MONROE - Patricia Polacco grew up listening to stories.
As a child, Polacco and her older brother would listen to her Ukrainian grandmother's "fire talking," the storytelling done in front of the fire in the living room. Polacco and her brother would snack on popcorn and apples - and if they were lucky, fudge - and listen intently as their grandmother told her stories. After each tale, Polacco and her brother would lean in and ask their grandmother if the story was true, and if it really happened.
Her grandmother would respond that, of course, the story was true, slyly adding it might not have actually happened.
That is the way storytelling is: All stories are true, even if they don't actually happen, Polacco said.
"The truth is the journey you're taking through the story," Polacco said.
Polacco, now a well-known children's author, led Abraham Lincoln Accelerated Learning Academy first- through third-graders on their own journeys through two of her stories Tuesday morning. There was an additional afternoon session for fourth- and fifth-graders.
"I didn't start writing children's books until I was 41. Older than dirt," said Polacco, who lives in Union City, Mich. She's written and illustrated 76 children's books in the ensuing 24 years.
The first book she wrote, "Meteor," draws from one of her grandmother's many stories. The students listened intently as Polacco shared the details of the night a meteor landed in her grandparents' front yard, and the legend that sprang from it.
It was late - 11:30 at night. The meteor lit the sky as it landed, turning total darkness to almost daylight in less than a minute, Polacco said. The house shook, and when the family looked outside, they saw the steaming, red-hot fallen star in the yard.
The meteor soon attracted a flurry of attention. Meteors usually burn up in the atmosphere, so seeing one in the front yard of a Michigan farmhouse was something special. Polacco said her grandfather, with the assistance of neighbors, dug the meteor out but left it in the spot where it had fallen. People came from all over the see the fallen star.
But no one wanted to touch the oddity until one brave visitor walked up and touched the meteor, Polacco said. The man reported he felt an energy emanating from the rock and a wish he made upon it came true.
"That thing works," the man told Polacco's grandfather.
And thus the legend of the Wishing Rock was born.
Polacco deftly interwove the story of her own life with the story from her book and her grandmother's stories, enthralling the children and adults alike. They listened intently as Polacco described how her grandfather realized the power of the Wishing Rock and how the wrong people could misuse its power.
Her grandfather devised three rules for people wanting to make a wish on the meteor, she said. He told visitors the rules before they touched the rock; if they appeared upset or their eyes revealed disappointment, they weren't allowed to make a wish.
The first rule, she said, is the rock can't be used to wish for money. Earning money is fine, Polacco said, but wishing for it will lead to greed and selfishness.
"It will open a terrible door you can't close," she said.
The second rule is that it can't be used to change another person. Each person is born with the power to change other people, Polacco said.
"It's very simple," she said: Change the way you treat other people and they will change. "Keep your hearts kind," she encouraged the children.
She asked the students to reach out to children who are struggling in school or don't fit in. For Polacco, it was a very personal plea.
"I was that kid," she said. Polacco suffered from dyslexia and couldn't read until she was 14. She struggled with reading and math, she told the students, explaining how she felt stupid and embarrassed she didn't learn the same way as the other students.
Finally, the rock can't be used to wish for toys, gadgets or things - nothing you can buy, she said. Television gives the wrong impression that everyone has all the latest toys. But "it's not the toys that will make you into a great human being," she said.
The rock remained in the family until Polacco's grandmother died in 1949; it was moved to a cemetery, where it remains the family gravemarker.
But the legend lives on. Union City, the town where Polacco's grandparents lived, hosts a Meteor Festival each July that draws busloads of visitors to see the famous rock and make their own wish.
"The Keeping Quilt," another of Polacco's stories, tells of Polacco's great-grandmother, Anna, who emigrated from Ukraine as a young girl. Anna wore the same blue dress and red babushka every day to remind her of the family she left behind. When Anna finally outgrew the garments, she was heartbroken, so her mother fashioned a quilt from the dress, babushka and pieces of other clothing from family members.
It became the Keeping Quilt because it kept the spirit of family close by. The quilt was used for weddings, birthdays and to wrap each new baby in the family. Polacco slept under it every night as a child, and used it as a cape to pretend she was a superhero.
Polacco displayed the inspiration for the book, the well-worn and frayed Keeping Quilt, to the students' delight. But it was a small piece of the Wishing Rock - transported in a small covered box - the children got to touch.
At the end of her storytelling, the children lined up to return to class. Polacco positioned herself so each child who wanted to could touch the rock as they filed out of the library - but only after they repeated the three rules of what they could not wish for.
After touching the small rock in Polacco's hands, many children looked at their palms. Several commented the stone felt hot, while others said they could feel their hands tingling.
"She wasn't kidding! I could feel it!" one earnest young boy proclaimed.
Kidding? Of course not. For Polacco, every story is true.
