Lecture transcript on “How to Play with Picture Books” (Part 2)

   
Lec­ture: How to Play with Pic­ture Books? (Part 3)
    Speak­er: A‑League
   
Time: Octo­ber 12, 2008, 9:30 AM — 12:00 PM
   
Loca­tion: Shen­zhen Sil­ver Eagle Sec­ond Kinder­garten
    Link:Graph­ic ver­sion   
Pho­to ver­sion
    (Con­tin­ued)
 
 
 We have to talk about some pic­ture books, such as word­less books. But there are many oth­er pic­ture books that deserve dis­cus­sion, not just read­ing. For exam­ple, books like “Su Wu Shep­herd­ing Sheep” and “Jingju Cats” are dif­fi­cult for the audi­ence to under­stand with­out some dis­cus­sion.
 
 “Miffy’s Dream” is suit­able for younger chil­dren. It’s a sim­ple, line-based sto­ry with no words. Draw­ing this pic­ture takes a long time, requir­ing repeat­ed sub­trac­tion. This allows chil­dren to quick­ly grasp who Miffy is and what she’s try­ing to do. Expe­ri­enced read­ers can share and dis­cuss the sto­ry with chil­dren. I think it’s help­ful. Of course, it’s not about telling chil­dren, “Look, how many bun­nies are there?” “Two,” which is mean­ing­less. Instead, it’s about play and sto­ry­telling, not just gen­er­al cog­ni­tive learn­ing. Who is Miffy? Why are she dif­fer­ent col­ors? If we ask a child, “What is this?” they’ll respond accu­rate­ly, say­ing, “It’s a star.” If they can’t quite grasp the star, they might say, “They’re play­ing games on the clouds.” This is a shoot­ing star, which can be rid­den like a horse. This is the moon. This is a slide. Miffy and her best friend fall asleep togeth­er. This kind of fun, beau­ti­ful, and heart­warm­ing sto­ry is per­fect for younger chil­dren.
   
There are also books more suit­able for old­er chil­dren, such as “Monique’s Mouse Word­less Book,” which some mid­dle school stu­dents are play­ing with. It’s a long-stand­ing exam­ple of illus­trat­ed pub­lish­ing in main­land Chi­na, hav­ing been pub­lished in 2003. A lit­tle mouse sneaks into the book, sees the paint, and tastes it to see if it smells bad. It smells ter­ri­ble, but it has oth­er uses, so it adds anoth­er col­or. It gets more and more excit­ed, and final­ly, its butt is so full it needs a bath. You have to talk about books like this, but it’s best to invite the chil­dren to talk too.

Here’s a book I’d like to share with you. Is this sto­ry famil­iar to you? If so, I won’t elab­o­rate fur­ther, as I often share this sto­ry with chil­dren. It tells the sto­ry from 100 BC to 81 BC, about Su Wu’s exile to the Xiongnu. Some­one, Jiang Yin­tang, com­posed a song based on this sto­ry around 1916. Now, an artist named Xiong Liang has adapt­ed it into a pic­ture book. This work con­tains many sym­bols, and chil­dren won’t under­stand it sim­ply by read­ing it, let alone chil­dren as young as four or five years old. Even chil­dren in fourth or fifth grade might not under­stand it:
Su Wu herd­ed sheep by the North Sea.
In the snow and ice, I was detained for nine­teen years.
Thirsty drinks snow, hun­gry eats felt,
The wild night is sleep­less,
With the Han Dynasty in mind and the dream of sav­ing the coun­try,
After going through all the hard­ships, the fes­ti­val has not returned.
Sit­ting alone in the cold,
Some­times I hear the sound of Hujia and my ears ache…
   
These texts actu­al­ly have allu­sions. If you are talk­ing to mid­dle school stu­dents, you can talk about more allu­sions. If you are talk­ing to chil­dren, you can sim­ply talk about the sto­ry of Su Wu herd­ing sheep. There is a very detailed pas­sage in Lin Han­da’s “Col­lec­tion of Chi­nese His­tor­i­cal Sto­ries”. It is well writ­ten. Of course, I have also writ­ten about it online.Very detailed expla­na­tion of the sto­ry of “Su Wu Shep­herd­ing Sheep”, I won’t go into details here.
   
