Storylines: Vol 6, Issue 1

Storylines isthemagazineofthe Society for Storytelling. Tosubmitarticlesandreviewsfor future editions,pleasecontacttheeditorat storylines@sfs.org.uk .

EditedbyLizBerg.DesignedbySimon HeywoodandChipColquhoun,with acknowledgementstoMikeCarter (www.mikesplace.org.uk). The Society for Storytelling isRegistered Charity1052038andCompanyLimited byGuarantee(EnglandandWales)reg. no.3139120

Directors ChristineWillison(Chair) chair@sfs.org.uk PaulJackson (CompanySecretary) TonyCooper Assistant Secretary ChipColquhoun secretary@sfs.org.uk Administrator AliQuarréll admin@sfs.org.uk Email newsletter (membersonly) KevinBlackburn newsletter@sfs.org.uk Special interest group for health and well being JanetDowling admin@sfs.org.uk Area Networks MartinManasse north@areas.sfs.org.uk PippaReid south@sfs.org.uk National Storytelling Week DelReid nsw@sfs.org.uk

Storylines VolumeVIIssue1

Editorial

WelcometotheSpringeditionof Storylines.Abumpereditionfullof poignancyandheart.Acommon themeemergesthroughour articles thepowerofstory. LauraSimmssharesherworkwith girlsinHaiti,showinghowstories helpinallareasoflife,enriching thoseindesperatesituations,but equallywoulddosoforusifonly weapplyherwisdomtoourown life. PaulJackson,oneoftheBoard membersdescribeshowstory impactedonhimwhetherhe wantedittoornot,brief encountershavinglasting repercussions. SharonCarr explainshownotonly boysbutotherfamilymembers get enthusedbytheCinderella story. Ihadhopedsomeonewouldwrite

aboutwhattheydidfor National Storytelling Week lookatChip Colquhoun’sarticle toseewhat happenedroundhis. Forinfoon howyouand/oraschoolnearyou couldtakepartinthestudy, emailstories@snailtales.org Iamlookingtofeatureclub activitiesinfutureeditions.Do yourunstoryslams?Letmeknow bygettingintouchat storylines@sfs.org.uk.

NextstopTheGathering!1 3rd April.I’llseeyouthere. Twootherfestivalsthathavejust reachedmebeforewegotoprint: www.settlestories.org.uk/festival 1 3April and http://artsandnarrative.co.uk/ storyknowing symposium festival/ 22 23April.

Liz

Laura Simms Word Storm

GirlswriteHaiti

"Whatever!" What cametomind was a day in the camp in Haiti several years after the earthquake, when I changed how I viewed thepower oftheWord to heal.

This winter in Manhattan, on a day when the snow had all but melted after a storm, I was walking behind a mother and her six year old daughter. Wewere crossing an avenue, slipping on ice and climbing over an ash coloured snow bank. The mother said, "The snow was pretty fun wasn't it?“ The girl wearing knee high pink snow boots and a pink coat with a hood sprouting straight black hair, responded, "I don't like the dirty snow!" The mother smiled, "But it was beautiful yesterday." The girl shrugged her shoulders, no longer looking at her mother, and said,

I began working in Haiti in June 2010 for International Medical Corps, six months after the earthquake. Months later, I returned to participate in a narrative and healing project with Mercy Corps. During that time, at the request of a group of adolescent girls living in a small camp behind the walls of a half destroyed school, in unsanitary and insecure conditions with 145 families in damaged tents I helped them begin a Group for expression, support and safety. I continued to support and oversee the Girls Group when the projectwithMCended.

I am still supporting the girls five years later. They now live dispersed throughout Port au Prince. Their bond is exceptional. The experience that I describe below took place in the spring of 2013. The conversation overheard in Manhattan reminded me that it is not only young women living in displaced camps that are at risk of losing heart and restorative communication. One afternoon in May 2013, I arrived for my last days of a visit with the girls. They arrived over an hour late. I was looking forward to seeing them. I wanted to talk about, and make stories about, our extraordinary day "out of the camp.” We left the filth and rubble of tents and inadequate outhouses, for the first time to go into the countryside. Kenscoffwasonly nominally

affected by the earthquake. The girls danced and shared stories for hours in a large public garden cavorting on green lush grass, with a sense of unabashed joy. They traded jackets, polished their nails, and talked about the future. They were released from the stress of their every day lives under the tent. All the way back they sang children’s songs and pop tunes. They begged me to stop twice on the road for lunches. I did. It was growing dark when they climbed out of thevanyawningand satisfied.

There I was the next day, sitting near a rubble half wall under a single tree on a three legged chair, waiting for the girls to appear. Each girl had taken a long time to wash her hair and dress for our meeting as if they were attending a formal dinner party. When they entered the

tent they were sauntering slowly. They sat in strange silence as if we were strangers; perched sideways, arms akimbo, their spines like rubber curving against the chairs. They turned away from each other. They did not make eye contactwithme. Their disinterest disarmed me. It feltimpenetrable.Iwasannoyed. Thetranslator,ayoungHaitian student, who had accompanied us the day before, whispered to me, "They are depressed." I asked, “Why?” She explained, "It was hard to return to the camp afteradayout."

Myannoyanceevaporated. I recognized the not so hidden pain they warded off daily. But I felt empty. Not knowing is often how I find my way into an activity, even if I have a detailed

plan. I grew quiet and looked at them without my irritation; softened. I breathed to quiet my mind. Creativity is not something that flowers with strategies and impatience. Getting stuck in my own story would have left me only able to rely on a pre packaged plan that would elicit pre packagedresponses.I sought for the insight that arises with authentic response within myself, and from them, when I surrender to the intelligence of notknowing.Irelynotknowing.I rely on the power of being present. They shifted. Their arms unfolded, but they said nothing. I stood up, "All right. We had a great day. It is really hard to be back isn't it?" A few of the girls nodded. "So let's be here!" I said.

