Days 7-9

[bironic]

thirdblindmouse and I ended up chatting a little bit about children's books in the last post, which made me remember this one. Does it ring a bell for anyone? ETA: Found! Ha, the cut text turned out to be the title.

7. Kindergarten

We had reading groups in kindergarten—I'm pretty sure it was kindergarten, because pre-school was too early, and in elementary school we just sat in the back of the classroom when it was our group's turn, but in this memory we were in another room down the hall. There were a few of us grouped around the table, and the book we were reading, or were being read, was about five (?) Chinese brothers, each with a special power of his own. Someone was trying to kill one of them, and what the brothers would do to protect him/themselves was secretly switch off the one being executed each time an attempt was made. I guess they all looked the same. So the brother who could stretch was swapped in when the executioners/assassins/emperor/whoever tried to drown him, and he just stretched his legs all the way to the bottom of the ocean and stood there with his head still above water. And the one who could withstand really high temperatures was substituted when they put the brother in the oven. At least, that's what I remember; and that's about all I remember.


Speaking of ringing bells:

8. Middle School

In seventh-grade English, we had an assignment to read a piece of literature aloud in front of the class. It could be a short story, a few poems, or an excerpt of a longer work. I did a few poems by Shel Silverstein; I'm still not sure why. This memory is not about me, though; it's about another boy in the class, T., who decided to read Edgar Allan Poe's The Bells. There were so many "bells" ("bells"es?) in the refrains, and his reading voice was so quiet and flat, that he and most of the class were giggling by the end, by which point he'd sped up to get past all the "bells" already.

Tangent: I heard a very cool song version of "The Bells" on the radio last weekend in honor of Poe's birthday. Each group of four "bells" had a melody, so it didn't just sound like the same word over and over and over.


9. Middle School

Same class, different day. I sat next to my crush that year. I remember one day before the bell rang I was idly toying with my hair, inspecting the tips of the curls or something. "Split ends?" J. asked. For some reason I automatically answered, "Yes," even though I didn't really know what split ends were; or I thought it meant when the hairs are all different lengths like what happens when it's been a while since the last haircut.

Comments

[elynittria.livejournal.com]

OMG—the five Chinese brothers! I loved that book! One of the brothers could swallow the sea, as I recall. I used to take that book out of our public library all the time when I was a kid.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Aaaah! What was it called?! ETA: Why didn't I just type what I remembered into Google? It would have turned this (http://www.amazon.com/Five-Chinese-Brothers-Paperstar/dp/0698113578) up right away.

Swallowing the sea -- yes, I think I remember that... OMG, awesome.

[elynittria.livejournal.com]

I think the title may have been The Five Chinese Brothers. (Kids' books tend to have rather straightforward titles.) All of the brothers had long pigtails in the illustrations—pretty stereotypical, I suppose, but I thought it was cool.

Other books I remember from around that age are a book about a steam shovel (Mike Mulligan and his steam shovel?) and a book about a house that endured lots of changes: a city grew up around it, and it was all alone, overshadowed by the tall buildings, is all that I really recall. It depressed me for some odd reason, but I kept rereading it.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

That reminds me of Dr. Seuss's "The Zax," where they're so stubborn that they face off while a city grows up around them. I don't remember a steam shovel story, but the house one... hm....

All of the brothers had long pigtails in the illustrations

Yes! There's a link to the front cover and first page of the book on that Amazon link.

[elynittria.livejournal.com]

It's nice to see that the book is still in print. The comments by readers regarding its lack of PC-ness are interesting. The whole PC thing is way overblown, IMHO.

[daasgrrl.livejournal.com]

I used to love "Little Black Sambo", which is probably even worse. I think it was banned for a time, or at least very difficult to get hold of for a while, although I did see a new printing some years ago. But turning tigers into butter! What could be cooler?

And I've long been of the opinion that In the Night Kitchen pwns Where the Wild Things Are, although of course both are gorgeous :)

[elynittria.livejournal.com]

Yep, I liked Little Black Sambo too, although I felt a bit sorry for the tigers. I've never read In the Night Kitchen; in fact, as far as I can remember, Where the Wild Things Are was the only Sendak book I ever read.

