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Maxwell 47: Vestigial Tales of the Messy Towel Drawer


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crunchycarrots
On 5/5/2021 at 9:07 AM, Black Aliss said:

I can't be the only one who wishes we knew what short story that was so we could find all sorts of edifying content in it.

I downloaded the photo of the essay and flipped it so it's a mirror image. You can make out some of the words that were written on the back side of the paper.  I've spent some time trying to figure out what she was writing about, but I have to throw in the towel. My best guess is that it has something to do with a nest.  I think the name Nagini, which turns up a snake character from Harry Potter (sorry, I'm not familiar with the series).  If anyone wants to pick up with the sleuthing, I would be ever so grateful.

A51624E5-5812-4DB4-A1DE-3AF414268A8E_1_201_a.jpeg

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Happy Easter FJ!

OMG, Sarah bought her own car! Her OWN car! I feel like this is a huge step. I also feel like I have no idea where she would even go. Like, apart from that one trip to check out another town

When will proper manly attire be back in fashion?

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FloraDoraDolly

I can't imagine Abby being allowed to read Harry Potter.

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RachelDM

Thanks to @crunchycarrots I think I've got it! I believe this says Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, which is indeed a classic short story

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Tatar-tot

That is a great story.  I saw the movie and read the book when I was a child.  From Wikipedia:

The story follows the experiences of a mongoose named Rikki-Tikki-Tavi (from his chattering vocalizations) after he becomes the pet of an English family residing in India. He becomes friendly with some of the other creatures inhabiting the garden and is warned of the cobras Nag and Nagaina, who are angered by the human family's presence in their territory.

Accordingly, Nag enters the house's bathroom before dawn to kill the humans and make Rikki leave, so that their babies will grow up in a safe place. Rikki attacks Nag from behind in the bathroom. The ensuing struggle awakens the family, and the father kills Nag with a shotgun blast while Rikki bites down on the hood of the struggling male cobra.[2]

The grieving female snake Nagaina attempts revenge against the humans, cornering them as they have breakfast on a veranda. She is distracted by a female tailor bird, while Rikki destroys the cobra's unhatched brood of eggs, except for one. He carries it to where Nagaina is threatening to bite little Teddy, while his parents watch helplessly.

Nagaina recovers her egg but is pursued by Rikki away from the house to the cobra's underground nest, where an unseen final battle takes place. Rikki emerges triumphant from the hole, declaring Nagaina dead. With the immediate threat defeated, Rikki dedicates his life to guarding the garden, resulting in no snake even daring to enter it.

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Caroline

If you're right about the story, Abby's teachers could have done so much more with the assignment.  What an opportunity to learn more about India and its colonization by the English.  it would be interesting to research the origin and reasons for the names of the animals.  So many missed possibilities here no matter what the story was.  It's just plain lazy for the child to say the story has nothing to teach her and for the teacher to agree without further conversation.  That's inadequate teaching in my opinion (I'm a teacher). 

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FloraDoraDolly

This is a story that Steve and Teri probably would not have allowed their own children to read because it features anthropomorphic animal characters. But yeah, a good teacher could do so much more with this material, especially with a middle school aged child.

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Tangy Bee

Abby is so tall, I had no idea she's only 12. She looks 15. I was obsessed with Goosebumps & The Baby Sitter's Club novels when I was a preteen. Seriously doubt Abby will be allowed to read Goosebumps but there was always lessons learned throughout the Sitter's Club books.

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Bethy
8 hours ago, Tangy Bee said:

Abby is so tall, I had no idea she's only 12. She looks 15. I was obsessed with Goosebumps & The Baby Sitter's Club novels when I was a preteen. Seriously doubt Abby will be allowed to read Goosebumps but there was always lessons learned throughout the Sitter's Club books.

Yes, but as an avid reader I can see several problems the Maxes would have with the Baby Sitters Club:

  • Friends outside the family
  • Schedule determined by clients rather than parents
  • Junk food consumption
  • Divorced/remarried parents
  • Jessie is a ballet dancer
  • Kristy (and possibly others) play organized sports
  • Some of their babysitting charges behave poorly
  • Boyfriends!

