Brilliant Star/Volume 18/Issue 2/Text

volume 18 number 2

Brilliant Star

may-june 1986

Azamat Grandeur e Nur Light e Rahmat Mercy 143

Dear Children,

Have you ever felt uncomfortable because of something that was different about you? Maybe you felt odd because you were the only one in your class who didn't celebrate Christmas. Have you ever felt happy and perhaps a little proud because there was something different and special about you? Maybe your got to give a talk about Baha‘ holidays and you held a party for your class at Ayyam-i-Ha. Being different is a test and a blessing all at the same time, and part of growing up ts learning to work at seeing the challenges of being different as a chance to learn and grow. That’s a big job and it’s not always easy! Maybe what is different and special about you is something you have to search for. Perhaps what is different about you the whole world can see, and you must make peace with that unique thing about you. This issue of Brilliant Star is about special people, and we hope that it invites you to think more about what is special and one-of-a-kind about each person you meet, and also about yourself.

As we learn to think more about what a treasure each one of us is, we can become better workers for peace For the International Year of Peace, this issue also looks at world peace through education. Let us know what is your special talent, or what you love best about your

friends or family! Love,

Youn edi hr.

PS. Don’t forget, when you see the dove logo, what you are reading may be helpful as you celebrate the International Year of Peace.

About the cover

“The Diagnosis” by Paula Henderson. Pastel and gouache on paper, about

19 inches by 24 inches, 1984.

This is the artist’s daughter, Angela, as she tenderly tries

to diagnose the illness of her Teddy Bear.

Brilliant Star is a publication of the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahaiis of the United States. It is published six times each year, in January, March, May, July, September and November. Copyright © 1986 National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahaiis of the United States. World rights reserved.

Address manuscripts and other editorial contributions to Brilliant Star/Radpour, Suburban Office Park, 5010 Austin Rd., Hixson, Tn. 37343. Manuscripts should be typewritten and double-spaced throughout. Brilliant Star does not offer monetary compensation to its contributors. Return postage should be included if manuscript is to be returned. Single copy $2.50; 6 issues (one year) $12.00; 12 issues (two years) $23.00; foreign, surface mail, one year $15.00, two years $28.00; foreign, air mail, one year $25.00, two years $47.50. An index for the preceding year's issues is available for $2.00. For subscriptions, change of address and adjustments write to Brilliant Star Subscriber Service, Suburban Office Park, 5010 Austin Rd., Hixson, Tn. 37343. All other correspondence should be addressed to Brilliant Star/Richards, 4 Village Dr., Yardville, N.J. 08620. Printed in the U.S.A.

Brilliant Star is intended for children of all ages and

strives to:

e develop the child's awareness of the oneness of humanity

e increase the child's conscious awareness of his spiritual nature and the need for its development

e develop the child’s reasoning power and stimulate his love for the order of the universe

provide a standard by which the child may learn to relate to others with love and justice

e assist parents and teachers in developing all of the child's hidden talents and virtues

ISSN 0884-3635

Brilliant Star Editorial Board

Mary K. Radpour Managing Director

Deborah Bley Editor-in-Chief

Mimi McClellan Music Editor

Rita Leydon Art Director

Rita Leydon Production

Janet Richards Secretary

Keith Boehme Consultant [Page 1]

whats inside

Letters From 2 Our Friends

Sarah’s Vision 4 of Peace

an article by Anne Gordon Atkinson

A Special 8 Little Person

a photo essay by

D. Bley and M. Block

By Heart 12

Ten Martyred 13 Women of Shiraz a poem by Tahirih Khodadoust Foroughi

Roya 14 | Kitchen Sink 25 a story for early Water Fountain readers by a potentially messy Mary K. Radpour activity by

President

LE ® Rita Leydon

Th

a

The Children’s 16 | Wheelbarrow 26 / lon a kN) World Peace Crusade | Joe and the Ue a a sampling of letters to | Invincible Sword

Reagan a story by R. Gregory Shaw _/'%

} Fares pest ReAcAns THe WHT house

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Pa ra ig be

The Show Must 18 eos ~ \ . Go On v <a? ~. a story by Ld ea

Gloria Boudreau

Our House of 24

7) ny

Dot to Dot 30 by Rita Leydon

Who Is the Child? 312

a song by Susan Engle and

Michael Moutrie

Book Nook 32

Worship in India Parents’ Page 33 [Page 2]

Letters from our friends

Marabeth Reichel drew us this desert scene, and put the brilliant star prayer on it. She lives in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, and is 10 years old.

