Last time I was there, Olivia – whose father had just recently died of cancer, wrote a gorgeous true story about being sad, and a tree in her back yard where she likes to sit, and when the sun comes thru the branches she thinks about him and doesn’t feel alone.
Today she shared with me a fictional story about a girl named Elizabeth “who suffered a loss” (her words) and cried and cried and cried. Elizabeth didn’t eat or play or read or do anything fun. She just cried.
Then one day Elizabeth decided to make Tear Soup. It took 3 months of crying, but finally the soup was made and just as it was finished the doorbell rang.
A friend was there. Elizabeth told her “harshly” to go away. But later Elizabeth apologized for being mean and invited the friend in and they watched movies and read and went outside and laughed. They laughed and laughed.
After the friend left Elizabeth realized she had forgotten all about the Tear Soup. But she knew she would never forget her dad.

I am in awe of this second grader.
And the healing power of her stories.
And her ability to process her grief thru writing.
And the mother who kissed her good bye this morning with the words, “Have a good day, my brave girl.”
Brave, indeed, to put one foot in front of the other and navigate this world without her father.

After I caught my breath and finished taking it all in; after I looked again into Olivia’s eyes and saw the proud smile that reached there; after I told her how much I loved her story and her writing — I stepped out of the way … of the real storyteller in the room…… the one who takes risks and writes from the heart and is willing to share and is just brave enough to hope she will make it thru this …. so she could take her book to the school’s Publishing Center.
Yep, I just got out of the way. It was Olivia who taught me today.

For kids who feel different or odd – maybe only sometimes; maybe all the time.
For kids who shy away from ‘different’ classmates – maybe only sometimes; maybe all the time.
For your next family read-aloud (grade K-6) select Patricia Polacco’s newest book, The Junkyard Wonders.

