Renée Fuller, Ph.D.

Copyright © 2005 by Renée Fuller

     "At only seven my grandkids understood. We had genuine philosophical discussions about how what you do today affects what will happen tomorrow. That the good things you do, or the bad things you do will make a difference far into the future. I hadn't expected that seven-year olds could have such a grasp of personal responsibility: that they would understand that we are responsible for what will happen in the future. I'm so proud of them."

     Leo's voice laughed with delight and pride as he continued describing to me over the phone how: "Never, never would I have expected they'd understand, or even that such ideas would mean anything to them. But we had lengthy discussions about the implications of that trial, especially about the significance of the passage. You remember: it's where the computer judge declares to the Purple Witch . . ."

"'WHEN YOU KILL,

YOU KILL NOT ONLY THE NOWS OF TODAY,

BUT ALSO THE NOWS OF TOMORROW.

YOU CAN MEVER KILL JUST ONE PERSON.

IN KILLING ONE PERSON, YOU KILL MANY TIMES OVER.

YOU KILL NOT ONLY WHAT IS,

BUT ALSO WHAT WOULD HAVE BEEN.'"

     Leo and I had talked once before about this fairy tale, the story of THE PURPLE WITCH of unhappiness; how adults sometimes wonder if the story isn't too frightening for children. I had told him that to the surprise of these same adults, children invariably label the story as a real "zinger" or similar designation of high appreciation. Now Leo had experienced that same reaction from his grandchildren. And he had found out what and how much the story meant to them.

     My explanation as to why children are intrigued and fascinated by THE PURPLE WITCH is that, rather than being frightening, the book has a reassuring effect. Its story, because it answers fundamental questions about personal and other people's responsibility actually makes our world feel less frightening. By presenting intelligent and judicious solutions for acts of evil, it proclaims that the bad things that happen must and can be dealt with and thereby corrected and even prevented.

     Leo continued to laugh with happiness as he related the conversations with his grandkids. He himself had spent a lifetime as a successful teacher. Now in retirement he continued using his past and newly acquired knowledge to teach reading with the novel Ball-Stick-Bird reading system to younger teachers. But despite his expertise and success with hundreds of students, his own grandkids were still capable of filling him with excited delight and surprise - the mark of the unforgettable expert teacher.

     Leo's portrayal of the discussions with his grandchildren reminded me of seventy-year old Nuni. She too during her childhood had long philosophical and ethical discussions about various stories she and her mother were sharing. Both the stories and philosophical discussions made such a lasting impression on Nuni that they are still vividly remembered - a lifetime later. Which is why I said to Leo:

     "You know Leo, when your grandkids are seventy and eighty they'll remember their philosophical discussions with you. They'll remember the long talks about personal responsibility: how what any of us do today affects what happens tomorrow. You've created some beautiful, cherished memories for them, memories that'll have a lasting effect on their lives."

     There was a long moment of silence. Was Leo remembering some of his own childhood recollections? Then with a thoughtful voice, perhaps reflecting on those early memories, he said, "I know."

     After our lengthy telephone conversation I was looking forward to more productive talks with this loving, expert teacher. But it was not to be. Three days after our telephone conference an e-mail arrived from a mutual friend:

"Leo Wood died last night."

     Our telephone conversation had been one of the last in Leo's productive life. He had told our mutual friend how much our telephone discussion had meant to him. I wish I could have told him, "It meant so much to me."

     Leo had enriched the lives of hundreds of students, who like his grandkids will remember those thoughtful conversations with him years into the future, when they too are old. Leo himself was an example that what we do today affects what will happen tomorrow. He was an exemplar that the long-range effect of our actions means that all of us are determiners of human destiny. Just as we are the children of destiny, so we in turn are the creators of future children of destiny. Therein lies our ultimate responsibility: because what we do today will affect what will happen tomorrow. We are, and we create destiny's children.

     Like Leo's grandchildren, Nuni was seven when the stories her mother told her led to lengthy discussions about the meaning of personal responsibility. To this day Nuni remembers how, although the years of the Second World War during her childhood were frightening years, the unmistakable ethical requirements demanded of and by the people in the stories had a reassuring effect. They delineated what should and could be expected of good people thereby making the world less frightening. Years later the discussions with her mother were remembered with love and as important and crucial events in her early life: never to be forgotten. But they were more than mere remembrances; their effect was to steer the course of a lifetime.

     Although cute little tales devoid of real meaning, stories that do not disturb, are often presumed to be what the majority of developing minds want and need, such stories lack the significance and excitement that tales about important and often frightening questions with meaningful answers can create. This may explain why cute stories have a limited, a transitory appeal for children and are rarely remembered into adulthood. On the other hand, well-told tales and parables about good and evil are not only exciting; they also present answers to real life questions and problems. They can have long-range effects for the very reason that they raise uncomfortable and moralistic dilemmas, which they resolve by presenting solutions. There is a reason why many of the stories about good and evil that we tell our youngsters are remembered into adulthood, influencing a lifetime.

     When, however, we take the moral components of popular stories and parables apart and try to teach these components as separate abstractions they usually fail in their impact. Moralistic abstractions, even when ever so logical and carefully memorized, lack real life context and therefore genuine meaning. For this reason religious leaders frequently impart morality in the form of parables, knowing that moral abstractions usually fail in having the desired effect on behavior. For instead of influencing how we live our lives, moral abstractions are apt to be merely words which have been dutifully memorized to be regurgitated at the appropriate time. However, when told as a story, morality reaches us in ways abstractions, never mind how well memorized, fail in communicating and therefore in achieving.