Jesse Richards is seven, and lives in Yardville, New Jersey. He wrote this story about Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr: Dr. Martin Luther King had a dream. He wanted everyone to love each other and live like brothers. I have a dream, too. I want everybody in the world to have peace, food and a job. Jesse’s picture is of his dream.

Katie McGourty is 7 years old, and lives in California. She wrote to us:

My name is Katie. I live at 521 Olive Street, Paso Robles, California. My mommy is my Baha’i teacher and were the only Baha’is in Paso Robles. I have a little sister named Carrie.

Susan Mali lives in Florence, South Carolina. She wrote a story about being special, and it’s just right for this issue!

I Want to Be Something Else

Momo the monkey was always thinking why does he have to be a monkey? So one day, he went walking around in the forest and saw many many kinds of animals and he was thinking about them to see if he would like to be that animal. Like a snake, he said to himself. Oh, if I could be a snake I would have so much fun because I wouldn't have to eat bananas all the time. But on second thought, I would be killing other animals that haven't done anything to me.

Then he thought about a horse and he said, “If I were a horse, everybody would say that Iam pretty. But on second thought, I would have to be sat on and be whipped.” Then he thought about himself and said, “I am glad that God made me a monkey because I know he loves me and he created me the way he wanted me to be. Iam proud to be a monkey and I hope you're glad that God created you, because you are special and everybody is special.” [Page 3]

Jessica Landau, age 7, lives in South Carolina and sent us this picture of her family.

Jian Khodadad lives in Winnetka, Illinois, and he sent us a letter about a special project at his school, and how his part in it will tell everyone there about Muné Mahmidnizhdd, and how she died for what she believed.

Dear Brilliant Star,

I have an interesting experience that happened to me. At our school, the 6th graders have to make a quilt about something that changed our life. I had a ninepointed star and inside it is a picture of Mona (the martyr). We had to write a story behind the quilt we made. I wrote about Mona’s life and I wrote about the video being made about her. The story we wrote would be bound in a book and the quilt would be hung in the junior high so kids could read about different quilt pieces. My friends read it and thought it was sad, but cool they wére making a video of her. One of my friends read it and wanted to see the video, so I showed it to him. He really enjoyed it and now he wants to go to the Doug Cameron concert. So that proves that YOUTH CAN MOVE THE WORLD!

If you had an experience like mine, could you write me and tell me about it?

Loving Baha'i Greetings,

Jian Khodadad, 627 Sheridan Road, Winnetka, IL 60093

Dear Baha’i Friends,

Iam seven years old. It’s fun to be a Baha’. I like all the fun things we do. Here is a picture of me praying.

Love, Collette Bullion Bridgeport, Texas

Michael Hilbert, 614, from Cambridge Springs, Pa., sent us this fine drawing of the space shuttle in orbit:

\\ dy

Bins Op \ \

os evi ~~ ~\ SOG fl

These friends from Central America want penpals! Won't you write to them?

Celeste Cornell Instituto “El Alba” Apartado postal #8 Siguatepeque, Honduras Central America

Celeste likes collecting bottles, stickers, buttons and keys. She plays volleyball and tennis.

Emelinda Blanco Nunez Instituto “El Alba” Apartado postal #8 Siguatepeque, Honduras Central America

Emelinda plays basketball and volleyball. She collects stickers. She says, “I hope we will be good friends!” 3 [Page 4]

JSarahs Visitor

by Anne Gordon Atkinson

Based on research by Counsellor Bahiyyih Randall Winckler, Dr. Tim Rost, Dr. Robert Atkinson and papers from the Green Acre archives. Photographs supplied by the author and Dick Grover.

na hot June day in the year 1892, a middle-aged woman sat

in a crowded lecture hall.

Despite the heat, her face looked peaceful as she listened to the speaker talk about the life of the spirit.

Suddenly she grew tense, her expressive brown eyes lighting up with excitement. Drawing a pencil and paper from her purse, she wrote down these words: “Green Acre— tent on riverbank —all races—religions—music— science — understanding —peace.”