I thought of an activity that might bring them back to their senses; to the energy of engagement that is life nourishing. My intention was not that clear at the moment, but in retrospect I realize I needed to invite them to not abandon the depth of their feelings,butalso tofind awayto harvest what was taking place inside of those feelings; to shake up the stuck energy of their unhappinessandget involved. In whatever was present lay the possibilityandthegift.

To do that is to give an experiential instruction: it is fine to feel disappointed, upset, confused sad or angry. They have the right to feel these things, but do not have to lose heart under the weight of the stories they attach to their unhappiness that sticks like glue and renders them

numb. Creativity, curiosity, joy of seeing something outside oneself, is the key that unlocks the possibility nesting inside of their feelings. I remembered an exercise I had explored with youth in a violence prevention projectinMississippi: “I would like you to go outside of the tent. You can keep any mood youwant. Walkalone.Butgoout and see. Then see again. Find something you hate in the camp. Look at it. Then look at it again. Then look from another direction. Look again. Write about it. Describe it. Make of list of colours, shapes, smells, thoughts, images. Write what you hate. Andthencomeback."

They stood, a bit reluctant, but the word “hate” generated some interest so they walked out. They returned in ten seconds. “Go! Go

out! Really walk around until you find something. Don't talk to anyone. Just go somewhere. Look at one thing that you hate! Then describeit.” I pulled new colourful journals that I was going to give them later that afternoon. “Here is a fresh notebook and a pen. Write. Write. I don't care what you say. Just write what you feel. And, a description of what you see thatyouhate."

lookagain.Whatdoyoudislike?"

They each took a notebook and a pen. They loved getting new journals. They went out for the second time with more intention. Somehow they were curious. Their footsteps were more lively. One girl stopped by a water hole surrounded by trash. Another girl sat in front of a filthy wood door leaning against a tarp. Another girl stared at a tree growing against a cracked well. I called out, "Look and then look again. Then

Two girls were standing beside a broken car, rusted and without wheels. They circumambulated the burned vehicle, covered with graffiti and leaning against each other began to fill empty pages. Ten minutes later they returned. Each one had her notebook in hand. They sat down and stared at me. I said, "You have four minutes. Write a poem called I HATE."

They began to write. The silence was rich, transformed. They wrote without stopping. Theneachgirlreadwhatshehad written. Every single poem or tale was alive with feeling and description. “I hate the Breadfruit tree. I hate the wall it grows on. I hate the taste of Breadfruit. Everyone likes it . But I hate it. It is bitter bitter on my tongue. It is

ugly. I hate breadfruit.” Each girl had a poem, an incantation, breathing alive with image and vividness. “The trash is illness. The water that flows from the toilets is cholera. People walk with their heads down. Paper and plastic and leaves. I hate the dirt.”

What mattered most to me was that they had come alive. They were responding to seeing and to the life force within themselves. The energy that stuck them in unspoken sorrow burst open like a fruit spilling out words that held their feelings. They were listening, safely, to one another, appreciating the force of each other’slines. Ahorrorofimages abouttrashand dangerousboys, cholera, depression, dirt, hunger and fear rolled off their tongues from the page. Their words,

however were potent. They became cheerful. As they read, being heard, their complaints became songs. Our circle was vibrating with interest. They were participating in the energy of renewal and faith. Like women through the ages the words gave them strength “to bear the world they lived in.” It was an act of survival, and living. They partook of outrageous dependence on what could not be destroyed –their creativity, their embodied sense of presence and participationwitheachother.

Without stopping to say anything about what they had written I sent them out again.

"Now go again! Find something you LOVE; something you appreciate or treasure in the camp. It can be a surprise or something you see every day. It can be a person. Look at it or someone from every direction. Describe it in your notebook in as much detail as you can." Off they went. This time looking, and writingwithout hesitation. For the What I Love lists, one girl had sat in a classroomwhere there were rows of clean chairs. Another hadstoppedinfrontofher mother who was sitting on a piece of plastic in the dust between tents. The daughter walked around her mother, observing, and making notes. The mother, moments before head bent toward the ground, looked up smiling and began to preen and flirt with her daughter. Otherstook their time finding something they admired. I

noticed three girls standing beforethesamerustedcarof another's “I hate” poem. The youngest girl who lived in a small tent with nine family members, sat on the ground with a tea cup. After twelve minutes I called them back. They rushed to their seats; without instruction began to write. Then, read out loudandlistenedtoeachother.

They broke through disappointment. The rhythm of their words and their thoughts, the beauty of expression lifted them from despair.Thepoemsweresomeof the best they had shared. My translator repeated each onetwo times. She read them in Creole with all the emphasis of great recitation. The girls repeated their lines in unison with her making a chorus. Allowed to give form and image to complex feelings made what might have

been a source of misery, into a flowering of personal and communal empowerment. What they loved was so easily forgotten that remembering and honouring small things and each other was breath taking. They had written with potencyandtruepoetry.

with being present for complimentsforeachother.

Then we made time for poetry repair. With a partner, they reread their poems to help each other makecorrectionsormakechanges, or just approve what was spoken. We had often talked about how long it takes for a great poem or story to be born. This reparative element deepened their capacity forlistening. Itbroughtthemmore fully into themselves and each

Then we talked about the day before. They loved the trip. The conversation was lively. Even the statements of how hard it was to return were authentic but not sabotaging. The girls teased each otheraboutsinging,andplayingin the gardens. Mind released from the binding force of habitual sadness opened into new strength to speak about their lives. The exercise of exploring the extremes of what was hated, and what was loved, stretched the muscles of acceptance, intelligence, and resilience. Whatwehaddonewas an inner mind poetry yoga where the imagination gave us access to transformation, detail, alternative and bigger views, and knowing a place within that was untouched by the contingencies of what was allaroundthem.

On another afternoon, a year later, building on this experience, I sent them out again to see with the emphasis on making metaphors; freeing their minds even more to find beauty and solace and power within themselves. “I love writing,” they said boldly,often.

Ending a session was joyful, poignant, and ceremonial. We becamechoreographersofstories to make dances. Someone chose music on the iPod that still worked. Someone else called out a situation or an image or a character. Starting on the ground they danced becoming trees growing. They giggled like children and gyrated like teenagers. Then we ate. The girls always ate in silence. And they always pushed half of the food to one

side of the container to take back totheirfamilies.

