Home | Watch Kate Tell | What's New | Calendar | Stories | Bio
People From the Past Who Made a Difference
Adult Programs | Family Programs | School Programs | CDs | Free Newsletter
Articles | Reviews | Venues | Publications | Press Kit | Contact

There I was, at my third paying gig, 4 30-minute performances for kindergarten classes. The first 3 classes had gone well. And I was just starting to introduce my first story when the little girl, sitting on the end of a row near the back, threw up once. She got to her feet, took a step toward the sink, and threw up again.

The teacher whisked the girl away, and the remaining 24 kids were all sharing their feelings aloud:

"Ew, that was gross!"

"It stinks in here!"

"You're right," I quickly said. "But these things happen when you get sick. Do you want to say "Ew" some more? Let's say it together - EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWW. Do you have some more Ews? OK, let's do it again. EEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW. OK, enough Ews."

"But it still stinks!"

"Yes, I know. Your teacher knows what to do. In the meantime, I'll start my story. One winter afternoon, when the ground was covered with snow, a grandmother named Baba sat knitting by the fire..."

While I told, a parent helper was sprinkling what looked like sawdust from a box onto the messes on the floor - anti-barf, I guessed. Then the teacher sidled up to me.

"You're going to have to move to the other side of the room so the janitor can clean up the mess. You can sit on the couch and the kids can sit on the floor in front of you."

"OK, kids, I guess this is a moving story."

"Children!", the teacher commanded. "Be very careful and walk around the mess on the floor."

So we eventually got settled on the other side of the room. I continued. "Baba! Are you making those new mittens for me? That's my favorite color!"

A little boy to my right in the front row quivered, "I want to go home!"

The teacher called out, "It's alright. Your mother will be right back."

I continued. "When will you finish my new mittens, Baba?..."

In a few minutes, I saw the janitor arrive outside the door, where he had a loud conversation with someone. I continued.

"Misha didn't know he had dropped his right mitten on the ground. But someone else noticed..."

Then the janitor entered with his mop and bucket and only 3 kids watched him clean up the mess. But they all noticed when he used the phone right next to the couch to call someone. I continued.

"The young mouse said to the owl, "Sure, there's always room for one more!" But the rabbit with the twitchy nose said, "Well, watch where you put those sharp talons!"

The janitor left and I finally finished that story without any more interruptions. Just as the class was applauding, the janitor AND his vacuum cleaner arrived. He looked apologetically over at me. Time for me to quickly rearrange my program.

"OK, kids. Time to stand up and sign a song. We'll just use the vacuum cleaner as the background music for our song. Now this is an echo song. Do I hear an echo? You say what I say ..."

The janitor and his 'instrument' left before our song was over. The kids were slow to sit back down until I said, "My next story is about a ghost." Complete silence. "The ghost with the one black eye. It started one winter morning..."

Wow! No interruptions during that story! The kids took a while to get "I wan' mo' appa juice!" and "I AM THE GHOST WITH THE ONE BLACK EYE!" out of their systems.

Finally I said, "Oh, you've got to quiet down quickly or I won't have time to tell you one more story."

A boy just to my left in the front row said, "I don't want you to tell another story."

I was stunned. But luckily, before I did or said anything rash, the boy who had wanted his mother said, "I want to hear about the ghost again! I want the ghost again!"

I help up my hand, like a traffic cop stopping traffic. "I'm sure you all could tell that story, you all joined in so nicely."

"I want YOU to that the ghost story right NOW!"

I did my traffic cop impression again. "I'm REALLY glad that you liked that story so much. However the people who paid me to come here paid me to tell different stories."

And while he inhaled to launch into yet another speech, I quickly said, "And my last story is MASTER OF ALL MASTERS. A long time ago in England, there was a family, a mother, a father and a daughter named Jane..."

I finished that story, said thank you, the teacher and the mother thanked me, and I got out into the parking lot before it hit me.

One of my friends and storytelling mentors Lois had told me the previous year, after one of her performances, "That was a great performance! No one threw up or had a nose bleed!"

"That happens?" I inquired faintly.

"Oh, yes," she replied cheerfully.

Now in the parking lot, I remembered her words, and realized that I had just passed a milestone in my storytelling career - I had earned my _first_ storytelling barf badge today.

I laughed all the way to my car.