Soldiers, Students and Storytellers: A Braided Essay

Soldiers, Students, and Storytellers: A Braided Essay

~ ~ 1 ~ ~

“It’s the President!” Sheldon shouted in excitement when he saw the tall man walking through the camp. He dropped the rifle he was cleaning and ran towards the crowd gathering to get closer to their hero.

“Mr. President, Mr. President” soldier after soldier cried out as they lined up, side by side, creating a path for the man they called “Honest Abe.” Sheldon joined the others in their jubilant shouts.

“Mr. President” he yelled, pushing through the front line and extending his hand as far out as he could. President Lincoln paused, turned and proceeded to shake hands with the soldiers lined up to meet him. Sheldon was one of those soldiers.

In July 1861, the Union troops were preparing for what would later be known as The Battle of Bull Run, the battle that marked the beginning of the Civil War. The confidence of winning the battle permeated through the camp. A confidence that would prove to be premature.

Sheldon Russell Curtis, ‘Say’ to his family and friends, had been swept up in all the excitement and energy of going to war and jumped at the chance to join the Ohio Twenty-Fourth regiment. He didn’t mind that he would only be allowed to carry the staff. He just wanted to be a part of history. He was 15 years old.

~ ~ 2 ~ ~

“Hey, Mrs. V!” Dylan entered the library by jumping up and reaching for the door frame, “Nailed it!” he announced as he literally leapt into the library.

“Uhm, maybe we could come into the library like a gentleman and not a kangaroo?” I asked in my practiced teacher's voice.

“Oops, sorry about that.” he said sheepishly as he made his way to the back of the carpet, plopped down with a grunt and pulled his hoody up over his head.

My years as a children’s librarian had its rewards and challenges. Fifth grade boys usually fell into the ‘challenge’ category. Their minds were more focused on recess, sports teams, video games and pranks involving body noises - not on reading. Dylan was by far one of my greatest. Greatest challenges, that is. For him, library class seemed to be a 50-minute break to either take a nap or pester the girls sitting in front of him. I let him be as long as he didn’t disrupt the others. Some battles were best left alone.

~ ~ 3 ~ ~

Patricia Polacco is a prolific author and illustrator of children’s picture books. Her ability in creating scenes that captivated my young listeners kept her books at the top of my list of favorite read-a-louds. Through dialogue, description and her unique style of illustrating, she sweeps the reader into her own personal life or the lives of someone in her family. Her books and her stories leave impressions that are not soon forgotten.

Many years ago, I had the honor of meeting Patricia Polacco when she spoke at a local bookstore where I worked. Listening to her was mesmerizing. She would not read from her stories due to a lifelong challenge of being dyslexic. But oh, could she tell a story! With her Russian flamboyance and her Michiganian accent, Ms. Polacco brought the words of her books to life. Just like her stories, she was a force you didn’t soon forget.

~ ~ 4 ~ ~

After a year of seeing battle, Say quickly became disenchanted by the so-called glamour of war. When the reality of what it really means to fight in a battle, he opted to run. As was custom for deserters during the Civil War, he was shot. The bullet hit his leg. He wasn’t killed, but he was stranded in an open field in Georgia - Confederate Territory.

Later the same day, another soldier found him lying in the field. A black soldier named Pinkus Aylee who had gotten lost from his regiment. He was on his way to his mother’s home in the hopes of finding some provisions and a place to rest before returning to battle. He had just turned 17.

Pinkus, seeing Say’s condition, brought him home with him. He knew his mother could take care of both of them. And she did. A friendship ensued between the young white soldier wanting to leave the war and the young black soldier wanting to return. Both had their reasons. Both also knew they were sitting ducks in Confederate ruled Georgia. They would need to leave.

Unfortunately, they didn’t leave soon enough. Within a week of their arrival at Pinkus’ home, they were captured by marauders and taken to Andersonville Prison. Entering the prison gates and knowing his fate, Pinkus reached for Say’s hand and held on tightly, commenting that he wanted to touch the hand that had touched the hand of Abraham Lincoln. Shortly after their arrival, the two friends were separated. Say was sent to the section for white soldiers. He would be kept as a prisoner of war. Pinkus was sent to the section for black slaves. He would be hung immediately.

~ ~ 5 ~ ~

As I read the last page and closed the book, a marked hush fell over the class. A definite contrast to the rowdy group of classmates that had entered the library less than thirty minutes later.

“He was killed? a soft-spoken petite girl asked with tears streaming down her cheeks as she sat at my feet.

“Yes, he was,” I said softly, trying to regain my own composure as well. I had read this book for over ten years, and I still choked up every time I shared the story with a new group of students.

I chose not to ask follow-up questions. There are times when words cannot help our children process tragedies and suffering. There are times when providing a quiet space for students to absorb and reflect is the best thing a teacher can offer. This was one of those times.

The silence was broken by a student’s question. To my surprise, it was Dylan. He had pulled his hoodie down and was looking at me with intense concentration.

“So ‘Pink’ was Pinkus and ‘Say’ was Sheldon?”

“Yes,” I replied, smiling at his questioning eyes. ”The story, Pink and Say, by Patricia Polacco is about her great-grandfather Sheldon and the young black soldier, Pinkus Aylee.

Realizing class was almost over, I dismissed the group to go check out their books. The students rose and headed toward the book stacks. Silence again took hold of each of them as they continued to process the picture book we had just shared.

As I walked toward the circulation desk, I heard my name being called.

“Mrs. Vincent,” it was Dylan again. “Didn’t you meet Patricia Polacco in person?” he asked while walking up to me.

“Yes, I did,” I replied, surprised that he had remembered.

“Do you remember if you shook her hand?” he continued, his head tilted up towards me.

“Well, yes of course. I greeted her when she came into the store. Why do you ask?”

Dylan stood there for a minute and then as grin spread across his face, he put out his hand. “May I shake your hand?”

I looked at him puzzled and extended my hand, “Okay? Is there some reason?”

As he took my hand to shake, he gave me a look I will never forget. It was a mix of reverence and cleverness all rolled up into one.

“Thank you,” he answered, his grin growing even wider, "I have now touched the hand that touched the hand that touched the hand that touched the hand that touched the hand that touched the hand of President Lincoln!” I laughed so loud, the other students stopped and looked at me. “Shh” they whispered with index fingers sweeping up and touching their lips mimicking my frequently used pose.

I had never made the connection between Polacco and Lincoln before now. It took Dylan to do that. My tall black ten-year old student, who loved his sports and delighted in acting up in my class. My student who I thought never listened to anything I said in class. I was wrong.

~~ 6~~

The Civil War was the deadliest conflict at home in our country’s history. From 1861 to 1865, the Union troops battled the Confederate troops, neighbor against neighbor and at times, brother against brother. Total loss of lives is estimated at over 750,000.

At the helm during this devastating time was President Abraham Lincoln – a man who was hailed a hero in some circles and cast as a tyrant, bowing to the radical abolitionists, in other circles. He was also a president who understood the need for healing, for forgiveness, for grace.

Because of his efforts to remove racism in our country over 150 years ago, I had the honor of helping children from all ethnicities learn the joy of great stories and great storytellers like Patricia Polacco. Many things can be said about Lincoln, but I think we can all agree that he never gave up on the hope that our country could be reunited and recognized as the ‘United’ States of America.