The final pas­sages are some­what chal­leng­ing, such as “I entered a dream at mid­night… The rams had not yet suck­led, yet I nev­er expect­ed that I would even­tu­al­ly return alive with the Han envoy.” At the time, the Xiongnu asked him to herd sheep in the North Sea, giv­ing him a ram and say­ing that when the ram gave birth or nursed the lambs, he could return home. In real­i­ty, they were pre­vent­ing him from return­ing. Lat­er, Emper­or Wu of Han died, and his son ascend­ed the throne. His son, remem­ber­ing Su Wu, sent mes­sen­gers to the Xiongnu Chanyu to request his return, but the Chanyu replied, “He’s already dead.” Dur­ing a sec­ond vis­it, one of Su Wu’s for­mer sub­or­di­nates, Chang Hui, bribed the Xiongnu and nego­ti­at­ed with the Han envoy, devis­ing a plan. The Han envoy again sought the Chanyu’s return, but he replied, “Did­n’t I tell you? Su Wu is already dead. There’s noth­ing we can do.” The Han envoy explained that our emper­or had recent­ly shot a wild goose while hunt­ing in the Shanglin Gar­dens. A silk scroll was tied to the goose’s leg, with the inscrip­tion, “I am herd­ing sheep in the North Sea — Su Wu.” The Chanyu thought, “If even a bird is moved by Su Wu, what else can we say?” Send Su Wu and oth­ers back quick­ly.
   
Few peo­ple sing this song these days, but it was a very pop­u­lar song from the 1920s to the 1950s and 1960s. Even after the Kuom­intang arrived in Tai­wan, they report­ed­ly sang it, cit­ing the mot­to, “With the Han Dynasty in our hearts, and our old home­land in our dreams.” But is it still appro­pri­ate to sing it today? Will chil­dren still appre­ci­ate it? I think it should be passed down. You’ll notice that I’ve delib­er­ate­ly cho­sen books on tra­di­tion­al cul­ture in my selec­tions today, hop­ing to offer some inspi­ra­tion. We actu­al­ly have many sto­ries that can be passed down. Of course, they may not be as hilar­i­ous, but they’re still worth shar­ing. Let me sing it for you. If you know how to sing, join me:
Su Wu herd­ing sheep by the North Sea
Detained in the snow and ice for nine­teen years
Drink snow when thirsty and swal­low felt when hun­gry
Sleep­ing alone at night
The dream of the Han Dynasty is in my heart, and my old home­land is in my heart
After going through so much hard­ship, I still haven’t returned
Sit­ting alone in the cold
Some­times I hear the painful sound of Hujia

The geese are fly­ing south, to whom should I send this let­ter?
White-haired girl lean­ing against the wood­en door
Red make­up guard­ing the emp­ty cur­tain
At three o’clock in the morn­ing, I entered a dream, uncer­tain about safe­ty and dan­ger
Sad and hope­less 
There are still many loss­es in the big fes­ti­val
Ram not yet lac­tat­ing
Unright­eous­ness will even­tu­al­ly lead to life
Return with the Han envoy
   
We hope to pass on these lessons to chil­dren through this kind of approach. We began pro­mot­ing read­ing in 2002, includ­ing pic­ture books. At the time, pic­ture books were extreme­ly scarce. Even clas­sic West­ern pic­ture books, such as those found in Hong Kong and abroad, were unavail­able in Chi­na. But now, if you go to Hongni.com, Dan­g­dang, or Joyo.com, you’ll be spoiled for choice, and every book claims to be a mas­ter­piece. At this time, I believe we must recon­sid­er what we are pass­ing on to our chil­dren. So today, I’d like to share with you some books that focus on this top­ic.
   
I’d like to inter­rupt an online dis­cus­sion where a moth­er asked: When I read the sto­ries in “Baby Illus­trat­ed”, I can’t tell whether my child under­stands them. How should I read to him?
   
Mom: My child likes to read, but it seems like he has read every­thing but can’t remem­ber what he has read. I don’t know how to make him remem­ber. What should I do?
   
Regard­ing the first moth­er’s ques­tion, I think we need more pic­ture books of vary­ing styles and types. There are many dif­fer­ent types of pic­ture books. “Baby Illus­trat­ed” is too monot­o­nous, and it’s nor­mal for chil­dren not to feel drawn to it. I haven’t felt the same way either. Domes­tic and inter­na­tion­al books, as well as tra­di­tion­al cul­tur­al books, are all fine. The key is whether chil­dren are tru­ly hap­py while read­ing. Whether we are called experts or claim to be experts, we actu­al­ly know far less about chil­dren than we don’t. For exam­ple, some peo­ple talk about the secrets of three-year-olds. I don’t think Montes­sori holds more secrets than we do today, because every child is dif­fer­ent, and chil­dren in the past and future will be dif­fer­ent. We don’t need to engage in tech­ni­cal analy­sis to deter­mine how chil­dren are doing or whether we’re ben­e­fit­ing from it, because we don’t need it in our dai­ly lives. Experts need to con­tin­ue their efforts, and tech­nol­o­gy needs to devel­op, but we don’t need to focus too much on these things. The key is whether the child is enjoy­ing it and hav­ing fun. Can chil­dren under­stand the poem “Su Wu Shep­herd­ing Sheep”? One day she said, “Dad, I’m going to bed. Please sing me a piece of “Su Wu Shep­herd­ing Sheep”.” She thought it sound­ed very nice and it was also good to use it as a bed­time song. My daugh­ter is like this. I don’t care whether she under­stands it or not. It does­n’t mat­ter. She real­ly likes it. As she lis­tens to it, it brings back mem­o­ries. Peo­ple’s learn­ing is sup­port­ed by things that are con­stant­ly retained in their mem­o­ries, which will help them in the future.
   