We closed with wishes for each other standing shoulder to shoulder, passing our praises and blessings, in a garland of kindness. Todrawupfromwithin what is naturally good and generous is to feel the place within ever resourceful and never damaged or limited. Then they followedmetothecar.

The reality of the girls lives has been filled with demands, loss and suffering. Being together in a creative way has rendered them not isolated. When there is an emergency or need in the circle, we give it time. We often broke into two small groups so whoever needs extra time to be heard can share their problem, agony, dilemma, confusion about love, in confidence and privacy.

Sometimes they ask for suggestions. Sometimes for different points of view. We all listen deeply to each other’s stories. In this way, hearts are uplifted. Problems that feel beyond hope find solutions, alternative viewpoints or at least support and empathy. Listening and sharing poems and stories, we lean into the long heritage of oral tradition. They unite with a past wheretheir grandparentssat on porches in the provinces or at ceremonies sharing folktales and old stories. Some stories they knew stretched back to Africa across continents and time. We included the present, filled with the aftermath of disaster and the loss of their homes with respect. We also included the capacity they had to make something of meaning and beauty in the midst of difficulty. These two threads gave them strength to

advocate for their safety and futures. Things that could not be changed were less dire when shared. This is what I thought about while overhearing the snow street conversation between a mother and her daughter in Manhattan. I wondered what would have occurred if the mother could havesaid "What do you hate about the dirt? “ And listened to her daughter. And asked, “What did you like about clean snow?" Would they have joined together, like the girls in the camp, whose sharing has brought them the visceral knowledge of resilience and the discover of joy regardless of circumstance. Women and girls living in almost every situation, but particularly in displaced persons camps or in conflict zones live in danger of losing

their sense of dignity and hope. The arts may not provide immediate solutions for changing their environment, or culture, but it accesses and supports the courage and ability to make change and to live without drowning in despair. The commitment to being present, to seeing, to giving voice to image and emotion, reachesinto what is innate, healingandempowering. The flowering is inner creativity, strength of spirit and heart; lessening of stress and isolation; and a restoration of beauty. The power of making a poem, a story or a dance lifts them, us, out of the tyranny of our own minds that either fixes us in a difficult placeorencouragesustoimagine ceaseless opportunity now and in thefuture.

Atpresent,inHaitiandthroughout our world, theplight ofyoung women displaced and demeaned

is overwhelming. It is my hope that we include in all of the priorities for relieving suffering, the empowerment from within of each young woman so she has the strength to restore dignity, and access that place within that can never be harmed. The arts are not entertainment, but the very path of liberation and treasurehouseoftransformation.

Laura Simms is an award winning performer, writer, and educator advocating storytelling as compassionate action for personal and community transformation www.laurasimms.com

Paul Jackson The Artist’s Way

A chance encounter forges a new strand of creativity that binds all together

For 40 years I have travelled the journeyoftheArtist.Thishasbeen my living, my breathing, my way of life. For twenty three of those, I have walked the path of the storyteller too, criss~crossing the landscapes between paint and words, clay and voice. They are not so far apart, these creative houses. One day you’re studying Da Vinci, then it’s Vasilisa the beautiful, or Baba Yagatheboneylegs.

‘The Boy was born blind. But he was lucky, his parents loved him; they became his eyes, so, in a way he could see.’

So goesthebeginning ofoneofmy favouritestories…

But when the boy’s parents are killed in an accident he has to go and live with his grand mother, who does not want him. Dilemma. Stories are full of dilemma. But they are also blessed withwisdom.

During the day I might be making the face of Akanidi in porcelain~ smoothing her face to receive a glaze, but that night, she might step out from my tongue in a telling, as she escorts herds of reindeer across an invisible stage covered in invisible snow. Are we notblessedasstorytellersto make such marvels come to life in the mindsofothers?

Storytelling came along for me because I needed it. I really neededit.

And when you need something that much,itwillcomealong.

board. The only place I was able toexcelwasintheartroom.

After working as a window display artist, I managed to secureaplaceatArtCollege.

I found much solace in Ruth Sawyer who reassuresthe reader in her beautiful book; The Art of the Storyteller, that Storytelling is a living thing. Not intellectual. That we discover story first through the journey of the heart notthemind.

Merlin

I was not good at school, dyslexia clouding the view of the black-

I had been drawing detailed illustrations and making sculptures in porcelain since 1977. The subject matter was of fantasy and Faerie, and the stories of my characters were all in my head. In 1979 I was lucky enoughtogetmyworkinfrontof the Chief Editor of Pan books, David Larkin. He granted me a rare interview and told me that he loved my illustrations and sculptures and advised that if I could develop my writing to the standard of my artwork, I would never be out of a job. So I set to work on my stories, but I found the writing beyond me. The dyslexia unravelled the notion. I tried for a couple of years, failed

again and eventually put the writingaway.

By 1990 I had my own studio in Norfolk. there were prestigious exhibitions in London, and collectors increasingly wanted to know what the stories were that informed the pieces. But my experience of writing had not been a good one. I hit upon the idea of Storytelling? Perhaps I coulddothatinstead?

pointed out in his kindest voice, the difference between remembering a story and telling a story, making it clear that I was doingtheformer,notthelatter.

So I advertised my annual open studio exhibition to feature the storiesbehind thepiecesin what I called a Storytelling. I was petrified beyond belief, and that was compounded by the unexpected appearance in the audience of Hugh Lupton who lived locally. An invitation to ‘come and have a chat’ was given afterwards and over a cup of tea a few days later, Hugh

Having been advised to try out a storytelling course for beginners at St Donats, I found myself at the end of a week of workshops, enthralled, spellbound; my imagination fully engaged, engine running.

When I declared that I was now a Storyteller however, Pomm Clayton, my Tutor raised her eyebrows at me “If you really want to become a storyteller” she said, “start in schools”.

GreenManKS3

Sothat’swhatIdid.Fortwoyears withonestory!

