I will not share or give away your email address.

And don’t forget to subscribe by iTunes or your browser to The Art of Storytelling with Brother Wolf so you can get bi-weekly inspirations from Bother Wolf direct to your desktop. Read the info on the right to find out how. It’s free and it’s super simple.

Tired of the tin sound? Purchase a HQ Mp3 File of Interview #026 Rachel Hedman
	for $2.23 Child tellers speak out: what they wish adults knew.

One of the most touching storytelling interviews I have done to date. I love the passion in Rachel’s voice and storytelling as she tells the story of Black socks. I hope you are inspired in your work with child storytellers.

——-Rachel writes…
Child tellers often have silent wishes regardless if they attend elementary, middle, or high school. When given the chance to speak, these are the top three wishes:

1. Wish to meet other child tellers
2. Wish to have friends rather than coaches
3. Wish to be leaders

Perhaps you will be the one to help grant these wishes.

Wish to meet other child tellers
Children are lucky if they attend a school that has a storytelling club. Sometimes “storytelling club” comes under such guises as 4H groups, Forensics (public-speaking contests), or theatre. Storytelling may not be the pure focus of these gatherings, though it may be enough to at least find potential youth tellers or for some sort of support group to be established.

Three tellers from the 2007 Kids Koncert at the National Storytelling Conference never considered themselves storytellers until they were invited to participate. The youth had to re-think of who they were as performers. By meeting youth tellers from other areas of the country, suddenly the art form grew more important.

Similar experiences have also been found amongst finalists of the National Youth Storytelling Showcase (NYSS). Finalist Chris Hand commented, “The only thing I knew about storytelling was grandparents telling them before going to bed. . .I went to a club meeting and found out from my dad that storytelling is a really big art form.”

Another NYSS finalist, Chloe Clunis, encouraged other kids to join club meetings or events by sharing a story, which she used as her “30-second commercial” complete with facial expressions, gestures, and voice inflections.

What you can do: Contact your local 4H group. Sometimes this organization will give a stipend to cover your preparation needed to create a storytelling group. Discover the drama team of the school and see if you can “convert” some into storytellers. Convince a school to hire you to lead a storytelling festival, which would improve speech and writing skills, rather than the typical carnival that has no education merit. Encourage storytelling festivals/events to involve youth tellers. Introduce youth to the National Youth Storytelling Showcase.

Wish to have friends rather than coaches
Some youth tellers squirm at the thought of having a coach for this means someone may be telling them what to do. Jeremy Evans, another NYSS finalist, agreed that coaches could be controlling and a “coach would want me to listen to them.” Evans smiled and continued, “Now, if I don’t like something, I don’t listen to it!”

If one thinks about adult tellers within the American Storytelling Movement who have a coach, what would that number be? A handful? The adults may admit to having a mentor, a friend, or an influence. Any three of these assumes that the teller has ultimate control on how to accept any advice or suggestions. Yet, oftentimes, youth tellers are expected to have a coach.

When adults make decisions for the youth tellers, then there is the danger of the children losing passion in the telling of the stories. The delivery may be phenomenal but the heart behind the performance might be missing. This often leads to a struggle to connect with the audience.

What you can do: Encourage the children to find the stories they want to tell. Saying “You should tell this one” is detrimental and may cause the children to hold grudges toward the art of storytelling. Allow the children to come up with their own solutions.

Wish to be leaders
Adults are often more shy than children when it comes to leadership. When children grow up around this fear from adults, then the same fear could reflect on the children. Stephanie Strauss admitted, “I was shy “I was so shy I didn’t want people to hear my words.” In 2006, Strauss became the NYSS Grand Torchbearer, an ambassador for youth storytelling. What had once been fear became strength.

As youth combine their creative powers, they could even put together grand events such as the student-run Tellabration! held every November in Lemoore, California. Adults may be around to be a support, though the action, including the emceeing and the storytelling, are all done by youth.

