Recently I read a blog written by George Dow (May 2020), a good friend and business consultant for executive transition and transformation, about following a path with heart. George’s quote from Carlos Castaneda from The Teaching of Don Juan, struck a chord in me.

“Anything is one of a million paths. Therefore, you must always keep in mind that a path is only a path; if you feel you should not follow it, you must not stay with it under any conditions. To have such clarity you must lead a disciplined life. Only then will you know that any path is only a path and there is no affront, to oneself or to others, in dropping it if that is what your heart tells you to do. But your decision to keep on the path or to leave it must be free of fear or ambition. Look at every path closely and deliberately. Try it as many times as you think necessary.

Does this path have a heart? All paths are the same: they lead nowhere. They are paths going through the bush, or into the bush. In my own life I could say I have traversed long, long paths, but I am not anywhere. Does this path have a heart? If it does, the path is good; if it doesn’t, it is of no use. Both paths lead nowhere; but one has a heart, the other doesn’t. One makes for a joyful journey; as long as you follow it, you are one with it. The other will make you curse your life. One makes you strong; the other weakens you.

Before you embark on any path ask the question: Does this path have a heart? If the answer is no, you will know it, and then you must choose another path. A path without a heart is never enjoyable. You have to work hard even to take it. On the other hand, a path with heart is easy; it does not make you work at liking it.” 

George added this short video to bring the point home. It’s worth the watch as a young Thai man walks his path with heart.

Working with Sachiko Yasui to tell her story of survival after the atomic bombing of her city, Nagasaki sent me on a path “with heart” asking, “What is peace?” What does peace really mean? What skills and abilities do we need to learn to be peacemakers? How do we hold out our hands and invite others to come with us? For the rest of my life, I’ll walk this path with heart to help find answers, possibilities, new ways of being and becoming. We are in the midst of the Coronavirus Pandemic of 2020, requiring all of us to work together, not only for safety and health, but for the changes to come after this disruptive world-wide calamity subsides. I think we know, in our gut, we are at a pivotal point. We will need more peace—ever more peace— and more peacemakers if the human race and planet earth is to survive and thrive. Let us walk this intentional path with heart together.

For two hours on a Saturday morning, I sat at a kitchen table with a potter whose initials are K.M. Together, we stared at Sachiko’s grandmother’s bowl. The real bowl. The one that belonged to Sachiko’s grandmother. The one that had survived the Nagasaki atomic bomb. The same one Sachiko had given me as a gift for bringing her Grandmother’s bowl back to life in the picture book, A Bowl Full of Peace. Available May 2020, the picture book is a re-telling of Sachiko’s survival of the Nagasaki atomic bomb and her pathway to peace for young readers. I was overwhelmed when Sachiko gave me her Grandmother’s bowl. I had the same emotional feeling as I sat with K.M. We studied the bowl together as if it were the last object on earth.

I was at K.M.’s kitchen table that Saturday because I had asked him if he could create a replica of Grandmother’s bowl. I wanted to bring a replica to classrooms during author visits. Kids could hold the bowl. Feel the weight of it. Pass it to the next child in the circle. Understand the importance of the bowl and its message. K.M. had agreed to my request.

Japan has one of the oldest ceramic traditions in the world, beginning in Neolithic times. Japanese potters have fired earthenware, stoneware, glazed pottery and porcelain in kilns through the ages, turning the craft into an art recognized world-wide. Pottery continues to be an art held in high esteem in Japanese culture, and in the Nagasaki area, pottery villages are alive and well. K.M. knew all of this even before I sat down at his kitchen table.

“This bowl was probably made by a family of potters near Nagasaki, most likely in an assembly-line fashion.” K.M. ran his fingertips over the bowl’s surface. “One family member may have made the base. Another shaped the leaf. Another trimmed the wavy edges of the bowl.  One member likely glazed it. Another slipped it into the kiln.” I nodded, imagining the ceramic process. K.M. continued. “Perhaps this leaf motif is the spring or fall model the Nagasaki family would sell in the marketplace.” Deep in thought, K.M. turned the bowl this way and that.

K.M held the bowl to the light. “See this,” he pointed at a slight indentation. “That may be the thumb print of the original potter before he slid it into the kiln.” I squinted and thought I could make out the imprint.

“I wouldn’t suggest this.” K.M. glanced at me. “But if you took a little chip from the bowl and did a mineral analysis, you could trace the exact clay pit near Nagasaki the potter’s family used to make their wares.”

I looked at Grandmother’s bowl in wonder. The entire bowl was transforming into a metaphoric fingerprint. A thought passed through my mind. If I traveled back to Nagasaki, would it be possible to find the family who made Grandmother’s bowl?

K.M. turned the bowl over and peered at its bottom. “No signature, no stamp.” he pointed. He placed the bowl on the table and paused. “I’ll make a replica bowl for you, but I don’t want to take any credit for it. If the original artist made the bowl anonymously, I will be anonymous, too.”

Here lies the reason I call my new potter friend, K.M.

