The Mouths of Babes

Kids say the cutest things. (Especially if they’re our own kids, right, Katy?) And some of them are so just plain cute all over you want to bottle up that innocence and charm. Even the stories they write are delectable in that awkward, simple, freckled way of children everywhere.

This week I did a school visit with seven grade-schoolers in the little village of Alta, Wyoming, on the west side of the Tetons. They were doing summer camp, and writing mysteries. The teacher asked me if I had anything visual, presentations, hand-outs, etc., and of course I didn’t. Since I don’t write for young people I wasn’t sure if I could even talk about some of the plots I’m familiar with, murder, violence, crime of all sorts. As she told me, these kids are pretty sheltered.

We talked instead about problems and puzzles. But one little boy declared: “there is no dying in my story!” Which I thought was pretty mature, since he was writing about a four-eyed poison robot frog. About eight, he was a smart cookie. When we were discussing what made a good writer, I mentioned being a good listener. Like when your grandparents tell you stories, listen. One girl recounted her grandparents’ story of getting a sample of Ex-lax in the mail, thinking it was candy and eating it as they walked back down the long lane to the house. It was a good story but the second-grader was baffled. He’d never heard of Ex-lax. The eight-year-old gave him the scoop: it makes you go number 2 — a lot.

Two seven-year-olds were writing a story together and, I have to say, theirs was the most developed tale. A baby dinosaur egg gets lost and they (the boy and girl writing the story were also the main characters) must find its mama before it hatches. They had all the pictures drawn and were the first to start writing. The other writing duo, a boy and girl in 4th or 5th grade, were having collaborator problems. The plot about missing doughnuts had, well, some holes.

The oldest student, a sixth grader, was writing a Nancy Drewish tale about a girl who is forced to move cross country with her parents, and live in a creepy old mansion. It may or may not be haunted. Her story was the most complex and, due to her no doubt reading Nancy Drew, Encyclopedia Brown, et al, will turn out just fine. Her eyes flashed as we exchanged ‘what-if’s.’

I had to do some quick thinking to find kid-level words for terms we use all the time when we talk about writing. I was explaining conflict when I asked if they knew what that meant. Blank looks. Clash? Still not there. It was explain by example time. When we discussed sci fi and fantasy, the little second-grader piped up: what’s fantasy? He knew Harry Potter so we went from there. But in the second grade can you tell the difference between reality and fantasy? Did he think Harry really flew around on a broom? No, he knew it wasn’t real. Not like baby dinosaur eggs.

I left with a box of yummy pastries and a smile on my face. I left them with a couple mysteries for the school library (to be vetted by Mrs. Cowan.) Thanks, guys. Can’t wait to read your stories.