Lazy Jack became my anthem and my medicine as I blended the Artist with the Storyteller. I went from one primary school to another ~15 thefirst year, 50 the second. I designed an array of art projects for each Key Stage and eventually for every year group. I learnt very quickly; I had to.

size trees made from recycled card with fruit and flower shapes. Every child drew their closest friendandputthatfaceinthetree inside those shapes to create a CommunityTree!

Having 30 kids queuing up for helpeverysessionkeptmeonthe goldenball. I learnt how to design storyboards, make animal masks, create 8ft giants and 12 foot totem poles! There were full

I introduced art technology with endless moving bits, spinners, flaps, slits and so on. We would use a wax resist process called ‘Brusho’ which gave the most stunning visual effects, particularly effective on masks. Forsomeschoolvisitstherewould be over 300 masks to create ~ elephants, monkeys, kings, lions and many more. I would spend days making templates, drawing & cutting out the basic masks. The children would then individualise themwithcolourandexpression.I would cut, pull and staple and bring them around their faces. I stapled a few children to their masks, but it didn't seem to mattertoomuch!

With art technology I would only work with Yr 5 & 6. Just two classes ~ heaven! As I gained in confidence, I began to tell stories to provide imagery to work with. Children would pair up, discuss and agree on a favourite part of the story which they would then bring to life with their moving picture. At the end of a day of story and artwork all the pupils and staff would pile into the hall with their creations. It was such a huge buzz. We would usually finish with an Assembly storyandsong.

I started to introduce more and more stories in the classroom. Thiswasabout2003.The sessions became intense. Theart that grew from those sessions had much more substance and meaning. We would explore traditions like the false face society, and their reasons for mask making and wearing.

I felt drawn to find instruments; it was love at first sight with my beloved Kora and along with my Tibetan Singing Bowls they began to find a comfortable place inside my stories.

About a year later, visiting a Care Home, I came across a lady who would not join in with the story telling in the lounge. She stayed in her room. A photo was found of her playing a violin, which was amongst her possessions when shehadarrived.

She would not talk about the violintothestaff.

So on my next visit I wasasked ifI might go and play my Kora for her. She was laying on her bed, silent. Isatatthefarendofthatbedand played for her, quietly allowing us to share something without words. ‘Heart felt’ as Ruth Sawyer might say. It was simple yet, after a while we found a gentle dialogue took root between us, a small conversation about playing, of notes and resonance, and somewhere there I asked her aboutherloveoftheviolin,ofthe photo, of playing and soon, God knows when, but soon, the violin was placed across her body, and I watched as she ran her fingers along the strings, felt the shape and form of something that had once been so familiar to her. She

cried a little then, but after a whileshesmiled.

When I returned to the home the next time, she had passed away. There’s a back-story of course. Some distant niece was contacted through papers found and her story came to life. It turnedouttheoldladywasonce a brilliant violinist, but age and infirmity had brought an end to her performing.Herparentshad died and she, unmarried, drifted slowly into old age, living alone. Her voice ~ the violin, silent and lockedawayforyears.

It seems to me that our lives are scattered with chance encounters where a great gift can be shared with a heart connection.

One of the most important things that I learnt from her was that story doesn't have to be

some complete, fashioned thing for it to have power and resonance.All storiesmatter.

SuddenlyIknewthatwhatIfeltin her story was what I wanted to feel in every story that I told. I realised that the barrier between myself and others had vanished overnight, and that it was the spiritualandemotionalcontentof story that really mattered. Of course many things will make a gripping story believable and enjoyable, but it will come to naught ifthestory doesnot begin fromtheheart.

Over the years I have been lucky enough to blend art forms together in many collaborations. In a project on Boudica, Historian Maureen James and I travelled to some of the most important sites of the revolt against Rome in AD 61.

Our brief was to go beyond the dry words of Tacitus, the Roman chronicler and try to uncover the human story of Boudica’s revolt. Maureen and I decided to explore the most important sites of the rebellion; the Menai Straits, Colchester, Anglesey and first, the rising ground at Caister St Edmund, Norfolk. This overlooks the grassy mounds of a Romanised Celtic market, just outsidethecity ofNorwich. Here we recalled the story to one another, feeling theatmosphere. It wasn’t difficult to soon hear the voice of this extraordinary womancalling100,000peopleto war.

Ten primary schools were involved in the project. I was commissioned to break the revolt down into five story sections, write songs for the two opposing armies, and draw

images of the Protagonists in battle. Each day we met in a school and a second school would arrive by coach. The children wereasked to chooseto be Romans or Celts and I would tell a section of the story. Then an actress would appear, resplendent as the Queen, and the Project Leader would arrive dressed as Suetonius Paulinus. Theywoulddebatetheeventsup to where I finished and the editor of Norfolk’s regional paper, The Eastern Daily Press wouldact as a UN Representative. The kids then wrote articles and drew up the scenes of the day. I remember one boy got carried away with the idea that the Celts had 10,000 horses. The mounds of ‘you know what’ made a great headline in the first paper. The editor took the articles and images back to work, and by the morning two news papers were

printed up and delivered to all the participating schools. It was brilliant.

The Roman song was what you would expect, thump thump thumping words half sung to the beat of marching. However the Celtic one was full of fire in its rhythm and made your heart beat faster.

The guy who played Suetonius began to look forward to the resounding defeat of Boudica. But

that last morning I saw a white horse galloping across a field and several hares in another. So I told the children that in that last battle the Celts did not die but instead… became the spirit of the horse, the hare and the land, in everyshapeandeveryform.

Thechildren instinctively sang the last Celtic song in a whisper, and Boudicalivedon.

consider, as I paint silver and gold ontomysculptures…

As storytellers say~ ’When you know where you have come from, you will know where you are going’ . I have been blessed to be given the great gift of stories. And theyhavebeenmymedicine.

