Tag Archives: storytelling

Apr 25 2019

A Writer Belongs Everywhere: Stories from a Writing Workshop for Middle School Girls

 

By Tracey T. Flores, Ph.D.

On a hot evening in June, four Latina girls, Rocky, Reyna, Blanca and Elizabeth, entering ninth and tenth grade, and their parents, Valente, Samuel, Alma and Rose, gather at the local university for an evening of drawing, writing and sharing. In the small meeting room, sitting side-by-side at tables, girls and their parents busily sketch, in pencil and crayon, a drawing in response to the question: “Where are you from? / ¿De dónde eres?”

Walking around the room, I notice many different sketches. Rocky sketches a self-portrait of herself with wavy brown hair and blonde highlights. With a blue crayon, her father, Valente, sketches the flag of Honduras. Alma shows her daughter a sketch of the world with México at the center, as Blanca sketches a large brick house with two small girls with braids smiling in front of it. Rose colors the hair on her stick figure black, while her daughter, Elizabeth, draws a girl looking into a small mirror while putting makeup on her face. Samuel finishes his sketch of the U.S. flag and the flag of México, intersecting the shape of a heart between them, while his daughter, Reyna, colors the red tongue of the small dog she has sketched.

Rocky’s self-portrait

As families finish their sketches and begin sharing, the room becomes alive with stories. They share stories of family camping adventures, cherished memories of times spent with abuelitos, inside jokes shared between hermanas and of childhoods growing up in México y Honduras. Listening to each other, they nod in agreement, ask questions and connect through the collective telling and sharing of stories and histories.

Tonight is the first night that these Latina girls and their parents have come together to write and draw stories from their lived experiences. Over the next six weeks, as they participate in Somos Escritores/We are Writers, we will read and discuss a variety of bilingual (English/Spanish) print and digital texts, explore our experiences and histories, and use drawing, writing and oral storytelling as tools for self-expression and self-reflection. Somos Escritores is a writing workshop that brings Latina girls (grades 6-12) and their parents together for the intergenerational exchange of stories and knowledge through drawing, writing and oral storytelling.

After sharing our sketches, we read and discuss two poems, Where I’m From by George Ella Lyon and De Donde Yo Soy by Levi Romero. In these poems, poets explore their histories and describe through vivid language and detail all the people, places, moments and memories that shape who they are and how they walk in the world. These poems serve as an invitation for girls and their parents to further explore their lives while considering the ways their familial, cultural and linguistic histories shape who they are and who they are becoming. Finally, girls and their parents take their drawing to writing, using these poems as inspiration for crafting their own Where I’m From / De Donde Soy Yo poems.

Reyna wrote, “I’m from the family of whom love me very much. I’m from the land of the proud and brave. I’m from who I made myself to be.”

Samuel reads, “I am from a humble family, who lived poor but was rich in love.”

Blanca wrote, “I am from a not so perfect family, but from a family who is perfect in its own way.”

Holding her picture up, Alma shares, “Yo soy de un lugar cerca de la tierra y el amor de la galaxia.”

Alma’s sketch

As a facilitator and writer alongside girls and their parents in Somos Escritores, I have the honor and privilege of bearing witness to their lived experiences through our collective sharing of stories. Their stories welcome me into their lives, allowing me to learn about their experiences and realities in their own words. Through their stories, I learn about who they truly are, as Latinx girls, women and men, what matters most to them and what they envision for their futures.

I learn that Rocky, Reyna, Blanca and Elizabeth are fighting to be seen and heard. They are socially conscious girls who are aware of the negative stereotypes that society places upon them, as Latina girls. Through their actions and words, they are speaking to society in powerfully loud ways by excelling in school, cultivating their many passions and setting goals for their future selves. These girls refuse to be defined by society’s narrow definitions and views of who they are and what they are capable of achieving. Collectively they are working to be the change, the voice that our world needs.

I learn that Valente, Samuel, Alma and Rose are courageous, supportive and loving mothers and fathers. These parents provide their daughters with a solid foundation to pursue their passions and accomplish their goals. They work tirelessly, both on the job and at home, to meet their daughters’ personal, social, and academic needs.

At the close of our first workshop, I ask girls and parents to reflect upon why we must write and share our stories. Each girl and parent writes and shares their reflection, speaking to the importance of hearing different perspectives, realizing they are not alone and learning valuable life lessons. Finally, Valente is the last to share his reflection with the group. He reads, “I have to write because I want to be an example for my daughter and let her know my story and that I’m here.”

