Claudia And The First Thanksgiving Part 2

Stacey grabbed a piece of paper and began to write out a list. "Yup, thirty-six," she said after a minute. "Squirt would be the youngest. Nannie would be the oldest." "Awesome," I said. "How could we do it?" "A restaurant, maybe," Abby said. "You know, rent a banquet room. That would probably be expensive, though." "It would be less expensive if we cooked dinner ourselves. But cooking for a lot of people is a lot of work," said Mal. She definitely knew what she was talking about.

The phone rang. "Let's think about it," said Kristy. "We'll brainstorm. We'll come up with something. This is clearly a job for ..." She picked up the phone, grinned at us, and said briskly, "The Baby-sitters Club."

Chapter 5.

Doing research on Thanksgiving meant going to the library. If you think having a mother who is the head librarian is an advantage when it comes to fact-hunting, you're right.

But it's not as big an advantage as you might think. You still have to look up everything yourself. Actually, the main advantage is that the head librarian gives you a ride home afterward.

On Tuesday, Stacey and Abby and I headed for the library, specifically, the children's section, where we'd decided to do a lot of our research. SMS isn't far from the library, so we walked there after school.

"h.e.l.lo, Claudia," said my mom. I'd told her we were coming. She'd promised us a ride home if we were still there when she quit work for the day.

Behind the front desk with my mom, holding a notebook in his hand, was a student librarian. You know, like a student teacher. "Donald, this is my younger daughter Claudia, and her friends Stacey and Abby," my mom said.

We all said h.e.l.lo. And Donald added, "I know your sister Janine. She's in one of my cla.s.ses at college." "Great," I replied. I mean, what can you say to a comment like that?

Abby said, "We're here to do research for our Short Takes cla.s.s at school. On Thanksgiving." "That's a big subject," said my mom. "Could you narrow it down for us?" Quickly we explained our drama project. "So we think we should do most of our research in the kids' section. You know, to keep it easy enough for the third-graders to understand," Abby concluded.

"I'm sure you know how to use the computer catalog to look up subjects and find out where the books are," Donald said to me.

"Ah, well," I mumbled.

"I do," said Stacey. "Are the children's books cataloged with the adult books in the computer?" Donald nodded. "The children's books, both fiction and nonfiction, are listed with the letter ']' in front of the call number. That means juvenile books. A JP means juvenile picture book. JE means juvenile easy reader." "Thanks," said Abby.

"You know where the children's books are?" Donald asked.

I could give Donald a more enthusiastic yes on that. I might not be a big reader, but some of my earliest memories involve coming to the library with my mom or with Mimi, and sitting in the cheerfully decorated children's room, looking at JPs while Janine loaded up with books for (much) older readers. And I had very definite tastes in picture book ill.u.s.trators even before I could read. So when I'd come to visit my mom at her new job at this library, the first place I'd checked out was the children's room.

Stacey scanned through the computer and we made a list of possibilities. Then we headed for the children's room. It was practically empty. We divided up the t.i.tles and went in search of them, then regrouped at a table in a corner.

"Whew," said Abby, thumping down an armload of books. "Thanksgiving is a very popular topic." "Some of these books are ancient," I said. "Look at this one. The pages are starting to turn yellow." Abby and I settled in and started taking notes. Stacey had headed off for the adult reference section, to see if she could find any books about the Pilgrims and the first Thanksgiving there. After awhile I realized that she hadn't returned.

"I wonder where Stacey is," I said.

"Beats me," said Abby, flipping the pages of a book called Molly's Pilgrim. "Check this out, Claudia. It says that the Pilgrims' idea for celebrating Thanksgiving came from the Jewish holiday of Tabernacles. It's what we call Sukkot now." "Really?" I said. "Let me see that when you're through." "Sure." I stood up and went to look for Stacey. She was standing in the stacks reading. The t.i.tle of the book was Good Money.

"Urn, Stacey?" She slammed the book shut guiltily. "It's about how to invest money in good things. You know, companies that don't hurt the environment," she explained.

