Dash #742 Continuing Education

          I remember my mom and I taking a class together on storybook literature.  Sadly, I don’t recall the name of the instructor but he was of German descent and had had exposure to cruel fairytales versus what he called “watered down” versions that seem traditional in America. I think there had been only  four classes as we met only once a week for only for four weeks – at least that is what I remember.  I don’t know if I recorded anything about it though Corey may have my mom’s version of what took place.

          I remember our instructor showed us several frames taken from a graphic story.  I don’t recall there being words, but if there were, he would translate the German captions into English.  The story was on obedience and minding your elders.  Peter had been warned by several adults including mom, dad, and at least one grandparent.  They had told him not to go outside for it was too cold and he would be able to dress warm enough, but Peter went outside anyway.  He walked further and further away from his home and ignored all the signs of birds that were too frozen over they could no longer fly, or other animals.

          I believe that Peter ends up falling through the ice.  Some of the adults go out to look for him and find him frozen. They take him back to the house to thaw him out.  In the last frame the illustration shows three canisters.  I forget what was in the ones on either side – perhaps vinegar and cooking oil.  The container in the middle was labled Peter – implying that Peter had thawed into liquid and that was the only means they had for preserving what was left of him.

          He had also showed us a book about Mr. Thumbsucker who would cut off the thumbs of children who continued sucking their thumbs.  The idea was to motivate children to stop sucking their thumb but the pictures seemed quite gruesome. It wasn't just the stories themselves but also the illustrations that made the German versions seem much more dark than the American hand-me-down  versions - which I am grateful for.

          I remember enjoying fairytales as a child. Then again, I think my mom was a lot more selective.  I appreciate her introducing me to fairytales as I know she didn’t like them when she was a child.  Nor do I think she enjoyed them much as an adult. I don’t think the fairytales she grew up with were as violent as our instructor’s had been.  Also, my mom didn’t seem to have a great imagination and wouldn’t believe that bears could talk or pigs could build houses. 

          In our final class we were introduced to an orange and were supposed to form a relationship with it.  Our instructor said it was often a tender moment for many of his students and when they were separated from their orange, or saw another rip it apart, some would actually cry.  Mom and I exchanged glances that we surely wouldn't be making that kind of attachment or would be able to relate to that analogy. I made a comment about two other students I could see it happen with. And it did.  They cried.  We didn’t roll our eyes, but we didn’t feel the same attachment toward our oranges as they apparently did.

          It was an interesting class.  I think mom and I both enjoyed it overall – though I seem to be sharing the bizarre parts about it.  It had been a good experience for my mom and I to have this class in common and to share our experiences.