My thoughts on participating in the Teachers’ Children’s Classics Reading Workshop

Last week­end, I par­tic­i­pat­ed in two groups at a chil­dren’s clas­sic book study work­shop in Hefei, which was quite reward­ing. I’ve been busy since return­ing to Bei­jing, so I took a break today to write a few notes.
 
The Rain­bow Fish Group held its first for­mal dis­cus­sion on the after­noon of August 21st in the con­fer­ence room on the sec­ond floor of Tunxi Road Pri­ma­ry School. The books dis­cussed includ­ed: Where the Wild Things Are, The Zhu Fam­i­ly Sto­ry, Feifei Got Angry, and Crazy Tues­day.

I’m deeply grate­ful to Teacher Ziy­ouz­izai of Shuguang Pri­ma­ry School. She coura­geous­ly took the lead and clear­ly pre­pared thor­ough­ly. Her speech tru­ly gave me hope. Ziy­ouz­izai sys­tem­at­i­cal­ly reviewed the book “Where the Wild Things Are,” and her state­ment that “fan­ta­sy is the only path to men­tal matu­ri­ty” res­onat­ed deeply with me. An inde­pen­dent Amer­i­can researcher (and moth­er of two) also strong­ly affirmed a sim­i­lar point in her book “The Mag­ic of Chil­dren’s Books.” It’s not easy to grasp this depth. Many peo­ple often view fan­ta­sy as an obsta­cle to men­tal matu­ri­ty, but they don’t real­ize that pre­ma­ture­ly aban­don­ing fan­ta­sy only leads to a cold and icy world—or, in Ende’s writ­ing, even one on the verge of destruc­tion (“The Nev­erend­ing Sto­ry”). Ziy­ouz­iza­i’s analy­sis of the book also uncov­ered a clue: the young pro­tag­o­nist, Max, grad­u­al­ly reach­es the pin­na­cle of pow­er and desire through his wild fan­tasies, only to real­ize that these aren’t his ulti­mate goals. He longs to return to the habi­tat of love, and upon his return, his moth­er’s love melts him.
 
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The wild beasts have begun!
 
Mr. Qingfeng from Tun Pri­ma­ry School then gave a long and engag­ing review of “Wild Beasts.” His speech was incred­i­bly long, but it was so long that I had to inter­rupt him mid­way. Mr. Qingfeng had pre­pared thor­ough­ly: he bought a copy for him­self, shared it with his sixth-grade daugh­ter, and read it over six times, rem­i­nisc­ing about his child­hood as he went. He also found the film adap­ta­tion of the book, “Where the Wild Things Are,” and shared it with his daugh­ter. Per­haps because of this, he seemed to have end­less things to say about the book. He even recount­ed the eight meth­ods he devised for mak­ing bait while fish­ing as a child! If you delve deep­er into the book, you won’t be sur­prised. Sendak spent eight years con­ceiv­ing and com­plet­ing it, and it had a life­long impact on the artist. This pic­ture book tru­ly holds a cer­tain mag­i­cal pow­er. The col­lec­tions of papers pub­lished by researchers on the book could tow­er over Sendak!

Teacher Qingfeng focused on the con­nec­tion between the wild­ness in “Beasts” and his own child­hood mem­o­ries. He described the book as “very wild,” with the pro­tag­o­nist typ­i­cal­ly speak­ing only sin­gle words. By exam­in­ing child­hood (includ­ing his own child­hood mem­o­ries) through this wild­ness, he dis­cov­ered a con­nec­tion between this destruc­tive nature and cre­ativ­i­ty. If wild­ness isn’t chan­neled but exces­sive­ly sup­pressed, it actu­al­ly under­mines cre­ativ­i­ty. Qingfeng’s think­ing was quite diverse, and he offered two exam­ples that left a deep impres­sion on me: one about a moth­er restrain­ing her boy on a bus, and the oth­er about the mod­er­ate­ly thick adobe hous­es built by Native Amer­i­cans (to be hon­est, I did­n’t under­stand the log­i­cal con­nec­tion between these exam­ples at first, haha). He empha­sized the impor­tance of “degree” in guid­ing chil­dren: tol­er­at­ing wild­ness means max­i­miz­ing their cre­ativ­i­ty. Qingfeng was most proud of the fact that Max’s wild­ness in “Beasts” pales in com­par­i­son to the wild­ness of his own child­hood. O(∩_∩)O Haha~