[nightdog-barks.livejournal.com]

I don't remember ever reading the Chinese brothers book, but just from looking at that Amazon page I do remember loving Blueberries for Sal, Harold and the Purple Crayon, and Where the Wild Things Are.

I also remember reading some long-lost book out loud and stumbling over the word "Plymouth" (the car, not the rock). I'd never seen it written down before and so I pronounced it "Ply-mouth," and my mother gently corrected me.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Aw. It's a completely understandable assumption.

Where the Wild Things Are, definitely. Maurice Sendak was a Reading Rainbow favorite.

What I remember of Blueberries for Sal is the big silver seal on the cover from whatever award it won (and the illustration too, of the boy in the field).

[purridot.livejournal.com]

Where the Wild Things Are!

A shiver *still* goes down my spine when the wallpaper of his room slowly transforms into a forest.

And that book made me long for a four-poster bed. (Someday I hope!)

[thewlisian-afer.livejournal.com]

I wanted that purple crayon, man. I wanted it so bad.

[purridot.livejournal.com]

Now I want to read The Five Chinese Brothers! It sounds cool.

My favourite childhood book was DEFINITELY Miss Suzy (http://www.amazon.com/Miss-Suzy-Miriam-Young/dp/1930900287/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1201110077&sr=8-1), about a grey squirrel who loves to bake, is chased out of her home by evil red squirrels and takes refuge in a lovely dollhouse, before assembling a task force that wins her back her old home.

This book played a huge role in molding my present day character (it DID!) <3

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Wherein the plucky heroine just happens to be a squirrel. :D

[purridot.livejournal.com]

*facepalm* Yes, it's true.

And even at that tender age I sensed a slashy undertone to the group of too-handsome toy soldiers she enlisted to do the actual siege.

Mmm, cute men in uniforms...

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Ah! A plucky heroine with a harem, no less. And they might serve her or, er, "serve" each other at her command.

[purridot.livejournal.com]

Bironic! You're making it sound so KINKY!

...which maybe it was, now that I really think about it -- there was one drawing of Miss Suzy tucking the soldiers into one bed in the guest room. Hmmm... I guess it was even MORE character-forming than I thought!

[bironic.livejournal.com]

You started it! LOL.

[elynittria.livejournal.com]

Miss Suzy looks really good. I'm surprised I never read this one when I was a kid (I loved books with animals as the main characters).

[mer-duff.livejournal.com]

The books I remember best from my early childhood are the Beatrix Potter Tales (my sister and I each had a Beatrix Potter plate) and A Child's Garden of Verse. But I was shopping for books for my friend's two-year-old twins in the fall and had a rush of happy memories when I saw a Richard Scarry book. I loved how everything in the pictures had a label.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Oh, Richard Scarry! We had a computer program or two of his stuff on our old Apple II, where you'd travel from screen to screen with the worm's apple car and learn to identify and spell things.

7. Reading groups

[thewlisian-afer.livejournal.com]

I always despised reading groups. Even the most advanced one(s) in the class were too damn slow for me. I suppose this is what happens when your reading skills reach college-level by the time you hit fifth grade. Eventually, because I would get cranky and belligerent otherwise, I was allowed to read independently when we did group reading during class. Except for second grade.

In second grade I was put into a "group" -- it was really just a pair -- with a girl called Megan. Megan could not read. At all. So during group reading time, I taught her how. I desperately wish I could remember how I managed this but, alas, I can't. It's still one of my favorite accomplishments in life, though. To this day, any time Megan and I run into each other, she'll proudly tell anyone who's with us that I'm the one who taught her to read in second grade when the adults were starting to think maybe she just wasn't capable of learning how. :)

8. Public speaking/performance

[thewlisian-afer.livejournal.com]

This memory's only from about five years ago, but that's okay.