The moth­er said: If a child mis­un­der­stands the con­tent of the book or vio­lates com­mon sense, should it be cor­rect­ed?
   
If it is a mis­take like the sun ris­es from the west, of course it needs to be dis­cussed and cor­rect­ed, but in most cas­es the child is not nec­es­sar­i­ly wrong. We should lis­ten more to the child’s ideas, espe­cial­ly his opin­ions. I don’t think it is nec­es­sary to cor­rect them too strong­ly. For exam­ple, in “The Secret of the Mag­ic Gourd”, she thinks it would be great if I had a mag­ic gourd. You say this is a bour­geois idea of get­ting some­thing for noth­ing. If this is the case, the child will not talk to you and you will lose the oppor­tu­ni­ty.
   
How to help chil­dren get into the sto­ry?
   
We will intro­duce good ideas, good sto­ry­telling and oth­er good ways to play lat­er.
   
The moth­er said, “My son is five years old. I often read to him, but now he basi­cal­ly does­n’t read by him­self.”
   
Anoth­er moth­er said, “My lit­tle girl is in first grade now. She likes lis­ten­ing to adults read sto­ries to her and knows a lot of words. I want her to read on her own slow­ly, but she is reluc­tant to do so.
   
Actu­al­ly, from lis­ten­ing to sto­ries to read­ing them, some peo­ple are fast, some are slow. Some run like Liu Xiang, some run like me. It does­n’t mat­ter; every­one will reach the fin­ish line. Life isn’t the Olympics; you’ll even­tu­al­ly reach the fin­ish line. And if Liu Xiang ran that fast, he might get injured. Maybe I’ll run more slow­ly, which is bet­ter. As long as we don’t see gold medals as the only cri­te­ri­on, life can be lived any way we want. So, it does­n’t mat­ter if it’s ear­ly or late. We should let chil­dren read on their own ear­ly: “You already know the char­ac­ters 70%, and you’re not read­ing on your own?” That child might refuse to read, but you say this book is so fun, “I’ll read it to you.” On the plane here, I read “Riv­er Swim­ming with Uncle Gum” to my daugh­ter. She was delight­ed. We read it twice, and she can actu­al­ly read nov­els on her own. She’s cur­rent­ly read­ing “The King­doms of Nar­nia.” But it does­n’t mat­ter. The more you read, the more like­ly she is to pick up a book and read on her own. This is based on repeat­ed research. First, the abil­i­ty to lis­ten. Read­ing should be sus­tained, but ulti­mate­ly, chil­dren must nav­i­gate their own jour­ney. This requires some skill. I’ve seen online dis­cus­sions about read­ing to chil­dren, and some extremes. One group thinks the child is almost there, so let them read on their own, or read when­ev­er they have time, and for­get about it if they don’t. Anoth­er group reads to their child when­ev­er they have time, eager to fin­ish an entire nov­el in one sit­ting. They say, “My child does­n’t like to read on his own; he’s read every book he can.” I say, “He’s too full; you’ve replaced his func­tion.” So, you can’t replace a child. Ulti­mate­ly, it’s up to the child to nav­i­gate their own jour­ney. Five to 10 min­utes a day, 20 min­utes, even half an hour is enough. Don’t bur­den your­self with so much. While I encour­age every­one to read, I also advise against read­ing too long. As chil­dren grow old­er, you’ll find that they may “drink” a lit­tle each day, but they’re nev­er sat­is­fied. They always want to hear sto­ries, but you only read so much each day, so they have no choice but to read on their own. Bal­ance your mind­set, adjust your pace, and main­tain a mod­er­ate pace, and your child will learn to read on their own.