(That's just what springs to mind after not reading any of these books for 20+ years...)

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JermajestyDuggar
Posted (edited)
9 hours ago, Tangy Bee said:

Abby is so tall, I had no idea she's only 12. She looks 15. I was obsessed with Goosebumps & The Baby Sitter's Club novels when I was a preteen. Seriously doubt Abby will be allowed to read Goosebumps but there was always lessons learned throughout the Sitter's Club books.

She is tall. I was a tall 12 year old girl and it feels very awkward. But it’s likely less awkward for her since she doesn’t go to school. I also read Goosbumps books. They were really popular when I was in 5th and 6th grade. Any scary books were. I’m sure Steve thinks any scary story book is demonic or of the devil. 
 

This one in particular was very popular. Everyone I knew had read it:

06B89A62-24D1-4152-80FE-9F87E72852E3.jpeg

Edited by JermajestyDuggar
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Melissa1977
Posted (edited)
11 hours ago, Tangy Bee said:

Abby is so tall, I had no idea she's only 12

She's been treated like a mini adult (kidult?) since she was 10. At 10, she was sitting at the adults table while her siblings and Anna and Mary sat at the children's table. I'm sure Abby has a lot of chores and she is rewarded with the privilege of being part of the "adult crew".

Edited by Melissa1977
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Maggie Mae
4 hours ago, Bethy said:

Yes, but as an avid reader I can see several problems the Maxes would have with the Baby Sitters Club:

  • Friends outside the family
  • Schedule determined by clients rather than parents
  • Junk food consumption
  • Divorced/remarried parents
  • Jessie is a ballet dancer
  • Kristy (and possibly others) play organized sports
  • Some of their babysitting charges behave poorly
  • Boyfriends!

(That's just what springs to mind after not reading any of these books for 20+ years...)

Oh Steve would burn the BSC. 

Kristy's dad walked out on her family, and her mom, Elizabeth, raised three boys and Kristy without a headship. Then she married Watson, a divorced man with two kids. Karen's mom remarried as well. Richard raised Mary Anne by himself.  Dawn showed up because her mom moved her across the country during her divorce. Mallory, Claudia, and Jessie all had working moms. No one ever discussed religion until the racist family showed up in #56 Keep Out Claudia, the racists thought Mallory was Catholic. I stopped reading before Abby shows up but she was Jewish. 

Stacey's parents divorced and she was adn only child.  All of the BSC and BSC adjacent characters had unsupervised adventures. They watched tv, they scared each other into "believing" in ghosts. Jessie woke up at 4:59 every morning to practice ballet - not do bible time. 

Imagination was praised. They interacted with boys. They went to school.  Dawn was opposed to littering and got really into saving the earth and vegetarianism. 

Plus Ann M Martin was in a LTR with a woman.  

 

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Tangy Bee
2 hours ago, Maggie Mae said:

Oh Steve would burn the BSC. 

Kristy's dad walked out on her family, and her mom, Elizabeth, raised three boys and Kristy without a headship. Then she married Watson, a divorced man with two kids. Karen's mom remarried as well. Richard raised Mary Anne by himself.  Dawn showed up because her mom moved her across the country during her divorce. Mallory, Claudia, and Jessie all had working moms. No one ever discussed religion until the racist family showed up in #56 Keep Out Claudia, the racists thought Mallory was Catholic. I stopped reading before Abby shows up but she was Jewish. 

Stacey's parents divorced and she was adn only child.  All of the BSC and BSC adjacent characters had unsupervised adventures. They watched tv, they scared each other into "believing" in ghosts. Jessie woke up at 4:59 every morning to practice ballet - not do bible time. 

Imagination was praised. They interacted with boys. They went to school.  Dawn was opposed to littering and got really into saving the earth and vegetarianism. 

Plus Ann M Martin was in a LTR with a woman.  

 

Oh wow! Sorry, I forgot all about "normal" things that went on in those books. You're right Abby would NOT be allowed to read such. I don't think Sarah would be allowed either and she's pushing 40😂

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SPHASH

New post up.  Mother's Day post glorifying Teri.  IMO the only mother in Maxhell worth her salt is Gigi.

