how to tell children stories(如何给孩子讲故事)-第3章
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which does these things only； has no breath of its real life in its being； and
dies when the wind of popular tendency veers from its direction。 So； you
can teach a child interesting facts about bees and butterflies by telling him
certain stories； and you can open his eyes to colours and processes in
nature by telling certain others； but unless you do something more than
that and before that； you are as one who should use the Venus of Milo for
a demonstration in anatomy。
The message of the story is the message of beauty； as effective as that
message in marble or paint。 Its part in the economy of life is TO GIVE
JOY。 And the purpose and working of the joy is found in that quickening
of the spirit which answers every perception of the truly beautiful in the
arts of man。 To give joy； in and through the joy to stir and feed the life of
the spirit： is not this the legitimate function of the story in education？
Because I believe it to be such； not because I ignore the value of other
uses； I venture to push aside all aims which seem secondary to this for
later mention under specific heads。 Here in the beginning of our
consideration I wish to emphasise this element alone。 A story is a work of
art。 Its greatest use to the child is in the everlasting appeal of beauty by
which the soul of man is constantly pricked to new hungers； quickened to
new perceptions and so given desire to grow。
The obvious practical bearing of this is that story…telling is first of all
an art of entertainment； like the stage； its immediate purpose is the
pleasure of the hearer；his pleasure； not his instruction； first。
Now the story…teller who has given the listening children such pleasure
as I mean may or may not have added a fact to the content of their minds；
she has inevitably added something to the vital powers of their souls。 She
has given a wholesome exercise to the emotional muscles of the spirit； has
opened up new windows to the imagination； and added some line or
colour to the ideal of life and art which is always taking form in the heart
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of a child。 She has； in short； accomplished the one greatest aim of story…
telling；to enlarge and enrich the child's spiritual experience； and
stimulate healthy reaction upon it。 Of course this result cannot be seen and
proved as easily and early as can the apprehension of a fact。 The most one
can hope to recognise is its promise； and this is found in the tokens of that
genuine pleasure which is itself the means of accomplishment。 It is； then；
the signs of right pleasure which the story…teller must look to for her guide；
and which it must be her immediate aim to evoke。 As for the recognition
of the signs；no one who has ever seen the delight of a real child over a
real story can fail to know the signals when given； or flatter himself into
belief in them when absent。
Intimately connected with the enjoyment given are two very
practically beneficial results which the story…teller may hope to obtain； and
at least one of which will be a kind of reward to herself。 The first is a
relaxation of the tense schoolroom atmosphere； valuable for its refreshing
recreative power。 The second result； or aim； is not so obvious； but is even
more desirable； it is this： story…telling is at once one of the simplest and
quickest ways of establishing a happy relation between teacher and
children； and one of the most effective methods of forming the habit of
fixed attention in the latter。
If you have never seen an indifferent child aroused or a hostile one
conquered to affection by a beguiling tale； you can hardly appreciate the
truth of the first statement； but nothing is more familiar in the story…teller's
experience。 An amusing； butto metouching experience recently
reaffirmed in my mind this power of the story to establish friendly
relations。
My three…year…old niece； who had not seen me since her babyhood；
being told that Aunt Sara was coming to visit her； somehow confused the
expected guest with a more familiar aunt； my sister。 At sight of me； her
rush of welcome relapsed into a puzzled and hurt withdrawal； which
yielded to no explanations or proffers of affection。 All the first day she
followed me about at a wistful distance； watching me as if I might at any
moment turn into the well…known and beloved relative I ought to have
been。 Even by undressing time I had not progressed far enough to be
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allowed intimate approach to small sacred nightgowns and diminutive
shirts。 The next morning； when I opened the door of the nursery where her
maid was brushing her hair； the same dignity radiated from the little round
figure perched on its high chair； the same almost hostile shyness gazed at
me from the great expressive eyes。 Obviously； it was time for something to
be done。
Disregarding my lack of invitation； I drew up a stool； and seating
myself opposite the small unbending person； began in a conversational
murmur： 〃Mm； I guess those are tingly…tanglies up there in that curl
Lottie's combing； did you ever hear about the tingly… tanglies？ They live in
little girls' hair； and they aren't any bigger than THAT； and when anybody
tries to comb the hair they curl both weeny legs round； SO； and hold on
tight with both weeny hands； SO； and won't let go！〃 As I paused； my niece
made a queer little sound indicative of query battling with reserve。 I
pursued the subject： 〃They like best to live right over a little girl's ear； or
down in her neck； because it is easier to hang on； there； tingly… tanglies are
very smart； indeed。〃
〃What's ti…ly…ta…lies？〃 asked a curious； guttural little voice。
I explained the nature and genesis of tingly… tanglies； as revealed to me
some decades before by my inventive mother； and proceeded to develop
their simple adventures。 When next I paused the small guttural voice
demanded； 〃Say more；〃 and I joyously obeyed。
When the curls were all curled and the last little button buttoned； my
baby niece climbed hastily down from her chair； and deliberately up into
my lap。 With a caress rare to her habit she spoke my name； slowly and
tentatively； 〃An…ty Sai…ry？〃 Then； in an assured tone； 〃Anty Sairy； I love
you so much I don't know what to do！〃 And； presently； tucking a confiding
hand in mine to lead me to breakfast； she explained sweetly； 〃I didn' know
you when you comed las' night； but now I know you all th' time！〃
〃Oh； blessed tale；〃 thought I； 〃so easy a passport to a confidence so
desired； so complete！〃 Never had the witchery of the story to the ear of a
child come more closely home to me。 But the fact of the witchery was no
new experience。 The surrender of the natural child to the story…teller is as
absolute and invariable as that of a devotee to the priest of his own sect。
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This power is especially valuable in the case of children whose natural
shyness has been augmented by rough environment or by the strangeness
of foreign habit。 And with such children even more than with others it is
also true that the story is a simple and effective means of forming the habit
of concentration； of fixed attention； any teacher who deals with this class
of children knows the difficulty of doing this fundamental and
indispensable thing； and the value of any practical aid in doing it。
More than one instance of the power of story… telling to develop
attentiveness comes to my mind； but the most prominent in memory is a
rather recent incident； in which the actors were boys and girls far past the
child…stage of docility。
I had been asked to tell stories to about sixty boys and girls of a club；
the president warned me in her invitation that the children were
exceptionally undisciplined； but my previous experiences with similar
gatherings led me to interpret her words with a moderation which left me
totally unready for the reality。 When I faced my audience； I saw a
squirming jumble of faces； backs of heads； and the various members of
many small bodies；not a person in the room was paying the slightest
attention to me； the president's introduction could scarcely be said to
succeed in interrupting the interchange of social amenities which was in
progress； and which looked delusively like a free fight。 I came as near
stage fright in the first minutes of that occasion as it is comfortable to be；
and if it had not been impossible to run away I think I should not have
remained。 But I began； with as funny a tale as I knew； following the safe
plan of not speaking very loudly； and aiming my effort at the nearest
children。 As I went on； a very few faces held intelligently to mine； the
majority answered only fitfully； and not a few of my hearers conversed
with their neighbours as if I were non… existent。 The sense of bafflement；
the futile effort； forced the perspiration to my hands and faceyet
something in the faces before me told me that it was no ill…will that fought
against me； it was the apathy of minds without the power or habit of
concentration； unable to follow a sequence of ideas any distance； and
rendered more restless by bodies which were probably uncomfortable；
certainly undisciplined。
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The first story took