What you can do: Give any opportunity you can for children to be leaders. Invite a child to teach a storytelling game to the group. Eventually, you could have the children emcee and/or run their own events as was done for Tellabration!.

Join me on Tuesday, October 2nd, as we explore more on how to grant these wishes of child tellers across the nation.

Until we tell again,

Rachel Hedman
Professional Storyteller
Co-Chair of Youth, Educators, and Storytellers Alliance
(801) 870-5799
info@rachelhedman.com
http://www.rachelhedman.com

Tired of the tin sound? Purchase a HQ Mp3 File of Interview #010 Kevin Cordi
	for $2.23 Children telling Stories – Giving Children a Voice.

Kevin Cordi writes…
Nationally known Professional Storyteller and Story Teacher Kevin Cordi invites you to join with him and Eric as we discuss, challenge, and encourage discussion concerning how we can provide a voice for children with storytelling and proven storytelling practices. Kevin is the co-author, with Judy Sima, of Raising Voices: Youth Storytelling Groups and Troupes and according to the National Storytelling Network, “the first full time high school storytelling teacher in the country.” He has a Masters Degree in “Using Storytelling as a Primary Means of Educating Students” and is currently a PH.D Candidate in “Dramatic Inquiry and Narrative Storytelling” at The Ohio State University. He also has led a successful award-winning youth storytelling troupe called Voices of Illusion for 11 years and is the founder of both Voices across America Youth Storytelling Project and the Special Interest Group now called Y.E.S. (Youth, Educators, and Storytellers.)

What is most important is that when he was a teenager he found his voice with storytelling. For awhile he was alone in his pursuit to be a storyteller and to found out more about the art, he had tapes to guide him, but no adult mentor. He struggled to find his voice, but found it. Since then he has used this experience to help build a nation-wide effort to help youth find their voices. His student Michael Lovan, then Junior, from Hanford High School stated,

“Storytelling helped me to channel my emotions and my thoughts in a relaxing way and helpful atmosphere. By listening to stories I came to appreciate and understand how different people can be. There is a story for each and every one of us.”

However, how often do we hear these voices? How often do kids hear voices of anger and violence and silence? Kids of all ages need to speak. This is why Kevin not only tells stories for kids, but includes them in almost every show. His interactive style of storytelling, entitled Ensemble Storytelling is a safe way to help kids find stories. Kevin has recorded professionally over seven CDs of student’s work. He is now featured on the Storywatchers DVD series and is currently working on an audio contract with Highlights for Children.

He also works on the building process of story combining narrative with drama and employing a special effective method first introduced by Dorothy Heathcote entitled “Mantle of the Expert.”

Kevin has been to over 40 states, England, Japan, and most recently Scotland. He is a Fulbright Scholar who according to the National Storytelling Network, has made it his legacy to promote storytelling. He has been asked by NSN to help lead the international/national efforts in mentorship.

Kids need to learn how to use their voices. Adults need to take the time to listen to them. However, they need to do this in concert. What better gift can we give children than our stories?

In this discussion we will:
Look at why Voices have not been heard by Kids
How we can use Storytelling to Promote and Raise their Voice
New Storytelling Strategies such as Ensemble Storytelling and Dramatic Inquiry with Story
Questions and Answers from You
The Importance of Mentorship
Share a collaborative Understanding of Story

Kevin invites you to not only take part of this discussion, but to work with kids with storytelling. It is a gift for you and the children. You can find out more about Kevin’s work at www.kevincordi.com and www.youthstorytelling.com (soon to be combined) you can find out and be involved with the international/national Story Box Project. You can reach Kevin at kcteller@sbcglobal.net or from this website.

For Peggy O’Sullivan. As a producer for over nine Tellabrations I want to share with you what has lately spiced up our Tellabrations. It is the sound of little voices with larger ones, in others words, I have had the privilege of helping direct a completely student organized Tellabration.

For the last three years we have made our Tellabration thematic. Our theme last year was “From the Trails to the Tales, The Gold is still in California.” Over 200 student performers and five adult professional storytellers share in the celebration of the stories of California. We had a four-year-old open the program and over 240 people on stage ending us with the song “Happy Trails.” What an evening! We heard tales about The Oregon Trail and stories by middle school tellers entitled “Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie.”