Anoth­er teacher from Tun Pri­ma­ry School then offered a dif­fer­ent per­spec­tive. He argued that the book “Beast” ini­tial­ly depicts a boy expe­ri­enc­ing extreme depres­sion and a lack of release, as evi­denced by the shad­ows and frame size. The pro­tag­o­nist then descends into fan­ta­sy, find­ing strength and release with­in it, ulti­mate­ly return­ing to peace. This brings to mind works like “Angry Soup,” which actu­al­ly help chil­dren learn how to relieve neg­a­tive emo­tions. The teacher’s cross-dis­ci­pli­nary inter­pre­ta­tion is high­ly inter­est­ing. Oth­er books in this genre, such as “Fei Fei Gets Angry” and “Angry Arthur,” offer both fas­ci­nat­ing and insight­ful read­ing.
 
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Changes to the frame size of Where the Wild Things Are
 
Hap­py Bird, a teacher at Hyosung, added a fur­ther com­ment. She point­ed out that the rela­tion­ship between text and images in “The Beast” is par­tic­u­lar­ly note­wor­thy, espe­cial­ly the care­ful and inge­nious shifts in frame size. Regard­ing the sto­ry as a whole, Hap­py Bird believes the true core lies in the line, “He wants to be where some­one loves him most.” She believes the entire sto­ry’s emo­tions orig­i­nate from this point and ulti­mate­ly cul­mi­nate in this. This insight deeply touched me!
I clear­ly remem­ber how I pon­dered over and over again the trans­la­tion of this sen­tence when I first trans­lat­ed this book (about six years ago), because it was so impor­tant! At that time, I trans­lat­ed it just for my own enter­tain­ment, to tell my daugh­ter, and to read it to my moth­er who was in her sev­en­ties. The orig­i­nal text of this sen­tence is “(he)
want­ed to be where some­one loved him best of
I pre­pared sev­er­al dif­fer­ent trans­la­tions for the phrase, and while it could have been more flu­ent, I felt that if it were too flu­ent, read­ers might sim­ply pass it by and over­look it. So, I ulti­mate­ly chose this trans­la­tion, which isn’t quite as smooth to read but has a clear mean­ing. I believe it will leave a deep­er impres­sion on read­ers. Lat­er, when I told sto­ries to chil­dren, I often paused at this point, and I could­n’t help but curi­ous­ly ask them, “Do you know where ‘some­one loves them­selves the most’?” They nev­er let me down, and almost always answered with­out hes­i­ta­tion, “Home!” Although I’ve heard this answer many times, I can’t help but feel excit­ed every time.
 
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He wants to be where some­one loves him the most…
 
Teacher Dayu from Shuguang Pri­ma­ry School led every­one in a detailed expla­na­tion of “The Zhu Fam­i­ly Sto­ry.” Every­one shared a self-suf­fi­cient inter­pre­ta­tion process, mov­ing from pri­mar­i­ly explain­ing the illus­tra­tions to incor­po­rat­ing text, and final­ly draw­ing on their own life expe­ri­ences. Teacher Dayu was incred­i­bly thor­ough, explain­ing so many details that it’s dif­fi­cult to sum­ma­rize them here.
As for why “The Zhu Fam­i­ly Sto­ry” ends with the moth­er repair­ing the car, there are sev­er­al dif­fer­ent opin­ions: it empha­sizes that roles in the fam­i­ly are inter­change­able, with men doing “wom­en’s work” and daugh­ters doing “men’s work”; it uses the car as a metaphor for the mod­ern fam­i­ly, as it ini­tial­ly had some prob­lems and the moth­er ulti­mate­ly com­plet­ed the repair…

Wu, a teacher at Tai­hu Road, fol­lowed up on this top­ic by sug­gest­ing that renowned artists like Sendak and Antho­ny Brown often leave their works with unex­pect­ed end­ings, enrich­ing the pos­si­bil­i­ties for inter­pre­ta­tion. So, we don’t nec­es­sar­i­ly need to find a fixed answer.

