The StoryField

The Lake of Generous Fish

    This past winter in my Grade Three classroom we made a dragon mural. We began by cutting out large sheets of blue and grey construction paper to make mountain ranges, streams, and rivers. And then we added our dragons. Some were so large they loomed over the mountain peaks. Others resembled hummingbirds. Some stood perched on a slope. Others were in flight, entering their dragon lairs. Two of the children decided to make a lake for the mural and filled it with fish, happily swimming about in brightly coloured pairs. I asked them to tell me about the lake. They said it was magic.

The Gift of Poetry

Friday evening I heard the poet David Whyte recite his own poetry, as well as poems by Seamus Heaney, Patrick Kavanagh, and Stephen Spender. He stood before the window in the Quarterdeck Room at Royal Roads University. The grey stone façade of Hatley Castle was visible below. We could have been in Ireland, assembled before some English lord’s country seat. And with his Yorkshire accent, and fine imitations of John O’Donohue, David Whyte made sure we were certainly somewhere other than the outskirts (the proper skirts) of Victoria, BC. That is the poet’s job – to take the listener away.

The Gift in the Story

    “Why do people tell stories?” I asked the Grade 4 and 5 students.
    “For fun,” said one child.
    “Yes,” I agreed. “It is fun to tell stories, especially around a campfire. Why else?”
    “For entertainment,” suggested another.
    “Definitely. Stories are great entertainment. They can be full of adventures and magic. What might be another reason?”
    “To remember things that happened.”
    “Yes, I think that’s one of the main reasons we tell stories. Especially in cultures where there isn’t any other way of recording history. Why else might we tell stories?”
    “To teach lessons,” said another child.
    I nodded. “In fact, that’s how many cultures still teach important values – by telling stories.”

    They sat quietly at their desks while their teacher wrote their ideas on the board. It was a Thursday afternoon. Here was an unfamiliar teacher in their classroom, come to tell them a story. From my perspective I wondered if ten and eleven-year olds would consider themselves too old for storytelling. I began telling a story from India called “A Drum.” It’s one I have told many times.