The first three are the most impor­tant, core meth­ods, while the lat­ter are fun. Through­out the read­ing process, the main focus is on stim­u­lat­ing chil­dren’s read­ing reac­tions. For exam­ple, we’ve includ­ed a lot of things in the “doing” sec­tion because I found it dif­fi­cult to sum­ma­rize. For exam­ple, in “Grand­ma Flower,” they buy a bag of flower seeds and plant them. After read­ing “Pulling Radish­es,” they then play tug-of-war. What if they can’t expe­ri­ence the process of pulling radish­es? One by one, some­one pulls them togeth­er, and they expe­ri­ence strength in num­bers. Of course, the pur­pose of the play isn’t to under­stand this prin­ci­ple. Exam­ples include “The Lit­tle Black Fish” and “A Gar­den of Veg­eta­bles Becomes a Spir­it,” among oth­ers.

Just now a moth­er gave me a book­let, which reads “Love, Chil­dren, Read­ing, Life”. When it is opened, it becomes “Wel­come to Shen­zhen from the Argen­tine Primera División”. This is a mag­ic book method. I don’t know how to use it, but I know some peo­ple are very good at it. Teacher Fang Suzhen is very good at it. Every­one can play to their strengths.
   
To give a few exam­ples, every­one knows the sto­ry of “Pulling the Radish”, which was writ­ten by Tol­stoy based on a Russ­ian folk tale: An old grand­fa­ther plant­ed a radish, and the radish grew up, so big and strong that he could­n’t pull it up, so he called the old grand­moth­er, but she could­n’t pull it up no mat­ter how hard she tried. He called the lit­tle grand­daugh­ter, and the lit­tle grand­daugh­ter pulled the old grand­moth­er, the old grand­moth­er pulled the old grand­fa­ther, and the old grand­fa­ther pulled the big radish, but they still could­n’t pull it up no mat­ter how hard she tried. He called the pup­py, and the pup­py pulled the lit­tle grand­daugh­ter, the lit­tle grand­daugh­ter pulled the old grand­moth­er, the grand­moth­er pulled the old grand­fa­ther, and the old grand­fa­ther pulled the big radish, but they still could­n’t pull it up no mat­ter how hard she tried… Final­ly he called the lit­tle mouse, and hey yo hey yo hey yo hey yo hey yo hey yo hey yo, he final­ly pulled it out.
   
There’s also a song for “Pulling the Car­rot” that you can sing along. We played this recent­ly. We put a bunch of kids togeth­er, about the same num­ber, and they all grabbed the rope, one at a time, grad­u­al­ly adding more. Then, with music play­ing, they pulled the car­rots out and sang along as they pulled them out.
   
The sto­ry of “Lit­tle Black Fish” is a bit long. Lit­tle Black Fish’s fam­i­ly, Lit­tle Red Fish, was eat­en by a big fish. Then, Lit­tle Black Fish fled every­where, only to find anoth­er group of lit­tle red fish. He dis­cov­ered a beau­ti­ful under­wa­ter world, but his fel­low fish were afraid to come out. What should he do? Here’s a trick: Line them up like a big fish. Then, using the lit­tle black fish as eyes, he trans­forms into a giant fish. He wan­ders around like this, scar­ing away all the big fish.
   
How can you use this sto­ry as a game? Place the stools accord­ing to the num­ber of peo­ple in the group, remov­ing one stool each round. When the music starts, spin around. When the music stops, grab a stool. The win­ner is the black fish! This is a game invent­ed by Inspec­tor Car­rot.
   
There is anoth­er way to play that requires props, a red hat and one or two black hats. The black hats rep­re­sent lit­tle black fish, and the red hats rep­re­sent lit­tle red fish. Danc­ing and play­ing in the music game are all games with rel­a­tive­ly low exer­cise require­ments.
   
Games that require more exer­cise include “Cat and Mouse”. There is anoth­er game I rec­om­mend for boys, because I think boys nowa­days are not as “fierce” as we were back then. I think I can rec­om­mend a game called “Cap­ture the Com­man­der” (Touch and Crutch Game). Divide into two groups, each with a com­man­der, and each group is divid­ed into two groups, one group is the com­man­der’s guard, and the oth­er group is respon­si­ble for launch­ing the attack.
   
Let’s talk about paint­ing. Excel­lent pic­ture books are like art gal­leries on paper. They not only allow read­ers to appre­ci­ate mas­ter­pieces from a vari­ety of styles and cul­tur­al back­grounds, but also nat­u­ral­ly stim­u­late read­ers to take up paint­ing. How­ev­er, it’s impor­tant to under­stand that the images in pic­ture books are pri­mar­i­ly used to con­vey sto­ries and emo­tions. There­fore, for young read­ers, the most inspir­ing cre­ative impuls­es are often not those that adults con­sid­er ornate, but rather sim­ple, unpre­ten­tious, and straight­for­ward works. This is a child’s work, “Ants and Water­mel­ons,” with sim­ple col­ors and com­po­si­tion.
   
