Magic box story game

I guess I could pretend that I put that box of trinkets in the picture yesterday as a teaser. Here it is again.

The box is for a game I use with kids from about age 6 and up. It's called "Magic Box," and I have two versions. 

Magic Box Full

In this game, I put a variety of little toys in the box and have kids draw one out so we can tell a story about it. If we get stuck, we pull another toy out to move the story along. 

Magic Box Empty

There's nothing inside but my imagination. I open the box slowly, toward myself, so I'm the only one who can see what's inside. "Oh! I can't believe it! There are two chickens playing football in here!" I might say. Then I pass the box to the person next to me and ask what they see. We pass the box around the room until everyone has had a chance to say something. 

I prefer Magic Box Empty. I find that kids often will follow the pattern I set. If there are animals playing a sport, they continue with that idea. Sometimes I prompt for other details: "Really? Who's watching the game?" It's even more fun when they come up with something unusual. Once I played this with a group of second graders. The game was going along fairly predictably until one little girl looked in the box and said, "There's a big old tooth in here!" 

In the spirit of improvisation, I accepted this. "Really? Whose is it?"

"Yours."

"Mine! I didn't even realize I'd lost a tooth!" 

At a workshop in at St. Francis College, Sao Paulo, 2008

Sometimes there will be a literal-minded kid who says, "There's nothing in here." I suggest quietly that they pretend there is something. This may or may not work. It's important to be respectful of the student, not to make this into a big embarrassing deal. I may say, "That's okay, maybe you'll see something in there another time," or "Darn, it got invisible again.

Any little box works. You could decorate a shoebox or use a small recipe box. I like the one I have because it's in the shape of a book. I got it in Brazil in a hobby shop. 

Storytelling, storywriting

In my last post, so very long ago, I promised to write about the residency I did with 8th graders in Scott City. I'd rather write about the program I offer called "Storytelling, storywriting." I know I've written about this before, so this is mostly a reminder.

Sometimes other storytellers ask me how I can give workshop plans away like this. I remember what Eric Booth says in The Music Teaching Artist's Bible: 80% of what you teach is who you are. If somebody takes my workshop outline and puts it into practice, it will be completely different from what I do. Maybe better!

Stuff I use, sometimes, for "Storytelling, storywriting"

Back to the workshop. This is an adaptable program. I can do a 45-minute version, a 90-minute version, a  two-hour in one fell swoop version, or a multiple day version. It works best with grade 4 (age 9) and up, with kids who can read out loud fluently. I've done it in Mexico with kids from all over the country who study at English schools, in Salina, KS with fourth and fifth graders, at a Juvenile Detention Center.

In the best case scenario, I have a whole session of storytelling before we even get to the writing. That's what will happen next week in Salina when I work with fifth graders. I'll tell mostly stories I wrote, pointing out story structure and the way descriptions in the stories evoke the senses. We'll have time for questions about stories and storytelling. The kids usually feel comfortable with me by the end of the session. That's intentional. I need to connect with them for this to work.

In the second session, I read a story out loud. I like "The Big Stone," which can be found in The Guizer by Alan Garner. It's written in a slightly archaic style, and though I read with expression, the students glaze over. Then I tell it the way it is on my CD The ghost with the one black eye, to demonstrate the difference between a written and a told story.

I ask what they notice, reminding them that there is no way they can be wrong in what they say. We talk about the use of gestures, facial expressions, the voice and the body. We might do an exercise or two to underline this.

Then, using a different story, we work on backstory. I want them to understand that in order to tell a story well, I have to see it fully. I must be able to answer any question they might ask me about any character, setting, or bit of action in the story, spoken or unspoken. The color of the big sister's shoelaces in The ghost with the one black eye? Pink, absolutely. Is there a pet in that story? Yes, a big dog. (Note: if I get in a rut with a story, sometimes I change the picture in my head)

Then what? We move on to writing. I use an abridged version of Natalie Goldberg's list of rules for writing practice from her fabulous book Wild Mind. I insist that the kids write them down so these rules will go in their pencil hands to their brains. Then, using the rules, we write for three minutes on a topic I give them. As they write, the room is absolutely silent. Occasionally I prod them with a reminder to keep their hands moving, or I give a slight suggestion if they think they're really stuck. After the timer goes off, we read a few aloud.

Then we play a game I adapted from Gianni Rodari. It's like "Heads, Bodies and Legs," which I've just learned is also called "Le cadavre exquis," or "Exquisite corpse," but with writing. Here's how I described it in a post in 2008:

 It's a game where we write a story line by line, folding the page backwards after each line and then passing that paper to the next person. I prompt the kids for each line: "Who was it?", "Where was he/she?", "What did he/she do?" and so on until the story is done. After each line, the paper is passed to the next kid. They're not supposed to look at the previous lines, so when the paper is unfolded, it's a completely ridiculous story. Some of them make a strange kind of sense.