A few months later, I received an email from K.M, “The bowls are done.” When I arrived at his home, four likenesses of Grandmother’s bowl sat brightly on his kitchen table. The bowls were shaped as leaves, just like Grandmother’s bowl, and sparkled with green glaze.

“They’re beautiful,“ I said with genuine gratitude—but the new bowls were not replicas.

“I couldn’t do it,” K.M. said. “The first bowl I made looked just like Grandmother’s bowl, but I wasn’t happy, and I couldn’t understand why. I ended up throwing the bowl away. These bowls are purposely a likeness—not a replica.”

I bowed. “Domo arigato gozaimashita. Thank you. I understand.”

An artist doesn’t copy someone else’s art and still call him or herself an artist.

The real Grandmother’s bowl, the one Sachiko Yasui gave me as a gift, is safe in my office cupboard. The four likenesses of the bowl are in my closet, waiting. I can imagine sitting on a classroom rug, reading a Bowl Full of Peace to children, a new Grandmother’s bowl in the middle of the circle. Sachiko filled the bowl with ice every August 9 to commemorate the atomic bombing of her city at the end of World War II.  As she watched the ice melt, she prayed for world peace.

After reading, A Bowl Full of Peace, I’ll ask the children, “Instead of ice, what part of peace can each of us put in the bowl?

I always knew Grandmother’s bowl had its own story to tell.

When editor Carol Hinz suggested a picture book about Sachiko Yasui’s Nagasaki survival story for a younger audience, I was grateful for the invitation.

I knew immediately the focus would be Sachiko’s grandmother’s bowl.

In Sachiko: A Nagasaki Bomb Survivor’s Story, Grandmother’s bowl was the only object Sachiko’s family found when they returned home after the atomic bombing of their city at the end of World War II. As Sachiko’s story unfolds, the bowl becomes an image, a thread, an endowed object on the altar of memory and peace.

I remember the first time Sachiko Yasui told me about her grandmother’s bowl. Chills ran up and down my arms as I listened. On each August 9th, the anniversary of the atomic bombing of Nagasaki, Sachiko’s mother would fill the bowl with ice. Sachiko’s family would remember their thirst from the heat of the explosion, the family and friends they lost to the bomb, and the 74,000 people in Nagasaki who died from wounds and radiation exposure. All day long, Sachiko’s family remembered and prayed for world peace as the ice melted.

The last time I visited Sachiko in Nagasaki, she thanked me for giving new life to Grandmother’s bowl. Then, to my surprise, she gave me the bowl. That bowl sat on my writing desk during the entire time I wrote A Bowl Full of Peace, as my touchstone to the story.

While writing Sachiko’s story for the first time, I faced the burden of telling such a difficult story to middle school and high school readers. I worried the trauma of nuclear war would paralyze them, as it nearly did me. How would I write Sachiko’s story for young children?

Each day I worked on A Bowl Full of Peace, I kept the eight- and nine-year-olds I used to teach close to my heart. I imagined my beloved two-year-old grandson reading this book when he is in third grade and held that image tenderly in my mind. We can’t hide difficult history from children, but how do we share enough for them to comprehend it? The most important element of the story I knew would be hope. As writers for children, we must give our young readers hope and a sense of agency in that hope. Could my words for Sachiko’s story do that? And what about the illustrations? Would the illustrations guide us to that goal, too?

How fortunate the illustrator for A Bowl Full of Peace is the talented Japanese artist, Akira Kusaka. For any artist, illustrating Sachiko’s story would have been a demanding invitation. For Akira Kusaka, it changed the way he viewed his work as an artist. In an interview translated from Japanese to English, Akira said:

“… When I was asked to draw illustrations for this story … I was very anxious. Could my drawings really convey what happened to Sachiko in A Bowl Full of Peace? … I was afraid my chest would hurt, my feelings would jumble up, and those feelings would be so painful that I might not be able to complete the illustrations. Perhaps that’s why I had been avoiding drawing about war without noticing … I began to imagine the book’s illustrations. I thought: It’s a picture book, so the first thing I should remember is that my illustrations are for children. The most difficult part of illustrating was to keep the balance; to continually remind myself the book was for children … My goal was to match Caren’s text and my illustrations so that this book would become a book with emotions, just like a human being.… This book conveys the distress and pain of war. But at the same time, I learned a lot about overcoming hardships and finding courage to confront difficulties.… Drawing for this picture book made me take illustrating more seriously than before … This book may be based on Sachiko Yasiu’s experience, but in my opinion, it’s not just a book, it’s Sachiko herself. It’s about her wish for peace … This is what we have to hand down to posterity.”

We’ll share Akira’s full video interview with you soon.

Akira Kusaka accepted a near impossible challenge and delivered Sachiko’s story with honesty, sensitivity, and compassion. One day I hope to meet Akira-san and thank him for bringing A Bowl Full of Peace to life for all of us. We both know it has been our deep privilege to pass Sachiko’s story and her message of peace on to the next generation.

Author Mark Reibstein explains “wabi sabi” this way:

Wabi sabi is a way of seeing the world that is at the heart of Japanese culture. It finds beauty and harmony in what is simple, imperfect, natural, modest, and mysterious. It can be a little dark, but it is also warm and comfortable. It may best be understood as a feeling, rather than as an idea.

