Anatomy of a Shadow Puppet Stage

Shadow puppet theatre in situ.

Puppeteer side with the cheap shoplight (on a microphone stand).

Frosty the Snowman knew the sun was hot that day ...

Puppet show "in progress" - ha ha.

Many years ago we created a puppet stage from two step ladders, two 1 by 6s, velcro strips, and some cloth.  We were also able to do shadow puppet plays by substituting a white sheet in front for the black backdrop.  I got ambitious one year and wanted to do some cute shadow puppet plays during storytime, so I made a stage from a poster carton and just some white roll paper.  Wax paper would work for a smaller stage.  Cardboard has the advantage of being lightweight and easy to toss into the back seat of a Toyota Corolla.

We've created several shadow puppet shows: one based on Remy Charlip's Mother, Mother, I Feel Sick, Robert Barry's Mr. Willoughby's Christmas Tree, Dr. Seuss's story "The Sneetches," and the songs "Frosty the Snowman" and "The Witch Is On Her Broomstick."  They are all just short of a nightmare to put on, but the kids just love them. 

The shadow puppets are often cut (and here the exacto-knife comes in handy) from black posterboard, but I've also used black foam sheets.  If you use color sheets, the color will still show a bit.  Storage is a problem because the fiddly bits start getting floppy so I've gone back and reinforced them with bits of wood (i.e. toothpicks, craft sticks, etc.) and then colored the wood with black magic marker if I need to use both sides. 

Shadow puppets show up clearest if they are pressed flat against the screen of the theatre and to make this easier, I started putting their sticks in at an angle. For the sticks I use bamboo skewers that I've stuck (with hot glue) into packing peanuts hot glued to the back of the puppet.  This works well as long as you aren't planning to use both sides of the puppet.  The long bamboo skewers help me keep my fingers out of the shadows.  Packing peanuts don't hold up forever, but they have the virtue of being plentiful and free, if you order a lot of stuff.  

Diagram of dinosaur shadow puppet with packing peanut and skewer at an angle.

We store flannelboard stories in manila jackets and I've tried doing that with shadow puppets, but moved on to a flap from a corrugated cardboard box.  The skewers fit nicely in the corrugations and the cardboard coordinates with the low-tech theatre.

There's something magical about shadow puppets.  You can use them to freshen up some flannelboard stories and rhymes: Five little whatevers, The three billy goats gruff, etc.  If you use them, it's probably best to use them at the end because it means turning off the lights - and then when the magic's over and the lights come back on, it's time to say goodbye, say goodbye, say goodbye.

Help! I Have 90 Firsts Graders Coming!

Partial Cast of The Mitten

Set pieces for Granny Glittens and Her Amazing Mittens

Okay, you're told that 90 first graders are coming and expecting some boffo program as well as a tour of the new library.  They're dividing them in half and taking one half on a tour while you do your fabulous thing.  I've chosen two puppet plays I know I can do by myself (plus a shadow puppet play to "Frosty the Snowman" at the end if there's time).  The first is The Mitten, a cute story where, by the end, the puppets explode out into the audience.  That's almost as much of a crowd-pleaser as squirting them with water at the slightest excuse.  The second is a favorite story from my childhood.  It came from The Tall Book of Christmas Stories and captivated me totally by turning itchy woolen mittens into candy.  I only have to put my hair up, my bifocals back on, and throw on a shawl to be Granny Glittens herself.

The set pieces for Granny Glittens are made from white posterboard (and one piece of corrugated cardboard for the packing box for her new stove) and backed with pieces of paper towel roll to keep them standing up straight.  The balls of yarn are on bamboo skewers.  I pop a white ball of yarn in the pot on the stove ... and out comes one by one: a red one, a green one, a brown one, a yellow one, and a black one.  I've heard gasps of amazement from 4 year olds.  First graders might be a bit more jaded.

Don't they wonder about the size of the stove relative to the human being? you ask.  What, you haven't heard of suspension of disbelief? 

Polar Bear Flannelboard

The Cold, Cold Night

One cold, cold night in the snowy, icy north a man heard a crunching outside his little house.  He opened his door to look out into the night but suddenly it was quiet.  The cold wind blew, and the stars above twinkled, and the moon shone bright when over the snowdrift appeared two big, big ears.

“Oh, my,” he said.

“How strange to see such big, big ears in the cold, cold night!”

And the cold wind blew, and the stars above twinkled, and the moon shone bright

when over the snowdrift appeared two dark, dark eyes under the big, big ears.

“Oh, my,” he said.

“How strange to see such dark, dark eyes under the big, big ears in the cold, cold night.”

But still he stood in the doorway.

And the cold wind blew, and the stars above twinkled, and the moon shone bright

when over the snowdrift appeared a black, black nose under the dark, dark eyes under the big, big ears.