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MamaJunebug
On 5/8/2021 at 5:26 AM, allyisyourpally5 said:

I think the Maxwells are a bit pissed off with the reaction to that book report. I’m sure they are praying for all the closed minds and holding this up as an example right now...

I actually hope they are. Because my own personal experience has been that the more I prayed for the “other,” the more I began to see and appreciate the likenesses, than the differences, between us. 
 

Of course that’s just MY left-wing Christian attitude but as we are praying to the same G-d, who knows???

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GreenBeans
On 5/9/2021 at 4:19 AM, FloraDoraDolly said:

This is a story that Steve and Teri probably would not have allowed their own children to read because it features anthropomorphic animal characters. But yeah, a good teacher could do so much more with this material, especially with a middle school aged child.

I didn’t know that story, just looked it up and this is the first paragraph:

“This is the story of the great war that Rikki-tikki-tavi fought single-handed, through the bath-rooms of the big bungalow in Segowlee cantonment. Darzee, the tailor-bird, helped him, and Chuchundra, the musk-rat, who never comes out into the middle of the floor, but always creeps round by the wall, gave him advice; but Rikki-tikki did the real fighting.”

Not even taking into account the plot of the story, isn’t that some great writing, sparking so many pictures before your inner eye, and sprinkling in some irony at the same time. Even without reading the rest of the story, I could think of questions to discuss with a middle schooler (for example, how the words “great war” and “real fighting” go together with “bath-rooms of the big bungalow in Segowlee cantonment”, or what role and characteristics Chuchundra has, giving advice but not daring to come out and actually take part in the fight etc.).

I’m not a native speaker, so I’m not sure if I get my meaning across, but just contrast that language with the bland, boring, non-descript writing of the Moody books. The characters introduced by Rudyard Kipling in this first paragraph already have more life and personality to them than any Moody children after eleventy books.

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Flossie

I wonder what Abby would get from 'The Velveteen Rabbit' (written by Marjory Williams in 1922).  The story is almost a hundred years old and intended for younger children, but Abby's been so stunted that she'd probably find a lot about it to think about.  If only someone were able to talk with her about it.

 

Spoiler

 

The
Velveteen Rabbit
OR HOW TOYS BECOME REAL

HERE was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid. He was fat and bunchy, as a rabbit should be; his coat was spotted brown and white, he had real thread whiskers, and his ears were lined with pink sateen. On Christmas morning, when he sat wedged in the top of the Boy's stocking, with a sprig of holly between his paws, the effect was charming.

There were other things in the stocking, nuts and oranges and a toy engine, and chocolate almonds and a clockwork mouse, but the Rabbit was quite the best of all. For at least two hours the Boy loved him, and then Aunts and Uncles came to dinner, and there was a great rustling of tissue paper and unwrapping of parcels, and in the excitement of looking at all the new presents the Velveteen Rabbit was forgotten.

For a long time he lived in the toy cupboard or on the nursery floor, and no one thought very much about him. He was naturally shy, and being only made of velveteen, some of the more expensive toys quite snubbed him. The mechanical toys were very superior, and looked down upon every one else; they were full of modern ideas, and pretended they were real. The model boat, who had lived through two seasons and lost most of his paint, caught the tone from them and never missed an opportunity of referring to his rigging in technical terms. The Rabbit could not claim to be a model of anything, for he didn't know that real rabbits existed; he thought they were all stuffed with sawdust like himself, and he understood that sawdust was quite out-of-date and should never be mentioned in modern circles. Even Timothy, the jointed wooden lion, who was made by the disabled soldiers, and should have had broader views, put on airs and pretended he was connected with Government. Between them all the poor little Rabbit was made to feel himself very insignificant and commonplace, and the only person who was kind to him at all was the Skin Horse.

The Skin Horse Tells His Story

The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.

"The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."

The Rabbit sighed. He thought it would be a long time before this magic called Real happened to him. He longed to become Real, to know what it felt like; and yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and whiskers was rather sad. He wished that he could become it without these uncomfortable things happening to him.