The preface helps, but like the cat named Wabi Sabi in the story, I have to go on a journey with her to find what “wabi sabi” really means.

The first extraordinary experience I encounter reading Wabi Sabi, is the immediacy of the Japanese world. The book opens vertically, as if I were reading traditional Japanese. In the same moment, I’m introduced to Ed Young’s gorgeous and mysterious mixed media illustrations created from “wabi sabi” lost and found imperfect objects.

On the story’s first page, strangers meet Wabi Sabi the cat and ask what “wabi sabi” means. The owner draws in a breath through her teeth and says, “That’s hard to explain.” As the cat owner pauses, my eyes slide to the bottom of the page and find poetry, one in Japanese, one in English:

The cat’s tail twitching
She watches her master, still
waiting in silence.

And in that silence, Wabi Sabi the cat begins an adventure to find the meaning of her name—and I go along with the same curiosity. The wise, old monkey is somewhere in the forest, the story says. He can explain.

The cat and I find the wise, old monkey making tea. “What’s wabi sabi?” the cat asks.

The old monkey’s haiku reply is confusing:

The pale moon resting
on foggy water. Hear that
splash? A frog’s jumped in.

The cat is mystified, and so am I. The monkey continues.

Listen. Watch. Feel … He moved slowly but gracefully,
as if he were dancing, and he handled his things as if they were gold,
although they were wooden or clay.

 Wabi Sabi looks around afresh and sees her world in haiku,

alive and dying
too, like the damp autumn leaves
curled beneath their feet.

Taking a cue from the cat, I look around at my surroundings through a “wabi sabi” sort of lens. I stop, listen, look, feel. The weather can change quickly here in Minnesota. Fall’s dried leaves still cling to branches, though it is bitter cold outside. Dark branches stretch against blue sky. Snow piles on roof tops. A long-fingered icicle drips outside my window. Wabi sabi?

An overstuffed reading chair. A hand-me-down blanket. An old lamp. Wabi sabi?

With each glance and reflection, I feel calmer, more patient, more appreciative in a wabi sabi sort of way of uneven edges, scratched surfaces, lost time, the memory of a friend’s death, the impermanence of life. A melancholy cloud drifts over me.

If I were still teaching in the classroom, I’d have my young students sit quietly and look for the wabi sabi around them, or in their memories, and nod to each a knowing smile. I’d read them the haiku of the famous Japanese poet, and “father of the haiku form,” Matsuo Basho, and teach haiku construction—5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables. We’d talk about nature’s beauty and unfinished imperfection woven through Basho’s poetry, what it means, then dim the lights, turn on soft music, and set the children loose on the page. After, we’d gather in a circle on the rug to share our poetry in hushed tones. Between each haiku, we’d pause and breathe in and out in appreciative silence.

I pick up the picture book Wabi Sabi to read again and draw in my breath through my teeth.

A journal is splayed on the bookshelf, stained with coffee circles, half filled with story ideas, poems, haiku. Sitting in my reading chair, I open my journal, turn to a blank page and write:

The New Year begins
Hold tight to hope, love and peace
An imperfect world

References

Wabi Sabi, Reibstein Mark, illustrated by Ed Young; Little, Brown and Company, Boston, 2008.

All quotes in italics are from the book. The picture book’s back matter is worth of study.

Author Mark Reibstein and illustrator Ed Young discuss the surprising creation of their picture book, Wabi Sabi.

Youtube video, “Eastern Philosophy- Matsuo Basho,” from the video series, “School of Life.” Easily accessible to younger children, this informative video of Basho’s haiku and his influence on wabi sabi philosophy is helpful background to understanding Reibstein and Young’s picture book.

Anyone familiar with children’s literature knows of the 1941 classic Make Way for Ducklings by Robert McCloskey. You may remember Mr. and Mrs. Mallards’ search for the best home for their ducklings, one that would offer safety and security–something all children need and deserve. The Mallards eventually find “Duck Island,” in the lagoon of the Boston Public Garden, the perfect place for Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Ouack, Pack and Quack.

Boston Artist Nancy Schon memorialized Make Way for Duckling in her 1987 bronze sculptures of Mrs. Mallard and her brood waddling through the Public Garden on their way to their destination. Visit the sculpture at nearly any time of day, and you will see children lovingly petting the bronze ducklings or “riding” Mrs. Mallard. Watching the children may be a peaceful scene, but the true peace story goes deeper.