In2012,attheageof59,aboutto be married to a lovely lady, encouraged by her, I discovered that the man I had thought was my father was not my father. So I went in search of my lineage. My mother who died when I was 18 was Welsh, as was her mother. And my newly discovered, but sadly deceased father? ~ Polish~ and his father? Also Polish; a Master Craftsman working in silver and gold. How odd life is I

ThebookIputawayfortyyearsago has resurfaced. The writing of protagonist, landscape and plot suddenly is alive, rich and fulfilling, and the journey of the “Artist’s way into story” has just turnedanewpage.

Paul Jackson Storyteller, artist, sculptor http://www.pauljacksonstory.com

Chip Colquhoun A Telling Difference

Is the government opening up to promoting oral storytelling in education?

National Storytelling Week is perhaps the SfS’ greatest achievement, marked by institutions and personalities countrywide. Many, however, show little awareness of NSW’s origins or (occasionally) its oral focus. For instance, Duchess Camilla celebrated NSW with the Literacy Trust to promote reading.

So when the Department for Education contacted the SfS to ask if they knew an event where Schools Minister Nick Gibb could share a speech on “the

importance of storytelling and reading in education”, one could predict his emphasis. Still, could inviting the Minister to an oral eventholdmerit?

Since October 2013, I’ve tried organising the world’s first controlled study of storytelling in education. There are plenty of qualitative studies,collecting feedback from teachers and/or children after a storyteller’s visit. However, these studies have no controls – i.e. similar groups of children who didn’t enjoy story telling. Lack of scientific method has so far prevented oral story telling making the leap from curriculum recommendation to statutory requirement policy makers only accept quantitative evidence.

Frustratingly, finding control groups proved tricky. Teachers intrinsically knew children would benefit from storytelling, so were unwilling to let any miss out. Even promising storytelling for the control groups immediately after the study wasn’t persuasive: this putpressureontheirtimetables.

But offering a Ministerial visit in return for data? That had weight. St Andrew’s Primary in Soham gobbled the bait, and so a month of storytelling would culminate in a NSW event attended by Mr Gibb with research and control assessments investigating storytelling’s effectiveness along the way.

On 2nd February, Mr Gibb arrived to a scene reminiscent of a Moroccan market. Classrooms housed storytelling tents, in which children orally shared talesof their own creation with peers, teachers, parents, and councillors. 90

Q&A revealed he’d been profoundly affected by the extraordinary engagement and confidence of the young story tellers. While his speech suggested reading as the pathway to strong learning, Mr Gibb acknowledged oral storytelling as the pathway to reading.

Thiswasalsotheangletaken byITV Anglia News, who eschewed Duchess Camilla’s event in order to focus their NSW report solely on ours.

children shared stories this way, with over twice that number in spellboundaudiences.

As expected, reading dominated Mr Gibb’s prepared speech (see URL below) but the subsequent

So was it worth it? Given more schools are now keen to join our study, and that Mr Gibb requested regular updates on the study’s progress, the answer is: “Yes”. And since the study’s already seeing the research groups rapidly out performing the control groups, we’ll soon deliver a firm message deep within the DfE: oral story telling has proven benefits for children’s learning, and should therefore be a curriculum requirement.Watchthisspace! ChipColquhoun Storyteller

https://www.gov.uk/government/ speeches/the importance of storytelling

Sharon Carr A Cinderella A Day

Peg Doll Stories

Both Pyn Stockman and myself work as storytellers under the umbrella of Tree Mendous Tales and over the past year, we have been holding regular monthly family storytelling sessions on Saturday afternoons at Hall Green Library in Birmingham. These sessions areusuallyverylivelyand eclectic as they are aimed at a wide ranging age group from toddlers to adults that ebb and flow into the group as we tell the stories. However, as you can well imagine, this can be very challenging as often we find ourselves competing with other users of the Library on busy Saturdayafternoons.

So when wefound outwehad got funding from Art Works to run a series of monthly storytelling and

craft-making workshops focusing on the Cinderella stories from around the world over Christmas and the New Year’s we felt very fortunate indeed. Our project was one of four selected by Art Works, a local arts organisation that works within the Hall Green constituency in Birmingham to promote and support individuals and groups in the creative arts as well as provide opportunities for participation and professional development.

This year’s Commission focused on the theme of Connecting Spaces and in partnership with the Midlands Arts Centre, (MAC), Art Works enabled local artists, community groups, residents and venuestoconnectandcollaborate with each other to create a vibrant and colourful programme of activities that took place throughout the Hall Green locality in Birmingham over a four month period, ending in an energetic, joyful and vibrant showcase of all four projects’ work on 24 FebruaryatMACbeforeaninvited audience of participants, their families,friendsandotherguests.

The title of our project was “A Cinderella A Day” and this connected beautifully with the storythemeofMAC’sfamilyshow last Christmas as it was exactly that – the story of “Cinderella.”

Both Pyn and myself are fascinated by the Cinderella story cycleandhadtalkedaboutgetting something together, using some of these stories to create a performance piece. However, we had not progressed the idea any further until we found out about Art Works’ Connecting Spaces Commission. We both felt this could be a wonderful opportunity to work specifically with a group of children at Hall Green Library through a series of workshops, usingsomeofthestoriesfromthe cycle as the creative inspiration and combining this with a craft activity.

Pyn Stockman telling Baba Yaga

Pyn came up with the idea of using peg dolls. Our aim was to encourage children and their parentstousethestories,getting their inspirations from either some of the characters in the stories told or whatever took their fancy when crafting their doll. We found this approach workedparticularlywiththe boys who attended as very likely their views of the Cinderella stories are these are “girls only” territory. However, we showed them that not of all of the Cinderellas in the stories selected for the sessions had a Prince Charming waiting in the wings to sweep their Cinders off theirfeetintomarriage.

In particular, one of the selected stories, Chinye from West Africa, tellsofa young girl who overcomes a life of hardship and cruelty, and achieves independence, happiness andwealthforherlocalcommunity and herself through her acts of kindness, self belief and good works (plus with a little magic thrown in) but not through the motifofmarriage.

