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Do you have a highly favoured pastime? Sure, we all ride bikes, and have many other interests, but I mean something that is truly exceptional for you. How did you discover it, and what does it mean to you?
Perhaps I should post this in another part of the forum, but it is a story unto itself.
A few years ago I went into a local bookstore, and saw a woman reading stories to children. The store owners had painted a corner, bought a huge rocking chair for the reader and had a number of 4-foot long cushions for the kids to sit on. On that day the cushions were spread in a wide arc, about 6 to 8 feet in front of the woman, and she was reading to the children, but not speaking very loudly.
I asked the lady at the counter about this, and was told it was a regular feature in their store. Her name was Donna, one of the owners, and she said she and her husband really enjoyed contributing this to the community. I asked if I could sit in once in a while, as the reader. She asked me if I had done anything like it before, as the kids were all unknown to the reader. I replied that I could do it.
Donna introduced me to her husband, Paul, and she told me they set aside the time from 11:00AM to noon but she qualified the time frame, saying parents often brought their children a bit late. It was normal for the actual reading to begin about 11:10, and it usually ended shortly after 11:30, because of the children’s limited attention span, so I should not worry about losing my morning. I suggested that since it was something I liked doing, I thought I could keep their attention a bit longer than the average reader. They were booked for the next couple of months, but a date was set, and I kept it.
The first day was much more than interesting. Donna and Paul (they are a very interesting husband and wife team, one Christian and one Jewish, and he occasionally rides a motorcycle) had selected a few books for me a couple of days in advance, so I could familiarize myself with them. When I entered the store the few kids who had arrived early were intrigued, because I was wearing a leather jacket and carrying my helmet. I also had a few candies in my pocket, and an old and worn plaid blanket, one my grandmother had given me forty years before, when I bought my first car.
Only Donna was present at the time, and she took me over to the corner, and asked if I liked the chair. I said No, it was too big for me, and pushed in back into the corner. I moved the long cushions into an arc a few feet away from where I intended to sit, unfolded the blanket and spread it out, and then sat down on the floor. The kids, of course, had to know if I really rode a motorcycle so I told them I do, and offered to let them see it after we finished reading.
There were several books to read, so, as a few more kids arrived, I asked them which one they would like to begin with. Paul came in at some time, and was watching, although I did not see him. He told me later it was fascinating to watch, and he even took photos of it, as the kids all sat on the cushions, firmly declining my invitation to sit on the blanket near me, even pushing backwards.
The reading began, the actual words interspersed with questions asked by me, and by the kids. Gradually, the cushions were pulled closer to me. Then pushed up against each other. Finally, they were abandoned.
As the children crowded ever closer, each of them had a question to ask about the story, and others had both their own queries, expanding on those raised by first ones. Everybody got into the story. Really got into it. Children were pressing against each other and reaching over my shoulders to point out details. The cushions were again brought into the act, all of them pushed tightly against me.
The next book was more of the same. We didn’t really stick to the books, but often went far afield, while the book became a central place, somewhere we could refocus, before beginning another jaunt into the world of children’s imagination. I think we read three books that day.
At 11:45 the first child had to leave, but the others had no interest in leaving. I asked the parent about giving the departing child a candy, and that was approved.. The others were treated the same, when they had to go. My first reading session ended at 12:15, when the last parents had to leave the store. We have since managed to last a bit over two hours...that is unusual, as parents seem to think they need to deal with other things once we pass the first 90 minutes.
I find it absolutely fascinating to listen to children’s queries, and have them allow me to participate in their thoughts. They are so astute you would often think the child was ten or even twenty years older. There is no missing or misunderstanding their intent: they are actively seeking legitimate answers to very sound questions. I have a pretty good vocabulary, a smattering of knowledge on many subjects, and a large amount of trivia stored in my head. I also have an active imagination, but despite all this, I have been seriously challenged in trying to meet some of the questions children of 5 to 8 years old have posed.
Is it all worth while, and is it truly enjoyable? It is like stepping into another world, where I can be as carefree and happy as the children who share their time with me. It is, to me, as worthwhile as anything can be. I don’t miss being a child, but the enjoyment of being invited to be one of them, and then being treated as an equal, but with respect, is unmatched.