It's a great game to teach story structure. I also point out this even simpler story structure:

Somebody wanted...
But...
So...

If there's time, we extend the timed writings or the game, or we can add another game, either a storytelling game or a writing game. Even as I'm going out the door, the students often are asking if they can do this some more. They're having a blast writing and storytelling!

Did I ever mention how much I love what I do?

More on workshops

Here are some snippets of the Teachers Summer Workshop from a couple of weeks ago (held at Plymouth Congregational Church, which is why you see a cross in the background). No, there wasn't piano music playing in the background in real life.



One of the tricky things about filming puppets with a visible puppeteer is that the focus is off. I teach that the puppet should make eye contact with the audience and the puppeteer should draw the focus to the puppet. When I remember to tell the videographer to come in close to the puppet when it's speaking, the filming works. When I forget, the videographer naturally gets a wider view and the illusion doesn't quite come off. Ah, well.

Workshop musings

What makes a successful workshop?

I've led workshops since about 1990. I teach workshops on storytelling, puppetry, story stretches and songs, story games, and writing. My goals are to give the participants specific tools they can take home and put into use immediately, and for us all to have fun.

In the past couple of years, I've been an old dog learning new tricks. I'm learning a new way to teach, one I chafed against at the beginning (thanks, Anthea, for pushing me!). In the past, my method was to give workshop participants tons of information, exercises, games. Throw everything at them and see what sticks.

It isn't that this didn't succeed. My evaluations were usually positive. Here's a comment from a librarian in Colorado:

I came from Grand Junction which is 250 miles from Denver. But I am so glad I did. I would drive it again in a heartbeat to attend one of your workshops!! It was a WONDERFUL learning experience for me and I really appreciated all of your creative ideas.

And another from Kansas:

I believe this is the most overwhelmingly positive response we've had for Summer Reading Workshop in the thirteen years I've been here! In addition to what they wrote on their evaluation forms, many of the workshop participants commented to me how much they enjoyed it and how useful they found it.

Now, though, I keep wondering how much better those workshops might have been if I'd known what I now know.

Last week I gave what may have been my best workshop ever, Hands on, hands in: learning about lifecycles through storytelling and puppetry as part of the USD 497/Lied Center of Kansas Teachers' Summer Workshops. I used the techniques I learned from the Lied.Art.Teach Kennedy Center workshops for artists and what I learned from The Music Teaching Artist's Bible.

I began planning months ago. Instead of choosing a million activities and pieces of information, I narrowed it down to a few specific points.

• introduce the teachers to the method and information I used with the 2nd graders last fall,
• connect to the topic of lifecycles,
• teach puppet and storytelling techniques,
• include a segment on the Wakarusa Wetlands given by Sandy Sanders and Alison Reber, who organized the Wetlands Learners Project.

I created a detailed outline, which I then fleshed out. For once, in the workshop I stuck with the outline. This is huge--my default has always been to give myself a very general plan and then fly by the seat of my pants.

I began with a brief introduction. Then I split the group into four groups for a short brainstorming session. I asked the teachers to write anything they could think of about lifecycles on big sheets of paper, which we then read aloud and hung around the room.

After this, I demonstrated the residency presentation. This led naturally to the section with Sandy and Alison. Then it was time for a break.

After the break, I taught basic puppet techniques. We played with practice puppets. Then I revealed a huge pile of puppets, up until then hidden under a cloth, and invited the teachers to choose one. This was a hands-on (and hands-in) exercise in how to create a character. More games, more laughter, and everybody was ready for a short break.

After the break, we went back to the lists the teachers had made in the beginning. I suggested that they choose another puppet and in small groups, create a story with the puppets.

The teachers blew me away with their brilliance! Keep in mind that by the time we got to this point, it was late afternoon on a beautiful summer day. Each group created a cohesive story about a lifecycle that was both interesting and fun. I'll never think of the word "metamorphosis" without hearing it as a rap!

One of the things I've learned is allow sufficient time for reflections and questions. The teachers had a lot to offer, so building time in for that was key. They taught each other (and me) well.

So what made this successful? Here are my guesses:

• Being specific about what I was teaching,
• Creating a strong outline (and following it),
• Choosing only a few points and activities,
• Keeping the lecture aspect to a minimum and audience participation to a maximum,
• Allowing the teachers to offer what they know already and to ask questions
• Remembering what Eric Booth says: 80% of what you teach is who you are.

What else do you think makes a good workshop?

P.S. The photos are from a workshop I gave in Sao Paulo last October at St. Francis School, not from last week's workshop.

Story Games workshop

On Thursday I gave the second of three workshops on this tour, for teachers at Cultura Inglesa. The request had been for interactive storytelling, so I gathered up my workshop on story games and was ready to roll.

