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Please Pass the Story

3/24/2014

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Life is busy. Kids are often very busy, so parents are even busier. School, homework, sports, and after-school activities can make quality family time a challenge, let alone time to plant seeds and grow imaginations. 

With so much structured and scheduled, how do you find time to foster creativity? How do you encourage your children to dream?  How do you help develop little writers with so little time?

You don’t always need to take pencil to paper to practice writing. Anything that gets kids thinking creatively can help. Talking is a good place to start.

What if you bring storytelling to the table?

If you have time for dinner together (and hopefully you do), you have time to talk about the day and share how family members are feeling. But what if you also take a few minutes to share a story? Storytelling is a whole lot of fun, but it’s also good practice. It can build imagination and, perhaps even more importantly, confidence. A kid who’s not afraid to jump into a told-out-loud story won’t be as hesitant to try and get one on paper.

Try it out. The next time you sit down to dinner, share a story. Start with a what-if, a familiar tale, or any silly or not-so-silly idea that pops into your head. And you're off!   

Pass It On

Have one person start. The beginning can be whatever they’d like it to be; the goal is just to get it started. “Once upon a time” is just one way to do it. Anything goes. Some even like to use story starters. My dad just sent me this book, The Amazing Story Generator, a spiral-bound flip book that provides countless combinations for story starters. I love it because the hilarious results can prompt some pretty funny stories. (What if... "after winning a bet, an apprentice beekeeper joins the first manned mission to Mars"? See? Priceless!)  



Once you’ve gotten started, work around the table with each person taking a turn to add to the story. It’s up to each contributor how much they contribute to this little game of tale-telling telephone. I’ve found that even the most resistant participant becomes eager to be a part of the fun once the story gets going. You’ll be amazed at the direction this can take when lots of imaginations are in play. 

So, for example:

Mom: Once upon a time, there was a frog in the kitchen. He decided to have some fun.

Dad: The frog hopped across the kitchen and landed in the middle of the table, right onto the plate of mashed potatoes! The family was very surprised. 

Son: The daughter screamed and jumped out of her chair. She was afraid of frogs.

Daughter: Then she threw the frog at her brother! And then the frog started to sing.  

And so on.   

Mix It Up

I’ve always loved fractured fairy tales, where parts of an actual fairy tale are changed, or “fractured,” to create a new take on the story. I loved teaching them to 2nd graders and even occasionally read them to 5th graders, so we now have many of them in our home library: Goldie Locks Has Chicken Pox by Erin Dealey and Hanako Wakiyama, The Big Bad Wolf Is Good by Simon Puttock and Lynne Chapman, Little Red Riding Hood: A Newfangled Prairie Tale by Lisa Campbell Earnst, The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales and The True Story of the Three Little Pigs! , both by John Scieszka and Lane Smith, to name just a few. Scholastic’s Raise a Reader blog offers these suggestions to explore fractured fairy tales. They’re a blast to read and kids (both little and big and even the grown-up kind) love them. 

At dinner, start with a fairy tale but change one part of it. A character, the setting, a character’s motivation, anything. Fracture that story like crazy and soak in the laughter that follows.

Nourish Young Minds

Storytelling helps inspire creativity and gives kids practice with oral language. Adult participation can help with vocabulary development. Deciding what comes next can help children develop understanding of cause and effect relationships. Engaging experiences with story can help get kids interested in hearing and reading more. Stories told over dinner can serve as inspiration for stories to be written. And, best of all, it can get everyone together in a lighthearted, fun way. What kid wouldn't love seeing his or her parents playing with story? Let's face it, parents, we don't get to do that nearly enough.  



So, at your next family dinner, please pass the story along with the salt. 

Here’s to writing, reading, smiling, and cooking up some good tales at dinnertime. 

Want research? Here are some links to some interesting studies that connect storytelling to literacy development: 

Developing Literacy Skills Through Storytelling
Story Telling and Story Writing 



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What If a Leprechaun Didn't Care for Gold?

3/13/2014

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St. Patrick's Day makes me smile. Always has. I suppose it doesn't hurt that I studied and worked at Notre Dame, where there's a special reverance for all things Irish, or that I spent a glorious, life-changing year teaching wee Irish children in Dublin. They were enviably accented, delighful little imps. Even when they were naughty they were adorable. I guess that's what a thick accent and freckles and rosy cheeks will do for you. 


I fell in love with Ireland. I love the people, the culture, the music, and the folklore. I love the way the rain there smells and how bright the world looks when the sun finally appears. I got to visit small towns and smaller islands and learned unpronounceable Irish words. I sang the songs and smelled the peat fires and danced with the children. It's still a part of me, even more than ten years after I moved home. 


But I never did see a leprechaun. Or maybe I did. Who knows? 


This St. Patrick's Day, join me and celebrate with a little wonder. Talk about leprechauns and rainbows and pots of gold. Sit together at dinner (perhaps some corned beef and cabbage?) and ponder some Irish what-ifs. I've put a few here.   


And if you want to celebrate with a little story, ask this question: What if a leprechaun didn't care for gold? Talk about it, and then read this little tale. You might even try your hand at an Irish accent! 