When I first started college, I took an acting class. Overall, I did abysmally. I was told repeatedly that I'm very good when it comes to subtle facial expressions and nuanced performances, but that was not what this class was about. This was about stage acting and the professor made no bones about it -- I am clearly not a stage actor. I can only memorize a scene or two worth of lines, I don't (can't, but we didn't actually know about the medical reasons behind my lack of voice resonance at the time) project my voice well enough, I'm utter shit at blocking...

HOWEVER. There was one assignment where I completely blew everyone else out of the water. We were working on enunciation. The assignment was to memorize The Bells by Edgar Allan Poe (http://www.online-literature.com/poe/575/) and perform it to the rest of the class who would be sitting in the very back row of the theater. The professor put slips of paper with emotions written on them into a hat and we each had to pick one. Whatever we picked, we were supposed to perform the whole poem with that emotion. My slip of paper said "fear." Oooooh.

So, since it's Poe, I was already so familiar with the poem that it bordered on memorization. Really learning it was a snap. But then I had to think about how I was going to present it. I'd already been told several times (and probably really recently) that I sucked, so I wasn't overly concerned with following the professor's instructions to a tee. I decided there was no way I could do the first half of the poem fearfully, so I scrapped that and just did it my own damn way. I started out with contentment and a bit of wonder in the first part and then moved on to sounding optimistic and excited in the second. The third part wasn't "fear" so much as abject terror -- I pulled this off so well that several of my spectators were made uncomfortable. XD And I delivered the fourth part with such despair that the professor was a little misty-eyed when I finished.

Got the highest grade in the class on that one. I went first, though, and may have thrown everyone else off their game a little... Whoops.

9. Lulz, the stupid shit we say to crushes

[thewlisian-afer.livejournal.com]

When I was in fifth grade a friend of mine moved away. Her little brother Adam was a year younger than us and I had a huge, embarassing and totally secret crush on him. On the last day of school before their move, I went up to Adam at the end of the school day to say goodbye to him. "Good looks-- er! I mean! Luck! Good luck in your new school!" I said. Judging by how on-fire my face felt, I'm sure I turned so red it bordered on purple.

Re: 9. Lulz, the stupid shit we say to crushes

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Ha! That is classic.

Re: 9. Lulz, the stupid shit we say to crushes

[thewlisian-afer.livejournal.com]

I totally walked away thinking something to the effect of, "Fuck you, Freud." XD (Yes, I was already a huge psychology geek all the way back then. hee)

[ignazwisdom.livejournal.com]

"7 Chinese Bros." is an R.E.M. song! I think Michael Stipe got confused and added some brothers.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Apparently that is a re-telling (http://www.amazon.com/Seven-Chinese-Brothers-Blue-Ribbon/dp/0590420577) of the Five Brothers -- or rather, of the same folktale that the Five Brothers was based on. How interesting!

[phinnia.livejournal.com]

I think I remember that story about the five chinese brothers - I may have it, actually, because a few years back I picked up a compilation of children's lit that I'm pretty sure has that story in it. :-D (Yes, I'm in the process of replacing the books I loved most as a child. I had to buy the Narnia books, and the Little House on the Prairie books, and a few other isolated ones including this particular compilation. Plus things like the Lorax and Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. I make no bones about it, these are for ME, not The Boy - it drives me batshit crazy when I see parents using their kids as excuses to do things or living through their children. But that's another tangent entirely.)
I remember reading groups, and phonics groups too. Also math groups. My elementary school was very, very group oriented for some reason?

Middle school the first: I remember having to do a speech, being terrified of it so much that I procrastinated until the last second, attempted to make something up in about an hour and a half and totally failing to cope and crying in front of the class. (This strategy of hardcore avoidance was something I also used during the later months of pregnancy, which led to avoiding lamaze classes and being utterly terrified during the later stages of labour (which are hormone-filled-HELL, btw) that I was going to die. Not a recommended strategy for anything. Sadly I still do it.)

