but very game staff, lined up the kids to take them to the cooler of the two rooms, and as the kids got up, I began to “read “ the crowd, to see who I would be telling my tales for.  I did this as I usually do – by acting silly.  Soon there were smiles, and laughs, and they pulled in closer to me, and I began to ask some of their names.  One little girl, who was, as a friend of mine says,  “happiness on legs” came very close to me.  Her giggle was like soap bubbles – light, floaty, and irresistible.  Her little face looked up at me, and then she said, quite merrily, “I have a stalker.”
         Whatever game I had been playing with the group came to an abrupt end – I did that thing we adults do when we don’t want kids to see we are worried or upset, I breathed deep, put on a kind, but straight face, and spoke in a decidedly even tone. “What do you mean?” I asked, knowing kids make things up – I mean that is the gift of childhood, an imagination as wide as an ocean.  It is this imagination that I fear that our children are losing faster and faster each year.  But, even as I waited to see if there was anything real about this statement, the reality hit me that the prospect of a stalker was in this little girl’s consciousness.  It wasn’t “I have a pet unicorn”, or “I have flown to the moon” – it was, “I have a stalker”.  This kid had been exposed to the concept of a stalker – in some way – either in life, or in TV, or in overheard conversations - enough that at age 5, she got what it was.  The counselor, no older than 16 years old came out, and I had the girl repeat what she said.  The counselor looked puzzled, and then was quickly taken away by another child who needed her. 
      “He comes by my window at night,” she continued, cheerfully.  “But, my big sister scares him away.  She has a gun.  She is big and strong, and will protect me.”  By this point, the line was moving towards the room I was to tell in, and the kids were hustled into the room, and made to sit down.  There was no senior staff in the room, so I began my telling.  The little girl was one of the brightest lights in the room.  My brain burned with the question, “Is she telling the truth???” even as I turned myself into lions, frogs, and one sassy fox.  It was one of those performances that, after I was done, the kids got up and gave me a group hug. 
             I alerted my contact at the library, so she could tell the person in charge of the program – I feared I was over reacting, but I feared MUCH MORE turning on the news and seeing a report about a little girl shot in her bed.  I was told it was “handled” – so I will never know whether the stalker was a figment of this child’s imagination, or someone who wished to harm this young innocent – but to me, it doesn’t matter.  Instead of magic, fairies, and talking animals, this child’s head was full of danger and guns.  Whether real or not, in truth, it was her reality, because what we hold in our consciousness IS our reality.  Somehow, the things that filled my head as child, weren’t even a moment’s thought to this girl – she could not conceive of the wonder that fills folktales, because all she had been exposed to was the harsh reality of a society that spews out violence to all ages 24/7. 
            As I drove away that day, I felt a mix of powerlessness and determination – I cannot eradicate the ills that are “downloaded” into the hard drive of young minds today, but I could, at least, offer them something else. Another view – a softer view, someplace where imagination could land, and allow them to picture a world, where danger wasn’t a given, where they could be what they were actually  meant to be – CHILDREN!!!

       

Friday, June 16, 2017

On the Road with Orpheus

by Gerald Fierst and Luray Gross


Part conversation, part performance, On the Road with Orpheus is a collaborative four-part storytelling fugue created by Gerald Fierst, Luray Gross, Philip Orr and Bill Wood. We improvise on themes of love, loss, music and memory out of personal, traditional, mythic and headline stories. Through several decades, we four have taught and performed as solo artists, but in 2016, we decided to collaborate using the Orpheus myth as a basis for an unconventional theatre piece in which our individual styles blend, accent, and harmonize with each other.

 
The "Orpheus" artists
Teachers, preachers, and storytellers are all music makers.  The rhythmic patterns of oral storytelling go back to the ancient bardic tradition of singing the tale, and, as we review our process, we realize how much our work in a classroom is similarly an act of improvisation and singing, and how teaching has informed our collaboration with its necessity to remain in the moment and to encourage and inspire.  Improvisational storytelling is something like jazz with a path of clearly defined forms, but with the liberty to change and riff until returning to the given melody.  So, in the classroom, the storyteller supports the curricula with stories that instigate and encourage the students to make connections between the notes of the story and the notes of the lesson – we might call them a-ha! moments – when the story becomes a personal revelation of fact and feeling.