However, this year was not to be missed either. We decided to honor our first storytellers, or in other words, our elders. The theme was “Older But Wiser Tales: A Celebration of Our Elders.” This included a mime troupe, one of my students introduced his 76 year old grandfather Rex Bailey, swing dancing and so much more.
With the tapestry of home made quilts, one was sent from all the residents in a town in Missouri, others were over 150 years old, we celebrated in the joy sharing story and community.

The student mime performers reminded me of an important message. Jessica Savopolos and Margee Harris, sophomores, said, “Not many people believe that mime is a way of telling a story, but stories can be told in many different ways by various people. This includes by kids and teenagers. We believe that it does not matter who tells a story as long as it is told. Sometimes times us kids can surprise others because of our boundless imaginations.”

It was amazing to see second graders share the same stage with professional storytellers. The professional storytellers, including myself, shared a moment when we told an improvisational tale of the Appalachian story “Old Dry Frye.
Whether it was Heather Costner, sophomore, original tale entitled “Dear Grandma” or Michelle Austin, senior, hilarious romp entitled “Old Folks Are Worth A Fortune,” the tales help bring us closer together. Perhaps the finest moment for all of us was when we joined hands and invited others to share our moment by remembering our elders. We shared that moment as a special community. Everyone was invited to share; adults and children of all ages shared the moment together.

However, I have come to notice that some Tellabration producers are reluctant to add children or young adults to their program. Some feel that they would be too immature, unprepared, or simply a bother to include in the program. I would like to just offer some advice to help offset these inhibitions. With the right preparation, students will be a bonus to your performance.

These are just some few cardinal steps to remember.

1. Allow Plenty of Notice:
Students need to know early that you want them in the Tellabration. The best way to give them two notices, a written and a verbal one. When you ask them to help out by telling a story make them feel very needed. Let them know how important the event is and how much you would love to have them. Communicate this with their parents as well.

2. Give Deadlines To Have the Stories
Students, like some adults, need the pressure of a deadline. Have a “First Look Day” and tell students that their performance must be ready in order to have it performed for Tellabration. As was mentioned give students plenty of time to practice. Offer or arrange to find someone who can help direct or guide the story on “First Look Day.”

3. Always Give Students Something To Work On
Students hinge on comments makes by you. Using a highly complimentary voice and manner, praise the elements of the story that you enjoy and suggest some element of the story that will help improve the performance. Keep in mind however the age of the child and the gravity of the comments.

4. Have High Expectations
Students will respond to challenges. Don’t simply say “Tell any story you like.” Challenge them to tell their best, nine chances out of ten they will surprise you with the results.

5. Highlight their importance in the Program and During the Show
It truly is an honor to showcase a student’s talents. Make sure the program and your announcement of the student reflects this. Also you may want to remind them of professional story etiquette. Remember this may be their first public performance.

6. Send a Thank You Letter and a Certificate
Always remind students that you enjoyed the performance. Design a certificate or use Tellabration Certificates that simply say thank you for adding to our show.
This is a certificate that will forever remain on the student’s wall.

7. Lastly, once you see kids telling works, don’t be afraid to add it to every program.
Think of the message that you are sending about the importance of sharing the word.
Unfortunately, not enough students are telling or even watching storytelling performances. However, the “times they are a-changing.” In the last five years, the youth storytelling performers are growing and in turn more and more youth are watching as well. Be part of a living legacy; add a teller to Tellabration that will carry on the stories and who knows, maybe in the future will produce their own show.

Perhaps my student’s should have the final word.
Justin Rodriguez, freshman, said, “I personally think that children are not involved enough in storytelling. From what I have seen from being involved with Voices Of Illusion, our storytelling club, children love to tell and what an honor it is to be involved in National Storytelling Week.”

