The Story Hour | Page 3

tops with little Isaac, next in line ... Hans and Gretchen, phlegmatic and dependable ... Francois, never still for an instant ... Christina, rosy, calm, and conscientious, and Duncan, canny and prudent as any of his clan.
What an opportunity for amalgamation of races and for laying the foundation of American citizenship! for the purely social atmosphere of the kindergarten makes it a school of life and experience. Imagine such a group hanging breathless upon your words, as you recount the landing of the Pilgrims, or try to paint the character of George Washington in colors that shall appeal to children whose ancestors have known Napoleon, Cromwell, and Bismarck, Peter the Great, Garibaldi, Bruce, and Robert Emmett.
To such an audience were the stories in his little book told; and the lines that will perhaps seem commonplace to you glow for us with a "light that never was on sea or land;" for "the secret of our emotions never lies in the bare object, but in its subtle relations to our own past."
As we turn the pages, radiant faces peep between the words; the echo of childish laughter rings in our ears and curves our lips with its happy memory; there isn't a single round O in all the chapters but serves as a tiny picture-frame for an eager child's face! The commas say, "Isn't there any more?" the interrogation points ask, "What did the boy do then?" the exclamation points cry in ecstasy, "What a beautiful story!" and the periods sigh, "This is all for to-day."
At this point--where the dog Moufflou returns to his little master--we remember that Carlotty Griggs clapped her ebony hands, and shrieked in transport, "I KNOWED HE'D come! I KNOWED he'd come!"
Here is the place where we remarked impressively, "A lie, children, is the very worst thing in the world!" whereupon Billy interrogated, with wide eyes and awed voice, "IS IT WORSE THAN A RAILROAD CROSSING?" And there is a sentence in the story of the "Bird's Nest" sacred to the memory of Tommy's tear!--Tommy of the callous conscience and the marble heart. Tommy's dull eye washed for one brief moment by the salutary tear! Truly the humble Story-Teller has not lived in vain. Sing, ye morning stars, together, for this is the spot where Tommy cried!
If you would be the Person with a Story, you must not only have one to tell, but you must be willing to learn how to tell it, if you wish to make it a "rememberable thing" to children. The Story-Teller, unlike the poet, is made as well as born, but he is not made of all stuffs nor in the twinkling of an eye. In this respect he is very like the Ichneumon in the nonsense rhyme:--
"There once was an idle Ichneumon Who thought he could learn to play Schumann; But he found, to his pains, It took talent and brains, And neither possessed this Ichneumon."
To be effective, the story in the kindergarten should always be told, never read; for little children need the magnetism of eye and smile as well as the gesture which illuminates the strange word and endows it with meaning. The story that is told is always a thousand times more attractive, real, and personal than anything read from a book.
Well-chosen, graphically told stories can be made of distinct educative value in the nursery or kindergarten. They give the child a love of reading, develop in him the germ, at least, of a taste for good literature, and teach him the art of speech. If they are told in simple, graceful, expressive English, they are a direct and valuable object lesson in this last direction.
The ear of the child becomes used to refined intonations, and slovenly language will grow more and more disagreeable to him. The kindergartner cannot be too careful in this matter. By the sweetness of her tone and the perfection of her enunciation she not only makes herself a worthy model for the children, but she constantly reveals the possibilities of language and its inner meaning.
"The very brooding of a voice on a word," says George Macdonald, "seems to hatch something of what is in it."
Stories help a child to form a standard by which he can live and grow, for they are his first introduction into the grand world of the ideal in character.
"We live by Admiration, Hope, and Love; And even as these are well and wisely fixed, In dignity of being we ascend."
The child understands his own life better, when he is enabled to compare it with other lives; he sees himself and his own possibilities reflected in them as in a mirror.
They also aid in the growth of the imaginative faculty, which is very early developed in the child, and requires its natural food. "Imagination," says Dr. Seguin, "is