There was a person called Nana who ruled the nursery. Sometimes she took no notice of the playthings lying about, and sometimes, for no reason whatever, she went swooping about like a great wind and hustled them away in cupboards. She called this "tidying up," and the playthings all hated it, especially the tin ones. The Rabbit didn't mind it so much, for wherever he was thrown he came down soft.

One evening, when the Boy was going to bed, he couldn't find the china dog that always slept with him. Nana was in a hurry, and it was too much trouble to hunt for china dogs at bedtime, so she simply looked about her, and seeing that the toy cupboard door stood open, she made a swoop.

"Here," she said, "take your old Bunny! He'll do to sleep with you!" And she dragged the Rabbit out by one ear, and put him into the Boy's arms.

That night, and for many nights after, the Velveteen Rabbit slept in the Boy's bed. At first he found it rather uncomfortable, for the Boy hugged him very tight, and sometimes he rolled over on him, and sometimes he pushed him so far under the pillow that the Rabbit could scarcely breathe. And he missed, too, those long moonlight hours in the nursery, when all the house was silent, and his talks with the Skin Horse. But very soon he grew to like it, for the Boy used to talk to him, and made nice tunnels for him under the bedclothes that he said were like the burrows the real rabbits lived in. And they had splendid games together, in whispers, when Nana had gone away to her supper and left the night-light burning on the mantelpiece. And when the Boy dropped off to sleep, the Rabbit would snuggle down close under his little warm chin and dream, with the Boy's hands clasped close round him all night long.

And so time went on, and the little Rabbit was very happy–so happy that he never noticed how his beautiful velveteen fur was getting shabbier and shabbier, and his tail becoming unsewn, and all the pink rubbed off his nose where the Boy had kissed him.

Spring Time

Spring came, and they had long days in the garden, for wherever the Boy went the Rabbit went too. He had rides in the wheelbarrow, and picnics on the grass, and lovely fairy huts built for him under the raspberry canes behind the flower border. And once, when the Boy was called away suddenly to go out to tea, the Rabbit was left out on the lawn until long after dusk, and Nana had to come and look for him with the candle because the Boy couldn't go to sleep unless he was there. He was wet through with the dew and quite earthy from diving into the burrows the Boy had made for him in the flower bed, and Nana grumbled as she rubbed him off with a corner of her apron.

"You must have your old Bunny!" she said. "Fancy all that fuss for a toy!"

The Boy sat up in bed and stretched out his hands.

"Give me my Bunny!" he said. "You mustn't say that. He isn't a toy. He's REAL!"

When the little Rabbit heard that he was happy, for he knew that what the Skin Horse had said was true at last. The nursery magic had happened to him, and he was a toy no longer. He was Real. The Boy himself had said it.

That night he was almost too happy to sleep, and so much love stirred in his little sawdust heart that it almost burst. And into his boot-button eyes, that had long ago lost their polish, there came a look of wisdom and beauty, so that even Nana noticed it next morning when she picked him up, and said, "I declare if that old Bunny hasn't got quite a knowing expression!"

Summer Days

That was a wonderful Summer!

Near the house where they lived there was a wood, and in the long June evenings the Boy liked to go there after tea to play. He took the Velveteen Rabbit with him, and before he wandered off to pick flowers, or play at brigands among the trees, he always made the Rabbit a little nest somewhere among the bracken, where he would be quite cosy, for he was a kind-hearted little boy and he liked Bunny to be comfortable. One evening, while the Rabbit was lying there alone, watching the ants that ran to and fro between his velvet paws in the grass, he saw two strange beings creep out of the tall bracken near him.

They were rabbits like himself, but quite furry and brand-new. They must have been very well made, for their seams didn't show at all, and they changed shape in a queer way when they moved; one minute they were long and thin and the next minute fat and bunchy, instead of always staying the same like he did. Their feet padded softly on the ground, and they crept quite close to him, twitching their noses, while the Rabbit stared hard to see which side the clockwork stuck out, for he knew that people who jump generally have something to wind them up. But he couldn't see it. They were evidently a new kind of rabbit altogether.