Whether it actually happened or not is beside the point.
As a child, Polacco and her older brother would listen to her Ukrainian grandmother's "fire talking," the storytelling done in front of the fire in the living room. Polacco and her brother would snack on popcorn and apples - and if they were lucky, fudge - and listen intently as their grandmother told her stories. After each tale, Polacco and her brother would lean in and ask their grandmother if the story was true, and if it really happened.
Her grandmother would respond that, of course, the story was true, slyly adding it might not have actually happened.
That is the way storytelling is: All stories are true, even if they don't actually happen, Polacco said.
"The truth is the journey you're taking through the story," Polacco said.
Polacco, now a well-known children's author, led Abraham Lincoln Accelerated Learning Academy first- through third-graders on their own journeys through two of her stories Tuesday morning. There was an additional afternoon session for fourth- and fifth-graders.
"I didn't start writing children's books until I was 41. Older than dirt," said Polacco, who lives in Union City, Mich. She's written and illustrated 76 children's books in the ensuing 24 years.
The first book she wrote, "Meteor," draws from one of her grandmother's many stories. The students listened intently as Polacco shared the details of the night a meteor landed in her grandparents' front yard, and the legend that sprang from it.
It was late - 11:30 at night. The meteor lit the sky as it landed, turning total darkness to almost daylight in less than a minute, Polacco said. The house shook, and when the family looked outside, they saw the steaming, red-hot fallen star in the yard.
The meteor soon attracted a flurry of attention. Meteors usually burn up in the atmosphere, so seeing one in the front yard of a Michigan farmhouse was something special. Polacco said her grandfather, with the assistance of neighbors, dug the meteor out but left it in the spot where it had fallen. People came from all over the see the fallen star.
But no one wanted to touch the oddity until one brave visitor walked up and touched the meteor, Polacco said. The man reported he felt an energy emanating from the rock and a wish he made upon it came true.
"That thing works," the man told Polacco's grandfather.
And thus the legend of the Wishing Rock was born.
Polacco deftly interwove the story of her own life with the story from her book and her grandmother's stories, enthralling the children and adults alike. They listened intently as Polacco described how her grandfather realized the power of the Wishing Rock and how the wrong people could misuse its power.
Her grandfather devised three rules for people wanting to make a wish on the meteor, she said. He told visitors the rules before they touched the rock; if they appeared upset or their eyes revealed disappointment, they weren't allowed to make a wish.
The first rule, she said, is the rock can't be used to wish for money. Earning money is fine, Polacco said, but wishing for it will lead to greed and selfishness.
"It will open a terrible door you can't close," she said.
The second rule is that it can't be used to change another person. Each person is born with the power to change other people, Polacco said.
"It's very simple," she said: Change the way you treat other people and they will change. "Keep your hearts kind," she encouraged the children.
She asked the students to reach out to children who are struggling in school or don't fit in. For Polacco, it was a very personal plea.
"I was that kid," she said. Polacco suffered from dyslexia and couldn't read until she was 14. She struggled with reading and math, she told the students, explaining how she felt stupid and embarrassed she didn't learn the same way as the other students.
Finally, the rock can't be used to wish for toys, gadgets or things - nothing you can buy, she said. Television gives the wrong impression that everyone has all the latest toys. But "it's not the toys that will make you into a great human being," she said.
The rock remained in the family until Polacco's grandmother died in 1949; it was moved to a cemetery, where it remains the family gravemarker.
But the legend lives on. Union City, the town where Polacco's grandparents lived, hosts a Meteor Festival each July that draws busloads of visitors to see the famous rock and make their own wish.
"The Keeping Quilt," another of Polacco's stories, tells of Polacco's great-grandmother, Anna, who emigrated from Ukraine as a young girl. Anna wore the same blue dress and red babushka every day to remind her of the family she left behind. When Anna finally outgrew the garments, she was heartbroken, so her mother fashioned a quilt from the dress, babushka and pieces of other clothing from family members.
It became the Keeping Quilt because it kept the spirit of family close by. The quilt was used for weddings, birthdays and to wrap each new baby in the family. Polacco slept under it every night as a child, and used it as a cape to pretend she was a superhero.
Polacco displayed the inspiration for the book, the well-worn and frayed Keeping Quilt, to the students' delight. But it was a small piece of the Wishing Rock - transported in a small covered box - the children got to touch.
At the end of her storytelling, the children lined up to return to class. Polacco positioned herself so each child who wanted to could touch the rock as they filed out of the library - but only after they repeated the three rules of what they could not wish for.
After touching the small rock in Polacco's hands, many children looked at their palms. Several commented the stone felt hot, while others said they could feel their hands tingling.
"She wasn't kidding! I could feel it!" one earnest young boy proclaimed.
Kidding? Of course not. For Polacco, every story is true.
Whether it actually happened or not is beside the point.