First, we need a little history in arms negotiation: In 1989, the Cold War had begun to thaw, and the Berlin Wall, long a symbol of division and dictatorship, tumbled down. President George H.W. Bush and the Soviet Union’s President, Mikhail Gorbachev, began a discussion to reduce nuclear weapons, ending with the signing of the START treaty of 1991. Previously, in 1987, President Ronald Reagan had signed the INF Treaty (Intermediate-range Nuclear Forces Treaty) with Gorbachev, reducing and limiting short and medium range missiles. With these two arms negotiations, the world’s tensions relaxed. The Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists eased their 1981 “Doomsday Clock’s “ hands from 4 minutes to “midnight” to 17 minutes to “midnight.” In 1991, the homes of children world-wide were safer and more secure since the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

The year before the SALT Treaty was signed, First Lady Raisa Gorbachev visited Boston with her counterpart and guide, First Lady Barbara Bush. Together, the two women admired the Make Way for Ducklings sculpture in the Public Garden. An idea bubbled up. Not long after, artist Nancy Schon received a phone call. Could she create a second bronze sculpture of the Mallard family as part of a celebration for the signing of the START Treaty in Moscow?

Today the Make Way for Ducklings sculpture greets the children in Boston’s Public Garden. And in Moscow, near the Kremlin, at a UNESCO World Heritage Site, another Mrs. Mallard and her ducklings greet the children of Russia. A plaque in a quiet section of Novodevichy Park explains in Russian and English: This sculpture is a gift to the children of the Soviet Union on behalf of the children of the United States as an expression of love and friendship …

In 2019, the United States is on the cusp of dissolving the very arms treaties that past U.S. and Russian leaders signed. We are now at an alarming two minutes to “midnight.”

No one can afford to be complacent. Not you. Not me. We have to stop this reckless pursuit of arms, nuclear and conventional, that will only increase world fear, cost trillions and end up provoking war. Perhaps a favorite children’s book and a family of ducks beloved by two adversarial nations can remind us of what we all hold dear and what we all hope for—safe and secure homes and a peaceful future for our children, their children, and theirs.

Bibliography

“Make Way for Diplomacy: How Boston’s “Ducklings” Helped Ease U.S.-Soviet Tensions.” WBUR radio station.

McCloskey, Robert. Make Way for Ducklings. New York: The Viking Press, 1941.

Schon, Nancy. Make Way for Nancy: A Life in Public Art. Boston: David R. Godine, 2017.

“Donald Trump Confirms US Withdrawal from INF Nuclear Treaty,” The Guardian, February 1, 2019.

Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists: Doomsday Clock Timeline

Caren: I’ve always admired my friend and colleague Lonni Skrenter and have relied on her expertise as an exemplar high school history teacher. Lonni has wide educational experience, but mostly I know Lonni from her teaching days at Edina High School in Edina, Minnesota, an upper-middle class community with a highly regarded school system. When Lonni told me she spent her retirement winters in Belize, Central America, teaching, I had an idea. With a grant from Dr. Walter Enloe at Hamline University’s School of Education, I gladly sent Lonni a dozen copies of Sachiko: A Nagasaki Bomb Survivor’s Story to support her work. “Tell me what happens,” I said, imaging a modest school with eager 8th graders under her tutelage. The description Lonni sent back was eye-opening. Here’s Lonni’s experience in her own words.

* * *

This is the seventh winter I have volunteered at Holy Cross Anglican School on Ambergris Caye in Belize, Central America. Life is filled with serendipity, and this is one of those stories.

As a retired educator, I was anxious to “give back” to my new community. I didn’t have to search. I happen to know the chair of the foundation board that supports Holy Cross Anglican School. He approached me, asking that I “do something” to lead their students toward “higher education” … in this country meaning high school and maybe community college. It turned out he was asking me to volunteer in one of the poorest schools on the island. Even their best students were having trouble with the British style Primary School Exam. The Language Arts section includes writing a letter (not too hard) and writing a short story! A short story … in 50 minutes based on one of four prompts students have never seen!

It didn’t take me long to figure out that students really didn’t understand what a “story” was. Over the years, I’ve tried short story units, “recipes” for writing a short story with graded feedback. It took me awhile to realize that the basic problem was a lack of independent reading skills. In a poor school with few resources, they read in groups, often with the teacher reading aloud. Their comprehension in that situation is “fair to middling.”

When it came to the exam, where they had to read silently to themselves … they couldn’t do it. So … I came to the conclusion that what we needed to do was read whole books—books at a grade level, allowing the students to struggle on their own … ask them to create how and why questions for their classmates and teacher (me). The primary goal was simple … increase their independent reading skills so they could comprehend all the directions and paragraphs on the exit exam! I also, pie in the sky, wanted them to learn to love reading, and expand their horizons beyond the island many of them have never left.

Second piece of serendipity. I had been a proofreader for Caren Stelson during the publishing of Sachiko, after working with her on the Hiroshima Exhibit at the St. Paul Landmark Center. The book seemed perfect … one main character and a clear story line. It was designed for middle school. I could acquire some books through grant money from Dr. Walter Enloe, and I bought the rest as a donation to the school … brought them down in an extra suitcase in January 2018.

The book was perfect! The fact that each student got to sign one out and take it home was special to them. It grabbed students attention and kept it. Though they struggled a bit with vocabulary, they all, when asked, rated the book highly. Only a few students said it was “just too hard” for them to read. The gray pages on WWII turned out to be absolutely critical. Although Belize helped the UK patrol the Caribbean during the war, there is nothing in students’ study regarding the war. Reading those pages generated most of the questions which seemed to be about filling gaps in students’ factual knowledge. Other questions focused on Japanese culture, which was another learning experience. Several students have asked me to bring more copies of the book so they can buy their personal copy!