When I was a little girl, every Halloween costume was the same as the year before. You see, my parents didn’t have a lot of money. And I had 3 brothers and 3 sisters so we couldn’t just pile in the car and go over to KMart and buy seven new costumes every year. Instead, we were told to “Go in the basement and find something to wear in the hand-me-down box”.
You know what a hand-me-down box is, right? It’s that big cardboard box down in the basement. The one overflowing with jumbled up, wrinkled clothes that your older cousins and your big brothers and sisters don’t fit into any more. Those clothes will be yours some day, as soon as you get a little bit bigger. That’s the hand-me-down box.
My brothers and sisters and I – Jeanne, Jo, Mark, John, Judy, Lenny, and Sue – we marched down into the basement, sure we’d find an awesome costume hiding in the hand-me-down box. We threw shirts and pants and skirts and dresses and underwear and socks and boots high into the air. We screamed when we saw something perfect. We ended up tugging and pulling clothes away from one another. By the time we were done, the end result was always the same as the year before. We were holding over sized shirts and worn out pants and boots with holes in the toes. The Below kids were going trick or treating as Halloween Hoboes again!
But one year was different. I was in elementary school. I knew long before Halloween came exactly what I wanted to be. You see, earlier in the year, I had found a vest in the hand-me-down box. One of my cousins had outgrown it and I was the first one to claim it out of the box. It was mine – a brown leather vest with long pieces of fringe hanging from the shoulders and all the way around the bottom. It came with a matching leather skirt. The fringes at the bottom of that skirt moved back and forth when I walked.
My little brother, Lenny, had a sheriff’s set with a silver star. I pinned that star to my vest, right over my heart. I found the holster that belonged with the sheriff’s set and buckled it low around my waist. Of course, my brothers had lost the two pistols that fit into the holster somewhere in the fields behind our house, but that didn’t matter. I ran out to the garage and got the long rope my sisters and I used for jumping. It was fraying at one end so we had knotted it so the entire rope wouldn’t unravel. I held that rope by the knot and waved it in circles over my head. I threw it back and snapped it forward. It was my whip. Then I went in search of the spurs that came with Lenny’s sheriff set.  My dad had hidden the spurs way up on a garage shelf the day he ran over them with the lawn mower. But I knew exactly where they were. So I climbed the wooden ladder and I got them down. They were just a little rusty, but I tied them around my ankles so they hung off the back of my red tennis shoes. Then I found our raccoon skin hat in a corner of the garage and put it on too.
I was ready for Halloween. I was a stagecoach driving cowgirl; I was bold and brave and not afraid of anything.
Living in a small town, we didn’t need our parents to go with us. We could trick or treat from one end of town to the other and be back before they had a chance to worry. The boys had old pillowcases to hold their candy. The girls had paper grocery bags. We were lined up by the back door ready to go – one by one we slipped into the dark night – Jeanne, Jo, Mark, John, Judy, Lenny. And then, “Sue, stop!”
It was my mom. We were living in Wisconsin. Did I mention that? Usually on October 31^st in Wisconsin it’s pretty cold.
“Sue, you can’t go out with bare legs. You go upstairs and put on your corduroy pants so you don’t get sick.”
“But Mom! Cowgirls don’t wear corduroy pants under their skirts!”
She just stood at the door, one hand on her hip, and waited. I could see my brothers and sisters already knocking on the neighbor’s door. “Trick or treat!” I heard them shout. I ran upstairs as fast as I could. I slipped my forest green and navy blue plaid corduroy pants on underneath my skirt. I dashed back down the stairs, grabbed my paper grocery bag, and headed for the door. And then, “Sue, stop!”
It was my mom …. again. We were living in Wisconsin. Did I mention that? Usually on October 31^st in Wisconsin it’s pretty cold and then it starts to rain. “Sue, you can’t go out without your rain coat.”
“But Mom! Cowgirls don’t wear green and blue plaid corduroy pants under their skirts and a yellow rain coat too!”
She just stood at the door, one hand on her hip, and waited. I could see my brothers and sisters already knocking on the next neighbor’s door. “Trick or treat!” I heard them shout. I ran to the back closet as fast as I could. I slipped my yellow rain coat on over my clothes. I grabbed my paper grocery bag and headed for the door. And then, “Sue, stop!”
It was my mom …. again. We were living in Wisconsin. Did I mention that? Usually on October 31^st in Wisconsin it’s pretty cold, and then it starts to rain, and then it gets just a little bit colder so that the rain turns to snow. “Sue, you can’t go out without your snow boots.”
“But Mom! Cowgirls don’t wear green and blue plaid corduroy pants under their skirts, a yellow rain coat, and clunky winter boots too!”
She just stood at the door, one hand on her hip, and waited. I could see my brothers and sisters already knocking on the next neighbor’s door. “Trick or treat!” I could barely hear them shout. I ran down into the basement as fast as I could and found the box that stored our winter boots. I untied my tennis shoes and spurs and left them where they fell. Then I wedged my feet into last year’s clunky, muddy, black boots. I dashed upstairs, grabbed my paper grocery bag, and headed for the door. And then, “Sue, stop!”
It was my mom …. again. We were living in Wisconsin. Did I mention that? Usually on October 31^st in Wisconsin it’s pretty cold, and then it starts to rain, and then it gets just a little bit colder so that the rain turns to snow, and then the wind begins to howl. “Sue, you can’t go out without a stocking hat on your head. Cover your ears so you don’t catch a cold.”
“But, Mom! Cowgirls don’t wear green and blue plaid corduroy pants under their skirts and yellow rain coats and ugly, clunky black boots and hats over their ears!”
She just stood at the door, one hand on her hip, and waited. I could see my brothers and sisters already knocking on the next neighbor’s door. “Trick or treat!” It sounded like a whisper; they were so far away. I ran down into the basement as fast as I could again and found the box that stored our winter hats. I took off my raccoon skin hat and yanked a navy blue stocking cap way down over my ears. I dashed upstairs, grabbed my paper grocery bag in one hand, my whip in the other, and shot out the door. “Wait for meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
My brothers and sisters stopped under a street light. “Hurry up!” they shouted back. In the yellow light I could see them draw close, their bare heads nearly touching as they looked inside of their pillowcases and grocery bags at the candy they had already collected.
I didn’t want to skip any houses, so I stopped at the first neighbor’s door and knocked. “Trick or treat!” And then I held open my grocery bag.
“Oh look” the neighbor lady said as she dropped a candy bar into my bag, “it’s another one of the Below hoboes.”
All she could see was my outside – my green and blue plaid corduroy pants and yellow rain coat and ugly, clunky, muddy black boots and a little bit of my face because the rest of me was covered up by the navy blue stocking cap pulled low over my ears. She couldn’t see what was on the inside of me. She didn’t know I was a stagecoach driving cowgirl with a real sheriff’s badge pinned over my heart. She didn’t know I was bold, and brave, and not afraid of anything.

