Playfulness is realising how stories can dance as they start to whirl between us, inviting us to join the fun and giving us energy and things to remember.

I recall how, at my secondary school, the very proper senior mistress who organised and led our folk dancing sessions would start getting pink in the face, especially as we did The Tennessee Wig Walk, strands of hair coming loose from her hair-gripped bun as she got the naughtiest boys to  partner her  in the dance. How her foot would start to tap, her hips to sway, her face begin to melt in laughter.

 This week, still down in Pembrokeshire after the New Year, I heard one of the funniest stories ever from our great friend, Eddie. ‘All true, of course, every word of it,’ he said as his story began to dance.

Eddie’s story:

Eddie’s story happened during the days when he and his friend Graham were in the business of catching crabs in the sea off Lower Town, Fishguard. They’d load up the crabs they caught and then take them to sell in the fish market down in Milford.

 On this particular occasion, Eddie and Graham had got a bumper catch, lots more crabs than normal, in fact enough to fill ten whole tea-chests. So they got them into the chests, covered each chest with netting to keep the crabs inside, loaded the chests onto their pick-up and set off on the road to Milford.

 Well, the first part of the road to Milford involved going up the long steep hill from Lower Town to Fishguard. Soon after Eddie and Graham started their way up the hill, the pick-up began to protest. By the time they got to the lay-by which used to be about half way up the hill, the pick-up was chugging to a halt.

Fortunately Eddie and his mate managed to get to the lay-by before they came to a complete halt. Stopped, they started thinking about what to do. What they decided was to off-load five of the tea-chests and leave them in the lay-by while they drove up to the top of the hill with the others. Somewhere at the top of the hill, they’d off-load those first five chests, then they’d go back down to the lay-by to pick up the others.

 The first part of the plan succeeded. But as Eddie and Graham drove back down the hill to fetch the tea-chests they’d left in the lay-by, they were taken aback by the sight that greeted them. A line of cars was stopped on the hill. A lot of people were out on the road, some looking alarmed, some just very surprised. And scuttling down the hill were a whole lot of crabs.

The crabs had got out of the tea-chests.

Well, Eddie and Graham did manage to get most of the crabs back into the chests. But even as I heard the story, I couldn’t help feeling quite sorry for those crabs. Moreover, I started to wonder what they might have been saying to each other as they scuttled back down the hill to the sea.

What a gorgeous story! After hearing the story and thinking about it, I rang Eddie to ask him if he’d be willing for me to include it in my blog this week. For of course, it sums up my idea about the playfulness of stories. Alas, writing it is nothing like hearing it, for Eddie really is the most marvellous storyteller. Whatever the tale, he brings it most vividly alive. 

Giving the story room to play:

But can’t you just see how children in school (let alone at home) would fall in love with Eddie’s story and how much they would make of it given half a chance. Here’s what to do to give the story its freedom.

First of all, give the children time, for by giving them time, you give them permission to think. Then, give them to chance to speak to each other, for by doing that you are allowing children to share ideas with each other and develop their own. Can’t you imagine the oral retellings that might result?

Or give the children paper and pencils and pens. Can’t you already see the drawings, the story-boarding, the illustrations as Eddie and Graham emerge, delighted with their bumper crab harvest, then scratching their heads when they break down in the lay-by, let alone when they see all those people out on the hill reacting to the sight of the crabs?

I can also just imagine the wealth of speech-bubbles that will emerge after the children have enquired, ‘Miss, are you allowed to do writing?’ Indeed they will be ‘allowed’ to do writing. For can’t you imagine the wealth of things the crabs will be saying when children give them their heads? ‘Come on boys, let’s get going!’ ‘See you back in the sea!’

And that’s just the start of the fun. So thanks, Eddie, for letting me tell your story here. It is a bumper catch for storytelling. May it remind us all that learning and thinking don’t have to be difficult work. Pleasure is at the heart of it for by giving children the chance to speak to each other, retell and imagine, you are unleashing their tongues and their ideas. They no longer have to be ‘right’. Instead they can be free.

P.S. I don’t know what sort of crab inhabited the shell in my picture, but it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever picked up from a beach. I feel it deserves to be top and bottom in my blog.

 

 

 

Tags: crab, Eddie, Fishguard

This entry was posted on Saturday, January 10th, 2015 at 10:50 am and is filed under All ages, Animal stories, Personal Tales, Storytelling in Education. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.