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THE SQUEAKY DOOR From: Parent’s Guide to Storytelling by Margaret Read MacDonald. August House, 2001. And picture book THE SQUEAKY DOOR by Margaret Read MacDonald. Illus. Mary Newell DePalma (HarperCollins, 2006). WORDS TO KNOW: GRANDMA; SCARED; BOY; CAT; DOG; PIG; HORSE; DOOR Little Boy went to Grandma’s house. Grandma said, “You will sleep in the big bed, all by yourself. Will you be scared?” Little Boy said, “NO, not ME!” So Grandma tucked the boy in. She kissed the boy goodnight. “Now, when I go out and close the door... Will you be scared?” “NO, not ME!” So Grandma tiptoed out. She turned off the light...”click.” She closed the door... “SQUEEEEEAK!” The Boy began to cry, “WAAAAAA!” “Oh no! Were you scared?” “No....not me.” “Hmmm. I think you were scared. Do you want to sleep with the cat?” “YES! YES! YES!” Grandma kissed the cat goodnight. “SMACK!” She kissed the boy goodnight. “SMACK!” “When I close the door, will you be scared?” “NO. Not ME!” Grandma tiptoed out. She turned off the light... “click” She closed the door. .... “SQUEEEEAK!” Boy began to cry! “WAAAAHHHH!” Cat began to meow! “MEOWWW!” “Oh no! Were you scared?” “No. Not me.” “Would you like to sleep with the dog?” “YES! YES! YES!” Grandma kissed the boy goodnight. .....”SMACK!” She kissed the cat goodnight. .....”SMACK!” She kissed the dog goodnight. .....”SMACK!” “When I close the door, will you be scared?” “NO! Not ME!” Grandma tiptoed out. She turned off the light. .....”click” She closed the door. .....”SQUEEEAK!” “WAAAAAHHH! MEOW!!! WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!” “Oh no! Were you scared?” “No. Not me.” “Would you like to sleep with the pig?” “YES! YES! YES!”

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Grandma kissed the boy goodnight. ... “SMACK!” She kissed the cat goodnight. ...”SMACK!” She kissed the dog goodnight. ....”SMACK!” She kissed the PIG goodnight. .................”SMACK!” “When I close the door, will you be scared?” “NO! Not ME!” Grandma tiptoed out. She turned off the light. .....”click” She closed the door. .....”SQUEEEAK!” “WAAAAAH! MEOW! WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! OINK! OINK! OINK!” “Oh no! Were you scared ?” “No. Not me.” “Would you like to sleep with the HORSE?” “YES! YES! YES!” Grandma kissed the boy goodnight. “SMACK!” She kissed the cat goodnight. “SMACK!” She kissed the dog goodnight. “SMACK!” She kissed the pig goodnight. “SMACK!” She kissed the horse goodnight. “SMACK!” “When I close the door, will you be scared?” “NO! Not ME!” So Grandma tiptoed out. She turned off the light. ....”click” She closed the door. ....’SQUEEEEAK!” “WAAAH! WAAAH! MEOW! WOOF! WOOF! OINK! OINK! NEIGH! NEIGH! NEIGH!” “KABOOM!” The bed broke. “Oh my goodness. This will never do!” Grandma put the horse back. She put the pig back. She put the dog back. She put the cat back. And next morning...Grandma got out her tool chest. And she FIXED that broken bed. Then she got out her oil can. And she OILED that squeaky door. “SQUEE...SQUEE...” “glub...glub...glub...glub...” “Squee...squee..” “glub...glub...glub...glub...” “Squee...squee..” “glub...glub...glub...glub..” (Silence as door is quietly moved back and forth...then a smile) And that night when Grandma put little boy to bed... She kissed the boy goodnight. .....”SMACK!” She kissed the cat goodnight. ....”SMACK!” Nobody else! “When I close the door, will you be scared?” “NO! Not ME!” Grandma tiptoed out. She turned off the light. “click” She closed the door. (no sound) She listened. She heard little boy snoring. (Ahnhmmmm. Ahnhmmmm.) She listened. She heard the cat snoring. (Ahnhmmmmmm......Ahnhmmmmmm.....) And that’s the story of Grandma, Little Boy, and the SQUEAKY Door!

