Our mission is to make the teaching and living of nonviolence part of mainstream education |
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EFNV K-8 Elementary Education Component Storytelling is one of the most powerful and primal pedagogical tools we have. In some ways, calling storytelling a teaching tool is like calling prayer wishful thinking. As William Kilpatrick shows in Why Johnny Can’t Tell Right From Wrong (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1992) [Amazon] [Barnes & Noble], children — and even adults — learn values and moral foundations from narrative more than from any other source. Storytelling is so native to civilization that, as Ursula K. LeGuin points out, “There are cultures without written language, but there are no cultures without stories.” Our need for the narrative thread is strong and upon that need we can string lessons and learning that lasts a lifetime. Let’s look at how stories have been used in cultures for millennia. Stories tell us how to live a good life. Jesus did not give his disciples a constitution and bylaws. He told stories. In telling stories, he invited his listeners in to a non-threatening look at what happens when certain kinds of behaviors are engaged in. The Buddha told stories and his disciples told stories about him including hundreds of Jataka tales, reputed to be about his past lives. In every major faith tradition, stories are used to tell people how to live a good life and what happens when people make poor choices. In a story, all of the “application” is up to the listener. And because the work of insight and application is done by the listener and not by the teller, the listening and insight go more deeply and are absorbed more powerfully. Lives can be transformed through the power of story. Stories also tell us who we are. In many families, stories are used to let members know what sort of a family they are part of. In my husband’s family, for example, many of the stories revolve around issues of justice—allowing a poor man to siphon off water for his vineyard in Vienna and not prosecuting him, going to jail with Martin Luther King Jr. and volunteering for a dangerous, necessary job during WWI because “I have no family yet and am not so needed.” Stories like these, handed down from one generation to another let new family members know what it means to be a member of this family. Stories tell a culture who they are. This is part of the harm done by television. The stories our children see on television are not only filled with violence, but they are filled with speed, snappy rude remarks designed to get a laugh and a constant setting up of animosities (siblings against siblings, parents against kids, etc.). As a result, children feel that this is who they are supposed to be. However, despite the seductiveness of television, you, as a storyteller-teacher, can have much more power over how your students and children lead their lives. There is an apocryphal story that makes this point. In a small isolated village in Africa, anthropologists brought in a TV, and when it was turned on, everyone in the village was mesmerized. They watched it all the time. The local griot (storyteller) got upset because no one wanted to hear his stories. Then, after awhile, as suddenly as they had started, they stopped. People ignored the TV, no matter what it showed. An anthropologist asked one elder, “Doesn’t the television tell a lot of stories?” “Oh yes,” said the elder, “the television knows many more stories than the griot.” “Well, then,” persisted the anthropologist, “Why don’t you watch it?” “It’s true that the television knows many stories,” said the man, “but the griot knows me.” This story points out the advantage that you have over any form of media. What you have to offer your students is that you know them. Your selection of stories that will fit them, your eye contact, your compassion for them, your awareness of what tickles and delights them or moves them is much more important than multi-media presentations. So, storytelling is powerful as a tool for moral instruction, development of identity and as a cultural tool, for telling ourselves who we are—a people (or a classroom of people) who cherish one another, respect one another and are committed to nonviolence. When can you use storytelling in a classroom? It would be easier to tell you when not to use it. Storytelling can be used everywhere—it can be used as a two minute “sponge” before the bell rings for lunch or dismissal. It can be used to kick off a discussion on a given topic. It can be used to make a point. It can be used as “the main event” in a lesson. There is only one real danger in using storytelling in a classroom. Stories do not take kindly to dissection and immediate cognitive tasks. Let me be clear. There is a place for the kind of deep listening that students engage in when stories are told. Wrenching students out of that deep place to a much shallower, purely cognitive place where comprehension questions are asked and worsksheets are filled is discourteous to them, and will not allow the story to do its work. When you finish a story, let there be a little silence. If you must transition to something because of behavior or time constraints, try to have it be something routine, not requiring students to produce responses. The next day is soon enough to ask the low key question, “Who remembers yesterday’s story?” For young children, you can ask for volunteers to act out the story. Older children can simply talk about it in general terms. Vague questions like, “What was that all about?” “Does yesterday’s story make you think of anything else?” “Do you know any other stories like that?” are OK, but reading or listening comprehension questions shouldn’t even be considered. It’s also just fine to tell a short story every day for 4 days in a row (Monday through Thursday?) and then on Friday ask kids to reconstruct the stories with something like, “Who remembers some of the stories we heard this week?” In some ways, asking questions too soon is like planting a garden, and then digging up the seed a few minutes later to see if they are growing yet. Have faith that seeds have been sown every time a story is told. Other than beating it to death with misguided pedagogical techniques, there’s not much you can do to mess up a story. Stories have a way of sinking deeply into children’s consciousness. Trust your material: tell lots of stories and the way your students behave will tell you that they are listening and that the listening is deep.
—Sue Tannehill, teacher and storyteller
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