"Once upon a time there was a fruit orchard. All the fruits living there were friends, except for the banana. He was a very proud fellow, who always talked only about himself and was mostly rude to the others. One day, the papaya was going to his friends house when he tripped on the banana trees roots and fell. The banana saw him fall and laughing loudly, made fun of him, saying ' serves you right Mr. Papaya for being so fat.' The other fruits rushed to help him get up and go home.
The next night there was an Easter party at the Easter bunny's house. All the fruits were looking forward to it. That night, it had been raining so all the fruits were extra careful when they set out to go to the party. The banana too, was highly excited and a little late, so he hopped quickly along. In his hurry, however, he slipped and fell on the ground with a loud cry. Most of the fruits heard him, but because no one liked him, no one went to help. The papaya finally wobbled across and helped him up, dusting off his clothes and helping him along as best as he could. 'Oh dear, ! Mr. Papaya. I was so nasty the other night when you slipped, i am so sorry,' cried the banana. 'That's all right, banana, we all need each other at some time or the other, i'm glad i could help.'said the papaya. The moral of the story is that we should never make fun of others, but help them if we can." As the rest of the class clapped loudly, eight year old Amanda, bowed from the waist and smiling happily went back to her seat.
Her story was chosen as the best in the under ten competition and she was chosen to say it aloud in front of the parents on annual day. A boy named Alex, from the other section was chosen to say a poem that he had written.
They waited nervously backstage. Amanda, wearing a pretty red frock with her hair tied neatly in two short plaits had her grandmother with her. Her mother had just had a baby and was unable to come to the concert. Her father sat in the audience, waiting anxiously. This was her first time on stage and he was nervous for her. Lately, with the new baby being born, her mother had not been able to give her much attention. She had practiced with her gran, and he hoped that, that had been enough.
Alex was dressed smartly in a new suit, and his mother hovered around trying to tell whoever would listen how clever Alex was and that he had won the prize for best performer last year, too.
When her name was announced, Amanda walked on to the stage. A small, figure she stood in the centre of the stage. Most of the parents, lookin at her felt a lump in their throats so vulnerable and sweet she was. Looking out at the audience, she saw her dad smiling encouragingly at her and started her story. Her voice, hesitant at first, became stronger as she went on. Halfway, thru, she sneezed then, looked backstage as a laugh rang out loudly. Alex stood stifling his giggles but still laughing at her. Nervously, she stopped, then started searching the audience for her dad. The pause became longer, as she hesitated trying to remember where she had stopped, even as her dad realising what had happened, gave her a small reassuring wave. Prompted from behind by her grandma, she finished the story, giving a sweeping bow to the audience, who responded with loud applause for the little girl.
Alex walked on to the stage, confidently. From start to finish his recital was perfect, the expressions and hand movements, just as he had rehearsed with his mum over and over again at home. Bowing low to the audience as he finished, he was walking back, then turned around again to wave at the audience. Unfortunately, his leg got caught in the microphone wires and he tripped falling flat on his front. Even as he started to bawl, as a few giggles came from the audience, a small figure rushed out to help him up. Amanda put her arm around his shoulders and the two small figures slowly made their way back as the audience arose as one and clapped thunderously, as much for Amanda as for Alex..
Alex won the prize, but it was Amanda whom the parents smiled and petted as she left the hall with her dad and grandma.
Postscript:
The above story of the papaya and the banana was the first story written by my daughter. I could have burst with pride that day when she brought it home from school. She was hardly eight, then.
The next night there was an Easter party at the Easter bunny's house. All the fruits were looking forward to it. That night, it had been raining so all the fruits were extra careful when they set out to go to the party. The banana too, was highly excited and a little late, so he hopped quickly along. In his hurry, however, he slipped and fell on the ground with a loud cry. Most of the fruits heard him, but because no one liked him, no one went to help. The papaya finally wobbled across and helped him up, dusting off his clothes and helping him along as best as he could. 'Oh dear, ! Mr. Papaya. I was so nasty the other night when you slipped, i am so sorry,' cried the banana. 'That's all right, banana, we all need each other at some time or the other, i'm glad i could help.'said the papaya. The moral of the story is that we should never make fun of others, but help them if we can." As the rest of the class clapped loudly, eight year old Amanda, bowed from the waist and smiling happily went back to her seat.
Her story was chosen as the best in the under ten competition and she was chosen to say it aloud in front of the parents on annual day. A boy named Alex, from the other section was chosen to say a poem that he had written.
They waited nervously backstage. Amanda, wearing a pretty red frock with her hair tied neatly in two short plaits had her grandmother with her. Her mother had just had a baby and was unable to come to the concert. Her father sat in the audience, waiting anxiously. This was her first time on stage and he was nervous for her. Lately, with the new baby being born, her mother had not been able to give her much attention. She had practiced with her gran, and he hoped that, that had been enough.
Alex was dressed smartly in a new suit, and his mother hovered around trying to tell whoever would listen how clever Alex was and that he had won the prize for best performer last year, too.
When her name was announced, Amanda walked on to the stage. A small, figure she stood in the centre of the stage. Most of the parents, lookin at her felt a lump in their throats so vulnerable and sweet she was. Looking out at the audience, she saw her dad smiling encouragingly at her and started her story. Her voice, hesitant at first, became stronger as she went on. Halfway, thru, she sneezed then, looked backstage as a laugh rang out loudly. Alex stood stifling his giggles but still laughing at her. Nervously, she stopped, then started searching the audience for her dad. The pause became longer, as she hesitated trying to remember where she had stopped, even as her dad realising what had happened, gave her a small reassuring wave. Prompted from behind by her grandma, she finished the story, giving a sweeping bow to the audience, who responded with loud applause for the little girl.
Alex walked on to the stage, confidently. From start to finish his recital was perfect, the expressions and hand movements, just as he had rehearsed with his mum over and over again at home. Bowing low to the audience as he finished, he was walking back, then turned around again to wave at the audience. Unfortunately, his leg got caught in the microphone wires and he tripped falling flat on his front. Even as he started to bawl, as a few giggles came from the audience, a small figure rushed out to help him up. Amanda put her arm around his shoulders and the two small figures slowly made their way back as the audience arose as one and clapped thunderously, as much for Amanda as for Alex..
Alex won the prize, but it was Amanda whom the parents smiled and petted as she left the hall with her dad and grandma.
Postscript:
The above story of the papaya and the banana was the first story written by my daughter. I could have burst with pride that day when she brought it home from school. She was hardly eight, then.
loved all the stories weaved together..even Sakku wrote so well!
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