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The People Could Fly, an African-American folktale from the Plantation Islands off South Carolina In Africa, before the people were captured and taken away, they knew magic. They had wings and on them they could fly in the sky, higher than high. In Africa, the people could fly, but under the harsh whip of slavery, all the magic words were driven from their heads and their wings were left far behind; But there was one old man, -his name was Toby-, and he remembered the words. He worked in the fields next to a young woman named Sarah. She had a baby on her back. Over them stood Driver, the overseer, who carried a cruel, thin whip that he would crack if ever they would stop their work. Up on the hill, in the big house, that’s where Master lived, Master Man who owned them all, master man who sat on his porch with a gun across his lap. One day, as the slaves were working in the fields, Sarah’s baby began to cry. “Hush, hush, sweet child,” Sarah said. “Hush, hush,” and she sank down low into the mud. She tried to disappear into the wet earth. She was afraid, afraid that Driver would come and crack his whip. “Hush, hush, hush, hush,” but it was too late, Driver had heard... “Shut that baby up,” he said. “Shut that baby up.” Driver came striding across the field. “Don’t hurt my child,” Sarah cried, and Driver lifted up his arm and down came the whip across the mother’s shoulders. “Don’t hurt my baby; don’t hurt my child,” she cried, but Driver lifted up his arm and down came the whip across the baby’s belly. Now, Driver was lifting his arm one more time, when there was Toby by Sarah’s side, whispering the words, saying the magic words. “O Calle, O Calle, O Calle Tuba Talle.” And the words they sank into Sarah’s soul, rose up on her breath, and onto her lips, and out into the air, and the strength it flowed into her arms and her legs, and up she rose into the air, taking her baby into her arms, in circles round, over the fields, over the trees, and over the horizon to freedom land she flew. To Freedom Land! And all the slaves they stopped their work to stare. Then Driver turned to the slaves on the ground and said, “You ain’t seen nothing. That was tricks and illusion. magic and smoke. You get back to work, you hear, and don’t breathe a word of this to no one.” And those slaves went back to work, but they knew what they had seen. Next day, under the hot sun, Driver wouldn’t let anyone get a drink. Finally, a boy fell down on the ground unable to move, and Driver came ready to crack the whip, but there was Toby whispering the words, the magic words. “O Calle, O Calle, O Calle Tuba Talle.” And the words sank into that boy’s soul, and rose up onto his breath, and onto his lips, and out into the air, and the strength it flowed into his arms and his legs, and up he rose into the sky. Then another boy fell, and there was Toby whispering the words. Now, the words began to spread across the fields from slave to slave, and all the slaves were joining hands, singing and dancing, they began to rise up in circles into the sky: And Master Man, up on the hill, he saw his slaves flying away, and he came running, running with his gun. “It’s that one there, old man Toby, who knows the words,” said Driver. Then Master took his gun and pointed it straight at Toby’s heart: And old man Toby, he just stood there staring Master in the eye, not singing, not dancing, but like a prophet, like a seer, like Moses ready to lead his people home. Then old man Toby, he shook his head and said, “You can’t shoot freedom. You can’t shoot a man who will dare to fly,” and old man Toby, he said the words for himself, and up he flew. Now there were still a few slaves on the ground. They were afraid, afraid to say the words, afraid to take the risk and fly away. They would have to wait to run some day. Master, he turned to them and said, “You ain’t seen nothing, That was tricks and illusions, magic and smoke, you understand. Now get to work, and don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, hear.”

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And they went back to work, but they knew what they had seen, and they did tell. They told their children, and their children told their children, and their children told their children, and their children told me, and I am telling it to you. O Calle, O Calle, O Calle Tuba Talle! . . . You Can’t Shoot Freedom! You Can’t Shoot A Man Who Will Dare To Fly!