This is “Hap­py Birth­day, Moon” drawn by the child him­self. The child liked it so much that he had to draw the entire book. This is a child from a school for chil­dren of migrant work­ers.
   
Let’s make veg­etable paint­ings togeth­er, such as “A Gar­den of Green Veg­eta­bles Becomes a Spir­it,” using egg­plant, bit­ter mel­on, lentils, cucum­bers, pep­pers, car­rots, etc. You will find that when you real­ly inspire chil­dren, they are very cre­ative.
   
Stone painting—Stone paint­ing is actu­al­ly very sim­ple. All you need is a piece of ground, some mud, and then you can pick up all sorts of rocks. (Slideshow) This is Peter Rab­bit, “You Look Deli­cious,” “The Giv­ing Tree,” “The Ugly Duck,” “I Don’t Know Who I Am.” As long as you’re cre­ative enough, you can do a lot of things.
   
Pic­ture books with char­ac­ters are gen­er­al­ly playable. The sim­plest way to do this is to read them aloud in char­ac­ter, such as “Croc­o­dile is Afraid of the Den­tist” and “The Giv­ing Tree.” How­ev­er, it’s even more fun to add props. The recent­ly released “Pigsy and the Big Bad Wolf” comes with masks for per­for­mances, which is quite thought­ful.
   
Today I brought some props, like the Peking Opera Cats. This is Zhang Fei’s face, this is Cao Cao’s face, and this is Xia Hou­jie. Recent­ly, I’ve made some good props for the book “Lit­tle Red Rid­ing Hood.” The per­for­mance can be long or short. For a home per­for­mance, you can have few­er char­ac­ters, but for kinder­garten or school, you can pre­pare more.
   
Let me show you some stills. These are first-grade chil­dren. This is everyone’s “hmm”. “Hmm” is their Baba. They can act it out with just a lump of mud.
   
This is a per­for­mance of “My Dad”. Every­one should act out what their dad is like.
   
This is a per­for­mance of “I Have Friend­ship for Rent” and this is a per­for­mance of “Croc­o­dile Afraid of Den­tists”.
   
These are sixth graders per­form­ing “The Gruffa­lo”.
   
This was when we were in the dis­as­ter area. There were musi­cians pro­vid­ing accom­pa­ni­ment, pic­ture books, and per­for­mances. The chil­dren loved it. They immersed them­selves in the role, took on a part, and then per­formed. They knew how the sto­ry was struc­tured. It was so sim­ple.
   
This is the Chang­ban­po per­for­mance at Bei­hang Uni­ver­si­ty a few days ago. It is not that com­pli­cat­ed. It does not require cos­tumes and props, and you don’t have to reach a cer­tain lev­el to per­form it. In fact, it can be per­formed in a very sim­ple way.
   
Eat­ing. This is the most cre­ative activ­i­ty, as there are so many pic­ture books about food, and you’ll find that pic­ture books that focus on food are often the ones chil­dren love most, but there don’t seem to be any that actu­al­ly involve eat­ing. You need to come up with your own ideas. For exam­ple, after read­ing “Green Eggs and Ham,” per­haps you’d real­ly like to try mak­ing a dish? Or “Cloud Bread”—bread is easy, but clouds are hard to come by! I also trans­lat­ed “Stone Soup,” and you can find some stones and boil them. (Pho­tos shown) Like these chil­dren’s stone soup, we first washed a bunch of peb­bles and then boiled them togeth­er. It’s a fun game, per­fect for a pic­nic, and it’s very sim­ple.
   
Break­ing. This seem­ing­ly most tech­ni­cal method is suit­able for read­ers who enjoy play­ing with tech­nol­o­gy and play­ing detec­tive games. “Break­ing” means to crack or solve a mys­tery, and “break­ing” is a top­ic that many peo­ple are fas­ci­nat­ed by. You can exam­ine a pic­ture book from every angle: the cov­er, the back cov­er, the mate­ri­als, the col­ors, the tex­tures, the sym­bols, and what each sym­bol rep­re­sents. There’s a cru­cial way to read a pic­ture book: to look for details. This is a com­mon prac­tice. When you don’t find details in a pic­ture book, you’ll find it quite bland, but once you do, it becomes incred­i­bly inter­est­ing. For exam­ple, near­ly every work by Antho­ny Brown is rich with detail, like “Goril­la.” When we see the goril­la on the cov­er, we often flip past it. But when you encounter Antho­ny Brown’s work, you absolute­ly have to break it; oth­er­wise, it’s bor­ing.
   