 Our Orpheus piece invites the audience to remember the first song they heard.  Few people give us a title.  Instead, they sing us a song, and, often, others in the audience join in.  The power of music undergirds the story of Orpheus, whose song could conquer monsters, but couldn’t change the inevitability of loss.  Eventually Orpheus’s song became an oracular voice on the Greek island of Lesbos where, during the last two years, thousands of refugees landed, and where today, some 3,000 still await an uncertain future. 

For ourselves and our audiences, traveling on the road with Orpheus has been far less arduous, one without peril and with openings for conversation and reflection.  At times, it has become an a-ha! journey with myth, history, and philosophy becoming a part of our personal and communal story, bringing the inspiration of old stories to the moment and to the discovery of the sublime at the core of our own life’s progress.


Having begun our performance with singing, it felt fitting to end the program by singing together. Phil concludes the program by teaching an original round based on a Rilke poem from The Book of Hours.

God speaks to each of us:
Go to the limits of longing.
God speaks to each of us:
Flare up like a flame.
God speaks to each of us:
Don’t let yourself lose me,
Give me your hand.
Give me your hand.


Friday, May 26, 2017

Brainerd Residency 2017

by Luray Gross

It’s a rainy evening and I have not yet unpacked my suitcase after a four-day stint in the central Jersey town where I used to live.  I was there as the teller for a four-day storytelling residency at Brainerd Elementary School. Brainerd opted to have me see each of their sixteen kindergarten, 1st and 2nd grade classes for one 45-minute introduction to storytelling.  This seemed to work out just fine.

In each session I told three or four tales, including at least one story in which the children participated through chanting, singing, and/or movement.  My hope was to activate not only their mental image-making facilities, but to create a situation in which they helped the story unfold with their participation.  I was quite pleased with the involvement of the students and touched by their wide-eyed attention and the many connections they made with other folktales and with their personal lives.

Luray telling to Brainerd Elementary School students
Near the end of a session with one of the second grade classes, a boy I’ll call Manny raised his hand to say, “I have a connection to that dress story.  It’s like my mother.”  The first story I had told his class was the Haitian tale, “Tipingee,” in which the main character is left with her stepmother after both her parents have died. As the story unfolds, Tipingee asks her friends to wear dresses the same color as hers and thus help her stay safe. In my telling of the story today, I found myself inserting an explanation for the selfishness of the stepmother who offers Tipingee as a servant to a man demanding payment for carrying a bundle of wood.  I said something like, “When Tipingee’s father married again, his new wife was kind and caring, but after he died, something in her heart cracked, and she became mean and selfish.”  A few other students had comments and questions about the stories, then Manny raised his hand again to quietly ask, “Do you want to hear about my mother?”
   “Would you like to tell us?” I asked.
   
Manny nodded and quietly explained that his mother’s parents both used “bad drugs,” and sometimes they didn’t even give her anything to eat, but her grandmother realized what was happening, took Manny’s mother to live with her and took care of her.  “And she grew up and met my dad and got married and they had me, and now she is happy,” Manny concluded.  All simply told.  All from a deep place.

This kind of happening is far from rare when age-old stories are brought to life in a classroom.  Children explode with energetic laughter over silly antics and grow thoughtful when the dilemmas of characters resonate with their own challenges. One of the most rewarding things for me is when this occurs for a teacher.  That too happened at Brainerd School.  In another second grade class I ended our session with the Native American story, “Gluscabi and the Wind Eagle.”  In the tale, the larger-than-life boy Gluscabi gets fed up with the wind and finds a way to trick the great bird, the source of that element.  He succeeds in stopping the wind, only to discover how much we need it.  Then he must reverse his actions to restore the great bird to its mountain top.  I tend to end this tale by saying, “And so it has been to this day:  sometimes the wind blows so hard we cannot stand against it, sometimes it is a gentle breeze, and sometimes there is not a breath of wind at all.”


Mrs. H, the teacher, was sitting behind her students for all of the stories, attentive and drawn in, but the wind story was different.  Her whole body was leaning into it, and when I finished, she was the one who raised her hand.  “That reminds me of something our pastor said in a sermon about the winds of adversity.  That’s what they can be.”   Without her having to say more, I understood that she knew what that adversity felt like and had found a way to stand up in its presence.  When we saw each other again in the faculty room, that bond of understanding remained.   For me, one of the deep rewards of this work.