Where the Wild Things Are

“Max’s mother called him, ‘Wild Thing!’  And Max said, ‘I’ll eat you up!’  So he was sent to bed without eating anything.  That very night in Max’s room a forest grew and grew and grew until his ceiling hung with vines and the walls became the world all around.”

There is not a single person on this planet that cannot relate to the above scenario.  Children and parents have stood toe-to-toe since time began.  Children are naughty sometimes.  They just are.  Parents get exasperated.  They just do.  Eventually children are remorseful and parents suffer the nagging guilt of having been too hasty or too harsh or too heavy handed.  My children’s pediatrician in Vermont used to say, “Mother guilt makes the world go ‘round.”  It is entirely true.  I have personally caused the world to spin wildly on its axis a time or two.

I spent entirely too much of my young years being the naughty, obstinate child.  I seem to have a propensity for stumbling into trouble.  I believe it is part and parcel of possessing the soul of an adventurer and the mind of a prankster.  I became quite familiar with the interior of the principal’s office in my elementary years, had some insightful conversations with my middle school administrator, and even visited the Dean of Students a time or two in my college years.  Yes, Max and I would have made great friends.

Last week I read this Maurice Sendak classic to my first graders and watched with delight as it worked its timeless magic in their wondrous minds.  They were enthralled and identified with Max immediately.

“And when he came to the place where the wild things are, they roared their terrible roars, and gnashed their terrible teeth, and rolled their terrible eyes, and showed their terrible claws until Max said, ‘be still!’ and tamed them with the magic trick of staring into all their yellow eyes without blinking once.  And they were frightened and called him the most wild thing of all and made him king of all wild things.” 

(I have a son who holds the same magical powers, I am sure.  He always had a way of talking otherwise intelligent children into doing his devious bidding.  Wonder where he got THAT??!!  No names here… OK, it’s Ryan…).

After reading the book aloud this week, my Darlings made Wild Things masks from downloaded templates and oil pastel crayons.  They are stunning.  I laminated them for durability, stapled tongue depressors to them, and set them aside. 

They also chose a page from the book to illustrate and will create a story plot line to hang in the hall this coming week.  We used discarded wallpaper books to make paper collages (thank you, UMary art teacher, Julie Drevlow!), and experimented with watercolor paints for an entirely different art medium experience.

But the best came yesterday…

“And now, ‘cried Max, ‘let the wild rumpus start!’”

After lunch recess, we got through the usual noisy process of rehydrating at the fountain, replaying the best and worst of recess (everyday has its own drama), and settled in for our read aloud story time.  This is a favorite time of day, both theirs and mine.  Nothing can replace hearing good literature read aloud.  To every parent of young children reading this, the greatest literacy gift you can give your child is to read aloud to them every single day.  Choose quality books and make it a daily ritual. 

This day we did things a little differently.  After they had rehashed who the King of the Playground was for the day, I sat them down for one more reading of the book.  When the last word hung in the air, I looked at them mischievously and declared, “Let the wild rumpus start!”  “YAY!!!,” was heard all around.

I handed out the hand colored masks, gave each child a stack of Bugles snacks for claws, and found a good dancin’ song on my itunes list.  Then they danced and “roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes, and showed their terrible claws.”  It was great fun.  For a few moments they were granted permission to be acceptably wild.  I do feel badly for the class just above ours.  We must be a terrible distraction at times.

Too soon the party pooper clock declared that it was time to scuttle off to the daily reading groups spread throughout the building and I was forced to say, “now stop!”  And I sent them off the bed without their supper… (Not true.  They took their claws with them to munch on). 

Why does this tale still captivate children and adult alike?

The joy and privilege of teaching in mid-life is having a beautiful perspective of both today and tomorrow.  The terrible, awful deeds we have done tell deceptive lies in our ear and try to convince us that on some level, the world has now ended and life will never be wonderful and innocent again.  Children struggle to find perspective in the face of trouble and its resulting punishment. 

But age and years of mothering assure me that life will feel more manageable tomorrow and the poor choices they have made today will eventually become an infrequent memory that is no more than an annoying, buzzing insect in our recollections, at best.  You think your best friend hates you today?  Tomorrow you’ll be thick as thieves once again.  Said something stupid?  Tomorrow it’ll be the kid next to you that will be the object of laughter and your faux pas will be forgotten.  My Wild Things, like children everywhere, will have bad days here and there, but most of their sweet childhood will be filled with light, beauty, and wonderment as they feel their way into mature adulthood.

I know this because children are hard-wired to want their parent’s/teacher’s/significant adult’s love and approval.  They will learn their lessons and endure their consequences because in the end, knowing all is well with those they love best trumps all.

“And Max, the king of all wild things was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.  Then all around from far away across the world he smelled good things to eat so he gave up being king of where the wild things are.”

When once they are assured that all is forgiven, then the sun comes out once more and life is good and filled with happiness.  We adults look back on our childhood with something akin to jealousy.  We only see how carefree we were.  No bills to pay, no deadlines, no daily grind pressures.  Just the everyday stuff of watching our bodies grow and change shape, and filling our heads with new information.  But life is NOT easy when you are kid.  It is because of the very reason I previously mentioned.  Kids don’t possess much of a baseline in the perspective department.  Everything feels too big and too overwhelming at times. 

This is why their needs are so basic; food, shelter, education, boundaries, and love.  Above all and over all, unconditional, unwavering love. 

“…Max stepped into his private boat and waved good-bye.  And sailed back over a year and in and out of weeks and through a day and into the night of his very own room where he found his supper waiting for him.  And it was still hot.”

Forgiven and loved.  Max in the story and My Darlings in real life.

I love this book because its message needs to be heard by every child. 

You WILL have bad days but you will never cease to be loved.

Let the rumpus begin…