Michelle Austin, senior, said, What comes to mind when one hears stories or storytelling? I am reminded of my younger years sitting around a “magic carpet” listening to teachers or librarians read and tells stories. No doubt children love stories as much as adults. So why then should children not be invited to be involved in this wonderful art? Youth will carry on the storytelling legacy just as so many adults have done for so many years. Why not let the children and young adults begin the journey early? Who knows they might just steal the show!

Whether they steal the show or share it, a small voice can make a loud sound if we listen to it.

Share your ideas to bring youth to storytelling
And feel free to contact me at:
Kevin Cordi
NSN “Youth Telling Co-chair”
643 Nashoba Ave
Columbus, Ohio 43223
www.kevincordi.com
“Together we make a difference with story.”

We will be offering a workshop for youth ages 10 to 17in storytelling.
Youth who participate will have the opportunity to tteellll stories
in the pre-show on the YSKP stage before Sense and Sensibility.
$25 fee. Space is limited.
Register through Brother Wolf’s website: www.ericwolf.org/register
Eric Wolf (A.K.A. Brother Wolf) is a world
traveled storyteller who has performed in
hundreds of schools across the country.
A gifted storyteller, he is also skilled at working
with children and allowing them to perform their
own stories. His work has been featured in the
American Museum of Natural History in NYC, Mercantile
Library, Columbia University, Kings island
Amusement Park.

Now he held his sword to ward off the smell of dragon. Out of the stillness in the cave came a single distinct sound of claw on stone. His eyes searched the cave depths for light or magic. The cave denied his gaze of anything but blackness. His sword shimmered in the moonlight. Falling down it’s long length the man’s eyes watched the silver images move, the dragons of the sword swirled in the moonlight and the man remembered…

He remembered the Griffin. The eyes of darkness, the head of an eagle with the body of a lion that the Griffin never moved. The giant wings that would flare when the Griffin was angry. Each day for as many days as there had been, the Griffin had counseled the man, watched him and trained him.

“Man, Position 17.” The griffin snapped his beak. His eagle eyes were bright with pleasure. The Man curved the practice sword around to hold it low to block a leg attack. His feet shifted in the white sand.

“16, Position 21… Now six.” The Griffin would fire off. His black eagle eyes watched every movement. There was a time when the griffin would have chastised the man for the slightest mistake, but that time, there were no mistakes. The Griffin’s tail rolled gently in pleasure.

Then the Griffin said “He is almost ready.”

The man remembered the Sphinx. Her human face was set untroubled forever on her face. Her lions body never moved. Her tail lazily graced the floor. Her face, arms and breasts were covered with darkly painted runes. She would roll her bone dice with a velvet paw, her long hair unmoving. She would softly speak.

“He doesn’t stand a chance.” Her white eyes; sightless, unseeing, and unblinking, would not look upon the man she doomed. “The fates are against him.”

The Griffin’s beak would set. His wings rose in anger. Eyes dark and furious he would scream. The Man would stop cold when the Griffin did this, frozen in movement the sword poised for a down stroke.

“HE IS THE ONE!” The Griffin’s anger failed him rapidly disappearing into the stone walls and sandy floor. “He must be… I feel it. He is the one.” Then the Griffin’s head would turn to the wall where twelve swords hung. Each sword was a perfect combination of beauty and function. “He will not fail.”
The Sphinx would say nothing, but rolled the dice again. The Man had grown to fear the times when the Sphinx spoke. Whenever she did the Griffin just drove him harder.

“Position twelve, Man. Position three, the Dragon is leaping for your throat, Man.” The Man was doused in sweat. His tired limbs easily followed the sword through each movement in a dance. While the man practiced the Griffin would speak to the Sphinx, “See the way he moves. How can he not win. He is faster then the others.”

The Sphinx would say nothing, her tail lazily brushing the sand. Then she would roll the dice. Her face empty, lifeless. The cavern was filled with only the sound of the man practicing. his sword swirling through the air, his feet slapping down upon the white sand and his breathing.