Ms. Yu from Shuguang then shared her page-by-page inter­pre­ta­tion of Crazy Tues­day. She pro­posed that the cre­ative tech­nique of this book is what painter Zhu Chengliang (the painter of Flame and Reunion) called the “movie-mak­ing” method. The book has cre­at­ed a very strange atmos­phere from the cov­er and end­pa­pers. It uses very real­is­tic-look­ing pic­tures to tell the sto­ry, con­stant­ly rais­ing ques­tions (sur­pris­es) in the process of devel­op­ment, and then giv­ing answers, and then rais­ing sur­pris­es again… The rhythm of the sto­ry is well grasped, some­times tense, some­times calm.

How­ev­er, for a book that tells a sto­ry almost entire­ly through pic­tures, every­one in the work­shop seemed to have a hard time find­ing their groove and find­ing it dif­fi­cult to con­nect. Regard­ing David Wis­ner’s sim­i­lar works, you can also look to “The Three Lit­tle Pigs,” “Dream Fac­to­ry 7,” “Secrets of the Sea,” and “June 29, 1999.” Delv­ing deep­er into these works can help us quick­ly improve our abil­i­ty to read sto­ries from pic­tures. Chil­dren are rel­a­tive­ly adept and enthu­si­as­tic about this approach.

Teacher Liwo Qianx­i­ao from Tun Pri­ma­ry School shared her inter­pre­ta­tion of “Feifei is Angry.” Her expe­ri­ence as a preschool teacher gave her a unique per­spec­tive. She not­ed that the illus­tra­tions in the book aren’t her favorite style, but the book clear­ly depicts the process of a tod­dler’s tantrum, from the ini­tial desire to attract atten­tion to gen­uine anger, to the vent­ing of emo­tions through cry­ing, shout­ing, and fuss­ing, all before abrupt­ly end­ing. This is the gen­er­al process of chil­dren’s emo­tion­al out­bursts. Sev­er­al teach­ers shared their opin­ions on how to han­dle chil­dren expe­ri­enc­ing such sit­u­a­tions, and most agreed with the “cool down” strat­e­gy adopt­ed by the adults in Feifei’s fam­i­ly.

Dur­ing his pre­sen­ta­tion, Teacher Dayu care­ful­ly read “Fei Fei is Angry” and said the images in the book remind­ed him of Wang Guowei’s line in “Human Words”: “I view things through my own eyes, so every­thing is col­ored by my own.” This asso­ci­a­tion was deeply inspir­ing. Indeed, reflect­ing on this pic­ture book through this quote, the Amer­i­can female artist’s cre­ative process becomes clear. Bor­row­ing from West­ern prin­ci­ples, this is Arn­heim’s most exten­sive analy­sis of art psy­chol­o­gy, while from an East­ern aes­thet­ic per­spec­tive, it rep­re­sents a state of enlight­en­ment. Teacher Dayu’s inge­nious use of this quote in his analy­sis of this pic­ture book left a last­ing impres­sion on me and remind­ed me of the intrigu­ing term “men­tal imagery.”
 
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Feifei slammed the door in anger and left. The trees were all dyed red, lean­ing and about to fall, with sharp edges.
 
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After the rage, Feifei was depressed and deject­ed, and the hill­side, trees, flow­ers and leaves seemed to change accord­ing­ly.
 
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Feifei regained her com­po­sure. This was prob­a­bly the reverse effect of “see­ing things through my own eyes, and see­ing them through my own eyes.”
 