But I knew. And on that night I realized, that’s all that mattered.

For kids:
When you experience or witness bully behavior take these steps:
(1)   Stay calm
(2)   Say ‘stop’ if you can
(3)   Walk away – not because you are ignoring the behavior but because you refuse to accept it
(4)   Talk to an adult at school and at home

For the adults in their lives:
When a child who has been targeted reports bully behavior to you:
(1)   Stay calm
(2)  Listen
(3)   Thank them for telling you
(4)   Communicate: “This isn’t your fault.”
(5)   Find out how they’ve handled it so far; brainstorm prevention strategies; find out how your child wants you to help
(6)   Provide ongoing supervision and structure to places bully behavior occurs
(7)  Remember that targets are chosen for their perceived inability to defend themselves. Be in it for the long term: remain observant, aware, involved, engaged — keep checking back with the target, the bystanders, and the one who bullies — model tolerance, inclusion, respect, and empathy

For the adults in their lives:
When you observe bully behavior:
(1)   Stay calm
(2)   Intervene immediately; don’t ignore it
(3)   Intervene even if unsure it is bullying
(4)   Be clear the behavior must stop
(5)   Compliment bystanders who have intervened; suggest future actions for bystanders who didn’t step in this time; send them off
(6)   Check in with the target to make sure he/she requires no immediate medical/physical care; assure him you’ll check in with him later; send him off; check in later – talk, listen, brainstorm, find out what you can do to help
(7)   Let the one who bullied know the behavior is not acceptable and must stop; implement appropriate consequences(this will vary based on your relationship to the child — and we’ll talk about this in a later post)
(8)   Provide ongoing supervision and structure to places bully behavior occurs
(9)  Remember that targets are chosen for their perceived inability to defend themselves. Be in it for the long term: remain observant, aware, involved, engaged — keep checking back with the target, the bystanders, and the one who bullies — model tolerance, inclusion, respect, and empathy

Long, long ago a young woman of great kindness– Princess Pinang Masak – lived on the island of Sumatera. She was also beautiful, so beautiful that people throughout the island talked of her radiant face, exquisite eyes, enchanting hair, and delicate hands. She was unique among all the women of Sumatera but the people spoke not of her kindness, only her great beauty.  Everyone throughout the island heard of the beautiful Princess Pinang Masak. Many young men arrived at her door, asking her to be their bride. She had, so far, said no to them all.

Sumatera was ruled by a powerful man known as the Sultan of Sumatera. When word came to his palace that there was a princess  more gorgeous than any other on the far side of the island, the sultan decided, “She shall be my wife! Soldiers, bring the princess to me at once!”

Fortunately, word reached the princess that the sultan was sending soldiers. “No,” she cried. “No. I’ll not be forced to be the wife of one blinded by beauty. I’ll not be loved for that.” Princess Pinang Masak thought of how she could escape the soldiers … and she came up with a plan.
The princess collected dark, purple blooms from the banana tree and boiled them in a vat of water. As the water boiled it turned a deep maroon color. When the water cooled, the princess bathed in the dark liquid. She poured the water over her arms and neck, her shoulders and legs. She scrubbed her skin until it hurt. She held her breath and pushed her face beneath the water. She scoured her cheeks until they were raw. The princess did not stop until her skin looked streaked and dirty. Then she found dried grass and sticks and bugs and tangled her hair with them. After that she put on the filthy, ragged clothes of the village beggar. Her beauty had been ruined.

The princess waited for the sultan’s soldiers to arrive. When they marched into the village they did not find a beautiful princess. Everywhere they asked, “Where is Princess Pinang Masak? By order of the sultan, tell us where we can find the princess!”
The villagers all pointed to the hideous-looking princess. She smiled at the soldiers. Even her teeth had turned purple and red from the dye and the soldiers turned away in disgust. “There must be some mistake,” they cried. “The sultan will never marry her.” But they did not dare to disobey the sultan and so they forced the princess to his palace.