This image tells us the time of the sto­ry. It already tells you what time it takes place. This sto­ry might be ref­er­enc­ing a film, with many sym­bol­ic con­cepts being intro­duced. Which film can you spot? — “King Kong.” The time is mid­night, on a full-moon night, when sor­cer­ers haunt. Fur­ther­more, this is a very strange book; you can’t inter­pret it with com­mon sense. For exam­ple, the fig­ure is on top, with his legs below; the win­dow is a chess game; there are many details, like the fig­ure’s head on top of the hat; there’s a bot­tle. Every­thing tells you this is a strange book, and you can’t inter­pret it with com­mon sense. The goril­la wear­ing a hat and a bow tie sug­gests the sto­ry is about a girl and her rela­tion­ship, which could be a ref­er­ence to a per­son, clear­ly a man. This image tells you so much, but you often skip over it when you encounter such books. You might even ask a child what they’re read­ing after read­ing it dozens of times, and if you’re not ful­ly engaged, you cer­tain­ly don’t under­stand what they’re read­ing. If we enjoy play­ing around, we’ll find it full of fun and sur­re­al ele­ments. Of course, this is a sur­re­al­ist work, “Going to the Riv­er with Uncle Gan” is an impres­sion­ist work, “Dawn” is a work in the style of Chi­nese clas­si­cal cul­ture art, and so on. Each work car­ries a spe­cial sym­bol, the so-called “bro­ken”, and the fun lies here.
   
Many peo­ple have read the book “Grand­pa Will Find a Way.” Grand­pa makes a blan­ket, which becomes a coat. The coat becomes a hand­ker­chief, which then becomes a but­ton. The but­ton even­tu­al­ly dis­ap­pears, but it’s there in the book. We usu­al­ly only focus on the sto­ry above, and if we don’t deci­pher it, our enjoy­ment is lim­it­ed to the sur­face. This sto­ry teach­es a moral or tells a sto­ry, but to deci­pher it, you have to look below, at the details, not in the mid­dle or the focus. This way, we can see how the lit­tle mouse fam­i­ly begins their lives, the rela­tion­ship between the top and the bot­tom. Focus on the bot­tom, then look at the top. The mouse has two lit­ters of pup­pies. This is the first, and then the sec­ond. Final­ly, when the but­ton is lost—a spe­cial reminder: it actu­al­ly reap­peared below. It was used for a spe­cial pur­pose. If you haven’t seen this part in the book, go back and take a clos­er look. We invest­ed so much, bought so many won­der­ful works, and then missed so many things. What a shame! We must also take a clos­er look. Final­ly, the but­ton is made into the top of a chair. While the per­son at the top reads the sto­ry, the mouse below also tells the sto­ry. The but­ton will not be lost. When you fin­ish crack­ing it, you will find that it is anoth­er sto­ry.
   
I also need to re-watch “Hen Rose Goes for a Walk”. Last time I shared it with col­lege stu­dents from Bei­hang Uni­ver­si­ty for half an hour.
   
This seems to be the eas­i­est way to play. In fact, peo­ple use this trick most often in dai­ly life, but they often don’t use it well.
   
How to chat with chil­dren? This is a com­plex sub­ject. Cham­bers once wrote a book specif­i­cal­ly titled “Talk About It,” the Chi­nese ver­sion of which is includ­ed in “Cre­at­ing a Chil­dren’s Read­ing Envi­ron­ment.” How­ev­er, even read­ing this book does­n’t nec­es­sar­i­ly mean you’re ready to start a con­ver­sa­tion. After read­ing it, you’ll under­stand that chat­ting with chil­dren is tru­ly a skill. More impor­tant­ly, we need to be gen­uine­ly inter­est­ed in the book, just as the child is. If we haven’t done our home­work and aren’t gen­uine­ly inter­est­ed, it’s best not to chat. In gen­er­al, I don’t rec­om­mend chat­ting about every book, as it can be harm­ful. There’s a “Lit­tle Big Read­ing Club” in Tai­wan that rec­om­mends read­ing the words when there are words, and qui­et­ly flip­ping through the pages when there aren’t any. They believe that most, if not all, par­ents would turn this into a quiz. Of course, if you tem­porar­i­ly set aside the idea of “what moral this book is sup­posed to teach a child,” it’s fine to just chat about any­thing. For exam­ple, if you’re read­ing a book about wolves, you could start a con­ver­sa­tion about a wolf in your home­town in the moun­tains… That might be a bit exag­ger­at­ed, but the point is to keep the con­ver­sa­tion inter­est­ing and rel­e­vant to your own life.
   