I developed a basic daily plan—open with student questions, opening them to student and teacher answers. Their regular teacher was my “sidekick,” often asking questions and helping students to understand. At first I wasn’t checking their homework—bad move! Like typical eighth graders they weren’t writing it! From the third class on, I started by walking around the room with a class list, giving them checks, check pluses, and minuses. Their exam requires them to use similes, metaphors, and active verbs and adjectives. Caren’s book is filled with examples; it became part of their homework to make a list, along with phrasing how and why questions.

Students wrote some of their examples on the board, and we analyzed them. The first section I used Sachiko’s questions on the last page as the basis for an essay assessment. What is peace? How do we, as individuals, help to bring about peace? Reading the essays was painful. It was something students had not been asked to do before … and I thought it would be easier than trying to turn all or part of Sachiko into a short story! Although student essays were poor, they had some insights that warmed my heart, especially about peace. “You may say I’m a dreamer but I’m not the only person who dreams.” (Suseli Lopez) Considering the gaps in culture and generations, I doubt this young woman had John Lennon’s “Imagine” in mind, but the rest of the song quickly appeared in my mind as I read her paper. The idea that we must dream in order to truly work on world peace had depth of thought.

Another thought virtually smacked me in the face. In writing about what causes war, one student stated “they do not know what is peace and have not experience (sic) peace.” (Amtzi Pacheco) I realized that those students who desire and work for peace are working in a world that has never been without war … Although Belize is a third world country that has never experienced true war, they have cable TV. So like those of us in the US, they are confronted daily with pictures from Syria and Afghanistan.

We had discussed in class the whole idea of defining peace. We had decided that it is more than the absence of war. One student ended his definition with a powerful metaphor. “Peace is listening and understanding other people to prevent war and live in harmony. Without peace the sky would grow dark with hate.” (Yovanny Campos)

Another student ended her essay with a powerful thought. “Our World is a gift.” (Alinie August)

Because the essays were poor and because they have to write a short story for the exit exam, I ended the second section with a different assessment. Turn Sachiko into a short story, using original metaphors/similes or ones from your list. I allowed them to use their notebooks for the assessment but not the book. In class we discussed and outlined plot and character. We had a long discussion on what you would consider the climax of the book. A lot of students wanted to make it the dropping of the bomb, but a long discussion allowed everyone to conclude that the bomb was more of an introduction or hook to get you into Sachiko’s story. In the end the students decided that it was Sachiko’s decision to tell her story in public, and I basically agreed with them. I’m not at all sure this was a better assessment. A couple of students proved they had neither read the book nor paid attention to class discussion as they filled their stories with fabrications!

This was the first time that anyone tried this with the students in this school, and we achieved some of our goals. Students increased their ability to integrate similes and metaphors into their writing. Students’ vocabularies increased. It appeared students were more interested in the creative aspects of grammar. The teachers, principal, and I still believe that the best way to independent reading with comprehension is through books that will grab student interest, while increasing their vocabulary and comprehension. We’ve already chosen a second book, Sharon Draper’s Out of my Mind, to use with Standard V. I’ve written lesson plans for both books which teachers can use, modify etc. The principal, Mr. Griffith, and I met with all upper level teachers, and there was high “buy in” for the project. I will continue to search for high interest books that will both grab students’ interest and broaden their view of the world. Our goal is to have two books (with classroom sets) for Standards IV, V, and VI by the time we are done.

I asked fifth grade teacher Summer Wood and media center specialist Melinda Barry to describe the peace program at Scenic Heights.

In 1996, Scenic Heights became an International Peace Site and an early member of World Citizen, a nonprofit peace education organization. In the words of teacher Summer Wood, “…since then the concept of peace has continued to keep the school grounded.” But it takes more than a peace pole to establish a school culture of peace. It takes vision, commitment, and tangible programming throughout the school, throughout the year.

I realize not every school has the resources available to Scenic Heights, but every school can create a vision of peace and commit to working toward it. How does the staff at Scenic Heights work toward their vision of peace?

I asked teacher Summer Wood if she and her fifth graders would team with me to write this blog to help describe the peace program at their school. Summer agreed and so did her kids. The students’ perspectives were critical. Who else but the kids could best explain the impact of their school’s peace program on them?

To begin, I emailed Summer five questions. For each question, Summer wrote a short answer then added the students’ own responses along with their self-portraits. The responses are tender, heartfelt, and worth the scroll down to read the entire blog. Enjoy!

When I was at Scenic Heights I learned that every day students at Scenic Heights say a pledge for peace. What is that pledge? What do you think about when you say the peace pledge? Do you think it helps make the school a better place to be? Can you explain your thoughts about this? — Caren

Peace Pledge:
I am a peace maker.
I treat myself and others with respect.
I listen.
I share.
I care for the Earth, air, water, plants and animals.
I am important in this very big world.
I know peace begins with me.