Liam the Leprechaun 
by Kelly Hochbein


Liam the Leprechaun was different from other leprechauns. He didn’t like gold.  He liked candy. 

Instead of keeping his gold in a pot at the end of a rainbow as other leprechauns do, Liam spent it all on candy.  He’d wear a disguise and visit a candy shop in a human town. He’d buy chocolate bars, lollipops, and other delicious delights.  Liam didn’t save a single gold coin.  All he cared about was candy.  And gold can buy a whole lot of candy! 

Liam’s family didn’t understand.  His parents worried about his future and his brother teased him.  Liam told them that he didn’t have to worry about anyone stealing his candy because he’d eat it right up.  A pot of gold, though, was something to worry about.             


One day, a human child named Ellie spotted Liam walking out of the candy store. Ellie loved to read about dragons and fairies and leprechauns, so Liam’s disguise didn’t fool her. She came up with a plan.   

You see, according to legend, if a human captures a leprechaun, the leprechaun must grant three wishes in exchange for its release.  Ellie knew this.  And she knew all about leprechaun gold, too.  She walked up to Liam, touched his arm, and shouted, “Gotcha!” 

Liam stopped in his tracks.  He knew he was stuck. But all he could think about was his candy.

“Uh-oh,” said Liam.  He was craving bubblegum. 

“I’d like my three wishes, please,” Ellie said.  She couldn’t believe she’d actually captured a real, live leprechaun. 

“Sure, sure,” Liam replied, distracted by thoughts of the chocolate-covered pretzels he’d just purchased. 

“Hmmmm…” Ellie thought long and hard about her first wish.  “I wish for a puppy!”

“Done,” said Liam, snapping his fingers and gazing at his bag of candy.

Ellie scooped up her slobbery new puppy.

“And I’d like a unicorn,” said Ellie.

“Done,” said Liam, snapping his fingers again, his mouth watering for gumdrops. The unicorn appeared with a whinny.   

“And for my third wish,” Ellie announced, “I’d like your pot of gold.”

Liam froze.  He panicked.  He didn’t have a pot of gold.  All he had was candy. 

“Well, ummm…” he stammered.

“I know you have a pot of gold,” Ellie said.  “All leprechauns do.” 

“I don’t have one,” said Liam.  “I only have this.”  He held up his candy bag. 

“But you’re a leprechaun!” Ellie cried.  “Leprechauns are supposed to have pots of gold.” 

 “I am a leprechaun,” Liam insisted.  “I’m just a little bit different.  I prefer candy to gold.” 

Ellie thought. Liam worried. He knew that as long as he couldn’t grant all three of the girl’s wishes, he’d never be free. 

Ellie brightened. “What if I wished for a pot of gold instead of your pot of gold?” she asked. 

It was Liam’s turn to think.  “Done!” he said, snapping his fingers a final time. A weathered black pot appeared, filled to the brim with shiny gold coins.   

Ellie grinned and carried the heavy pot home, her new puppy and unicorn trailing behind her.  Liam also headed home, where he could hear his brother shouting.

“Where’s my pot of gold?” Liam heard him cry. “It’s gone!”

“Here,” Liam said with a sly smile.  “Cheer up. Have a piece of candy.”

Liam was, as it turns out, more like other leprechauns than he’d thought.  He really enjoyed a good bit of mischief. 
       

Here's to writing, reading, smiling, and everything Irish. Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig! 

 


 
  
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How to Drive Your Teacher Crazy

3/6/2014

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Kids! March is a tough month for school... so close to the end of the year, yet so far away. Want to make things a little more interesting? 

I wrote something to help you out.


How to Drive Your Teacher Crazy

Our teacher was making us work really hard

On reading and math problems circled and starred.

Having no time left to play in the yard,

We decided to drive her crazy.



Driving her crazy might decrease the work.

Hearing rude noises, she’d turn with a jerk.

She’d catch nothing else but our satisfied smirks

If we could drive her crazy.



So we stuck a spider on her chair

And then put some bubblegum in her hair.

Out the window all day we directed our stares.

But that didn’t drive her crazy. 



We switched the caps of her favorite pens

And glued together her shoelace ends.

We’re sure she complained to all of her friends,

But she hadn’t yet gone crazy. 


Dogs ate our homework late in the night.

Kickball at recess became a big fight.

We insisted the incorrect answers were right

And still she hadn’t gone crazy.



We talked during class and yelled in the halls.

Desks were the bases for indoor baseball.

We stubbornly ignored her every call.

She just wasn’t going crazy. 



We whined and complained about each little thing.

We stood up before the dismissal bell's ring.

We played in our desks with erasers and string.

But she wasn’t a little bit crazy.



We tattled and twisted our stories around.

We left crayons and pencils all over the ground.

We said naughty words and were front-office bound.

But she wasn’t going crazy. 



She kept her composure through outbursts and yells.

She even resisted our memory spells.

She ignored every one of our kid-produced smells.

We couldn’t make her crazy. 



Nothing we did seemed to shake her one bit.

Not even our refusal to stand or to sit.

She just kept up her smiling through all of it.