Dur­ing the dis­cus­sion of “Fei Fei Is Angry,” Mr. Wu offered anoth­er insight. He sug­gest­ed that the emo­tion­al adjust­ment process depict­ed in this pic­ture book is some­thing most adults have expe­ri­enced. Could it be that this book reflects a more adult mind­set, mak­ing it more appeal­ing to adult read­ers, while not nec­es­sar­i­ly appeal­ing to chil­dren? This is indeed a ques­tion that we should explore when shar­ing with chil­dren and observ­ing their reac­tions.

On the after­noon of August 22, the first prepara­to­ry dis­cus­sion of the new­ly formed Fly­ing Pig Group was held in the con­fer­ence room on the fourth floor of Weigang Pri­ma­ry School. The book dis­cussed was “The Sto­ry of the Zhu Fam­i­ly”.
As a prepara­to­ry dis­cus­sion, it is main­ly a process of every­one grad­u­al­ly get­ting to know each oth­er and try­ing to expe­ri­ence read­ing a book togeth­er. The dis­cus­sion is rough­ly divid­ed into two parts: “Who am I” game; read­ing and dis­cussing “The Zhu Fam­i­ly Sto­ry” togeth­er.
 
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The “Who Am I” game is an adap­ta­tion of pic­ture books such as “I Don’t Know Who I Am” and “The Zhu Fam­i­ly Sto­ry.” In “The Zhu Fam­i­ly Sto­ry,” the Zhu fam­i­ly father and sons grad­u­al­ly trans­form into pigs before final­ly return­ing to their orig­i­nal forms. Artist Antho­ny Brown suc­cess­ful­ly depicts this trans­for­ma­tion through his paint­ings, cap­tur­ing the unfold­ing events, the char­ac­ters’ per­son­al­i­ties, forms, and move­ments, achiev­ing a coher­ence between con­cept and image. The “Who Am I” game first asks par­tic­i­pants to asso­ciate them­selves with anoth­er image (such as an ani­mal), prefer­ably with their entire fam­i­ly (as the artist does in the pic­ture book), and to strive to ratio­nal­ize their asso­ci­a­tions. Then, the host, anony­mous (or per­haps unsigned), reads out a ran­dom image and invites every­one to guess who it is.

Before start­ing the game, first-timers often assume it’s incred­i­bly dif­fi­cult, with lit­tle chance of guess­ing. How­ev­er, as every­one relax­es dur­ing the game, most of the answers nat­u­ral­ly become clear. The most fas­ci­nat­ing part is when seem­ing­ly absurd and illog­i­cal answers become plau­si­ble after expla­na­tion. The say­ing “the unex­pect­ed, yet with­in rea­son” is pre­cise­ly what bril­liant sto­ry­tellers bring to the table. This kind of game is actu­al­ly about expe­ri­enc­ing the psy­cho­log­i­cal process of cre­ation and inter­pre­ta­tion. As read­ers, what we read in a work is clear­ly our­selves!

The undis­put­ed cham­pi­on of the rid­dle-guess­ing com­pe­ti­tion that day was Prin­ci­pal Jin from Tai­hu Road. When a cer­tain image (espe­cial­ly a group of images of a fam­i­ly) was first read out, she could accu­rate­ly call out the answer. I believe this was part­ly due to her excep­tion­al under­stand­ing of her col­leagues and part­ly a demon­stra­tion of her unique abil­i­ty in visu­al think­ing.

Many sparks were gen­er­at­ed dur­ing the process of read­ing and dis­cussing “The Zhu Fam­i­ly Sto­ry” togeth­er, but I was also focused on par­tic­i­pat­ing in the read­ing and did not take any notes, so I can only record a few sparks that were the most inspir­ing and impres­sive to me.
In the first pic­ture, we see a very mod­ern and seem­ing­ly hap­py home, but the text men­tions a wife, but there is no wife in the pic­ture. The way this father stands is some­what sim­i­lar to the way the father stood on the page “My father is as tall as a house” in “My Father”.
 