By telling these stories, we also wanted to show that the Disney version isnot thedefinitivestory of the Cinderella fairytale; that there are between 350 to 1,500 versions of the Cinderella stories originating from different

countries and cultures from around the world. We felt it was important to show there is a universality in the themes that connect the different stories and that each Peg-Doll created in the workshops, could be seen to be representativeofthemany stories to be found in the story cycle. However,duetotime constraints, we could only focus on a selected number of stories in some of the workshops and to illustrate the diversity and quantity of the stories in the cycle, we felt it was important to focus on a target number of peg dolls that could realistically be achieved, that is, over a four month period from November to February this year. We held only three workshops –one per month and so it was necessary to limit the number of dollsbeingmade.

Althoughtherearemany versions of the story, Pyn suggested we should aim for a target of 365 dolls as a realistic number to achieve. Each doll created would eventually be displayed in an exhibition of Art Works’ Connecting Spaces Showcase of allfourprojects’work. We had the full backing and support from Margaret Hunt, the Librarian Manager and her staffto go ahead with the project. Both Margaret and her staff were very enthusiastic and made available their meeting room space upstairs. The Library then publicised the three free Saturday workshops our first session was fullybooked.

Both parents and children who attended that first Saturday were

told oftheproject’saimsand also of the chance to win a free ticket to go and see MAC’s production of “Cinderella” before Christmas, if they attended two workshops. Therewasalotofexcitement and in our first session, we told our two chosen Cinderella stories, Tattercoats (England) and Vasilisa theBeautiful(Russia.)Afterwards, people were encouraged to create their own Cinders inspired peg dolls, using materials, fabric samples and textiles very kindly donated by a local haberdashery shop as well as from other sources. There was a budget to purchase the copious materials needed. The dolls created at our story workshops were truly

inspirationalandverytherapeutic!

In fact, this was a rather surprising consequence from the story doll making sessions. The adults attending fathers, mothers, grandparents, etc. became thoroughly absorbed in creating their dolls, working alongside their children. Their involvement became a shared family activity with their children and the atmosphere at the workshops was relaxed but very industrious, resulting in all kinds of Cinders Peg Dolls being created

from Super-Heroes, to air-planes fashioned from pipe cleaners, pegs and fabric to sparkly Fairy Godmother peg dolls and Baba Yagas. We were amazed and so pleasedwiththeresults. However, to reach our target of 365 Cinders peg dolls, we knew that people attending all three workshops would not be able to achievethisnumbersoPyncame up with the idea of leaving bags filled with materials and instructions on how to make the dolls at the Library for people to collect and then return with the finished dolls. We were helped by Art Works who advised that people collecting the bags from the Libraryshouldbeaskedfora £1 deposit that would be redeemed on the return of the completed doll. The deposit would act as an incentive to

Sharon Carr telling Tattercoats

return the dolls and this strategy worked so well that there were very few bags left by the end of the third and final workshop in January. In fact, people loved working on the dolls so much, we were amazed and delighted with the results of our “outreach” peg dolls.

It has been an eventful storyjourney for both Pyn, myself, Hall Green Library and for all those

By the time of our third workshop, we felt that the children might wish to participate in one of our stories, acting out some of the characters as the story was beingtold. Wedecidedtousethe story of Chinye and the children were encouraged to take on the roles of the animals like that of the gazelle, the herd of sleeping zebra and others. This was great fun and this performance was worked into our showcase presentation for Connecting Spaces on 24FebruaryatMAC.

Part of the display of the peg dolls

families who took part in our “A Cinderella A Day” Project. We learned so much from doing the workshops, telling the stories, working with the children and their families and with the Library Staff. We would like to thank everyone involved who enabled our project to happen to Art Works, to MAC, theLibraryandofcoursetoourgal, Cinderella as without her this

Pyn Stockman

project would not have taken place. ThankyoudearCinders.

PS – did we reach our target of 365 Cinders Peg Dolls.... well near enough. The grand total was 225 finished peg dolls. Over 200 people took part and their dolls, currently on display at MAC until April 10th, are an inspirational testimony to their enjoyment and creativity – well done to all involved!

Story of the Season Chinye

adapted from Afropedia Wiki Long ago in Africa, there lived an orphan, Chinye who lived with her stepmother Nkechi, and stepsister Adanma. Quietly, Chinye worked hard every day to please Nkechi, who forced her to do all the work on her own. Adanma was both spoiledbyNkechiandverylazy.

SHARON CARR – is a storyteller based in the Midlands and is one of the resident tellers with Birmingham Storytelling Cafe www.birminghamstorytellingcafe. co.uk

PYN STOCKMAN is a theatre practitioner, storyteller and mask maker www.pynstockmancom. She is co artistic director of Secret CityArts. www.secretcityarts.com

Photos by Harpreet Kaur unless otherwisestated

OnenightAdanmahadusedallthe water for a bath, leaving none to cookwith.Angrily,Nkechi demanded Chinye to go to the stream to get more water. How ever many wild animals went to the stream at night and even the bravest villagers dared not go when the sun fell. Chinye begged Nkechi to let her borrow water from a neighbour instead. Nkechi thrust a heavy water pot into Chinye's arms and sent her into

theforest. Chinye wept as she journeyed throughtheforest.Soonashadow could be seen along the path. Chinye screamed and shut her eyes. “Where are you going?” asked a gentle voice. Chinye opened her eyes to find an antelope. Relieved, she explained, “I am fetching water.” The antelope warned, “Hurry home, Chinye, the forest is full of dangers at night.” But Chinye had to refuse. “My stepmother will be very angry with me if I don’t return with the water.” Sighing, the antelope allowed Chinye to pass.

As Chinye continued down the path, another shadow loomed upon her. It was a hyena. Chinye screamed and shut her eyes, but this creature's voice was also kind like the antelope's. After telling

her story to the hyena, the hyena wished her well on her journey. “Be careful, a lion is following. Hide behind a tree until it passes.” Chinye obeyed before hurrying towards the stream and fillingherwaterpot.

Running home, an old woman appeared in front of her. She reached to hold Chinye and bless her. “Chinye, you will pass a hut making sounds of drums and songs. Go inside, there you will find gourds all along the floor. Beware, the largest gourd, which carries evil things, will call to you to be taken. Don’t listen to it. Instead, take the gourd which is smallestand quietest.” Theoldwomandisappeared.