The Sultan of Sumatera stood at the palace gates in his finest robes and waited for his new bride to arrive. He saw the dust of the soldier’s horses far off in the distance and commanded his servants, “Prepare the wedding table! Set out the finest plates. Order the cooks to spare no expense in preparing our kingdom’s most magnificent delicacies. Hurry! My beautiful bride arrives!”
But when the soldiers stopped before the sultan, his look of anticipation turned quickly to revulsion. “Who is this disgusting creature? Where is the beautiful Princess Pinang Masak?”
The princess bowed before the sultan, then smiled her purple-toothed smile. “It is me, sir. I have come to be your wife.” She smiled again.
(sultan) “Take her out of my sight! Her ugliness sickens me.”
So the princess was sent back to her own village. In time, the dye that had streaked her skin faded; she combed her hair and put on her best clothing. Her beauty returned. And her loveliness was once again talked about throughout the island of Sumatera.

The sultan heard his servants talking, “Have you seen her? Have you seen the Princess Pinang Masak? They say there has never been a woman more beautiful.”
(sultan) “Something is not right. I saw the princess. She was ugly. How is it that I keep hearing of her beauty?”
The sultan sent a spy to discover the truth. The spy traveled to the princess’ village. One day he saw the most gorgeous young woman he had ever seen.
“Who is that?” he asked the beggar in the street. “She is unbelievably beautiful.”
“Oh, that is Princess Pinang Masak.”
The spy hurried back to inform the sultan. “You have been tricked. There is none more beautiful than the princess.”
“Bring her to me now!” The sultan sent an army of soldiers to arrest the princess.

Fortunately, the princess learned that the soldiers were coming back. She knew she could not fool the sultan again. She went down to the water and found a boat. Struggling to row against the crashing waves, the princess escaped into the night. For hours she rowed without resting. By dawn she had traveled to a small island far away from Sumatera. She entered a cove hidden behind tall trees. The branches of the trees hung so low they formed a curtain. It was there the princess hid.
She did not struggle to find food in her new home. There was fresh water, fruit in the trees, and fish to catch. She built a shelter from the trees. The princess used the branches to weave baskets and she fashioned utensils from the rocks along the shore. The villagers who had been watching from afar admired the resourceful princess, came out of their hiding places, and befriended her. When they heard the princess’ story, the villagers promised to keep her secret. They called her Princess Senuro.
Princess Senuro worked hard alongside the people of her new village. In time the villagers spoke not of her beauty, but her great kindness. And no one from Sumatera ever learned where she had gone.

(Adapted from: Princess Pinang Masak, found in Five Minute Tales by Margaret Read MacDonald and Princess Pinang Masak, found in Indonesian Folktales by Murti Bunanta.)

You and Me, Bully Free! Bullying Prevention Strategy for Today–
For kids:
1) Include someone new today – in your conversation, at your lunch table, in your game, on your team, as part of your project.
2) Go ahead and be brave. Be the one who practices “all are welcome here”.

For the adults in their lives:
1) Include someone new today – in your conversation, at your lunch table, in an introduction you might be making, while opening a door.
2) Be the one who models “all are welcome here”.

Bullying prevention facts:
1) Bystanders are usually watching when kids get bullied.
Child bystanders were present in 85% or more of the bullying incidents in playgrounds and classrooms.
2) Most kids who watch bullying feel uncomfortable.
80-90% of bystanders reported that watching bullying was unpleasant and made them feel uncomfortable.
Many kids also felt they should step in to help a child who was being bullied.

However –
3) Most kids who watch bullying do nothing to stop it.
Being uncomfortable rarely translates into action. Only ~10% of kids – one out of 10 – stood up for the target.

The Good News! –
4) Kids who try to stop the bullying usually make things better.
When bystanders intervened to stand up for the target, they were successful in stopping the bullying more than 50% of the time – usually within the first 10 seconds.

Try today’s You and Me, Bully Free! tip.
Stop bully behavior before it even starts by including kids who are often left out.

What other scenes from the story of the Wizard of Oz do you think provide good examples for kids of bullying prevention strategies?

Once, a long time ago, there was a donkey who worked very hard. It was his job to pull the farmer’s wagon filled with logs to the mill in town. The wagon creaked and groaned underneath the heavy load. With the harness strapped across his back and the weight of the wagon pushing against him, the donkey strained and trudged and struggled to haul his load across the bumpy fields.
Sometimes the donkey complained.
♫ “I’ve been pullin’ this old wagon,
All the live long day. Hee-haw.
I’ve been pullin’ this old wagon,
And I’ve got somethin’ to say. Hee-haw.”

