I was just 3-years old when my teacher, Morah Debbie, read a very special story to me. It was about a boy who planted a seed.
The characterization was multi-dimensional and detailed. There were full-bodied descriptions even of the secondary characters...the boy’s father, his mother, his brother. Their voices, their clothing, their smells were distinct and well-described. The props – such as the pipe his father smoked – were almost tangible to my three-year-old mind.
I remember where the little boy lived, what his room looked like – especially the room that was the primary setting of the story. I remember the weather in the story, where he got the seeds to plant, the way the earth felt when he planted those seeds.
It was a very profound, complex story. I remember feeling like this book was a hundred pages long. The plot built up to a crescendo with a fabulous sense of irony. I rooted for the protagonist, the little boy.
Fast forward twenty three years. I was now twenty six, with a three-year-old child of my own. Standing in Barnes and Nobel one day, I saw that book. It was as if a magnetic energy pulled me to the bookshelf: The Carrot Seed, by Ruth Krauss. It had the same cover, the same colors. I opened the book with almost a reverence...What?! I was shocked. The book was only twelve pages. And on each page was but a single sentence. A rather simple story: There was a little boy who planted a carrot seed. He was surrounded by nay-sayers. The little boy persisted. And the carrot seed grew...just as the little boy knew it would.
The disparity between how I remembered the book and how I read it as an adult was imbalanced. But upon reflection, I realized that the author, Ruth Krauss gave me a great, great gift, the gift of Space. In her story, Ruth Krauss provided me with a framework so that I had the impetus to imagine. And, then she left it wide open, a mile-long radius that I was able to fill with my own sense of self. Three-year-old Malkie Mangel taught 26-year-old Malkie Herson a very important lesson: Children are competent. Children have their own thoughts, their own contributions. If only we believe in them. If only we leave enough space for exploration and discovery.
It is in this (conceptual) space that we all – not just children – have the capacity to meet our own highest potential. When we are granted freedom from preconceived notions and already-formulated opinions, we are given the sweet, sweet gift of exploration on our own terms. It is a gift that bestows upon the receiver the subliminal message, “You are competent.” And, almost without fail, when we feel that people believe in us, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. And, amazingly, we BECOME competent!
The characterization was multi-dimensional and detailed. There were full-bodied descriptions even of the secondary characters...the boy’s father, his mother, his brother. Their voices, their clothing, their smells were distinct and well-described. The props – such as the pipe his father smoked – were almost tangible to my three-year-old mind.
I remember where the little boy lived, what his room looked like – especially the room that was the primary setting of the story. I remember the weather in the story, where he got the seeds to plant, the way the earth felt when he planted those seeds.
It was a very profound, complex story. I remember feeling like this book was a hundred pages long. The plot built up to a crescendo with a fabulous sense of irony. I rooted for the protagonist, the little boy.
Fast forward twenty three years. I was now twenty six, with a three-year-old child of my own. Standing in Barnes and Nobel one day, I saw that book. It was as if a magnetic energy pulled me to the bookshelf: The Carrot Seed, by Ruth Krauss. It had the same cover, the same colors. I opened the book with almost a reverence...What?! I was shocked. The book was only twelve pages. And on each page was but a single sentence. A rather simple story: There was a little boy who planted a carrot seed. He was surrounded by nay-sayers. The little boy persisted. And the carrot seed grew...just as the little boy knew it would.
The disparity between how I remembered the book and how I read it as an adult was imbalanced. But upon reflection, I realized that the author, Ruth Krauss gave me a great, great gift, the gift of Space. In her story, Ruth Krauss provided me with a framework so that I had the impetus to imagine. And, then she left it wide open, a mile-long radius that I was able to fill with my own sense of self. Three-year-old Malkie Mangel taught 26-year-old Malkie Herson a very important lesson: Children are competent. Children have their own thoughts, their own contributions. If only we believe in them. If only we leave enough space for exploration and discovery.
It is in this (conceptual) space that we all – not just children – have the capacity to meet our own highest potential. When we are granted freedom from preconceived notions and already-formulated opinions, we are given the sweet, sweet gift of exploration on our own terms. It is a gift that bestows upon the receiver the subliminal message, “You are competent.” And, almost without fail, when we feel that people believe in us, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. And, amazingly, we BECOME competent!
Rachel wrote...