     When framed in a story format, the actuality that we are destiny's children, who in turn are the creators of future destiny's children, acquires the context that makes these ideas meaningful and understandable to the human brain. Which explains why morality embedded in stories can communicate in powerful and effective ways. My explanation for the power of story organization is that it functions as the cognitive-neurological engram, and is basic to how we organize and therefore perceive and understand our world.

     When Leo's grandkids discussed with him the meaning of the trial of THE PURPLE WITCH they demonstrated the intellectual and emotional power of the story format. The allegory had allowed them to understand the moralistic implications, and from these moralistic implications to develop philosophical abstractions. Story context can organize the moralistic abstractions into what for the human mind is their meaningful context. Had the process been reversed, and had the moralistic principles been taught as abstractions, their contextual meaning would have been lost. Even when dutifully committed to memory, moralistic abstractions are lacking in the essential real life implications.

     Jake was a living demonstration of the power of story context in communicating moralistic principles. He was also an example of how abstract moralistic principles can fail in influencing and changing abusive behavior for the better. In school, Jake, to the dismay of his classmates and teachers was an illiterate third-grade bully, terrorizing some of the gentler youngsters. His appalled teachers demanded psychological testing, which resulted in Jake being diagnosed as learning disabled with attention deficit and hyperactivity disorder. Therapy, including anger management, was advocated as an essential and imperative treatment for Jake's bullying behavior.

     The Millers, Jake's parents were outraged when they were told about the test results and the advocated therapy. They were certain that there was nothing wrong with their son's learning ability. With respect to hyperactivity, they considered that Jake was an appropriately active boy. After all, one shouldn't expect him to be like most girls who enjoy sitting quietly in their classroom seats. As for his bullying behavior, they told the school to stop imagining things.

     However, when by chance the Millers came upon their son beating up a neighbor's younger child they in turn were appalled. Deeply concerned, Jane Miller explained to Jake the moral concepts of responsibility and how one must show kindness toward others who are weaker: that we must help, not hurt others. It was of no avail. To the growing distress of both parents Jane's admonitions fell on deaf ears. They then requested help from their minister, a soft-spoken gentle man. He too tried to reach Jake. But it was obvious that the minister's gentle moral abstractions failed in producing the desired results. Since words had failed, the parents thought that demonstrating how to put into practice basic moral-ethical principles would finally reach their son. They organized excursions to the local homeless shelter with food and clothing; but these too were met first with lack of interest, then with contempt for the needy and actual resistance.

     Deeply concerned by the repeated failures in reaching Jake the Miller parents, wanting to bypass the school system, began to make inquiries about appropriate therapeutic treatment facilities for their son. For weeks they talked with a number of "experts" who made numerous and often-contradictory treatment recommendations. As the parents mulled over which course to take an extraordinary hero came to their rescue.

     It all happened as a consequence of Bob Miller wondering whether Jake's learning disability, his reading failure, was related to the bullying behavior. He had read that there frequently appears to be a linkage between learning disabilities and what psychologists label as acting out behavior. Was Jake's bullying a way of dealing with feelings of inferiority because he still hadn't learned to read?

     Having convinced himself that failure in learning to read was the cause for Jake's bullying, Bob Miller decided that they must immediately teach Jake to read. However, to do so they should use a methodology different from those the school had tried, which had been dismal failures. Jane Miller went on the Internet and came up with a reading series that had a record of success, including with problem youngsters: a method that didn't require learning specialists and could be taught by someone who had never attended a school of education.

     This time Jane Miller's intervention was gratifyingly more successful than either she or Bob had dared hope. Jake learned to read in record time, far surpassing his grade level. And after having learned to read there were indeed the necessary and desired positive changes in Jake's behavior; but not for the reasons his Dad had expected. Instead an extraordinary hero came to their aid: a hero from another world.

     He was Vad of Mars, one of the main characters of the reading series - a truly amazing hero. The very macho figure of Vad of Mars, with his rockets for feet, is portrayed as the protector of the weak, the valiant rescuer who comes to the aid of the needy. And the bullies? They are the mean and evil Vooroos. Of course Vad always wins in the end and rights the wrongs the evil Vooroos had plotted, schemed, connived and conspired to create. Not only with words but also visually Vad is pictured as the rescuer. By way of illustration, the cover of the second book shows Vad with numerous adoring Happy Sacks in his huge arms. He had just rescued them from a dire fate.

     As the Millers found out, Vad was the extraordinary hero who also came to the aid of their son Jake. The concept of a macho male who is a protector, a nurturer, made a deep impression on the erstwhile bully. The stories of Vad of Mars placed into context the moral principles the Millers had so desperately tried to teach their son. Sharing the Vad stories in the reading sessions with their son coalesced and consolidated what they had previously tried to teach him. By harnessing powerful stories about good and evil the devoted and determined parents altered what could have been Jake's destiny to be an illiterate bully. Instead . . .

     Now years later, Jake is profoundly involved in helping the needy. As a dedicated rescuer of those whom life has abused he has become a truly macho champion and a nurturer.

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