Note: Somos Escritores/We Are Writers was imagined from my work alongside my 2nd grade students in family writing workshops. This project is part of my dissertation work and has evolved into a writing workshop for Latina girls (grades 6-12). Twitter: @Las_Escritoras

Tracey T. Flores is an assistant professor of language and literacy in the Department of Curriculum and Instruction at the University of Texas at Austin. She is a former English Language Development (ELD) and English Language Arts (ELA) teacher, working for eight years alongside culturally and linguistically diverse students and families in schools throughout Glendale and Phoenix Arizona. Her research interests include Latina girls’ language and literacy practices, family and community literacies and the writing instruction and development of Latinx youth. Tracey can be reached at: tflores@austin.utexas.edu

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apr 11 2019

Book Review: Planting Stories: The Life of Librarian and Storyteller Pura Belpré / Sembrando Historias: Pura Belpré bibliotecaria y narradora de cuentos

 

  Planting in Spanish

Review by Dora M. Guzmán

DESCRIPTION OF THE BOOK: Follow la vida y el legado of Pura Belpré, the first Puerto Rican librarian in New York City.

When she came to America in 1921, Pura carried the cuentos folkloricos of her Puerto Rican homeland. Finding a new home at the New York Public Library as a bilingual assistant, she turned her popular retellings into libros and spread seeds across the land. Today, these seeds have grown into a lush landscape as generations of children and storytellers continue to share her tales and celebrate Pura’s legacy.

This portrait of the influential librarian, author, and puppeteer reminds us of the power of storytelling and the extraordinary woman who opened doors and championed bilingual literature.

MY TWO CENTS: Another bilingual favorite to add to the informational biography shelf! Pura Belpré is widely known for the book award created in her honor through the American Library Association. Every year, the Pura Belpré Award is one that recognizes Latinx authors and illustrators that reflect the Latinx culture in their picture books or novels.

Pura Belpré had seeds of determination and passion that followed her from Puerto Rico. That same blessing led her to work in a library and share her stories with children, however, she quickly discovered that many of her own stories, reflective of her Puerto Rican culture, were not readily available to the community. Therefore, she begins to share her stories with children and then begins to write down all her stories for others to read. Soon after, she is telling her stories all around the world. This biographical account of Pura’s life story and life’s work is nothing short of inspirational. Pura unequivocally shares her passion for storytelling to all so that her stories and culture are not lost. Despite losing her best friend and husband, she returns to the library scene while also inspiring others, and sees her seeds of storytelling and Latinx culture, come to fruition.

The sentence structures are concise but impactful as they tell the story, almost in a poetic form, of inspiration and passion as Pura moves to a role within the library. The reader is mesmerized in her storytelling and how certain words stand out with the use of a brushstroke. Words and phrases in Spanish are realistically embraced within the narrative structure, so much that it flows and might go unnoticed. The sharp, bold, multicolored background brings life to the determining force behind Pura’s life and purpose with books and libraries. The illustrator perfectly captures the authenticity of the story through its detailed illustrations and placement of characters and scenes. The illustrations dance around the entire page, which keeps the reader involved as the story progresses. Certain illustrations, like the simple flowers and musical notes, follow Pura as she shares her stories across the pages. The additional final pages also provide extensive references to text and film for further research in Pura’s lifework, as well as Latinx culture, especially the Puerto Rican culture.

Overall, a perfect addition, in both English and Spanish, to your biography shelf, especially highlighting the power of small, yet meaningful actions and how it evolves into a movement across Latinx and book cultures.

TEACHING TIPS: Many of these teaching moments can be implemented in a grades K-5 setting, with a focus on the primary grades.

  • Teaching descriptive vocabulary words and phrases
  • Focus on character traits, especially traits describing Pura throughout the story
  • Focus on the illustrator’s purpose of using certain colors or placement of illustrations to convey meaning
  • This book can also be combined in a biographical unit of inspirational storytellers or librarians.
  • Students can also be invited to research more of Pura Belpré’s lifework, as well as the impact of the Pura Belpré award on books.

To learn more about the Pura Belpré Medal and find the latest winners and honors, check out the ALA’s Pura Belpré Award home page.

Anika Denise Author Hi-res PhotoABOUT THE AUTHOR: Anika Aldamuy Denise first heard the stories of Pura Belpré from her titi Rose, who, like Pura’s family, enjoyed sharing the treasured folklore of Puerto Rico. Today, Anika is the celebrated author of several picture books, including Starring Carmen!, Lights, Camera, Carmen!, and Monster Trucks. She lives with her husband and three daughters in Rhode Island. Other new titles coming in 2019 include The Best Part of Middle illustrated by Christopher Denise, and The Love Letter illustrated by Lucy Ruth Cummins.Visit her online at www.anikadenise.com.

 

 

ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR: Paola Escobar grew up traveling from town to town in Colombia. From a very young age she liked to draw the stories her grandmother Clara told about her ancestors, the countryside, and animals. Today, Paola is an illustrator who is passionate about telling stories of her own, having published with SM Spain, Planeta, Norma, and more. She lives very happily in Bogota, Colombia, with her husband and their dog, Flora. Follow her on Instagram here!

 

img_0160ABOUT THE REVIEWER: Dora M. Guzmán is a bilingual reading specialist for grades K-3 and also teaches an undergraduate college course in Children’s Literature. When she is not sharing her love of reading with her students, you can find her in the nearest library, bookstore, or online, finding more great reads to add to her never ending “to read” pile!