Think. Asso­ci­a­tion, imag­i­na­tion, and bound­less day­dream­ing… this is the most per­son­al way to play. Once, at a sem­i­nar on read­ing (obvi­ous­ly, no chil­dren were in atten­dance), the top­ic some­how came up: “Lit­tle Mouse’s Vest.” A friend who stud­ies phi­los­o­phy excit­ed­ly said, “This book is about Lao Tzu’s phi­los­o­phy: take things as they come, isn’t it?” Every­one was stunned at the time, but think­ing back, it made sense. Some might ask, “Can chil­dren under­stand this kind of phi­los­o­phy?” Every­one should be famil­iar with “Lit­tle Mouse’s Vest”:
   
“Mom made me a lit­tle vest,” said the lit­tle mouse, “It looks great, does­n’t it?” Then the duck came and said, “What a beau­ti­ful lit­tle vest, can I wear it?” Then it was giv­en to him and the duck squeezed in. Lat­er, the mon­key came and said, “What a beau­ti­ful lit­tle vest, can I wear it?” The mon­key put it on too, and then the sea lion, the lion, the horse, and then the ele­phant came. Imag­ine that the ele­phan­t’s vest burst, and the lit­tle mouse looked and said, “Oh, my lit­tle vest!” The lit­tle mouse’s lit­tle vest had become a long string of things… If the sto­ry end­ed here, it might be a sad sto­ry. The last scene showed the ele­phant hold­ing the already long lit­tle vest with his trunk, and the lit­tle mouse was swing­ing on it. It could­n’t be worn any­more, but it did­n’t mat­ter, it could just be a swing. In fact, the same applies to read­ing. The friend was very excit­ed, “Isn’t this Lao Tzu’s phi­los­o­phy?”

Of course, in addi­tion to this kind of imag­i­na­tion, there is also the bound­less fan­ta­sy of chil­dren. Some­times we ask the ques­tion: Can chil­dren under­stand? In fact, we may not under­stand what chil­dren under­stand. If you use chil­dren as the stan­dard answer, you will find that chil­dren are genius­es. If you use us as the stan­dard, you will think that chil­dren are stu­pid.
   
Here I would like to share anoth­er sto­ry with you: “Going to the Riv­er with Uncle Gan”.
   
Com­ing to the kinder­garten today remind­ed me of some­thing that hap­pened when my daugh­ter was in kinder­garten. The kinder­garten orga­nized us to go out and play togeth­er. I like play­ing with chil­dren, so I rode a tan­dem bicy­cle. I was sup­posed to return it, but I did­n’t. So I took a group of chil­dren to play. The chil­dren got on one by one. In fact, the legal lim­it was two peo­ple, but lat­er there were about ten peo­ple on. Among them, there was a very strong boy who ped­aled in front with me, and we ran for­ward as a group. On the way, they saw some kids play­ing a new game over there, so a group of them ran over. The kid rid­ing next to me was the type that react­ed a lit­tle slow­er than the oth­ers. I told him he was doing well, because every­one else was play­ing, and he was rid­ing with Uncle Ajia. But he ran away too, and when he jumped off the bike, a car was com­ing from the oppo­site direc­tion. I was stunned at the time. Actu­al­ly, it was­n’t a big deal. The car stopped when it saw him com­ing, but the kid bumped into the car him­self, but every­one saw it. A kid who got off Aji­a’s bike hit the car. His moth­er was a lit­tle excit­ed that day, and lat­er scold­ed me. I have always felt guilty. For­tu­nate­ly, the child was fine, but after I went home that day, I thought about it for two days and remem­bered a book. The book had not been pub­lished at the time, and it was an Eng­lish ver­sion. I had a copy, so I said I would talk to the teacher if I could tell the chil­dren a sto­ry as an apol­o­gy. So I remem­bered this book at the time — “Going to the Riv­er with Uncle Gan”. Text/Photo: John Burn­ing­ham, Trans­la­tion: Lin Liang.
   
He is Uncle Gan
   
Uncle Gan has a boat and his home is by the riv­er.
   
One day, Uncle Gan was about to go boat­ing on the riv­er.
   
The two chil­dren said, “Can we go with you?”
   
Uncle Gan said, “It’s fine, as long as you don’t make noise.”
   
The hare said, “Uncle Gan, can I come with you? Is that okay?”
   
Uncle Gan said, “It’s okay, but you can’t jump around.”
   
The cat said, “I real­ly want to take a boat ride.”
   
Uncle Gum said “Okay, but you can’t chase rab­bits.”
   
The dog said, “Can you take me with you?”
   
Uncle Gan said, “Okay, but you can’t mess with cats.”
   
The pig said, “Uncle Gum, can I go? Please, please!”
   
