Susan Stephens' Writing Diary

I beg your indulgence for Sue's Flag Flying, Banner Waving, Soap Box Moment.

Yes, I was that type of teacher- and mother too. Give me a child, any child, and I'll find something to enthuse that child and make them grow. Don't tell me that by suggesting a child CAN'T do something it's going to help them grow and develop.

And perhaps this sheet shows why I feel so strongly.
I can still remember the dusty old hall at the Speech and Drama Festival... chairs scraping, people coughing discreetly, craning forward like buzzards...
I can still remember the agonising walk to the appointed position where, at the age of eleven or so, I was to give my recitation...
Evening Song Of A Thoughtful Child... Oh, boy, wasn't that the truth!
And yes, I came bottom of the class.

Here's what the report says about me...

The face is so impassive. Never a flicker of expression in the eyes. Very, very British. A budding politician... Many stresses on unimportant words...

And all I'm sure absolutely true. So, what I'm saying is, never never never give up- and don't give up on those kiddies of yours either, they will find themselves, it just takes us all different times to get where we want to be.

And for those of you who love such things...

Evening Song of the Thoughtful Child by Katherine Mansfield

Shadow children, thin and small,
Now the day is left behind,
You are dancing on the wall,
On the curtains, on the blind.

On the ceiling, children, too,
Peeping round the nursery door,
Let me come and play with you,
As we always played before.

Let's pretend that we have wings
And can really truly fly
Over every sort of things
Up and up into the sky.

Where the sweet star children play--
It does seem a dreadful rule,
They must stay inside all day.
I suppose they go to school.

And to-night, dears, do you see,
They are having such a race
With their father moon--the tree
Almost hides his funny face.

Shadow children, once at night,
I was all tucked up in bed,
Father moon came--such a fright--
Through the window poked his head;

I could see his staring eyes,
O, my dears, I was afraid,
That was not a nice surprise,
And the dreadful noise I made!

Let us make a fairy ring,
Shadow children, hand in hand,
And our songs quite softly sing
That we learned in fairyland.

Shadow children, big and small,
See, the day is far behind;
And I kiss you--on the wall--
On the curtains--on the blind.


Have a happy weekend everyone! I'm going to be back Sunday or Monday with one of those 'true confession' pics showing you the real colour of my hair way back when... because as several of you have mailed to say- you just can't tell from a black and white shot.
The truth will out!
Back soon.

Love to all,
Susan