They stared at him, and the little Rabbit stared back. And all the time their noses twitched.

"Why don't you get up and play with us?" one of them asked.

"I don't feel like it," said the Rabbit, for he didn't want to explain that he had no clockwork.

"Ho!" said the furry rabbit. "It's as easy as anything," And he gave a big hop sideways and stood on his hind legs.

"I don't believe you can!" he said.

"I can!" said the little Rabbit. "I can jump higher than anything!" He meant when the Boy threw him, but of course he didn't want to say so.

"Can you hop on your hind legs?" asked the furry rabbit.

That was a dreadful question, for the Velveteen Rabbit had no hind legs at all! The back of him was made all in one piece, like a pincushion. He sat still in the bracken, and hoped that the other rabbits wouldn't notice.

"I don't want to!" he said again.

But the wild rabbits have very sharp eyes. And this one stretched out his neck and looked.

"He hasn't got any hind legs!" he called out. "Fancy a rabbit without any hind legs!" And he began to laugh.

"I have!" cried the little Rabbit. "I have got hind legs! I am sitting on them!"

"Then stretch them out and show me, like this!" said the wild rabbit. And he began to whirl round and dance, till the little Rabbit got quite dizzy.

"I don't like dancing," he said. "I'd rather sit still!"

But all the while he was longing to dance, for a funny new tickly feeling ran through him, and he felt he would give anything in the world to be able to jump about like these rabbits did.

The strange rabbit stopped dancing, and came quite close. He came so close this time that his long whiskers brushed the Velveteen Rabbit's ear, and then he wrinkled his nose suddenly and flattened his ears and jumped backwards.

"He doesn't smell right!" he exclaimed. "He isn't a rabbit at all! He isn't real!"

"I am Real!" said the little Rabbit. "I am Real! The Boy said so!" And he nearly began to cry.

Just then there was a sound of footsteps, and the Boy ran past near them, and with a stamp of feet and a flash of white tails the two strange rabbits disappeared.

"Come back and play with me!" called the little Rabbit. "Oh, do come back! I know I am Real!"

But there was no answer, only the little ants ran to and fro, and the bracken swayed gently where the two strangers had passed. The Velveteen Rabbit was all alone.

"Oh, dear!" he thought. "Why did they run away like that? Why couldn't they stop and talk to me?"

For a long time he lay very still, watching the bracken, and hoping that they would come back. But they never returned, and presently the sun sank lower and the little white moths fluttered out, and the Boy came and carried him home.

Anxious Times

Weeks passed, and the little Rabbit grew very old and shabby, but the Boy loved him just as much. He loved him so hard that he loved all his whiskers off, and the pink lining to his ears turned grey, and his brown spots faded. He even began to lose his shape, and he scarcely looked like a rabbit any more, except to the Boy. To him he was always beautiful, and that was all that the little Rabbit cared about. He didn't mind how he looked to other people, because the nursery magic had made him Real, and when you are Real shabbiness doesn't matter.

And then, one day, the Boy was ill.

His face grew very flushed, and he talked in his sleep, and his little body was so hot that it burned the Rabbit when he held him close. Strange people came and went in the nursery, and a light burned all night and through it all the little Velveteen Rabbit lay there, hidden from sight under the bedclothes, and he never stirred, for he was afraid that if they found him some one might take him away, and he knew that the Boy needed him.

It was a long weary time, for the Boy was too ill to play, and the little Rabbit found it rather dull with nothing to do all day long. But he snuggled down patiently, and looked forward to the time when the Boy should be well again, and they would go out in the garden amongst the flowers and the butterflies and play splendid games in the raspberry thicket like they used to. All sorts of delightful things he planned, and while the Boy lay half asleep he crept up close to the pillow and whispered them in his ear. And presently the fever turned, and the Boy got better. He was able to sit up in bed and look at picture-books, while the little Rabbit cuddled close at his side. And one day, they let him get up and dress.

It was a bright, sunny morning, and the windows stood wide open. They had carried the Boy out on to the balcony, wrapped in a shawl, and the little Rabbit lay tangled up among the bedclothes, thinking.