Chinye came upon the hut making the sounds of drums and songs. Inside she ignored the large gourd that asked for her to

take it. When she finally left the hut with the smallest, quietest gourd, the old woman appeared again. Inspecting thegourd, she congratulated Chinye on her wise decision. “Make use of what fortune it gives you.” Tenderly, the woman touched Chinye's cheek and sent her on herwayhome.

Chinye's stepmother was at the doorwaiting. “Whattookyouso long?” demanded Nkechi eyeing the small gourd Chinye carried with suspicion. “An old woman gave me this gourd.” Nkechi snatched it and shook it violently. It made no sounds at all. Nkechi tossed it aside. “Bah! Prepare the fire for our food. We’vebeenwaitingforyou.”

Early the next morning before Nkechi and Adanma were awake, Chinye took the gourd

intoherfather'soldhut,lockedthe door and smashed it as she’d been told. From the tiny gourd the entire hut was filled with treasure: goldornaments,ivory,raredamask in all colours, flooded the floor. When her disbelief subsided, she rantotellNkechi.

Nkechi saw the treasure and was stunned to think it had come from such a small gourd. She soon wished it had been Adanma who had met the old woman. Filled with greed, that night Nkechi sent Adanma to the stream. Adanma met the antelope, hyena and the old woman just as Chinye had. However Adanma didn’t heed the old woman's advice not to listen to thelargestgourd.Whenitcalledto her “Take me” from inside the hut shecarriedithome.

When Nkechi saw the size of the gourd she guessed they would

amassaneven greaterfortune.But when they smashed the gourd, there was a flash of lightning and thunder. A great whirlwind gathered up all of their belongings. Nkechi and Adanma were left with nothing. Chinye shared her wealth with the rest of her village and lived happily everafter,NkechiandAdanmaleft, toopridefultoaskforhelp.

Reviews

Tudor Tales

DaveTonge

TheHistoryPress

ISBN978 0 7509 6241 4

Answers to last issue’s Ballad Crossword

Across: 7 Faire, 8 Querulous, 10 Athole,11Betrayer,12Erlinton,13 Cast, 15 Nourice, 17 Flodden, 20 Edom, 22 Fabulous, 25 Daughter, 26 Lament, 27 Earl brand, 28 Crane.

Down: 1 Martyrdom, 2 Broodier, 3 Husband, 4 Critical, 5 Pleads, 6 Queen, 9 Wept, 14 Returning, 16 Cemetery, 18 Delamere, 19 Affront,21Dugall,23Bell,24Fatal.

All you people who have heard DaveTongetellhisstoriesgleaned from court records, ‘chap books’, ‘gest books’ and other historical sources will not be surprised to hear that this is a wonderful selection of Tudor tales. Those who have yet to hear him, should buy this book immediately as it is thenearestthingthereistositting andlisteningtoDavetellthem.On every page his voice is clear, strong and confident as he leads the reader into the history, very fabric and culture of Tudor England.Ihavebeenluckyenough to have heard a number of these tales from Dave during the past year and believe that this book does both his telling of them and

his knowledge of Tudor England justice.

If you are looking for politically correct stories then this book is for you, as long as you are prepared to accept that it is the politics and raucous, bawdy society of the sixteenth century thatisbeingexplored.Eachofthe eight sections in the book has tales grouped around a common theme; “The Struggle for the Breeches” marital harmony or disagreement, “A Caveat for Common Cursitors” tricksters and rogues that walked the highways and byways of the land. The tales are for the most part rambunctious and lively in many of the sections, there is little time for reflection or self doubt. The characters who people these stories are too busy living and tryingtosurviveinanincreasingly confusingsociety.

Dave’s well-turned phrases appeal as much to the reader’s eye as they do to the listener’s ear. A particular favourite description of mine, from “Of The GoodwifeofOrleans”willserveas anexample: “She was a peach and a poppet; her skin, it was as white as morning milk and as bright as a newly minted coin; …She was a dolly and a daisy. She was as tall as a mast and as straight as a crossbow bolt. She was as slim and supple as a weasel.”

Throughout the book we are introduced to a wide range of characters, scolding wives, greedy merchants, venal friars, tricksters, wise men and fools. Each comes alive with the telling of their tale. The Tudor world is presented for our inspection “warts and all”. Alongside the adulterous wives in the tales “Of He Who Painted a

Lamb” and “Of The Goodwife of Orleans” we get the poignant tale “Of The Poor Gentleman and his Hawk” and each tale fits the sectionwell.

In his introduction Dave writes, “Long before I was a storyteller I was an historian, burrowing into sixteenth century court records…” It is clear that this was time very well spent. Each tale in the book has, before it, a relevant piece of historical detail setting it firmly in the period. These additions actually enhance the experience of reading the book and should be read and not passed over. In Tudor Tales, Dave Tonge has pulled off a very clever trick, worthy of the trickster Howleglas himself. He has written a book of tales which completelyabsorbsuswhilst atthe same time educating the reader about the period, one which Dave knowsverywell.

The illustrations used in the book, which are an intrinsic element in creating a period feel to the book are based on Tudor woodcuts. These were very cheaply produced and often reused in cheap print and broadside ballads. They both give a sense of unity to the book and also reflect the cheap print fromwhencethestoriescame.

Towards the back of the book there is a very useful glossary for those of us who would struggle to tell a “coney catcher” from a “beguiler” or an “unwiped, tardy gaited, bed presser” from a mere “dullard”. For those readers who wish to know more of the Tudor period there is also a fairly extensive bibliography of primary andsecondarysources.

All this for £9.99 in a beautiful hardback cover book adorned with goldenfoliageandaTudorrose.