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The first one
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Com­pare the illus­tra­tions in My Dad
 
In the sec­ond dou­ble-page spread, two sons open their mouths and shout, “Mom, where’s break­fast?” The text says their father is also shout­ing, but his face is obscured by the news­pa­per. The peo­ple in the news­pa­per (includ­ing a goril­la) are also shout­ing. Sev­er­al inter­est­ing obser­va­tions are made here: the shout­ing fig­ures’ faces have pig-like fea­tures (espe­cial­ly their noses); sev­er­al food box­es have pig images; and the goril­la reminds me of Antho­ny Brown’s oth­er book, “Goril­las.” (In fact, the shout­ing fig­ures in the news­pa­per also remind me of the famous paint­ing “The Scream.”) But I was par­tic­u­lar­ly sur­prised when one teacher sug­gest­ed that the shout­ing fig­ures in the news­pa­per (rather than Mr. Zhu) imply that the idea that “women should make break­fast and serve men” is a pub­lic voice, a main­stream social con­scious­ness! This inter­pre­ta­tion is tru­ly sur­pris­ing, but on reflec­tion, it makes sense. It seems Antho­ny Brown may be address­ing a tra­di­tion­al main­stream con­scious­ness, rather than the “iso­lat­ed phe­nom­e­non” of cer­tain fam­i­lies.
 
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The sec­ond pic­ture

On the third spread, every­one noticed the somber col­ors and the moth­er’s (Mrs. Zhu’s) face, which we nev­er see. Par­tic­u­lar­ly inter­est­ing, one teacher point­ed out that the moth­er appears to take the bus to work, as the shad­ow of a bus stop sign can be seen in the inset in the low­er right cor­ner, and Mrs. Zhu is like­ly search­ing her bag for her bus pass (or change). This dis­cov­ery helped me solve anoth­er mys­tery: the two small white pat­terns on the right side of the inset. The low­er one is clear­ly a pig’s face, but what about the upper one? It now appears to be a car steer­ing wheel, sug­gest­ing that the moth­er could have dri­ven to work her­self. (This nat­u­ral­ly echoes the men­tion of a car on the first page and the repairs on the last page.)
 
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The third pic­ture

 
In the fourth spread, the teach­ers made two dis­cov­er­ies I had­n’t pre­vi­ous­ly noticed. One was the col­or of the chil­dren’s clothes and the col­or of their father (Mr. Zhu)‘s socks: red for the for­mer and blue for the lat­ter. It’s unusu­al for adult men to wear pure blue socks, and in this pic­ture book, the red and blue cloth­ing like­ly sym­bol­izes impor­tance. Fol­low­ing this line of thought, in the sixth spread (Watch­ing TV After Din­ner), the blue of the father’s socks and the red of the lamp above the TV stand out. By the four­teenth spread (Dad Cook­ing with the Chil­dren, Mom is also hap­py), the father’s blue has changed from socks to kitchen gloves, the child’s red has become an apron, and Mom’s out­fit is heav­i­ly red (sweater) and blue over­alls (car repair work clothes)!
 
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The fourth pic­ture
 
Based on this line of thought, in the fourth spread, the child occu­pies red, the father occu­pies blue, but what about the moth­er’s col­or? While the moth­er her­self isn’t in the pic­ture, log­i­cal­ly, she must be present. The read­ing teacher at Weigang Pri­ma­ry School then made a reveal­ing dis­cov­ery: the sofa Mr. Zhu was sit­ting on! The pat­tern on the sofa imme­di­ate­ly remind­ed peo­ple of the pat­tern on the moth­er’s paja­mas in “My Moth­er,” a book that also depicts a very sim­i­lar sofa (on the page “As com­fort­able as a sofa”). This dis­cov­ery offers two clues: first, the sofa in the fourth spread and in sub­se­quent paint­ings is like­ly a sym­bol of the moth­er; sec­ond, the pri­ma­ry col­or of the moth­er is yel­low (some­times pink).
 
