Neuburger - Show Me a Story: 40 Craft Projects and Activities to Spark Childrens Storytelling

show me a
STORY

40 Craft Projects and Activities to Spark Childrens Storytelling

EMILY K. NEUBURGER

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Edited by
Deborah Balmuth and Pam Thompson
Art direction and book design by
Carolyn Eckert
Text production by
Jennifer Jepson Smith

Cover photography by Buff Strickland: front (bottom three), back (author), inside front (row 1: right), and inside back (row 1: left, center left, right; row 2: left, center left, center right; row 3: center right, right; and row 4: center left); Greg Nesbit Photography: spine, inside front (row 1: center left, center right; row 2: left, center left, center right; row 3: center right, right; and row 4: all), and inside back (row 1: center right; row 2: right; row 3: left, center left, and row 4: left, center right, right); John Polak Photography: inside front (row 1: left; row 2: right; and row 3: left, center left); and Tara Gorman: front (top) and back (top)

Interior photography credits appear on

Crafting and photo styling of cover, backcover, chapter openers and gate folds by Tara Gorman

All projects and illustrations by the author, except for those on , middle and bottom, by Martin Gentes

Indexed by Nancy D. Wood

2012 by Emily K. Neuburger

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Neuburger, Emily K.

Show me a story / by Emily K. Neuburger.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 978-1-60342-988-7 (pbk. : alk. paper)

ISBN 978-1-61212-148-2 (hardcover : alk. paper)

1. Handicraft for childrenJuvenile literature. 2. StorytellingJuvenile literature. I. Title.

TT160.N456 2012
745.5083dc23

2012004610

In memory of Nanny Ruth, my favorite storyteller.
I remember. I will always remember.

And for Leah Rose and Hazel Ruth. You are what my heart dreamed of many moons ago.
And you are what my heart will dream of many moons from now.

When I was a child, the stories inside my head were what drove my playthey were the scripts of my childhood. I grew up in the urban suburbs where I was hard pressed to find true woodlands. That didnt matter to me, though. I would disappear into the narrow strip of trees and grass that was our side yard and convince myself that I was on a long, windy wagon ride across the prairie. I would set up camp in the barely there grass next to a row of divider hedges and some old rakes. Without much room to play in, I claimed this tightly enclosed space as my own.

Once my campfire of twigs and leaves was set up, I would use a jagged-edged rock to crack open smooth stones, my freshly farmed potatoes. The halved potatoes would slowly roast on the pretend fire as I stirred my big pot of water, weed, and dirt soup. I was fully immersed in my imaginary world, lost in my own tale of survival and solitude, making the most of my natural surroundings. Reality was suspended, and I happily slipped into telling my own story again and again until I felt like I had memorized my place, and I was ready to find myself somewhere else in time and space. I want my children to have that. I want them to make up their own games, to find inspiration from whats around them, to create their own imaginary worlds.

ABOVE: Me, with my daughters, Hazel and Leah, telling a story together.

As I grew older, I found it harder to access those imaginary worlds that were so easy to find when I was ten. I became busy with deadlines, school, working late, meetings, and picnicking with friends. It wasnt until the end of college, when I took two writing classes with one of the universitys resident poets, that I reconnected with the familiar feeling of being lost in my own imaginary world. She nudged us on with unique and creative writing exercises and encouraged us to become inspired. I sketched with my left hand. I gave strangers my handmade gifts. I wrote one poem a day. I woke in the morning and recorded my dreams in a journal and fervently used that material to write poems and stories in the afternoon. It was an inspiring time that showed me that being an adult doesnt mean that you have to stop spending time with your imagination. Go burrowing in search, and you will find it.

And so it was true, years later, when my first sweet-cheeked daughter entered the world. Except this time, I didnt need to burrow very far. Just watching her big, hazel eyes widen and sparkle as she gazed at picture books with talking hedgehogs and ducks was enough for me. I was instantly inspired, and it resonated deep, deep within. This little person was so curious and captivated, and she was ready. She wanted to meet new characters, be invited into fairy woodlands, and hear about the most wild, raucous adventures. Witnessing her creative spark the way she intuitively craved new stories and how she begged for her favorites again and again marked a turning point for me.

As both of my daughters grow older and I listen to their chatter about queens, dragons, and imaginary villages, my path to crafting and storytelling is illuminated. I fill rooms with art materials and story sparks, and I teach my students to listen to their own creative voices. I watch as they imagine deeply, create fully, and gain confidence, and I feel centered. They tell me stories about a black sea with waves that lull, towers that stretch to the moon, and complicated underground rabbit villages. Its true listening to a childs earnest storytelling makes me happy.