Kids make me nervous and I am a little terrified of them. They are brutally honest, loud, fragile and as far as I can recall I have never been a fan of kids. When I was in grade school I knew kids were rambunctious and dirty, because I was one of them. I was the kid in third grade that always tried to get the class room quiet because kids were just too loud. As I grew up and became an adult I really tried to stay away from kids, and created my own rules. I don’t feel sorry for kids, if they run and fall, they shouldn’t have been running. If they have a toothache, shouldn’t have been eating candy. I don’t talk down to or baby-talk little kids either. I treat them like adults and talk to them like adults. I don’t give in to their demands. If I go to Disneyland I want to go to see Star Wars, not Little Mermaid.
Yes, I am selfish. I don’t like sharing with kids, at all. Once you give them a little they want a lot. I don’t read books to kids because I might not like the story they picked and the kids don’t pay attention after the first page, but I do love telling stories to children. What?! Is he a hypocrite you may ask yourself? The answer is no. The reason I love telling to kids is because they honestly love hearing stories and not being read to.
The first time I told to kids was in a huge cafeteria filled with 250 kindergarten through second grade kids. As they walked in I started to have an anxiety attack, but what was I afraid of? I tower over the tallest kid by a couple of feet. I am stronger than all of them, and I’m an adult so that’s a bonus altogether. I was afraid of the fact that little kids can bruise your ego or mess up your story. I finally got the courage and told my story “The King of the Jungle”. The kids loved the beatboxing and the story. Afterwards, kids were coming up to me telling me I was their favorite and saying they loved the story. My mind was blown. They loved the story and I lived. Maybe the kids weren’t that bad.
Then I told a story at the i.d.e.a Museum in Mesa, Arizona. The kids were younger, there were far fewer and closer. This was a true test. The theme of the storytelling event was Heroes. There were super hero posters everywhere, Egyptian Hieroglyphs featuring the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Ironman, and Batman. There was also a poster talking about the Hero’s Journey featuring the Lion King. I loved it. I became the very thing I didn’t like being around, a kid. I was rambunctious, I was loud, I was having fun. When the first storyteller started, there was one little girl with a purple cape and white mask, being as cute as she could be, and taking over the stories with her questions and remarks. What was I going to do when she did that to me? I became terrified again and a little reserved.
When it was my turn to tell, I sat in a small seat right in front of the kids, so close they could touch me. When I told “Abiyoyo” to them, they were all looking at me, not asking questions. I had their attention, and I got them all singing. I even got on the floor really close to the kids. The little purple superhero interrupted me at the end but I just included her into my story, and the kids loved it. I loved it. The kids were a joy to tell to and I learned something. I may be selfish with somethings, but I love sharing stories with little kids. They are not all rambunctious, loud, and dirty. I may not be a big fan of every kid, but one thing is for sure. I have something in common with all those little kids, I love stories and I love having fun.
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