"So check it out and take it home," I said, using the stern librarian tone I'd heard my mother use. "Right now the subject is Pilgrims. And Thanksgiving." By the time the library closed, we had pages and pages of notes, and about half a dozen books we'd checked out. That's the other main advantage of having a mother who's the head librarian. You can wait until the library is almost closed and still check your books out.

Other people in our cla.s.s had been doing research, too, of course. Erica had even gone to the college library. Our cla.s.s spent the rest of the week putting our notes together and pa.s.sing around the books we'd gathered. Then we made up a story. We kept it pretty simple.

In the story, it is the night before Thanksgiving. A girl named Alice falls asleep. (We chose Alice because of Alice in Wonderland.) She wakes up at the first Thanksgiving. No one can see her except for the Pilgrim and Native American children. As they help prepare the feast, the children and Alice talk.

Alice learns about their Thanksgiving, and tells them about Thanksgiving now. She is as amazed by some of their customs and foods as they are by her stories of the present. Alice doesn't quite believe them about everything. And they don't quite believe Alice.

From time to time Alice turns to the audience to act as a narrator, and to make comments about the differences between the first Thanksgiving and the holiday we celebrate today. She talks about the different roles of women then and now (and how women still aren't treated as equals), the relations.h.i.+p between the Native Americans and the Pilgrims and how that has also changed. Alice points out the fact that although the Pilgrims came to the "New World" for religious freedom, they didn't always tolerate the religions of others, or encourage independent thinking, for that matter. It wasn't very long after the first Thanksgiving that women - and a few men - were hanged as witches in Salem, Ma.s.sachusetts.

When the feast is ready, the children hurry to join in. Alice turns to the audience and says there is much to celebrate now, as there was then, but there is still much work to be done. Thanksgiving is a celebration of what has been done, and what can be done. Then she yawns . . . and wakes up, back in the present, as her mother calls her to start getting ready for Thanksgiving.

We officially presented the final copy of the script to Ms. Garcia the following Monday.

Ms. Garcia really liked it. "I'm very impressed," she said. "You have been thorough, accurate, and original, yet the play is simple enough to appeal to any third-grader. I'll make copies. I'm going to a.s.sign costume and set design planning for tonight's homework. We'll discuss that tomorrow, and then on Wednesday, we'll go to Stoneybrook Elementary School to meet our third-graders." I was a.s.signed to scenery design, Pilgrim division. That evening, I settled down with a pile of picture books from the library. I had just started sketching a Pilgrim house when the phone rang.

"Claudia. Good. You're home." "Hi, Kristy," I said.

"Listen, you know Thanksgiving?" "More than you would ever believe," I answered, looking at the stack of picture books.

That blew right by Kristy. She was focused on an idea, and nothing was going to stop her. "You know how everyone's plans fell through, and we've been trying to figure out how we could all have Thanksgiving together?" "Thirty-six people," I said. "The Pilgrims had ninety Native Americans, plus their chief, at the first Thanksgiving." "Well, we don't have that many," said Kristy, unimpressed. "But I was thinking: Why not have Thanksgiving dinner at my house? I mean, it's big enough." "Kristy!" I gasped. "That's a super idea. And much nicer than a restaurant or a hotel banquet room." "I thought so," Kristy said, sounding very satisfied with herself. Then she paused, "Of course, I don't know what my mother and Watson will think of the idea." "If anybody can convince them, you can," I said. It was true. Kristy is the definition of determined. I sometimes think that people do what she wants because it's easier than trying to oppose her.

"Why don't we talk about it at our next meeting," I suggested. "We can plan how you'll present the idea of a mega-Thanksgiving feast to them." "Okay. Great. Will you call Stacey and let her know? I'll call Mary Anne, and she can phone Abby, and - " "And Stacey can tell Jessi, and Jessi can phone Mal," I finished.

"Done," said Kristy. "See you tomorrow." She hung up the phone. Kristy doesn't waste time - or words.

