Questions come and questions go. Some are answered, some are not. But there will always be mysteries about the Power of Story and the secrets of the ancient, oceanic tales!

Being trained in Waldorf Education, I always teach with stories. It opens the door to that magical place where children live - to that private world we call Imagination. Here, problems can be solved; conflicts can be healed; and dreams can be built. The fantasy world of Imagination offers children a place where they can happily process the overwhelming feelings they are learning to manage in their day-to-day lives... If they discover that a brave boy can outwit a giant (even though he’s so much smaller) or that a determined girl can overcome treacherous obstacles to save her dear ones, it can give them hope on a deep level. I am a firm believer in using fairy tales to enhance a child’s world. Still, I was not prepared for what the tales had to teach me!

Once I had a class of little children. Five and six year olds. The school was rich (fancy); the work was tough; the principal was not kidding. This could sometimes present a challenging situation!

My classroom was filled with wild and lively children. Whenever I called out ?Story Time!? our busy room would suddenly fall silent, as 22 students tip-toed over for a tale. They knew just what to do - find a place on the rug, sit quietly and wait for me to light the candle.

In hushed tones I’d tell the tales they loved, and to my surprise ?Rapunzel? became one of their favorites. Almost everyone knows the story: a beautiful young girl is taken to the middle of the forest by a sorceress and locked in a tower. The tower has no doors but, way at the top - there’s a small window. Each day, when the sorceress comes, she stands under the window and calls out:

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair
That I might climb the golden stair.

And each day, Rapunzel comes to the window, lets down her long, golden hair and the ?mother witch? climbs up.

I love this tale, but I had trouble understanding why it was a favorite, especially since there were four African-American boys in my class. ?Political correctness? was the theme of the day, and I found myself questioning my choice of material. I felt hesitant telling ?Rapunzel? to my black students, even though they seemed just as caught up in the story as anyone else. But was I telling the wrong stories? After all, what in the world could these little boys possibly have in common with an old-fashioned Caucasian blond girl from Deutschland? How could they relate? Shouldn’t I be telling them Anansi spider tales from Africa instead?

Because the children’s response to Rapunzel was so strong and positive, my intuition prompted me to continue telling it. I felt that whatever was in the story was reaching the children on a deeper level that I didn’t yet understand.

As I interpreted the story, Rapunzel was a prisoner in that tower, locked away from the world by an over-possessive ?mother?. Eventually, she would allow the prince to come and visit (she’d let in the world ), but in the meantime, I imagined she was most likely a very sad and lonely girl. However, as I told the tale and sat watching my open-hearted, attentive children, I began to wonder what they were hearing.

The day came when I received an answer. It revolved around Raymond, one of my African-American students. He was a very serious little boy. Earnest by nature and only six, he was under enormous pressure from his parents. They had become rich beyond their wildest dreams and were caught up in the modern whirlwind of success. Naturally, they wanted their child to do well in this high-powered school. But, without realizing it, they had created an overwhelmingly stressful situation for him: They wanted Raymond to reflect their success in his academic work - to read early, get every math problem right, and shine on every level. There wasn’t much room for him to experiment or to temporarily fail. Poor Raymond was holding the heavy burden of their expectations on his shoulders as he made his way through his first year of school.

Every once in a while, Raymond would ?lose it.? Some days, there was just too much pressure for him. He would erupt like a volcano, spewing furious energy into the room. He’d start kicking, screaming and hitting, in a state of overwhelmed frustration. In those moments, I would have to find a way to get past his wild kicks and flailing arms - to scoop him up, hold him quietly and do my best to calm him down.

One day, Raymond was beside himself. He’d had a troubled morning with friends; he couldn’t understand the math lesson; and now he was having difficulty un-tying a knot in his shoelaces. Raymond flew into a rage and started screaming. As quickly as possible, I caught him up in my arms and carried him off to a small room at the back. I held him on my lap, quietly rocking him and singing, doing my best to soothe this little child.

After a few minutes, I whispered, “Raymond, would you like to hear a story?” ?Yes,? he whimpered.
“All right!What would you like to hear?”
“Rapunzel!”

Rapunzel? What was this? Rapunzel? I couldn’t believe it! What was it about the story of Rapunzel that would help this little African-Ameican boy in his tumultuous state? Was my question about to be answered? A million thoughts raced through my mind as I told the story once again.

That night, I pulled out a copy of The Uses of Enchantment: The Meaning and Importance of Fairy Tales by the famous child psychiatrist, Bruno Bettelheim and read this: ?Fairy tales are works of art which are fully comprehensible to the child. As with all great art, the Fairy Tale’s deepest meaning will be different for each person! The child will extract different meaning from the same fairy tale, depending on his interests and needs of the moment.? (p. 12)

Thinking it over, I realized that the story was ?stretching? to meet Raymond’s needs. It offered him an entirely different interpretation from mine. For me, ?Rapunzel? was a story about someone being imprisoned, locked in a tower far away, hidden from the world. For me, Rapunzel was having a negative experience, brought about by an over-protective ?mother?. But Raymond wanted to hear this tale because he found solace in the very theme of overprotection. He needed a hideaway, a sanctuary safe from the trials and pressures of being pushed too fast too soon. He would be happy to be locked away in that tower for awhile! Raymond’s relationship to the story of Rapunzel had nothing to do with race or cultural history. His interest in the tale had to do with comfort and psychological safety - told in a way a child could understand.

As our planet continues to shrink and we gain more and more access to the great folk and fairy tales of other lands, let us keep in mind that many tales have something deep and meaningful to give us - something beyond what we first see. This memorable incident showed me how stories can rise above culture and speak to us on profound levels of healing and unity. This one episode taught me about the artistry of the ancient, oceanic tales; about the Power of Story and its mysteries; and about the oneness of where we all truly live.

Try carrying around a story in your back pocket for a few years. Choose one that ?speaks? to you, even if you don’t know why. Tell it again and again. Allow its secret to unfold to you through time. You may be surprised by what the story has to teach you. I know I was.



The Uses of Enchantment, Bruno Bettelheim, Alfred A. Knopf, NY, 1976.

The Complete Grimm’s Fairy Tales, with an introduction by Padraic Colum, Pantheon Books (a division of Random House), NY, 1972.

Copyright 2001 by Mary Lloyd Dugan Reprinted with permission