Oh, yes. I forgot to mention that my favourite pastime is reading stories to children.
Perhaps I should post this in another part of the forum, but it is a story unto itself.
A few years ago I went into a local bookstore, and saw a woman reading stories to children. The store owners had painted a corner, bought a huge rocking chair for the reader and had a number of 4-foot long cushions for the kids to sit on. On that day the cushions were spread in a wide arc, about 6 to 8 feet in front of the woman, and she was reading to the children, but not speaking very loudly.
I asked the lady at the counter about this, and was told it was a regular feature in their store. Her name was Donna, one of the owners, and she said she and her husband really enjoyed contributing this to the community. I asked if I could sit in once in a while, as the reader. She asked me if I had done anything like it before, as the kids were all unknown to the reader. I replied that I could do it.
Donna introduced me to her husband, Paul, and she told me they set aside the time from 11:00AM to noon but she qualified the time frame, saying parents often brought their children a bit late. It was normal for the actual reading to begin about 11:10, and it usually ended shortly after 11:30, because of the children’s limited attention span, so I should not worry about losing my morning. I suggested that since it was something I liked doing, I thought I could keep their attention a bit longer than the average reader. They were booked for the next couple of months, but a date was set, and I kept it.
The first day was much more than interesting. Donna and Paul (they are a very interesting husband and wife team, one Christian and one Jewish, and he occasionally rides a motorcycle) had selected a few books for me a couple of days in advance, so I could familiarize myself with them. When I entered the store the few kids who had arrived early were intrigued, because I was wearing a leather jacket and carrying my helmet. I also had a few candies in my pocket, and an old and worn plaid blanket, one my grandmother had given me forty years before, when I bought my first car.
Only Donna was present at the time, and she took me over to the corner, and asked if I liked the chair. I said No, it was too big for me, and pushed in back into the corner. I moved the long cushions into an arc a few feet away from where I intended to sit, unfolded the blanket and spread it out, and then sat down on the floor. The kids, of course, had to know if I really rode a motorcycle so I told them I do, and offered to let them see it after we finished reading.
There were several books to read, so, as a few more kids arrived, I asked them which one they would like to begin with. Paul came in at some time, and was watching, although I did not see him. He told me later it was fascinating to watch, and he even took photos of it, as the kids all sat on the cushions, firmly declining my invitation to sit on the blanket near me, even pushing backwards.
The reading began, the actual words interspersed with questions asked by me, and by the kids. Gradually, the cushions were pulled closer to me. Then pushed up against each other. Finally, they were abandoned.
As the children crowded ever closer, each of them had a question to ask about the story, and others had both their own queries, expanding on those raised by first ones. Everybody got into the story. Really got into it. Children were pressing against each other and reaching over my shoulders to point out details. The cushions were again brought into the act, all of them pushed tightly against me.
The next book was more of the same. We didn’t really stick to the books, but often went far afield, while the book became a central place, somewhere we could refocus, before beginning another jaunt into the world of children’s imagination. I think we read three books that day.
At 11:45 the first child had to leave, but the others had no interest in leaving. I asked the parent about giving the departing child a candy, and that was approved.. The others were treated the same, when they had to go. My first reading session ended at 12:15, when the last parents had to leave the store. We have since managed to last a bit over two hours...that is unusual, as parents seem to think they need to deal with other things once we pass the first 90 minutes.
I find it absolutely fascinating to listen to children’s queries, and have them allow me to participate in their thoughts. They are so astute you would often think the child was ten or even twenty years older. There is no missing or misunderstanding their intent: they are actively seeking legitimate answers to very sound questions. I have a pretty good vocabulary, a smattering of knowledge on many subjects, and a large amount of trivia stored in my head. I also have an active imagination, but despite all this, I have been seriously challenged in trying to meet some of the questions children of 5 to 8 years old have posed.
Is it all worth while, and is it truly enjoyable? It is like stepping into another world, where I can be as carefree and happy as the children who share their time with me. It is, to me, as worthwhile as anything can be. I don’t miss being a child, but the enjoyment of being invited to be one of them, and then being treated as an equal, but with respect, is unmatched.
Oh, yes. I forgot to mention that my favourite pastime is reading stories to children.
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