The Boy was going to the seaside to-morrow. Everything was arranged, and now it only remained to carry out the doctor's orders. They talked about it all, while the little Rabbit lay under the bedclothes, with just his head peeping out, and listened. The room was to be disinfected, and all the books and toys that the Boy had played with in bed must be burnt.

"Hurrah!" thought the little Rabbit. "To-morrow we shall go to the seaside!" For the boy had often talked of the seaside, and he wanted very much to see the big waves coming in, and the tiny crabs, and the sand castles.

Just then Nana caught sight of him.

"How about his old Bunny?" she asked.

"That?" said the doctor. "Why, it's a mass of scarlet fever germs!–Burn it at once. What? Nonsense! Get him a new one. He mustn't have that any more!"

And so the little Rabbit was put into a sack with the old picture-books and a lot of rubbish, and carried out to the end of the garden behind the fowl-house. That was a fine place to make a bonfire, only the gardener was too busy just then to attend to it. He had the potatoes to dig and the green peas to gather, but next morning he promised to come quite early and burn the whole lot.

That night the Boy slept in a different bedroom, and he had a new bunny to sleep with him. It was a splendid bunny, all white plush with real glass eyes, but the Boy was too excited to care very much about it. For to-morrow he was going to the seaside, and that in itself was such a wonderful thing that he could think of nothing else.

And while the Boy was asleep, dreaming of the seaside, the little Rabbit lay among the old picture-books in the corner behind the fowl-house, and he felt very lonely. The sack had been left untied, and so by wriggling a bit he was able to get his head through the opening and look out. He was shivering a little, for he had always been used to sleeping in a proper bed, and by this time his coat had worn so thin and threadbare from hugging that it was no longer any protection to him. Near by he could see the thicket of raspberry canes, growing tall and close like a tropical jungle, in whose shadow he had played with the Boy on bygone mornings. He thought of those long sunlit hours in the garden–how happy they were–and a great sadness came over him. He seemed to see them all pass before him, each more beautiful than the other, the fairy huts in the flower-bed, the quiet evenings in the wood when he lay in the bracken and the little ants ran over his paws; the wonderful day when he first knew that he was Real. He thought of the Skin Horse, so wise and gentle, and all that he had told him. Of what use was it to be loved and lose one's beauty and become Real if it all ended like this? And a tear, a real tear, trickled down his little shabby velvet nose and fell to the ground.

The Fairy Flower

And then a strange thing happened. For where the tear had fallen a flower grew out of the ground, a mysterious flower, not at all like any that grew in the garden. It had slender green leaves the colour of emeralds, and in the centre of the leaves a blossom like a golden cup. It was so beautiful that the little Rabbit forgot to cry, and just lay there watching it. And presently the blossom opened, and out of it there stepped a fairy.

She was quite the loveliest fairy in the whole world. Her dress was of pearl and dew-drops, and there were flowers round her neck and in her hair, and her face was like the most perfect flower of all. And she came close to the little Rabbit and gathered him up in her arms and kissed him on his velveteen nose that was all damp from crying.

"Little Rabbit," she said, "don't you know who I am?"

The Rabbit looked up at her, and it seemed to him that he had seen her face before, but he couldn't think where.

"I am the nursery magic Fairy," she said. "I take care of all the playthings that the children have loved. When they are old and worn out and the children don't need them any more, then I come and take them away with me and turn them into Real."

"Wasn't I Real before?" asked the little Rabbit.

"You were Real to the Boy," the Fairy said, "because he loved you. Now you shall be Real to every one."

At Last! At Last!

And she held the little Rabbit close in her arms and flew with him into the wood.

It was light now, for the moon had risen. All the forest was beautiful, and the fronds of the bracken shone like frosted silver. In the open glade between the tree-trunks the wild rabbits danced with their shadows on the velvet grass, but when they saw the Fairy they all stopped dancing and stood round in a ring to stare at her.

"I've brought you a new playfellow," the Fairy said. "You must be very kind to him and teach him all he needs to know in Rabbit-land, for he is going to live with you for ever and ever!"

