“The tap…tap…tapping came ever-nearer, marking a ghostly rhythm on the cold, dead cobbles. Tap…tap…tapping its way past the sleeping houses that lined the moonlit street.
“Tap…tap…It stopped beneath the window of the room where the gravedigger lay huddled in his bed. Then the voice of a dead child rang out in the silence. ‘Where’s my wooden leeeee-eg?’”
Daylian (who can’t stop talking for medical reasons) and Roman (who is obsessively compelled to aim derisive remarks at Aaron from across the room) are hanging on my every word. It is one of those rare moments in my career when I have the complete and utter attention of every child in class.
This afternoon I’m modelling storytelling. It is an art that should be cultivated in classrooms everywhere. Encouraging children to recount legends, fairytales or even ghost stories in their own words has many educational benefits, including developing flexibility in thinking and speaking.
A soft landing for an exhausted teacher
Right now, however, I have a more important reason for using it.
What an exhausted teacher needs most when staggering towards the end of a hard day is something that will provide a soft landing.
“If you all put your learning in a neat pile, tidy up the classroom and sit in your carpet place in the next five minutes, I might just have time to tell you a story. Yes, of course it’s a ghost story. Yes, of course it’s a true one…”
Where children are concerned, there is nothing more seductive than a ghost story. Especially one that has a surprise ending.
I have collected many such tales over the years, and this is my favourite. When all the children are seated, I close the blinds, turn out the lights, switch on my battery-powered candle and begin.
The curious incident of the dug in the nighttime
My story describes a curious incident that occurred exactly where our school stands now. In the year 1719, the son of the Earl of Arbourthorne lost his leg in a riding accident. Torn apart by grief, the rich earl purchased his son a wooden leg carved in oak and encrusted with precious jewels. I add tap…tap sound effects, using a metre stick, to demonstrate its use.
When the boy later died from an infection, his distraught father insisted that the leg was buried with him, and the gravedigger saw his chance. He crept into the churchyard after dark, dug up the body, stole the leg and hid it under his bed.
But, in the dead of night, the gravedigger was woken by a tap…tap…tapping. This was followed by a wailing voice saying: “Where’s my wooden leeeee-eg?”
When the tapping reached his bedroom door, the gravedigger blew his candle out. (I switch mine off.) He listened as the bedroom door creaked open and…“YOU’VE GOT IT!” shrieked a voice.
The children’s screams and laughter give way to a pitiful howling. Even after his mum arrives and wraps him in her arms, Daniel remains inconsolable. Apparently he is acutely sensitive to scary stories, which is odd because the next day he’s the one begging me to tell another.
Steve Eddison is a teacher at Arbourthorne Community Primary School in Sheffield