The man remembered the way the Griffin would watch him, each eye full of concentration. Once when the man was resting the Griffin caught him looking hungrily at the swords on the wall. “Those are not yours. I will have one made when you are ready.”

It was not long after this that they went to have his sword made by the dwarf.

The Man stood on the edge of the Cave and remembered this. He remembered the way dwarf smiled at him. The dwarf’s wrinkled face was broken and lined by the years. The dwarf’s voice was a sharp knife that cut through him. “Look at this fine one you have brought me. I suppose you will be wanting another sword?”

The Griffin did not smile. He handed a bag to the dwarf.

The dwarf laughed. “Gold is good for the soul.” He held up a piece and smelled it; his eyes gleaming with gold lust.

The man remembered the way the Dwarf hunched over the metal and sent hollowed ringing through out the cavern. The glow of the forge gave the dwarf an insane gleam in his eyes. The man waited impatiently, waiting for the sword to be done. The Dwarf was a master. Slowly he turned a piece of twisted metal into a thing of beauty.

“What will you be wanting me to draw upon the blade.” The dwarf asked showing the Man the still red glowing edge. The forge threw off waves of heat.

“Dragons.” The Man replied hungrily.

The dwarf laughed, but his eyes were sad and his voice high and sharp. “They always do, they always do.”

The Man remembered all this as he stared into the dark. He felt the dragon’s presence. A normal man would have run away in terror, but he did not think; he did not feel. The Man had not been taught these things, he only knew how to kill dragons. He stepped forward drawn into the darkness of the cave. Edging in an inch at a time, the man’s feet found the way.

Then he began to see the outlines of the cave walls. The texture of rock walls, the dripping water and the bones that lined the floor he saw clearly. The Dragon was coming.

The Dragon brought the light. Its red fur and scales sent off a red hue that lit the cavern and made the walls dance as if from a flame. The Dragon was that flame and he burned brightly. The Dragon also brought noise – a low hissing growl that filled the cavern with menace and hate.

“SSSSSSSS – Who Dares Enter HERE!” The dragon’s call was unanswered. The cavern filled with the dragon’s hissing growls and sniffing. “Man… SSSSSSSS” Then the Dragon’s eyes began to search for the intruder.

The Man stood still prepared to meet the Dragon’s movement. He prepared to dodge the dragon’s dangerous burning gaze. He was not prepared for the beauty of the beast. The graceful wings, the bright red feathers, the red fur, the long tail that was paused in mid motion.

The Dragon was technically not a dragon. It was a Wyvern; a creature with red fur, scales, the body of a dragon, the wings of an eagle and the heart of a demon. Smaller and more deadly then a dragon. The Man did not care what you would call it – he was going to kill it.

“Dragon, I am your end.” The Man’s voice was clear and sweet.

“Foooolll SSSSS” the Wyvern spat. Even as it spoke its wings were moving. The Wyvern leapt up over the Man’s reach sliding along the cavern’s ceiling.

The Man turned swiftly bringing the sword up and around to neatly clip a wing of feathers as the beat down. The Wyvern screamed in rage and leapt directly at him. The Man danced to the side cutting the dragon’s fur along the right side. He would have struck again, but the Dragon’s tail hit him; throwing him aside like a toy.

His golden armor saved him from being burst asunder. He staggered to his feet, shaken; he felt his broken ribs and the blood that trickled down his chin. The Wyvern had paused to examine its side, allowing him to recover. Then, its eyes glaring red, it was upon him again.

This time the Man was ready for the tail, and he neatly stepped aside of its swing, again leaving his sword’s mark on the Wyvern. The Wyvern was back quicker this time, the tail sneaking in on the right. Man carefully slipped under it. In the process he shortened the tail by a good foot.

The Wyvern roared in anger and leapt directly at the Man. The Man brought up his sword. He was too late and felt a pain in his chest. The sword cluttered out along the cave floor and the dragon screamed. His jaw filled with fresh blood.

The Sphinx rolled the dice. Bones of long dead men rolled in the sand. “He has lost,” she said. The Griffin said nothing. They waited for the Dragon.