And she kissed the little Rabbit again and put him down on the grass.

"Run and play, little Rabbit!" she said.

But the little Rabbit sat quite still for a moment and never moved. For when he saw all the wild rabbits dancing around him he suddenly remembered about his hind legs, and he didn't want them to see that he was made all in one piece. He did not know that when the Fairy kissed him that last time she had changed him altogether. And he might have sat there a long time, too shy to move, if just then something hadn't tickled his nose, and before he thought what he was doing he lifted his hind toe to scratch it.

And he found that he actually had hind legs! Instead of dingy velveteen he had brown fur, soft and shiny, his ears twitched by themselves, and his whiskers were so long that they brushed the grass. He gave one leap and the joy of using those hind legs was so great that he went springing about the turf on them, jumping sideways and whirling round as the others did, and he grew so excited that when at last he did stop to look for the Fairy she had gone.

He was a Real Rabbit at last, at home with the other rabbits.

Autumn passed and Winter, and in the Spring, when the days grew warm and sunny, the Boy went out to play in the wood behind the house. And while he was playing, two rabbits crept out from the bracken and peeped at him. One of them was brown all over, but the other had strange markings under his fur, as though long ago he had been spotted, and the spots still showed through. And about his little soft nose and his round black eyes there was something familiar, so that the Boy thought to himself:

"Why, he looks just like my old Bunny that was lost when I had scarlet fever!"

But he never knew that it really was his own Bunny, come back to look at the child who had first helped him to be Real.

 

 

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fundiefan

If I were a parent and my child summitted that after reading a story, said child would have a long afternoon of question & answer. Why doesn't it have value? What would give it value? Do you really think the reader hasn't learned anything? Nothing? Really? Why? 

Then they'd have been set the assignment of an essay justifying their stance that it has no value, with examples. 

Seriously, those people fail at education. Fail.

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Foudeb

That's a whole lot of pictures of Steve and in laws and grandkids interacting with Teri on Mother's Day. 

Not one of her with, you know. Her kids. Or her mum. 

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usedbicycle

Wow @crunchycarrots and @RachelDM, you deserve a FJ award for those detective skills. 

I'd rather ask my kids "What did you feel" versus "what did you learn". The best pieces of writing, music, visual art, dance... are not made to provide knowledge but make you feel some kind of EMOTION! I know that's probably a bad word in Maxhell. 

Contrary to some here, I loved "Of Mice and Men" because of the aching empathy I felt for Lennie and the tragic ending. It was very sad, but sadness makes you feel human. I had an exceptional English teacher in middle school who would talk so passionately about characters to the point of tearing up. In addition to the feels, I enjoyed learning about the working conditions of migrant farm workers in the 1930s and the role of women at the time. 

Just reading the Riki Tiki Tavi summary gave me a range of mixed emotions about Riki's braveness and loyalty to his human family, the snakes heroically defending their own eggs and territory, and the fear of the human family to lose their child to a snake bite. Lots of opposing interests resulting in an epic battle that could be a metaphor for colonialism. There's lots to unravel with Rudyard Kipling who also famously penned "The Jungle Book". 

All this to say I am opposed with every cell of my being to Steve Maxwell's life view. And as an antidote I'm heading off to listen to Chopin on Youtube just to FEEL for the purpose of FEELING and procrastinate on dusting my ceiling fans. 

 

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Maggie Mae
20 hours ago, Tangy Bee said:

Oh wow! Sorry, I forgot all about "normal" things that went on in those books. You're right Abby would NOT be allowed to read such. I don't think Sarah would be allowed either and she's pushing 40😂

I know far too much about the BSC. They are everything that Steve Maxwell hates. Girls having fun. Kristy starts a softball team for all the kids who didnt make the school team. Her team plays against a team that a neighborhood boy she crushes on started with little kids from his area. They treat each other with respect and empathy. 

Mary Anne has a boyfriend and complains about her dad being too strict. Stacey cares about fashion and boys and math. Claudia is the reason I knew who Georgia O'Keeffe was when I was 12. They travel with minimal supervision. Kristy and Mary Anne start the series as latchkey kids. Dawn complains about how messy and scatterbrained her mom is. 