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The sofa in “My Mom”
 
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Pic­ture 6 — Please note the sofa, Dad’s socks, and the lamp on the TV.

The changes in the piglet’s image in this book are rel­a­tive­ly easy to notice, and almost every­one has noticed them, so I won’t go into details here.
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Pic­ture 8 (Look at the changes in the pig shape)

 
The sto­ry pro­gress­es to the eleventh spread, where Mr. Zhu and his two chil­dren are sniff­ing for food on the floor when Mrs. Zhu enters. Every­one imme­di­ate­ly rec­og­nizes the moth­er’s shad­ow as an image of the Vir­gin Mary. How­ev­er, fol­low­ing the pre­vi­ous clue of “sofa = moth­er,” we also notice that on this page, the sofa is delib­er­ate­ly left emp­ty, unoc­cu­pied (com­pared to the fourth and sixth spreads), per­haps hint­ing at the moth­er’s absence, leav­ing the fam­i­ly with­out sup­port.
 
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Pic­ture 11 — Look at the emp­ty sofa and moth­er’s shad­ow
 
The thir­teenth spread shows a father and two chil­dren doing chores. The image is refresh­ing and bright­ly col­ored, sug­gest­ing that they are skilled at house­work and that doing house­work can be enjoy­able. The col­or shift is notice­able com­pared to the pre­vi­ous illus­tra­tions of the moth­er doing chores and the father help­ing the chil­dren after the moth­er’s depar­ture. Fur­ther­more, there’s no hint of a pig on this page. As the inspec­tor held up the book to show every­one the pic­tures, I could faint­ly make out the out­line of a face in the right image, with the two beds as eyes and Mr. Zhu and the iron­ing board as the nose and mouth. Of course, this could be a com­plete illu­sion.
 
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Thir­teenth
 
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Pic­ture 14 — Pay spe­cial atten­tion to the rela­tion­ship between red and blue and pic­tures 4 and 6
 
How­ev­er, Teacher Shu from Weigang raised a dif­fer­ent ques­tion: “Can the sit­u­a­tion com­plete­ly change just by hav­ing the moth­er leave?” Every­one agreed that this was­n’t the case, and gen­er­al­ly, it was rec­om­mend­ed not to leave the fam­i­ly eas­i­ly (after all, we need har­mo­ny and sta­bil­i­ty). This is a chil­dren’s book (still with fairy tale qual­i­ties). The sto­ry express­es a point of view, and while it may not nec­es­sar­i­ly offer spe­cif­ic, effec­tive solu­tions, the impor­tant thing is that it encour­ages us to nev­er give up hope.
 
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Regard­ing the final image, “She fixed the car,” the Fly­ing Pigs’ inter­pre­ta­tion bore strik­ing resem­blance to the Rain­bow Fish’s inter­pre­ta­tion from the pre­vi­ous day. How­ev­er, a teacher from Tai­hu Road­’s final, slight­ly play­ful inter­pre­ta­tion amused every­one: If the red car rep­re­sent­ed the school, then Mrs. Zhu, repair­ing and dri­ving it, rep­re­sent­ed the female prin­ci­pals! Any inter­pre­ta­tion is pos­si­ble, O(∩_∩)O, haha~
 
When we were togeth­er, we read books, read each oth­er, and read our­selves.

Relat­ed links
    [Shar­ing] How to Build a Pic­ture (Unveil­ing the Secrets of Pic­ture Book Nar­ra­tive)
    [Study Group Home­work] Some Expe­ri­ences on Get­ting Start­ed with Pic­ture Books
    [Study Ses­sion Top­ic] How to read sto­ries from pic­tures in pic­ture books?
    [Post­script] Why I Like Where the Wild Things Are
    [Read­ing Notes] Let­ter from the Edi­tor of Where the Wild Things Are to the Painter
    Artists who tell sto­ries for chil­dren (VIII) — Sendak’s sto­ry
 
Argen­tine Primera División was com­piled on August 26 and 27, and the chart was added on August 31.