The Dragon came slowly his legs bleeding, his wigs clipped, but he came proud. They sat silent as ever watching the Wyvern. Green blood dripped from his wounds and the Dragons blood sizzled on the floor. Red blood dripped from his chin and claws turning the white sand dark and muddy.

“SSSSSS Close, but not good enough SSSSS” The Wyvern laughed at them threw the sword in the sand. His grin was covered with blood.

They said nothing till the Wyvern had left. Feathers, fur and blood remained behind with the sword. The Sphinx’s perfect face soured at the dirty sand, then she smiled and softly said, “I told he wasn’t good enough.”

The Griffin’s beak was set, his eyes black and depthless. He picked up the sword he held it lightly in his claws. Balancing it, feeling it, eyeing it for grace he did not move for a time. Then he spoke.

“We will try again, the next one will do it.”

The Griffin placed the sword upon the wall to hang there with its brothers. The thirteenth sword with dragons dancing on the blade and blood drying on its edge. The Griffin stared unmoving at the swords, his back to the Sphinx. On his feathered cheek a single drop of water edged down between eagle feathers till it was lost among them all.

The Sphinx’s velvet paw rolled the bones of dead men across the sandy floor.

Once upon a time there lived an elephant named Frankie. Frankie lived in a zoo; not one of those modern zoos that you may have been to, but an old zoo with tired buildings and cracked sidewalks. You would think that this would make Frankie a very unhappy elephant, but no, he was very happy indeed. The lions were not happy, the penguins were not happy, the parrots and the monkeys were not happy, but Frankie didn’t care. He was happy.

Outside of Frankie’s window, just off to the side of his trench there was a little machine for giving out peanuts. Every day the children would come from all over town, and they would bring their lunch money and their candy money to buy peanuts for their elephant. Frankie was very happy. He would reach through the bars of his cage with his long trunk, and he would carefully pluck each peanut from the little hands that offered them. Then he would take the delicious peanuts, he would put them in his mouth, and chew each one so carefully. Then he would smile, look out at all the smiling faces, and he was so very happy. Frankie loved peanuts.

One day a man in a suit came to the zoo to make sure that everything was safe and that the zoo was taking care of the animals. This man saw all the sad animals, the cracking concrete, the worn down buildings and the peanut machines. He shook his head, “We will have to close down this sad little zoo in a few years. We could sell all the animals except for the elephant. He’s too old to sell. We will have to put him to sleep and give his body to the glue factory.” Then the man said, “Ed, stop filling up those peanut machines;. It’s too dangerous. The elephant might hurt someone. No more peanuts for Frankie.”

Ed was very sad. He had been taking care of Frankie for a long time. He knew how much Frankie loved peanuts, he knew that the man was serious about closing down the zoo and that would be the end of Frankie. He took away the peanut machines so that Frankie wouldn’t see them anymore, and he hoped that Frankie would forget all about the peanuts. The children stopped coming to see Frankie. Now Frankie was unhappy.

He stood in his cage, looked at the blue sky, and got very depressed.

One day Frankie decided not to get up. He said “This is the end. I’m not getting up ever again.” What a sad little elephant he was. Ed came in to clean Frankie’s cage. “What’s wrong Frankie? Are you OK?” he said, “I have a treat for you.” Ed reached into his pocket, and he took out a little bag of peanuts. But Frankie didn’t move. He was that down. Ed looked at him, and then he dropped the peanuts and ran out the door to get help.

Frankie was lying there not feeling so good about himself, but he kept smelling peanuts. He looked around and there was the bag that Ed had dropped. Frankie thought he would have just one, and maybe another and then, all of a sudden, the bag was empty. Frankie was feeling a little bit better. He looked over and noticed that the door to his elephant house was standing wide open. Frankie thought, “Maybe I can get my own peanuts. I’ll just take a quick look around town.”