"Pumpkin pie, pecan pie, sweet potato pie," I hummed, as I went back to designing Pilgrim scenery.

Chapter 6.

"Do you think you can stay together, or should I a.s.sign you partners?" asked Ms. Garcia, her eyes twinkling. We all groaned.

"Come on, then. Let's go." It was Wednesday. Our Short Takes cla.s.s headed out the door of SMS and over to Stoneybrook Elementary School, to meet the prospective cast and crew of Alice and the Pilgrims.

The third-graders had a.s.sembled in the auditorium. I admit, I was a little daunted when we walked through the door and all those eager faces turned toward us. Plus the energy generated by that many third-graders in one place is amazing. Naturally, we three BSC members saw some faces in the crowd we recognized, such as Becca Ramsey and Charlotte Johanssen.

The princ.i.p.al, Ms. Reynolds, took it in stride. She welcomed us and motioned us onto the stage, where we sat in a row of chairs. She followed us onto the stage, then held up her hands and cleared her throat.

"Can everybody hear me?" Ms. Reynolds asked. Her voice wasn't very loud, but it was penetrating. I watched in amazement as three cla.s.ses of third-graders settled down.

Ms. Reynolds introduced our cla.s.s. Then we went down the row and said our names. Erica explained our drama project and told the kids that we had written a play about Thanksgiving for them.

Then it was Abby's turn. She explained that we needed actors, director's a.s.sistants, and a stage crew. "We're giving your teachers a sign-up sheet to post in your cla.s.srooms. We're also going to give each teacher a list of the characters in the play, plus a list of the different kinds of jobs you can do if you don't want to be onstage. You can sign up to try out for a part in the play, or help paint scenery, make costumes, or be an a.s.sistant. On Friday, after school, we're going to hold tryouts for parts in the play. Next week, after school each day and all next weekend, we'll rehea.r.s.e and make the costumes and scenery. We'll put on the play the Monday before Thanksgiving, and you can invite your families, friends, and teachers to come." Excited murmurs were building in the auditorium. Ms. Reynolds stepped in again, and calmed the kids down enough for them to be led back to their cla.s.srooms.

"It looks as if you are going to have a lot of eager volunteers," she said, turning and smiling at us.

"We hope so," said Abby. "We've written a great play." "I'm sure you have," said Ms. Reynolds. "See you Friday afternoon." Did I say that the auditorium full of third-graders was noisy on Wednesday?

Wednesday was peaceful compared to Friday afternoon. The sign-up sheets were a jumble of names, half in careful letters, half almost unreadable. And the auditorium itself was a jumble of the kids at high speed. Fortunately, the princ.i.p.al and one of the third grade teachers had stayed after school to help out, so with Ms. Garcia and the fifteen of us in the Short Takes cla.s.s, we had enough people to hold the auditions.

Barely.

I recognized many of the names from babysitting. Becca Ramsey and Charlotte Johanssen had signed up for costumes and scenery. That figured. Charlotte had overcome enough of her shyness to be a cheerleader for Kristy's softball team, the Krushers, but she still hates the idea of being onstage. And although Becca loves to try to imitate Jessi's ballet moves, she's not crazy about any kind of performance.

I was glad to see that they had decided to partic.i.p.ate anyway.

The kids who were trying out for parts, by and large, didn't have any problems with shyness. Nicky Pike and Buddy Barrett both wanted to play Native Americans. But not just any Native Americans - they wanted to be chiefs.

"With big feather headdresses," stated Nicky firmly.

"Not possible," said Rick Chow, looking frazzled.

Nicky crossed his arms and frowned ferociously. "Why not?" "We'll explain later," said Rick. "Go stand over there with the others who want to play Native Americans." "Miles Standishes, Giles Hopkinses, and Remember Allertons over here!" I heard Abby shout.

Meanwhile, the rest of us were rounding up students and handing out copies of the lines we wanted them to read. We decided not to hand out the scripts until after we'd cast the play.

"I want to be Miles Standish," announced Carolyn Arnold.