Of course, the farmer didn’t listen to a thing the donkey said. You see, he had a tiny, little brown and white dog that he loved. The little brown and white dog always sat on the seat of the wagon right next to the farmer. The dog barked, the farmer talked, and the two of them paid no attention to the donkey. The dog wiggled closer and sat on the farmer’s lap, the farmer scratched the dog behind his ears, and the donkey trudged on.
The donkey complained again.
♫ “I’ve been pullin’ this old wagon,
All the live long day. Hee-haw.
I’ve been pullin’ this old wagon,
And I’ve got somethin’ to say. Hee-haw.”

Of course, the farmer didn’t listen to a thing the donkey said. But he did take good care of that donkey. At the end of every day the farmer unhitched the donkey from the empty wagon. The donkey was free to roam about the barn. It was a warm, clean barn, and the farmer always fed the donkey fresh grain and sweet hay. There was a bed of clean straw on the floor for the donkey to sleep on, too.
When the farmer finished taking care of the donkey, however, he carried his little brown and white dog into the house with him. The dog sat in the farmer’s lap at the supper table and ate scraps from the farmer’s plate. The little brown and white dog slept at the foot of the farmer’s bed.

One night the donkey was particularly exhausted from the day’s difficult work. He tossed and turned on the hard, cold floor of that barn. It was not easy to sleep thinking about the little brown and white dog snoring peacefully on the farmer’s bed. The donkey started to complain again.
♫ “I’ve been pullin’ this old wagon,
All the live long day. Hee-haw.
I’ve been pullin’ this old wagon,
And I’ve got somethin’ to say. Hee-haw.
I don’t want to be a donkey.
Dog’s got an easy life.
I don’t want to be a donkey.
This just isn’t right. Hee-haw.”
Of course there was no one around to hear the donkey. So his complaining did no good. But that’s the night the donkey decided to take matters into his own hooves. He bolted out of the stable. He smashed open the door to the house, charged inside, and found the old man sitting in a rocking chair in front of the fire. The sleeping little brown and white dog was curled up in his lap. The farmer’s eyes grew wide in astonishment. He shouted, “Get out! Get out! Get back to the barn. You don’t belong here!”
The tiny, little brown and white dog opened one eye, barked two times, and started chasing his tail.

The donkey didn’t budge. He had a plan.
(tune: Dinah, won’t you blow?)
♫ “I’ll act like a dog.
I’ll act like a dog.
I’ll act like a dog and chase my tail.”
The donkey twirled around the room, flinging his hooves high up into the air. He danced ‘round and ‘round, struggling to catch his own tail. Suddenly the donkey was very dizzy. Instead of catching his tail he stumbled to the ground, knocked over the table, and sent the dishes crashing to the floor.
(tune: Dinah, won’t you blow?)
♫ “Hee-haw. That’s not very fun.
That’s not very fun.
That’s not very fun. I’ll try something else.”
The donkey sat in the middle of the room and thought. The speechless farmer stared with wide eyes. The little brown and white dog barked three times.
♫  “I’ll act like a dog.
I’ll act like a dog.
I’ll act like a dog and bark three times.”

“Hee-woof. Hee-woof. Woof, woof, woof-haw.”
(tune: Dinah, won’t you blow?)
♫ “Barking’s not fun.
Barking’s not fun.
Barking’s not fun. I’ll try something else.”
The donkey sat in the middle of the room and thought. The speechless farmer covered his ears. The little brown and white dog jumped up on the farmer’s lap.
♫  “I’ll act like a dog.
I’ll act like a dog.
I’ll act like a dog and sit in his lap.”
The donkey put his front legs around the farmer’s neck, turned around so his backside faced the farmer, and sat down on top of the tiny, little brown and white dog and the farmer’s lap too!
The dog yelped! The old man hollered! The chair went crashing to the floor! Then, silence. The three sat in a heap on the floor looking at one another.
The donkey clambered to his feet and headed for the door. As he made his way out to the barn, the donkey passed the wagon he would be hitched to again in the morning. He was no longer complaining.
♫ “I’ve been pullin’ this old wagon,
All the live long day. Hee-haw.
I’ve been pullin’ this old wagon,
And I’ve got somethin’ to say.
I just want to be a donkey.
It’s the only life for me.
I just want to be a donkey.
It’s the only life for me.”