• When I say the pledge I feel calm and relaxed. Saying the peace pledge makes us feel joy and peace when we are having a rough day. It makes us feel safer, in a school of peace and love. — Marin
• When I say the peace pledge, I think of peacemakers, such as Gandhi and Malala, and what they did to make the world a better place. — Anna
• I think that the peace pledge helps us every morning by reminding us to be peaceful to others. — Kennedy 
• I think the peace pledge helps us notice how we can help others. — Nicole
• I think about all the animals and plants and trees and all of nature and the peace in the world. — Delaney
• I think the pledge helps us think more about peace and other people the pledge is about peace, learning and thinking. — Kimyra 
• I think the peace pledge is to make you think about peace and how to make the world a better place. — Andrew
• When I say the peace pledge I think of making the world a better place. — Meredith
• I think it helps some people as in the people that say like they mean it and makes me feel better. — Addy
• When I say the peace pledge I think about making my school and the world a better place. — Rory
• I think the piece pledge it make you think about what you can do to make the world a better place. — Peter

When I was at Scenic Heights I learned that Scenic Heights has an “anti-bullying program.” What does “anti-bullying” mean to you? Can you give an example of what you’ve learned? Does your school’s anti-bullying program give you courage to stop others from bullying? — Caren

*We currently use the OLWEUS curriculum to teach students about bully prevention. We also have a Social and Emotional Learning (SEL) team at our school that helps to develop lessons and offer suggestions and learning tools for all staff to use. This year we have a full time social worker and two part time counselors. The counselors come in to the classroom once a month to teach SEL lessons to each class.

Each Friday, on the morning school news station, we recite the anti-bullying rules:

“We will not bully others.

We will treat others with respect.

If we know that someone is being bullied, we will tell an adult at school and an adult at home.”

  — Summer Wood

• Anti-bullying to me, is making sure nobody feels left out, or afraid to be who they truly are. I’ve learned that there is still so much bullying, but we can save the victims of bullying. By helping them feel safe and wanted. Our school’s Anti-bullying program has given me more than enough courage to stand up against bullying. — Marin
• To me anti-bullying means to stick up for others and be KIND to people and to spread love not hate. I think our anti-bullying program stops people from buying because they know how hurtful and how much damage it can do to people. — Delaney
• I think people bully others because they are they are hurting inside. I think are anti bullying program helps stop bullying. — Kennedy
• I love the anti-bullying and if we did not have it I don’t think much people would want to go to school. — Addy
• I read in a book once that the people who are bullying someone just need a little extra love, and I agree. So even if someone is bullying you, just try to be nice to them and they might change their attitude. — Anna
• To me Anti-bullying means NO bullying, No teasing, and NO ONE ever feeling sad and that if we stop bullying the world will be that much happier. — Olivia
• Anti-bullying to me means standing up for others who can’t stand up for themselves. I have no example to share but the anti-bullying program has made me stand up for people. — Andrew
• I think our schools Anti-bullying program is really helpful to stop bullying. Anti-bullying means to me is to prevent bullying. — Gus
• Anti-bullying is a real thing and I think that the anti-bully program has made are school a better place. — Meredith
• Anti-bullying I think is a great thing I think if everyone got the message the world would be a much better place. — Peter
• I think it’s good because It helps people not get bullied as much compared to other schools. — Rory
• Anti-bullying I think is about people who don’t like each other an example is “you’re really ugly go sit somewhere else” Anti-bullying should be for people to stand up to each other. — Kimyra

When I was at Scenic Heights I learned that kids participate in service projects. What kind of service projects have you and your classmates been involved in? Has participating in service projects changed your thinking about helping others? If so how? — Caren

• Some of the service projects that we take part in are the ICA food drive, collecting and donating hats and mittens, Trick or Treat for Unicef, Toys for Tots, making comfort kits for homeless shelters and the Pennies for Patients fundraiser. Each grade level usually “takes on” a service project and promotes it school wide. At the peace assembly each year, students from each grade level explain what the service project did and what the result was. It is powerful listening to students speak in both English and Chinese about the service they did. (Scenic Heights offers a Chinese immersion program) — Summer Wood