"Ha!" Jake Kuhn scoffed. "You can't be. You're a girl, not a boy!" "Well, then, you can't be Squanto," Carolyn shot back, "because you're not really a Native American!" That stopped Jake for a moment. I hastily intervened. "Of course you can try out for the part of Miles Standish, Carolyn. That's what acting is all about - pretending to be a different person." Jake frowned, but he didn't say anything else. Carolyn gave him a triumphant look and went over to join the "Miles Standishes." At last everyone was organized, and the tryouts began. The kids read their lines in pairs.

"Welcome to this land," Buddy Barrett shouted. "Welcome to our home." "We have traveled far across the water to find a new home and freedom," Marilyn Arnold shouted back.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" called Abby, her hands over her ears. "Why are you shouting?" "So everyone can hear us?" said Buddy.

"You don't have to shout," Abby explained. "Talk in a loud, clear voice. But don't shout." "You're shouting," said Marilyn.

Abby wrinkled her nose. "Let's cut a deal, okay? I don't shout, you don't shout. Deal?" "Deal," said Marilyn. She turned to Buddy.

"We have traveled far across the water," she repeated. "But how do you know our language?" Jake folded his arms and looked smug. "I've been around," he said.

Everyone cracked up. We had to start over again.

We really weren't looking for Academy Award actors. We just wanted to make sure the kids were comfortable on the stage and could be heard. We'd pretty much decided to give roles to everybody who tried out, though they wouldn't necessarily be cast in the roles they'd tried out for.

Betsy Sobak's acting came as a nice surprise. Although she'd looked at the sheet of paper with her lines for only a few minutes, she spoke in a clear, carrying voice without reading. She paused and turned and even gestured.

It was awesome.

"Don't look now," I whispered to Stacey, "but I think we just found our Alice." When we had finished reading, we thanked everybody for coming. The princ.i.p.al reminded the kids that rehearsals would begin on Mon- day after school. "We'll post the list of parts, so you can find out first thing Monday morning," she told the third-graders. "And we'll give out copies of the script then, too." After the kids had left, we were able to cast the play pretty quickly. There weren't many major roles. Betsy Sobak won the role of Alice by unanimous consent. We argued a little over letting Carolyn Arnold be Miles Standish, but eventually we decided to do that. Some of the girls were going to have to be Pilgrim men, anyway, since by the end of the first winter, only six of the eighteen married women who sailed aboard the Mayflower were left alive in the colony.

None of the boys had tried out for Pilgrim women roles. Hmmm . . .

In the end, everyone who didn't get a speaking part was cast as a Pilgrim or a Native American. Besides Alice, the main characters were: two Pilgrim children, a girl and a boy, to be played by Marilyn Arnold and Buddy Barrett; Squanto, the sole survivor of the Pautuxet people, who'd acted as an interpreter for the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag people, to be played by Jake Kuhn; and Ma.s.sasoit, the Chief of the Wampanoag people, t& be played by James Hobart.

We handed the list over to the princ.i.p.al and headed out of the auditorium.

"We're making good progress," said Abby.

Stacey looked at her watch. "We better make even better progress right now. Our BSC meeting starts in twelve minutes." I shrieked, "Oh, no! The Kristy monster!" We-began to run for my house.

Chapter 7.

"Jake's at school being Squanto, Friend of the Pilgrims," announced Patsy Kuhn when Mary Anne arrived at the Kuhns' house to baby-sit on Monday afternoon. Patsy is five.

"Mom read that to her from a book," Laurel informed me. She's six, but around Patsy she tries to act as if she is far, far older. "About Squanto." "That's right," said Mrs. Kuhn with a smile. "Do you think you could pick him up after his rehearsal? It should be over around four-thirty." "No problem," Mary Anne said.

But not long after Mrs. Kuhn left, Mary Anne realized that she probably wouldn't need to wait until four-thirty to go to the elementary school.

"What do you do at a reversal?" asked Patsy.

"It's not a reversal, it's a rehearsal," Laurel corrected her.

"Okay," said Patsy. She fixed her brown eyes on Mary Anne expectantly.

