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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 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。



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。



The first story took ten minutes。  When I

began a second; a very short one; the initial work

had to be done all over again; for the slight

comparative quiet I had won had been totally

lost in the resulting manifestation of approval。



At the end of the second story; the room

was really orderly to the superficial view; but

where I stood I could see the small boy who

deliberately made a hideous face at me each

time my eyes met his; the two girls who talked

with their backs turned; the squirms of a figure

here and there。  It seemed so disheartening

a record of failure that I hesitated much to

yield to the uproarious request for a third story;

but finally I did begin again; on a very long story

which for its own sake I wanted them to hear。



This time the little audience settled to attention

almost at the opening words。  After about

five minutes I was suddenly conscious of a

sense of ease and relief; a familiar restful feeling

in the atmosphere; and then; at last; I

knew that my audience was 〃with me;〃 that

they and I were interacting without obstruction。

Absolutely quiet; entirely unconscious of

themselves; the boys and girls were responding to

every turn of the narrative as easily and readily

as any group of story…bred kindergarten children。

From then on we had a good time together。



The process which took place in that small

audience was a condensed example of what

one may expect in habitual story…telling to a

group of children。  Once having had the attention

chained by crude force of interest; the

children begin to expect something interesting

from the teacher; and to wait for it。  And

having been led step by step from one grade

of a logical sequence to another; their minds

at first beguiled by the fascination of the steps

glide into the habit of following any logical

sequence。  My club formed its habit; as far as

I was concerned; all in one session; the ordinary

demands of school procedure lengthen the

process; but the result is equally sure。  By the

end of a week in which the children have

listened happily to a story every day; the habit

of listening and deducing has been formed; and

the expectation of pleasantness is connected

with the opening of the teacher's lips。



These two benefits are well worth the trouble

they cost; and for these two; at least; any teacher

who tells a story well may confidently look

the quick gaining of a confidential relation with

the children; and the gradual development of

concentration and interested attention in them。



These are direct and somewhat clearly

discernible results; comfortably placed in a near

future。  There are other aims; reaching on into

the far; slow modes of psychological growth;

which must equally determine the choice of the

story…teller's material and inform the spirit of her

work。  These other; less imme

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