Steve, on the other hand, would only see that the books don't honor parents, that no one goes to church, and that girls wear weird outfits. 

But I learned about so many things from those books- vocabulary (kristys essay on decorum!), ballet terms, bizarre and dated terms regarding type one diabetes, I love Lucy references, asl, synchronized swimming terms, landmarks in New York, how to survive on a new England  island with a feverish toddler, empathy, Japanese internment camps, pearl harbor, coping with the death of the best collie ever. I cried when Mimi died. I learned about "primping" and was embarrassed for Kristy when Bart slept over during a winter storm. Sure, the BSC are not winning awards for high lit, but they were fun and introduced so many ideas that I could read about in more detail if I was interested.

 

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Black Aliss

Even in a Stevejovah-adjacent family such as Nathan's I'm sure any mention of magic or fairies talking toys or even having an attachment to a stuffed toy would be Strictly Forbidden. Remember this is the man who used white-out to cover up the line "life is but a dream" in the lyrics to Row Row your Boat.  So, no Velveteen Rabbit for the Max Grands!

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kmachete14

Honestly what's ridiculous is that all Western cultural tradition literature (which Rudyard Kipling falls under) uses Biblical allegories, allusions, metaphors, imagery, and symbolism. The themes of the novels are also usually "Christian" values. For example, even the most morbid short stories usually have to do with lying, lack of respect for human life, guilt, pride, greed, etc. It's impossible to ignore in literature (another topic is that Biblical imagery actual is inspired by other religions, but that's for another day). As an English major, my Catholic upbringing made these things so much easier as they came second nature to me. My point is that the Maxwell children should be able to connect even seemingly "pointless" short stories to Biblical ideas. In Rikki Tikki Tavi, you can connect his courage to David & Goliath. You could even make a connection that man was given control over nature, or the idea of protecting your family. They could have talked about "Christians colonizing heathen India" (their POV) even! 

I wonder what other short stories she is reading. Is she learning the elements of literature, or poetic devices? What the heck do they even learn????? 

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thoughtful
Posted (edited)
2 hours ago, usedbicycle said:

And as an antidote I'm heading off to listen to Chopin on Youtube just to FEEL for the purpose of FEELING and procrastinate on dusting my ceiling fans. 

Great choice - Chopin's Preludes vary hugely in physical difficulty, and, just going by the coordination needed to play the notes, that's one of the easiest ones. But, in the hands of an inexpressive performer, it's awful.

And sometimes, as Rafelson, Joyce, Nicholson and Anspach showed us in Five Easy Pieces, we're not sure if the performer is feeling anything, even if he plays it well:

It fits the theme of getting a lot out of literature and the arts, even if the building blocks or the level of what is read, heard or seen seem simple.

Even an "easy piece" or children's story can be rich with feeling and worth.

Edited by thoughtful
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MamaJunebug
Posted (edited)

This is not a diss on young Abby. 
 

i, MJB, completing my 7th decade on this planet, somehow did not know the story of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. 
 

Just in the summary posted above, I learned

-that mongooses attack cobras ferociously

-that there is a strategy to divide and conquer a pair of villains involving their young

-that cobras can outplay humans

-that a mongoose could be seen to display loyalty befitting a family dog.

But in Steve’s Approved World, young Abby apparently already knew all this.

And so she, aged 12, could not be educated in the same way I — a reasonably literate, college-educated, corporate retiree who’s as old as Abby’s grandpatriarch — have been educated by a piece of fiction. 

It’s not Abby’s fault. 


And I bet if you said to her, “Did you already know all that about the mongoose when you started reading this story?”, she might honestly say yes, she’d read up on the animal before opening the 

I think she’s a good kid, and has the potential to live her life her way after figuring out what that way is.

I know I’m praying for this, for her!!

 

Edited by MamaJunebug
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Alisamer
1 hour ago, kmachete14 said:

What the heck do they even learn????? 

Fun = BAD

Jesus = GOOD

If you enjoy something, it's probably sinful. Anything else? Ask Steve what you're allowed to think.

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