• A service project I have done was making comfort kits. We packed bags filled with soap, razors, deodorant, toothbrushes, toothpaste, etc. We then gave the kits to homeless shelters. This project has definitely changed my thinking about helping others. It makes me feel thankful for all the necessities we are able to afford. — Marin
• A service project I have done is the comfort kits where me and 5th grade classes packed Towels, Toothpaste, Toothbrushes, etc. It changed my outlook on helping people. And also made me want to help out more with the homeless because I feel they should have some food in their bellies. — Andrew
• Some service projects I have done with my classmates are the Toys for Tots fundraiser and the comfort kits, which helped people at homeless shelters stay clean. Each one had a special quote or message inside to make them feel good. — Anna
• My favorite service project was when we made food packs for families that had been hit by hurricane sandy. At the time I didn’t really understand why we did it but now I do. Those people’s homes were destroyed they had nowhere to go and not a lot of food. And now I am so so so thankful for all I have and that I have a nice warm home to come to and in a good neighborhood. — Delaney
• A service project I have participated in is the Toys for Tots fundraiser. It has changed my life forever because I felt like I was really giving back to so many kids. — Meredith
• A service project that I have done is toys for tots I think Toys for Tots for me is about helping other kids who don’t have toys or family. — Kimyra
• A service project that I have done is comfort kits. Comfort kits is packing soap, toothpaste, toothbrush and more. Being involved in service projects has made me feel better knowing that I have helped people in need. — Gus
• I always feel like it is good to do kind things for people. And the service projects do that. You can participate in doing kind things for other people. You can get together to give things that you think are just normal to us but special to others. — Graham O.
• We have done Feed My Starving Children and it makes you really appreciate how lucky we are to live in such a good community. — Peter
• We do lots of service projects but I liked the comfort kits and helping people get jobs. — Addy
• When it was valentines we made kindness kits for homeless people I think that helped us think about kindness. — Kennedy

When I was at Scenic Heights I learned that your school has an environmental learning program. How do you think peace is related to learning about and taking care of the environment? — Caren

• We partnered with the Three Rivers Park District, Richardson Nature Center send environmentalist to our school to help educate the students three times each year. Once in the fall, winter, and spring. In 5th grade they do an invasive species lesson in the fall, winter survival skills in the winter, and they bring raptors in the spring and talk about the raptors found in the area and how to help protect them. The Outdoor Learning Center (OLC) is available to teachers all year. This year my personal goal was to get students connected with nature more often. Most Wednesday’s my class does ‘Wilderness Wednesday’, which quickly became everyone’s favorite subject. During this time we have gone for hikes, went “bowling” with snowballs, invented new winter games, brought books to read, and have done a gratitude practice sitting in nature. It really is amazing to see what fresh air and the time for students to use their imagination can do. — Summer Wood
• When I go to the OLC, I like to just stop and look around and see the happy birds and squirrels playing in the trees and I like to smell the fresh smell of nature. If there was no peace the animals would get mad and fight. And when we are in nature we need to respect the animals and the plants and care for them, and if we didn’t the trees will be cut down and there will be no place for us to go and relax. — Delaney
• I think peace is involved when we visit the OLC, because we are taking care of the fragile plants and animals. We learn to care and love for the earth we have. — Marin
• I think peace is involved with the OLC because we learn how to take care of the planet and it’s other inhabitants such as humans, animals and plants. — Andrew
• I think that peace is involved in nature because it teaches us caring for are environment and I think that most people will pass it on to their classmates. — Meredith
• You can just connect to nature and in the summer it is a beautiful forest and we can learn so much about nature and how to protect it. — Peter
• I think the OLC is involved with peace, because we learn about what we can do to take care of our planet. There’s only one planet suitable for life so where would we go if we couldn’t take care of it correctly? — Anna
• Peace is involved in this because when you get to go outside and do projects at the OLC you get respect, peace, and friends to work with. — Kimyra
• You learn about taking care of our planet. — Graham O.
• The OLC is a place for us to learn about nature and how to take care of it. — Addy
• I think that the OLC helps us think about not littering and polluting the earth so that it stays great. — Kennedy

Do you think having a Scenic Heights peace program helps kids understand the importance of Sachiko’s story, not only as a story of war but about a story of peace? What are your thoughts on this? — Caren

• I think the peace program helps us understand Sachiko’s story, because we learn what power peace can have on this world. We live in a world where destruction and mess are around every corner. But if we make peace in earth, then we can calm any storm. We are peacemakers at this school. — Marin
• I think the peace program helps us understand Sachiko’s story more. But at almost every corner on this world misery and destruction but if WE change our ways in this world, our one and only world we can make this beautiful world so peaceful. — Andrew
• I think every 5th grader in the world should read Sachiko because it is a great historical, peaceful, and hard book to read. — Kennedy
• I think it helps us understand peace, because so much of the story is war-torn and sad. It’s so refreshing to see peace peek through once in a while, and helps us understand its importance. — Anna
• Yes because we know what peace is and have that same longing for worldwide peace and now how we can be peace makers and help make the world a better place for everyone. — Olivia
• Yes because it tells people that anyone can make a difference. — Delaney
• Yes, because Sachiko is a really important person in this story and in other people’s lives but I think we should ask Sachiko some questions about us. — Kimyra
• I think that the peace at our school has helped me with this book of understanding Sachiko’s story. — Meredith
• I think the peace program helps our school understand Sachiko’s story and peace. — Graham O.
• I think her story is really touching just understanding what she has been through. When we think of America we think of this perfect country but after you hear Sachiko’s story it makes you realize that America isn’t so perfect. — Peter
• Yes, if everyone knew they would probably not take stuff for granted that much. — Addy

Mahatma Gandhi said, If we are to teach real peace in this world … we shall have to begin with the children. After visiting Scenic Heights Elementary and being awed by both the speeches of the student survivors at Parkland, Florida’s school shooting and the recent nation-wide, youth-led “March for Our Lives,” I would revise Gandhi’s famous statement:

Last year, 2017, was a big year for Sachiko. I had plenty of opportunities to talk about Sachiko’s story as a Nagasaki atomic bomb survivor. But 2018 is a new year and a blank slate or, to update the phrase, a blank computer screen. What is my next big writing project? If I knew my “one true story,” maybe I could answer that question.