Middle school the second: I used to chew on my hair. And hide behind it. Basically I would have given heaps just not to exist then. (yay undiagnosed anxiety/depression/panic disorder combo!)

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Eep. Sounds like ... not at all fun.

Procrastination, definitely. Mine developed towards the end of high school and has been getting worse on and off ever since -- even for fic writing, which is (supposed to be) for fun.

Also, oral presentations are horrible. Just horrible. I get so nervous when I don't have all the words in front of me.

We had groups for reading, and, later, for math; actually, all the classes in the grade would swap classrooms for math, whereas for reading, the groups would just break off in turns within the class.

[nicocoer.livejournal.com]

Let's see. . .

In elementary school, out at the Trailer, I had (and still have to this day) a copy of The Big Red Book of Fairy tales. It was a good day- meaning that either Rick was out of the house or my mother would be home early- and so I was attempting Angel food Cake. Attempting being the key word. It was blue, and I had used way way too much blue food coloring. I was reading as I stirred, and I ended up spilling food coloring all over Has Christian Anderson's The Little Mermaid.

In 9th grade I attended Christian Life Academy- I know, WTF, but it is indeed true. In English we had to write a piece that described a place, I think, and so I read this (saved in a post from January 28th, 2003):

"When I close my eyes, I'm taken to a small beach on Mt. Dessert Island, a beach which has somehow avoided the spoils visited upon other places on the island by the tourists. People call this calm place Hunter's Beach.


Hunter's Beach exists in a hidden lagoon, tucked away from the sight of the ferries that pass close by. One side rises up sharply, cutting the sky, and the opposite side is riddled with trails. the small, distant opening to the sea . small, wave worn stones cover the beach. The waves rush in around the stones, whispering gently, soothing nerves. I can almost feel the refreshing, ice cold water splash up between my toes.


Out on the water, loons cry out like madmen, laughing at the featherless beings invading their privacy. The air is moist, predicting the storm that now rolls in. When the sun is shining, it highlights the hard beauty of Hunter's Beach. As the rain comes, however, things soften, becoming an almost graceful sight to behold.


The ocean gives me solace. Hunter's Beach is like a fortress there, safe from the perils of the outside world. The rocks, fog, sea, and sky seem painted in numerous shades of blue and gray. The rain clouds look lined with silver and gold.


As the rain pours down like crystal pendants, it creates thousands of splotches of darker color, till every thing is fresh and new looking. One large rock that sits on the edge of the beach fills its hollows, and a student from the local college awakens, and quickly gathers her books back into her bag. As I rush forward to the now disturbed waves, I'm jerked from that memory of well over eight years ago into an English class. The teacher looks impatient as I ask her to repeat the question. As the class titters, she asks me to recite what the assignment is. I reply, "The assignment. . . the assignment is to write a descriptive paper," and I grin. I've got the perfect place."

My teacher loved it, which was amazing for me because normally my political views made me unpopular with her.

My third memory is also from that time. I remember going into what used to be a Teacher's Lounge (CLA was in the upstairs of a renovated high school building) with my history class and being forced to watch Bush's State of the Union Address. It wasn't that we were watching it that I found dreadful, though, it was that our teacher spent half the time praising him. And she expected our notes to have similar praise in them, instead of using our brains to figure out what we did and didn't agree with. And I hated that speech with all my heart, because there was too much of it that I disagreed with- but all of those things I hated were the things my teacher was applauding him for.

Later on, I remember hearing a teacher say that the problem their students had the most of in college was coming up with their own ideas for papers. I held my laughter in until I made it to the restroom, and then I laughed hysterically for a good half hour, until another student was sent in to see if I was alright.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Ha! Oh, the irony.

I remember watching a presidential inauguration on a small TV in the gym of our elementary school. Or perhaps it was middle school -- I think it was Clinton, because I'm picturing the saxophone, but the timing's wrong; my memory's all mixed up.

Your essay was very meta and descriptive. :) Fandom approves.

I've never tried reading and cooking at the same time (other than reading the recipe). Hee. I'll take the blue food coloring accident as a moral.