The Stories We Tell

Throughout history, we have told stories as a means of passing on knowledge and wisdom to the next generation. The Greek storyteller, Aesop [560BC], is credited with writing a host of tales that have been repeated over and over throughout the centuries. Aesop’s Fables, as they are known, were written and told to help teach the young the ways of our kind. My parents would read these fables to me and explain their meanings. Of course, I had my favourites, and although they seemed like simple stories, I understood the meanings behind them. These simple tales have subtly guided and protected me all my life.

Had my parents just told me to do something, it would have gone in one ear and out the other, to quote an old expression. However, when these teachings are wrapped in a story, we become intrigued, our minds are opened wide, and our imagination is invoked. Soon, these thoughts become embedded in our memory, and that’s when they start to have a positive influence on our lives.

In recent years, it would seem that we have forgotten or ignored the importance of passing on knowledge to our young. Instead, we farm out that responsibility to institutions that try to cram as much information into closed minds as possible, most of it apparently, for the sole purpose of passing tests with high grades.

When I was at school, I had my favourite subjects – history was not one of them. BORING! Chanting names of Kings, Queens and dates, and battles and more dates. I hated history with a passion.

Then I went to secondary school, and oh no! – more history lessons! I was not looking forward to this.  

It was my first history lesson at this new school and with a new teacher, and I was all prepared to be bored stupid. The teacher started to draw a map on the board. First, he drew a river. Then he drew some huts at the side of the river, while all the time explaining how dwellers settled there and why. Each history lesson followed from where the last one left off.  Soon there were other pathways and more buildings, and then there was a ferry that crossed the river to the other side. Every lesson got more interesting than the last. This went on until the area became a meeting place with markets, plus more and more buildings were being erected. Our whole class was engrossed in the growth of this settlement that eventually grew into a town.

Just before the end of term – it suddenly stuck us – this was OUR town – wow! Up until then, we just took the town for granted. The teacher then took us on a walking tour around the town and it was a fascinating experience.

I still can’t remember or even care how many wives King Henry VIII had, but I do know more about that town than any other place where I grew up. Why? Because that teacher told us a story.

What is your favourite childhood story, and what did you learn from it?

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