How do we find our “one true story”? Meg Medina offered an answer. Listen. Listen to your deep internal rhythms. Meg listened to the “clave” beat of Cuban jazz and the internal thrum of her Cuban roots. Even as a child, that thrum was there, growing louder as Meg grew older. Out of Meg’s consciousness, intersecting themes emerged: culture, family, and the lives of girls. These themes became Meg’s personal “clave,” a beat to follow for writing and for living her life. To find her story, she asks the questions: Who is frightened? Who is hurt? Who loves? Who needs love? Why does all this matter? Meg digs into the crevices of her memory where remembering and forgetting are braided together. In the crevices of memory, Meg finds the way into her next story—her next big writing project.

Meg Medina is a novelist, a fiction writer. I bend toward narrative nonfiction. Where does my “one true story” lie? Several years ago, I was cleaning out a basement storage closet and found a box labeled—childhood. It was my box of forgetting and remembering. A whiff of mildew spewed out when I opened the box. I sifted through school photos, pencil sketches, notebooks of stories and heartbreaking middle school poetry, a tiny Teddy Bear, and a diary with a broken lock.

I opened the diary. A few blank yellowed pages fell to the floor. I turned the next pages with more care, smiling at my loopy cursive writing. How old was I on these pages? About twelve? I read a few entries with disappointment. Most of the entries were little more than a daily description of events. I turned a few more pages and the diary splayed open to May 21, 1964.

“Tonight at 9:00, Mom, Dad, Bill [my older brother] and I went to Temple to hear Martin Luther King speak … He is the minister that speaks on Civil Rights. I asked Mom if he had ever talked with President Kennedy … She said yes, many times … Dr. King talked about ‘sleeping through a revolution like Rip Van Winkle.’”

At twelve, I caught the line about “sleeping through a revolution like Rip Van Winkle”? Astonishing! I tore the page out of the diary and framed it to remind me of my twelve-year-old self. The framed diary page has been on my bookcase ever since. I’ve wondered how much of my memory of Martin Luther King, Jr., resonated when Sachiko Yasui told me about her own memories of King—how King’s words of love, justice, and peace, so like the words of Sachiko’s father and Mahatma Gandhi, never left her mind. During each visit with Sachiko, she would emphasize how discrimination, racism, and hate are the sparks that ignite war. Each time Sachiko spoke of discrimination, my mind traced back to my childhood days of being the only Jewish kid in my elementary school. The anti-Semitic taunts still live in my inner ear. My father’s nightmare screams from fighting through Nazi Germany still send chills through me. The more I think about writing Sachiko, the more I know I was touching my “one true story,” too.

“Sleeping through a revolution like Rip Van Winkle.” I’ve wondered about that line from my diary for a long time. Why did that line end up in my childhood diary and in my memory? While researching Sachiko, I read nearly all of Martin Luther King’s speeches. When I came across the Rip Van Winkle quote, I smiled. Good for my twelve-year-old self, I had gotten the quote right. Not long after I framed the Martin Luther King diary page, I found another quote on an old calendar: “The wonder we had as children is in our cells. We have only to listen to our memory.” I cut out the quote, and taped the paper to the back of the frame. When I read the quote now, I think of Meg Medina and her “one true story.”

Before I began this essay, I moved the framed diary page from my bookcase to my writing desk. I don’t know if this long-ago diary entry will lead me to my next big writing project or not, but I’m thinking about what’s next. This January, we celebrated Martin Luther King’s 89th birthday. The same issues King addressed—discrimination, fear and hatred of “the other”—are in the news, our politics, our neighborhood, our conversations. I hope to stay wide awake and uncover stories that speak to both our time and my twelve-year-old self. I hope the next story I write, and the one after that, and after that, have at their cores my “one true story.” Those are the stories I hope to write.

Martin Luther King Speaks! Remaining Awake Through a Great Revolution. National Cathedral Washington, D.C., on 31 March 1968. (King referred to the story of Rip Van Winkle in 1958 and throughout his speeches until his death in 1968.)

This past November, I had the opportunity to travel to Nagasaki again to visit Sachiko Yasui. I also had a chance to reconnect with my good friend Dr. Takayuki Miyanishi, Professor of Environmental Science at Nagasaki University and president of the Nagasaki-Saint Paul Sister City Committee. Dr. Miyanishi was also Sachiko Yasui and my translator each time I visited Nagasaki to interview Sachiko for our book project. Dr. Miyanishi gave his time and his heart to our project. He believed in the importance of Sachiko’s story as much as I did. Here is a greeting from Dr. Miyanishi, originally for the Saint Paul-Nagaskai Sister Committee in St. Paul, Minnesota, but truly a holiday message for all of us.

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Have a safe and happy holiday season.

May peace prevail on earth.