 

Jan 19 2015

Author Robin Herrera Sees Her Grandma in Herself & Her Storytelling

By Robin Herrera

Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I see my grandma. Especially now that I have shorter hair, because as long as I knew her, she wore her hair short. Strangely, it wasn’t until a few years after she died that I noticed the resemblance between us.

She was short, too, like me—I’m the shortest in my family at (barely) 5’3”. We both have round faces and eyes that crinkle into small slits when we smile.

Now, years after her death, years after I’ve forgiven her for not telling me how bad her cancer really was, I wish I’d talked to her more. I know only snippets of my grandma’s life growing up in Colorado during the Great Depression. She was the youngest girl of 16 children, the second youngest altogether. Her parents were Joseph and Josephine Herrera. (On a baptismal document I found in my grandma’s things, their name was misspelled as Herreda.) And though she told me she’d left home at a young age, family was clearly very important to her, if the dozens of photo albums she left behind were any indication.

Robin Herrera  img001

When my siblings and I were younger, Grandma told us a story of our uncle Chris (Christobel). One night, near midnight, he was driving across a long bridge. Halfway across, he glanced over at the passenger’s seat to see a woman, dressed all in white, sitting there. She had her face turned toward the window, and Uncle Chris could see her shoulders shaking as she sobbed softly. He reached out a hand to comfort her, but before he could touch her, he looked down at her hands, in her lap. They were skeleton hands.

Though Chris was terrified, he kept driving. Somehow he knew that if he could make it to the other side of the bridge, the ghostly woman would disappear. He drove faster and faster, but out of the corner of his eye he saw the woman slowly turning her head to face him. Chris knew what her face would look like. It would be a skull, and if he looked, he would die. So he kept his eyes forward and kept driving until he crossed the bridge. Only then did he dare look at the passenger’s seat and see that the woman had vanished.

Grandma called the woman La Llorona. I didn’t know until later that La Llorona was a common Mexican folktale, and that Grandma’s tale was just a version of it. But for a long time, I was terrified of La Llorona, and impressed that my uncle Chris had been smart enough not to fall victim to her.

This is one of the few ties to my Mexican heritage that I have. I remember other things, too, like making tortillas on Grandma’s tortilla press, then heating them up and smothering them in butter. When my aunt Lupe visited, she and Grandma would occasionally lapse into Spanish, spoken so quickly that I’d sometimes stand in the kitchen with them, listening in awe. (I’m terrible at learning other languages.) Aunt Lupe, more than Grandma, always called me mija. I didn’t know what it truly meant until I looked it up in college, but I knew it was a term of endearment, because she used it on all the grandkids (mijo for the boys).

When my Grandma died, I felt like I’d lost that last connection with my Mexican heritage. My dad had already died by that point, but he was biracial and, I think due to circumstances in his childhood I can’t ask him about, wasn’t fluent in Spanish. Aunt Lupe is gone now, too, or I would talk to her about my grandma and their childhood together. (Though I’m not sure she’d tell me the truth. Grandma probably wouldn’t have either, to be fair.)

Now, as a writer, I miss my grandma terribly. I like to think she’d be proud of me, and that she’d see a bit of herself in my book, though to my knowledge, she never lived in a trailer park. What I hope she’d see is a portrait of a poor family, flawed but, for the most part, happy. Because that is what I remember most about my grandma. She showed me how to be poor.

Like the characters in my book, we shopped at thrift stores for most of our clothing (and dishes, and various housewares). Every week Grandma went grocery shopping at the local Grocery Outlet, which we called the Canned Food Store, and picked up what was on sale. When she died, her cupboards were still stocked with about a hundred different cans of food. She made sure we never went hungry.

But more than anything, she taught me that being poor wasn’t a terrible thing. I didn’t even begin to realize that I was poor until late in high school, after a conversation with my sister. This will sound cheesy, but Grandma made me feel rich in other ways.

I wonder, sometimes, where I get my love of writing and making up stories. My mother went to school for art, so for a long time, I thought that might be it. But I think it came from my grandmother, who told me stories (though often embellished) of her childhood (and ghost women) from an early age. I’ll leave you with one of my favorites, which she would often tell as a joke if I asked for a story. Of course, you have to imagine it’s being told by a short, round-faced Mexican woman who is being as over dramatic as possible:

It was a dark and stormy night. The soldiers were gathered around the campfire. Suddenly the captain stood up and said, “Diego! Tell us one of your famous stories!” Slowly, Diego stood up and said, “It was a dark and stormy night. The soldiers were gathered around the campfire…” (Repeat forever.)


18405519Robin Herrera was born in Eureka, California. She has degrees from Mills College and Vermont College of Fine Arts. She now lives in Oregon. Her debut novel, Hope Is A Ferris Wheel, was published in 2014 by Amulet Books.