It seemed nothing could make her crazy.



So we gave up trying to drive her mad.

We decided that maybe things weren’t that bad.

We worked hard to multiply, subtract, and add.

And her eyes looked a little bit crazy. 



We sat in our seats and raised our hands.

We quit acting like rowdy pro-football fans.

We allowed her to get through her lesson plans.

And her face looked a little bit crazy. 



We stopped throwing spitballs and pieces of food.

No longer unruly, offensive, and rude,

On her every movement our bright eyes were glued.

And she was most definitely crazy. 



Her eyes are now suspicious and wide.

She looks as if she would like to hide.

She’s nervous and jumpy and I’d

Say we’ve driven her pretty crazy.



We tried every trick in the book,

Gross surprises in each place she’d look.

Who knew that it only took

Being good to make her crazy? 



So to drive your teacher nuts,

You just have to listen to us.

Don’t plan tricks or make a big fuss.

Being good will drive her crazy!



She’ll never expect the day

When her students sit nicely and say,

“Let’s learn grammar – we’d rather not play!”

That will surely make her crazy.



Good behavior will drive her bonkers.

So to be a class that conquers

A teacher without being monsters.

Behave – it’ll drive her crazy!




Really, kids. This is the secret. Give it a try! (But don't tell them you heard it from me.)

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For the Love of Grammar

3/4/2014

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Today is March 4th. Happy National Grammar Day!

Today I really miss teaching. 

Grammar Day was one of my favorite days of the whole school year. It’s right up there with the day we did our annual poetry coffee house and Punctuation Day, which, in case you were wondering, is also really a day (September 24).  And I might even love it more than my birthday, which is tomorrow.  

I’m a grammar geek.

I love the book Eats, Shoots & Leaves by Lynne Truss and all of its accompanying picture books. I'm a huge fan of Mignon Fogarty, Grammar Girl, dispenser of Quick and Dirty Tips for Better Writing, and host of Grammar Day. I adore Things That Make Us (Sic ) by Martha Brockenbrough, founder of National Grammar Day and the Society for the Promotion of Good Grammar (SCOGG), picture book writer, and person I was too shy to approach at the SCBWI Conference. (And I'm not typically shy.) I followed her on Twitter and she followed me back. I almost fell out of my chair and did a little dance and my husband rolled his eyes. I told him it was just the same as the Steelers winning the Super Bowl. That's how excited I was. 

The Steelers are his passion. Grammar is mine. 

He rolled his eyes again. Like I said, I’m a grammar geek.

My dad is a writer, and when I was growing up we sat together, armed with the ever-powerful red pen, and we corrected the small community newspaper. ("Oh, the tragedy of that misplaced comma!") Today I'm the grammar equivalent of that kid in The Sixth Sense. I see grammatical errors everywhere, and it sure can be crippling. I've gone hungry, deciding many times against eating at a restaurant simply because of the ever-so-unappetizing errors on its menu. I've been distracted, as mistakes pop off the page like a cricket trapped in the corner of a room. They make me crazy.

I knew that with this great power comes great responsibility. So, when I started teaching, I decided to be the Grammar Lady. 

I wore this button at school: 

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Some of my students thought it was creepy. "Does that mean you're a grammar stalker?" they'd ask, rolling their fifth-grade eyes. But I was watching. Just not in a creepy way. I wanted to help them understand the rules of language and see that they could be fun. I wanted them to learn to write with authority, with a command of grammar that would get them noticed. I wanted them to be able to package their brilliant ideas in well-structured sentences.

I reacted in mock outrage at the silly mistakes, the pet peeve mistakes - your vs. you're and their, they're, and there. I pretended that using the incorrect verb tense was like a knife to my heart. And then I pantomimed keeling over. 

They'd laugh and I'd hope they'd remember. 

No lectures. Instead, we laughed.

We looked at ridiculous mistakes, the kind that can completely change the meaning of a sentence. (A favorite: Let’s eat, Grandma! vs. Let’s eat Grandma!). We talked about how to fix them. We did projects and played games and sang songs and watched videos and wore costumes. I baked cookies. We celebrated all things grammar, the subject that many kids and grownups think is so boring. Cookies make everything less boring.

I'd tell my students that if they wanted to be taken seriously, if they wanted someone to really read what they'd written, they'd have to build their writing just right. Words are the materials; good grammar holds them together. But you need both to really make your point. 

This is true for all of us, not just 5th graders learning the parts of speech. The more familiar we are with words and how to use them, the better we get at communicating. And these days, unfortunately, grammar doesn't get the love that it deserves. But shouldn't kids know how to wield their words? Own their words? Send their words into the world without distracting mistakes? 

I hope my students remember some of what we did. I hope they liked it, even if only a little bit. I hope that some are celebrating in some way today.

Want to give grammar some love? Embrace National Grammar Day. Go here and learn the song. It'll be in your head till next year. And the words - oh, the words!  



What do you love about grammar? Know any good jokes?


Here's to writing and reading and smiling and good grammar. Because, as the song says, grammar 's the bomb. 

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    Thoughts on writing, life, and a smattering of stories.

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    Kelly Hochbein

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