“Oh, my,” he said.

“How strange to see such a black, black nose under the dark, dark eyes under the big, big ears in the cold, cold night.”

But still he stood in the doorway.

And then the man said, “Where did you get such big, big ears?”

“Much listening, much listening.”

“And where did you get such big, big eyes?”

“Much watching, much watching.”

“And where did you get such a black, black nose?”

“Much sniffing, much sniffing.”

“And what brings you to my door?”
D
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“Snowshoes!”

Circles made with various die-cut patterns: planets, insides of 4" letter O, etc.
Black flannel is plain, but white flannel is fuzzy flannel that I keep hidden from the rest of the library. 

We've had snow down here all week, which is unusual for here and while I usually do something snow-related for pre-schoolers (many of them have not seen snow or ice - I had to explain icicles in December), I'm tired of doing the same stuff.  I saw a print-out online of some circles that could be cut out to make a polar bear and I decided it would make a cute flannelboard.  After looking at photos of real polar bears, though, I made the eyes smaller than the nose.  I'd been casting around for a rhyme to go with this when I remembered the flannelboard of "The Pumpkin Man" - so I used that as a basis forthe flannelboard story above.

Next I'll probably make a big book out of it!

Hit the Road, Hoppy-Toad

Adults are not allowed in the Children's Room of our library.  Well, not exactly.  Stray adults are not supposed to be wandering around the CR.  Adults with children can hang out.  Caregivers can come in without their charges and look for books.  There isn't an operating PAC station in the adult area downstairs, so they have to come into the CR to look up a book.  The die-cut machine is available to the public and it's pretty deep in the CR.  So many exceptions.  But how do you know if you have a stray adult or a caregiver?  Yesterday I lurked by the desk to tell a woman that, for future information, there are adult restrooms in the adult area behind the stairs.  I am not going to make someone turn around and go the whole length of the building in case it is an emergency.  I will let them know there is a better choice in their own area.  It turned out she had kids in the CR.  I'm glad she spoke to them as soon as she came out or I'd have been embarrassed.

My strategy has always been to ask what appear to be stray adults if I can help them, but often they say no and keep moving.  Next, I follow them and start a tour of the CR.  They've helped pay for it, so they should be allowed to see where their money has gone.  "You are in the Children's Room," I begin.  "Is there something I can show you?"  If they seem amenable, I will show off the computers for children, the puppet stage for children, the program room, the homework/tutoring rooms, etc.  Usually this will work.  In fact, I've given two tours already this morning.  I will then finish it all off by suggesting they see the upstairs as well ("Run along, now!").

I don't want to appear to be accusing someone of anything or singling anyone out.  I did monitor one man who didn't want help, didn't want a tour, but was just going to watch the children, he said, long enough to determine that he was actually there as a father who had finished what he was doing elsewhere in the library and was rejoining his wife and kid.  Anyone could be there with a kid.  The kids run down on their own (they're supposed to have an adult with them - and there's another thorny issue) and I have to look to see if an adult is coming along to be with them.  Which adult?

A new library generates new membership.  I don't know half of these people.  The last thing I want is to come off like some brassy library dragon who challenges every adult who walks in (not to mention intimidates young children who got ahead of their parents).  This is a tightrope I walk every day - without any set guidelines.  All I know is: no stray adults and no unaccompanied children unless they're old enough to be too old for the CR, at which point they should be annoying the teen center people upstairs. 

No adults on the children's computers - except we don't have the in-house use laptops yet, so parents often work or surf next to their children on the children's computers. 

And, while we're at it, absolutely everyone, even nice people, is ignoring the "Please Turn Off Cell Phones" signs.  I had a mom poke her head in the CR last night and say to her middle-school daughter, "You have a cell phone, look at it.  I've called you three times."  Ummm ... lady, she's not supposed to have it turned on.  That's, like, a rule - like the one about no food or drink. 

It's possible that we need signage, but the more you put up, the less inclined people are to read them.  And I bet the architect will have a hissy fit if we start putting up any big signs on his nice, clean walls and columns.  So it's down to me confronting people.  Sometimes I wish I had brass - but I just don't.  Why can't you just get in people's faces and tell them they aren't welcome in the CR for some reason?   Well, there you go.  If it's a child, I don't want to turn the library into some horrible experience (that kept me out of public libraries until I was in college).  If it's an adult, who is paying for the building and my salary (however distantly), I don't want them to write letters to the editor or to their councilmen (or keying my car, depending on how they tend to react to rejection) because they wandered unknowingly into Forbidden Territory.   I want them to see their library ... once, at least.   I'm proud of it.  I want kids to feel welcome, but not fall between some cracks (too old for the CR, too young to be in the adult computer lab alone). 