Lifting the Sky Upper Skagit. Native America Based on a telling by Skagit Elder Vi (TAQwSeBLU) Hilbert. In Peace Tales: World Folktales to Talk About by Margaret Read MacDonald (August H o u s e ) . The Creator was going there, going there. His face was shining so brightly…no one could look on his face. The Creator had a big basket full of languages. He was giving out languages to all of the peoples across this great land of ours. He had a language for the Iroquois people. A language for the Cherokee people… A language for the Seminole people… A language for the Hopi… A language for the Navajo… A language for the Sioux… But when he came to the Pacific Northwest…this beautiful land… He still had a whole basket full of languages. What to do?.... He just DUMPED them all out. Everybody got a different language! The people on this island spoke one language. The people on this island spoke another. The people in this valley spoke one language. …in this valley…another. No one could communicate.

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No one could cooperate. And in those days the Creator had made one mistake. He had left the sky too low. . Tall people were bumping their heads against the sky. And some of them were climbing into the Sky World before it was their time. This could not be allowed. So all of the chiefs met together. How can we fix this problem? How can we communicate? How can we cooperate? They decided that if they had even ONE word… that everybody shared…. They could cooperate. They decided on the word…YAHOW! The chiefs told everyone to go and cut a tall pole… to push on the sky. “Everybody push…all together…. YA…HOW! The sky went up only a little. “Everyone has to put their back to the poles.” “YA..A..A..HOW!” The sky only went up a little further. "Who is not pushing? We have to push harder. Everyone needs to use a BIG voice." "YA..A..A..HOW!" Almost! But in a Native American story you must do everything FOUR times. So one more time. “Everybody use your shoulders. Everybody use your voice.” "YA..A..A..A..HOW!" “YES! WE DID IT!” Vi Hilbert says this just shows what can happen… If everyone shares even ONE word…. and cooperates.

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ELK AND WREN A Makah Tale, as told by Makah Elder Hildred Ides. Edited by Margaret Read MacDonald Published with the permission of the Makah Culture and Research Center. ---------------Little Wren woke up one fine spring day. The sun was shining. Little wren went out into the meadow and began to sing her springtime song. “Ee-ee-may-way sa-sin-a-way Ka-wai ka-wai sa-sin-a-way Toom toom!” “Ee-ee-may-way sa-sin-a-way Ka-wai ka-wai sa-sin-a-way Toom Toom!” Elk was sleeping in the forest. He heard that bird singing and singing. Now Elk could not sleep at all. Elk stuck his big head out of the forest. “ HUSH UP OUT THERE! I am trying to SLEEP!” “It is SPRINGTIME. I can sing if I WANT to.” Little Wren went on singing. “Ee-ee-mah-way sa-sin-a-way Ka-wai ka-wai sa-sin-a-way Toom Toom!” “I told you to HUSH UP! If you don’t be quiet I am going to come out there and STOMP you.” “Oh you don’t scare me, you big bully.” “Ee-ee-mah-way- sa-sin-a-way Ka-wai ka-wai sa-sin-a-way Toom Toom!” “I told you to HUSH. If you don’t stop right now I am going to come out there and page 6


STOMP YOU INTO THE GROUND!” “Oh go ahead and TRY. I’ll just... I’ll just... I’ll just FLY UP YOUR NOSE!” “Ee-ee-may-way sa-sin-a-way Ka-wai-ka-wai sa-sin-a-way Toom Toom!” Elk came flying out of that forest. He was going to STOMP HER INTO THE GROUND! But before he could land on her she flew... PUNK! Right up his nose! “AHHNNN! AHHNNN!” That elk wheezed. He gasped. He coughed. He couldn’t get his breath. That big animal collapsed and fell right over. He almost died. Little Wren backed out of his big nose. “YUCK!” She shook herself off. “You poor thing, I warned you. You can’t pick on somebody just because they are smaller than YOU are.” And Little Wren went on up the meadow singing her springtime song. “Ee-ee—may—way sa-sin-a-way Ka-wai ka-wai sa-sin-a-way Toom Toom!”

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5 storytelling for children  

5 contes per poder treballar amb l'alumnat

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