CarlMerry Storyteller

The Right Story at the Right Time:

Changing the Lives of Children and Adults One Story at a Time MariannadeCroes(2015,Amazon)

This book would be of greatest interest and use to individuals looking to use storytelling in an educational context, particularly if they are Steiner/Waldorf practitioners. Marianna deCroes' work is organised in accordance with Steiner's theory and arranged by age and major developmental milestones. Readers are encouraged to begin with the preliminary chapters and then move on to the sections covering material geared for specific age groups. Other language enrichment and similar activities are suggested where age appropriate. This book is a resource for

teachers and parents that provides a familiar structure for the introduction and extension of narrative learning activities. Although I am not trained in Steiner/Waldorf theory and practice, I read The Right Story at the Right Time as a storyteller, educator and parent and it struck methatthisbookisprobablybest suited for use by the latter two groups as a standalone resource. Although many stories are given inwhatappeartobebothfulland abridged form, there is little in the way of bibliographic information that would help a storyteller compare versions in preparation for a performance. However, for a teacher or parent looking for an age appropriate story on particular themes in accordance with Steiner developmental principles, the book's structure seems to have much to recommend it.

I am not qualified to comment on the author's support for Steiner's theory of personality types or temperaments and its apparently reciprocal influence on story choice, however, it seems to be drawn almost entirely from classic Greek medical philosophy. This is perhaps not surprising, given that consideration of the humours continued to influence many 20th century theories and personality testing instruments. As a storyteller and maker who has sometimes taught, I find the developmental emphasis too rigid, because in my experience stories are capable of transforming understanding for listeners of all ages, providing thatacertainamountofcommon sense informs selection and practice. I recently told Norse sagas over a ten week period, including her selection describing

the building of the wall around Asgard (the text is found in Padraic Colum's Children of Odin: The Book of Northern Myths, Aladdin Paperbacks, New York: 2004, pp. 6-12) to 16-18 year olds as the narrative basis for a college course in Story Development for Game Design. At the sametime, I can appreciatethat a teacher or parent using stories to help achieve a particular pedagogical or behavioural goal might need to craft their presentations within certain parameters in order to help ensure a successful, observable and,hopefully, repeatableresult.

My sense is that this is neither a collection nor a how to book for the beginning storyteller because the practical mechanics of bibliographic resources and step by step strategies and advice are

Storylines VolumeVIIssue1

better handled elsewhere, Margaret Read MacDonald, Susan Strauss, and Ruth Sawyer, to name a few. That said, for a teacher or parent looking for an answer to: "How do I use stories more effectively with my kids in specific contexts?" DeCroes' work might indeed be "the right story at the righttime."

SeanaKozar Storyteller

Singlehandedfilms

Sing me the Creation

A creative writing source book (Second Edition)

Paul Matthews Hawthorn Press ISBN978 1 907359 63 7

Although this states it is a creative writing book, it is in fact crammed fullofexercisesthatanystoryteller would love to do. It is especially good for group work but is easily accessible for someone working by themselves. It bears a slow read to digest each section as you do it.

This is not a book to skip through it can seriously affect the way you think and breathe. And yet for all that it is also a book to dip inandoutof.

Paul Matthews plays with language. He makes you examine the fundamental core that inhabits each word, where does it belong in the fourfold archetype of earth, air, fire and water? Is it a statement, a question, a command or an exclamation? Is it rising or falling, flowing or forming? Through exercises that are both fun and thought provoking he gently leads us into a more complete understanding of the power of words, of spells, of rhythms, of poetry. Language rooted in landscape, in body, in spirit and psyche. Which story teller can resist such an invitation?Notme.

LizBerg Storytelller

Crossword by Montifeme

This issue's cryptic crossword is based on the tale of Cinderella and some of its many variants from around the world.

Across

1 He married again and farther removed his right. (6)

4 The original Cinderella drops into Ohio, frantic having lost... her ring? (8)

10 His widow performed and demanded justice. (7)

11 Several variants have mothers or protectors who end up here, with yours truly at pudding. (4,3)

12 The sisters lost theirs, when the ewes went west to York. (4)

13 The youngest spinster, a variant, straddles a horse beside the design of lust. (10)

15 All the women in the land stand here to enter but the influential one is oddly without fault. (2,4)

16 She improves hers with a wedding train in here. (7)

20 How the stepmother plotted sounds rude in bed... (7)

21 You'd see 7 down here. (6)

24 Aschenputtel's sisters each become one, though fake and get headed off at the bridge. (5,5)

26 A cock gave one to save the Serbian Cinders, standing out from the crowd. (4)

28 When she changed their earrings and lost the point, she made them more livid. (7)

29 The oldest documented variant is this, giving your lower jaw a state of ease. (7)

30 She was this to him but, even without this, his heartstrings would have been moved. (8)

31 The story does so when Cinderella's ease reaches the farthest extent of happiness. (6)

Down

1 How the sisters are when preparing their perfections requires removal operations? (8)

2 What her father became when he put on a new hat and tail, unravelled, stealing out in the middle of the month. (9)

3 It's oft told the stepmother does this to her mother, which in the end defeats. (4)

5 Her hesitation saw the end to her timidity, clouding the atmosphere. (8)

6 The prince's speech inciting countrywide search initially seems a logical solution. (10)

7 As the hearth cat was for her would be stepmum: a pup two thirds ill. (5)

8 Her dress... for his sword? (6)

9 A man is needed Dandini steps in who can make an announcement. (5)

14 Variant Bawang Putih is, swinging as does in NI. (10)

17 A metamorphosing spell rouses old without smell. (9)

18 Where she hid from the prince after the second ball sounds like a two in one? (4,4)

19 So, she floats?! (8)

22 The entrails eaten by the stepfamily are partly off also. (6)

23 The prince's proclamation followed his comedic tar trapping. (5)

25 Drank this to ease the pain of making her large one fit? (5)

27 Produces that which gave Cinderella her name hot stuff! (4)

...articles are immediately available online at www.sfs.org.uk to members of the Society for Storytelling. To become a member, visit www.sfs.org.uk/join or phone 07534 578 386

… reports on The Gathering, Cardiff , April 1st 2016 Deadline May 15th! www.sfs.org.uk

And don't forget if you would like to submit an article or review, contact the editor via storylines@sfs.org.uk To advertise your event in this magazine, contact Ali via admin@sfs.org.uk