For now, this is my method of coping:
Step One: "May I help you?" [Who are you and what are you doing in here?]
Step Two: "This is the Children's Room.  May I show you something?" [You can't stay.]
Step Three: "Don't miss the second floor!  There is a really nice view of North Main Street from the rotunda upstairs!" [Now, scram!]

I'm working on polite ways of making people with cell phones not talk on them.  I'll stick with "Where's your mom, honey?" for loose kids.

Feline Exegesis

The Rabbi's Cat by Joann Sfar

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I read this on the strength of The Professor's Daughter that I found so charming.  This was a totally different kind of story about a cat in a sephardic household in Algeria.  Why it's in our library I can't imagine, but I am grateful!  I may also be one of the few people in town who can fully appreciate the book.  There are three stories in this volume, the first about the cat's desire for a bar mitzvah so he can return to his mistress.  Once he learned to speak (after consuming a parrot that would not shut up), he learned to lie, and so the rabbi separated him from his daughter.  The cat, however, argues theology with him. Heh!
In the second story, the rabbi is poised to lose his position as rabbi if he cannot pass a French dictation exam.  His cat, unable to enter and help him, prays for a miracle.  This is always a mistake, as my friend who helped someone pray to be released from the curse of daily hiccups could tell you.  I wonder if my friend is still hiccuping in her friend's stead ...  While the rabbi is waiting to hear about his status, a young man come to his grandfather's funeral and also announces that he is a not yet official new rabbi for the area.  The rabbi's cousin has a solution, a sword, and a lion, but nothing works out the way you'd think in these stories.
The rabbi travels to Paris in the last story in the volume.  By the end of the book, he is an enigma to everyone, except perhaps, his cat.
There's a lovely photo of Sfar and his cat on the flyleaf.  The cat is the model for the much more rangy looking drawn cat.  The art in this book is rough and all the text as if hand-written.  These are wonderful, amusing, and surprising stories.




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It's a Long, Long Way from May to ...

The Professor's Daughter by Joann Sfar

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I was utterly charmed by the story, the illustrations, and the printing.  The cavorting with mummies reminded me of the Adèle Blanc-Sec books, but this story is slightly less gruesome than those.  True, there are poisonings and shootings, but this is a love story between Imhotep IV and the daughter of the professor who planned to put him on display.  While capturing the surreal, the exquisite drawings evoke the past with the regularity of their size and the monochrome treatment of the early part of the stories that gradually increases in color as the mummy's life becomes more ... fraught.


The plot itself begins almost halfway into the story.  We don't know how the mummy came to be found or was discovered to be alive - only that the professor's daughter has dressed him in her father's clothes and taken him out for what can only be described as a date.  Imhotep IV lives up to his proper English clothing for only a short time and then a taste of tea inebriates him and what started as a harmless outing turns into high adventure and courtroom drama!  This short book leaves you crying for prequels! 



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Spoiling for Murder

The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher: A Shocking Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victorian Detective by Kate Summerscale
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This book was soooo good!  I even read the footnotes!  Can you have spoilers in a non-fiction book?  If you think so, I recommend you stop reading right now!

I mean, it's not as if the alleged solution isn't telegraphed to you right on the cover, now that I look at it.  I'd sussed it by page 5 and a quick look through the photographs seemed to confirm it, so I guess it isn't meant to be that much of a secret.  It is still a mystery, and we'll Never Know the Truth, but we can get all gurgly while guessing (or maybe it's the high-test tea I've been drinking lately).


Summerscale certainly did her homework and shows the math.  She catalogs the influences of the murder on literature as well as the real life detecting, which became a passion for the population of England at that time, totally captivated as they were by the particulars.  Our Mr. Whicher walks into the investigation weeks late, but seems to pinpoint the most likely scenario immediately.  Unfortunately, he is unable to prove it or to pressure his suspect into breaking down and confessing.


There is no solution for five years, and then we have a bare-bones confession exculpating everyone else in a hundred mile radius.  The confessed killer is spared the death penalty by Queen Victoria and, despite continual applications for early parole, serves the entire life sentence and goes on to lead what appears to be a blameless life.  But, was there an accomplice?  Was the father infected early on with syphilis causing the madness in his first wife, the deaths of many of their children, and the blindness and early demise of his second wife?  Was the atmosphere in this family as poisonous as it would seem to need to be to cause the brutal murder of a young child?  Or was this all just the fevered imaginings of your typical angst-ridden teens?


I have one quibble with one of the photos that was represented as a mosaic of a cherub with the face of a young child as made by the confessed killer.  As one who pretends to artistic abilities, I know that I tend to use my own face and body, consciously or unconsciously, when creating the human form.  And if you look at the mosaic and then its creator, you will see the resemblance.  Oh, it would be nice if it were the head of the murdered child, especially because it looks decapitated, but I believe it looks ever so much like Constance.


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