Uncle Gan said, “Come on, but you can’t move back and forth.”
   
The sheep said, “Is there room for me?”
   
Uncle Gan said, “There is a space, but you can’t bleat.”
   
The chick­en also said, “Can we go too?”
   
Uncle Gan said, “It’s okay, but you can’t flap your wings.”
   
The cow said, “Can you make room for me?”
   
Uncle Gan said, “Sure, as long as you don’t step on any­thing.”
   
The goat said, “Uncle Gum, can I join you?”
   
Uncle Gan said, “Wel­come, wel­come, but don’t kick around.”
   
Every­one was hap­py at first
   
But after a while
    Goat Kick­ing
    Cow step­ping on things
    Chick­en wings
    Mianyang bleat­ing
    Pigs swing back and forth
    The dog pro­voked the cat
    Cat chas­ing rab­bit
    Rab­bit jump­ing around
    Chil­dren mak­ing a fuss
    The boat cap­sized
   
Every­one fell into the water
   
Uncle Gan and the goats, the cows,
   
With chick­ens, sheep, pigs,
   
With dogs, cats, rab­bits,
   
Swim to the shore with the chil­dren
   
Then climb ashore and let the sun dry you out
   
Uncle Gan said we had no choice but to walk home across the grass.
   
I invite you to my house for tea
   
(They had a stan­dard after­noon tea)
   
Uncle Gan said, “Good­bye, let’s go boat­ing next time!”
   
This sto­ry seems sim­ple. Pro­fes­sor Nord­mann wrote a long paper about noth­ing but the first page of this book. He ded­i­cat­ed this paper to this sin­gle page. If you were to delve into it, there’s a lot to research. What exact­ly is this sto­ry about? It’s hard for me to judge, but at that moment, I remem­bered this book and told it to the chil­dren. Do you under­stand why I told this sto­ry? This book is very spe­cial to me, and I believe it holds a spe­cial place in my mem­o­ry for those chil­dren, espe­cial­ly the one I bumped into.
   
When Uncle Gan got up, he did­n’t say, “Why are you like this? I told you not to stop, but you kept shout­ing. I told you not to make noise, but you kept mak­ing noise.” He just said, “Get up. We have to cross the grass and go home. After we have tea, we will play togeth­er next time.”
   
Why should pic­ture books be played this way? To max­i­mize their poten­tial, this includes lin­guis­tic, artis­tic, mul­ti­ple intel­li­gences, diverse lit­er­a­cy skills, and the devel­op­ment of a healthy per­son­al­i­ty. But how do we best use them? I’ve only pro­vid­ed a demon­stra­tion. At its core, it all comes down to one word: play. Shar­ing, enjoy­ing, and expe­ri­enc­ing the process with chil­dren is how pic­ture books are most effec­tive­ly used.
    sum­ma­ry:

Help­ing chil­dren fall in love with read­ing should be based on hap­pi­ness. For exam­ple, what is the best way to read? What­ev­er makes you and your child hap­pi­est is the best. It seems so sim­ple, but it is real­ly not easy to do.
 
Pic­ture books pro­vide infi­nite pos­si­bil­i­ties for read­ing; this type of work pro­vides infi­nite pos­si­bil­i­ties for read­ing. You will find that it can be used in kinder­gartens, at home, in schools and even when teach­ing at uni­ver­si­ties. It pro­vides var­i­ous pos­si­bil­i­ties. The key is not what book to use, but how we use it and how we play with it.

The joy of read­ing pic­ture books is not exclu­sive to chil­dren; if you think that my child will like this sto­ry, but I will just for­get about it, then this sto­ry has not real­ly touched you, and it is def­i­nite­ly not the best sto­ry. Only if this sto­ry is extreme­ly valu­able to me, extreme­ly use­ful, and has a lot to think about, then it is a tru­ly good book, at least very valu­able to you.

Of course, pic­ture books aren’t the only thing chil­dren can read, but they are undoubt­ed­ly the “seeds of hap­pi­ness”! We should choose pic­ture books of dif­fer­ent styles, and when read­ing books of dif­fer­ent styles, gen­res, and themes, we should also choose dif­fer­ent books. Espe­cial­ly in the growth process of young chil­dren, pic­ture books are tru­ly the “seeds of hap­pi­ness!” When he was young, we shared them with him through var­i­ous ways of play­ing, and he gained very, very beau­ti­ful mem­o­ries, which I believe are the seeds for his life­long hap­pi­ness.

   
That’s all I want to share with you today, thank you every­one!
 
    (over)
»»»  Lec­ture tran­script part 1   Lec­ture tran­script part 2