"You practice," Mary Anne explained. "You know, do it over and over again until you get it right." "Like the alphabet," Patsy said, nodding.

"It's better than that," said Laurel. "Isn't it, Mary Anne?" Mary Anne looked from one to the other. It did not take a rocket scientist to figure out the activity of choice for Patsy and Laurel that afternoon.

"Would you like to go to the school and watch your brother rehea.r.s.e?" "Yes!" both girls shrieked instantly.

"Give me five minutes and we're on our way," Mary Anne promised.

She took the five minutes to put together a mini-Kid Kit in her backpack (crayons and coloring books, a simple puzzle, a magnetic game of checkers, and a picture book featuring Big Bird). After writing Mrs. Kuhn a quick note to let her know where they were (in case Mrs. Kuhn returned early), Mary Anne took Patsy and Laurel by the hand and headed for Stoneybrook Elementary School. Both girls were tremendously excited.

"Will it be hard to find Jake?" Patsy asked. "How do you know where to go?" "They're having the rehearsal in the auditorium," Mary Anne said. "I know where it is, because I went to school here once." Patsy said, "I'll be in first grade next year. I'm going to be in plays and rehea.r.s.e every day." Hiding a smile at Patsy's picture of life in first grade, Mary Anne steered the girls around to the auditorium. They slipped through the rear door and settled down in seats in the back.

Mary Anne spotted me at the back of the auditorium (although I hadn't seen her yet) and pointed me out to Laurel and Patsy. At that moment, I had just spread out the big sheet of paper that was going to be the backdrop for the play. I'd drawn fir trees, and a path that disappeared into the trees. In the back corner I'd sketched one of the houses that the Pilgrims had built. On a separate sheet of posterboard, I'd drawn a picture of the Mayflower, on which Rebecca was working with Lindsay DeWitt.

"Claudia's in charge of the scenery," Mary Anne explained. "The kids who are helping her are called the crew. Over there in that corner, with Stacey, is the costume crew. They are working on the costumes." "Crew," said Patsy, storing the information for future use.

Meanwhile, up on stage, Betsy's "mother" said to her, "Time to go to sleep. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. Good night, Alice." "Good night," said Betsy. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, then pretended to lie down. A moment later she sat up and frowned. "Where am I? Who are you?" "I am Metacom," said Nicky Pike. "I am the youngest son of Ma.s.sasoit, Chief of the Wampanoag. My people have come to join the Pilgrims today, for their feast of Thanksgiving." "I am Remember Allerton," said the girl, who was really Marilyn. "I am a Pilgrim, and a Saint." "I am Giles Hopkins," said Buddy Barrett, as the boy. "I am a Pilgrim and a Stranger." He paused and scowled. "I'd rather be a Native American." "Whoa," said Abby. "You can't say that, Buddy. Start your speech again. And remember, Giles is a very, very important Pilgrim. A star." Buddy looked a little happier. He delivered his speech again.

"I don't understand," said Alice. "What is a Saint? What is a Stranger?" Remember and Giles explained to Alice that the people who had come to America on the Mayflower weren't all seeking religious freedom. In fact, only about a third of the voyagers were religious rebels, separatists who wanted no part of the Church of England. They called themselves Saints, after the Biblical term meaning G.o.d's chosen people. The rest of the one hundred and two people aboard the Mayflower, whom the Saints dubbed "Strangers," were members of the Church of England. Despite their differences, the Pilgrims, both Saints and Strangers, had decided to stick together when they had at last landed at Plymouth. They'd even drawn up an agreement called the Mayflower Compact. All the Saints and Strangers had voted on it and signed it - except, of course, the women and children.

"Why didn't they sign it?" asked Alice.

"Well, of course, they can't vote," said Remember, looking surprised.

"Why can't the women vote?" "Women are the property of men," said Remember. "Women have no legal rights. They have to do what the men say. They do not vote." "That's stupid," protested Betsy, forgetting her character.

"Betsy," said Abby warningly.