Frankie tried to be very quiet about sneaking out of the zoo. But all of the animals saw him, and they wanted to go too. The lion roared; the parrot called; the penguins splashed and the monkey yelled. Frankie ran out of the zoo fast. The man at the toll booth said, “Stop Frankie. Go back.” But he did not stop and ran into town. He smelled something really good. Hmmm, what was that smell? He ran around corners and down streets until he came to a bakery. He didn’t like bread, even if it smelled so good.

Frankie decided he needed a place to hide out so that the police couldn’t find him. He was lucky, and he found a beautiful fountain with many stone elephants. This was a great place for an elephant to hide on a hot summer day. While he was hiding in the fountain a police car stopped in front of the fountain. Frankie thought for sure he was caught; but the two officers were only having lunch at the fountain. “Where did my peanuts go?” said one of the officers, “I had them right here.” Do you know where the peanuts went? Then I don’t need to tell you. Frankie loved peanuts.

Frankie smelled another delicious smell. He followed his nose for a long time and discovered a doughnut shop. He found the doughnuts easy to carry on his trunk, but he still wanted to find some peanuts. Then Frankie smelled another scent. The smell was s so rich and full of flavor. He thought, “This must be where there are peanuts hmm” but there were no peanuts, and that shop was full of people drinking coffee. Frankie was getting discouraged. He had looked everywhere all over town, but he could not find any more peanuts. I might have told him to look in the grocery store, but he never asked me.

It was getting dark and Frankie smelled peanuts! He was so sure that he ran down a street, and over a hill. There, they are in front him was a peanut factory! Frankie ran into the factory. He looked through all the different rooms until he found a room filled with piles of peanuts. Frankie had never seen so many peanuts and his whole life. The pile of peanuts in that room was five times bigger than him! There were dump trucks and bulldozers to move the peanuts around. He ate peanuts till he was full. Then he burrowed into the pile of peanuts and leaving only his eyes sticking out.

The next day when the workers at the factory came back, they were surprised at how many peanuts were missing. “Where did all the peanuts go?” they asked. I don’t need to tell you. Frankie loved peanuts. The next night, after the night watchman had been in to check on the peanuts. Frankie went exploring. He explored all around the factory until he found a little building which said, ‘Top-Secret’ and ‘Keep Out’.

Elephants are very curious creatures, and Frankie couldn’t help himself. What was in that building? Was it a special type of peanut? A secret recipe?

Frankie peeped in the door. He didn’t mean to break-in. He leaned on the lock a little. Then he stuck his head in the door. Then he had to get down on his knees, and crawl in the room. There were lots of peanuts in this building, each in its own special pile. Some were marked, ‘peanuts with honey’, and others were marked, ‘peanuts with mustard.’ Frankie’s favorite type of peanut was with chocolate.

Frankie ate all the peanuts covered with chocolate. Chocolate is not good for elephants. He did not feel so good, and he fell asleep standing up. When Frankie woke up it was morning, and he had been caught. There were cameras taking his pictures, and women with microphones. He was surrounded by people; policeman firemen and doctors, but best of all Ed was there too.

Ed said, “Frankie you are famous. People all around the world have heard about you, the famous disappearing elephant.” Then cameras and reporters came closer to Ed and Frankie. “Why did Frankie come here?” they wanted to know. You know the answer to that question; Frankie loved peanuts.

That night Frankie got to go home to the zoo. The next morning the president of the peanut factory came to see him and Ed. He said that Frankie had made the peanut company famous. That nobody cared if Frankie had eaten all those peanuts because now everybody all around the country wanted to eat Frankie’s chocolate covered peanuts. The president of the company said that before he had been planning to close down the factory. Now he had to hire more workers, and he wanted to thank Frankie in his own way. The company had decided to give Frankie a lifetime supply of peanuts.

That tired old zoo has been closed down, and made into a park. All the animals were sent away to find happy places to live. Except in one little house there lives a very happy elephant, and every day when the children come after school, he throws them peanuts! Frankie loved to share peanuts.

]]> http://www.artofstorytellingshow.com/2007/03/20/frankie-loves-peanuts/feed/ 0