I love this workshop. My goal is to give the teachers tools they can take back and use, to engage the participants in a meaningful way, and to have fun. That last one is often my goal in whatever I do.

After I introduced myself, we dove into story games. Some highlight story structure, some just loosen everybody up. In one, used by many storytellers in workshops, I tell a story and the participants split into groups and retell it by turns. This gives everybody a chance to feel successful. 

One game I planned to teach, but didn't have time for, is Magic Box. In Rio, I found a great box in the shape of a book in a kind of craft store (eventually I might decorate it). It's perfect for this game. 

I begin by opening the lid and telling the participants what I see inside. It could be a couple of chickens playing football, it could be a big birthday party for the queen, it could be anything. I pass the box to the next person who describes either a continuation or a new scene. I learned this years ago from somebody on the storytell listserv (who?) and have had a great time with it ever since. Another version is to fill it with small toys or figurines and make up a story from these.

I hadn't expected to teach puppetry, but Sylvia, who helped organize this workshop, saw me perform last week and asked if I would add a little in. I gave a basic introduction to using hand puppets in storytelling (different from using puppets in a stage show) and answered questions before the break.

After the break, we moved on to the importance of body, gesture, voice and emotion in stories. We played a few more games to underline these elements, including Park Bench, which I learned many years ago from Heather Forest . 

One of the most valuable parts of this workshop was at the end, in the reflections. This is a new component of workshops for me, something I learned from the Lied.Art.Teach seminars led by the folks from the Kennedy Center. The teachers talked about what they learned, about how they might use these techniques with their students, about other things they noticed. In the Kennedy Center seminar, I learned a useful tool: the six-second rule. After asking the participants a question or for other feedback, wait six seconds before filling the silence. Participants will often jump in at this point. 

I'll do another workshop on Wednesday at a school. I hope it goes as well as this one did.

Summer Teacher's Workshop

Yesterday I took part in the first of the Lied Center's Summer Teacher's Workshops. Over 60 teachers gave up one of their few remaining vacation days to take workshops on integrating the arts into their classrooms. It was a great group to work with! I gave two half-hour sessions for small groups on using puppets in the classroom. It was tricky to compress my two-hour workshop--all we could really do was go over basic puppet technique, with some reflections by the participants.

In the afternoon, I attended a workshop given by Kimberli Boyd, whom I first met in the spring when she came out to train artists to teach. She's a Kennedy Center Master Teaching Artist, and it shows. Her workshop on using movement and dance to teach about the rainforest was a great example of how to introduce topics succinctly and build knowledge incrementally. Even though I've been giving workshops for almost 20 years, since taking the Kennedy Center training in the spring, I've been rethinking the structure, content and pacing of my workshops.

It was an excellent day, though exhausting. After the wine and cheese reception, I came home and lay on the sofa for a while. Good thing I don't have any performances today. It's nice to spend the day working slowly and steadily in the office.

Home from Going Deep, part II

After Olga's story, we went back to the house for dessert crepes. Did I mention the food yet? Every meal and snack was not only delicious but imaginative. Thanks to Lee and Mary, who fed us well.

In the morning, we were ready to talk about Olga's story. Though we didn't plan it this way, the morning workshops followed a pattern: the first half was a lively discussion of the story from the night before (process, images, correlations with other stories, metaphors, questions); the second half was about the broader themes or about specific story processes, with participatory exercises. We settled into the story and into our own stories.

It was raining on that second day. I needed to tell myself Queen Berta and King Pippin, so I went for a long walk, mumbling to myself the entire way. Part of my walk was down by the Ohio River. When my sneakers were too wet, I went inside and finished the story in my room, pacing around the bed.

That evening, I wore a red velvet trousers and jacket, a particularly good bargain from the 100 Good Women clothing swap ($1!). Olga and Liz assured me that it would be the right combination of comfort and elegance.

I did my best to record each of the evenings' performances. I did each one differently: with Olga's story I patched the recorder into the headset microphone, with my story I patched into the microphone on a stand, and Megan's story was recorded directly from a spot on the side of the stage area. I'm not sure how they sound yet--one of my tasks this weekend is to listen to these. They might just be our mediocre archival copies.

My performance felt pretty good. I'm trying not to be too critical--there are always parts I wish I had done differently. The audience seemed to like it. It was nice to have quite a few listeners who were not part of the festival workshops. Once again, we went back to the house, this time for cake (dinner for me) and wine.

It can be hard to sleep after telling one of these big stories with a brain full of images. I did eventually conk out, though, and was up early to get ready for my workshop. As Hope mentioned in her blog, participants felt strongly enough about the story that the discussion got really loud in the morning session. We talked, we sang, we told stories, and we wrote.

To be continued...