That evening she told her father what had

happened. “I was listening to a lecture, and the noise of traffic almost drowned the speaker's voice. I thought what a glorious thing it would be for poor, tired, struggling humanity to have some spot on earth where our bodies and souls might be refreshed at the same time. “Suddenly I saw this need and with it how to begin to help. I saw a picture of Green Acre with its acres of beautiful fields and pines and the river with the Inn high above its bank. But instead of a small summer resort, it had become a great center of learning... There were all races and creeds there, and happy children and

Leace

young people ready to learn how to make their lives of value. Peace

was the aim of everyone's efforts...” The woman's face glowed with excitement and she continued. “I saw also that in the years ahead the conferences would grow into a school and the school into a university... dedicated to man’s highest achievements [Page 5]in the arts, sciences, religion, and philosophy. The spiritual principles of the New Day would find their complete expression in the life of Green Acre. This is what you and Mother and I have always been working towards, but we saw only parts of the plan, and now I have seen it all!”

The woman who shared this vision with her father on that hot summer’s day was Sarah Jane Farmer. In 1889, she had been invited to join four businessmen in Eliot, Maine, in the running of a summer resort on the banks of the Piscataqua River. The poet John Greenleaf Whittier had visited the resort and had given it its name—Green Acre.

Sarah’s dream for creating a wonderful place for spiritual growth had its seeds in her family life. She had been born into a progressive, stimulating family, to parents who had been childless for many years. They had prayed to have a child whose life would be dedicated to God and to the service of mankind. Sarah was the answer to those prayers.

Sarah's father, Moses Farmer, was an inventor.

He built an electric railroad when he was 26, improved the telegraph at 28, and at 39, lighted the parlor of their

home with incandescent electric lamps—when Thomas Edison was only 12 years old! Moses Farmer never patented his own discoveries, for he believed inventions were the thoughts of God that came through sensitive minds for the benefit of all.

Hannah Shapleigh Farmer, Sarah’s mother, was always concerned with the needs of others. In Boston, she established a home of rest and relaxation for underprivileged mothers and children. She also knew many of the leading figures of the early struggle for women’s rights and was committed to trying to abolish slavery. The Farmer home became a way station in the underground railroad, which helped runaway slaves come north.

In 18938, just a half year after Sarah's vision for Green Acre, she attended the Parliament of Religions in Chicago, which was part of the Columbian Exposition. Her father’s inventions were on display at the

exposition, and Sarah had the chance to meet many outstanding people from all over the world. She met Bharmapala,

a Buddhist from Ceylon, and Vivekandada, a Hindu from Calcutta, and many other people who were great thinkers. Sarah invited them to come to Green Acre to share their messages the following summer.

Raising Sarah’s Peace flag again, July 4th, 1926. The word “PEACE” Sarah’s initials, S.J.F., and the date 1894 appear on

the flag.

On July 3, 1894, Sarah stood in a large tent on the grounds of Green Acre, and spoke about the new purpose she saw for the resort. Other talks were given, and a great white flag with “Peace” in green letters was raised under the American flag next to the tent. Sarah said, “In looking for an emblem, we wanted something that would call to everybody, and we felt that the Message that had been brought to the world by prophet after prophet was the 5

message of Peace.” please turn the page [Page 6]

At the turn of the century, summer meetings at Green Acre were held under large open tents.

The special spirit at Green Acre attracted many prominent people, including Booker T. Washington, W.E.B. Dubois, Annie Besant and Edward Everett Hale. There was always exciting discussion and fellowship. One day, sixteen lectures were held! There were musical programs, a weekly newspaper called The Green Acre Voice, and always something for the children to enjoy. Every year there was a special Children’s Day with a maypole, lemonade, and singing and dancing. The children loved Sarah's gentle ways and felt her love for them.

But Sarah suffered ill health and worried about the future of Green Acre. In 1900, she went on a cruise to the Mediterranean Sea, and that trip was to change

bring her vision for Green Acre to its real meaning and purpose.

On the ship, Sarah met several people who were going to Akka to meet ’Abdu’l-Baha, and she decided she must go and meet Him, too. This was the first time that Sarah had heard about the Baha’ Faith, but its spirit matched what she already knew in her heart.

In her diary, she wrote of her first meeting with "Abdu’l-Baha: “Acca: Received by my Lord.”

"Abdu’l-Baha answered Sarah’s questions before she even had a chance to ask them and spoke to her of her hopes for Green Acre. He assured her that her vision had a purpose, and that someday there would be a university there. He told Sarah that she had been chosen to found this center of leayning to herald the dawn of a new day.

After Sarah returned to America, “Abdu’l-Baha

wrote at least twenty her life and eight tablets to her. In one, He said:

“O thou favored maid-servant in the Threshold of the Almighty! Thou art always in my memory and before my eyes. lam aware of thy service to the Kingdom of Abha, and I day by day seek and beg for more confirmations in thy behalf, and I am assured that thou shalt be enabled to render great services. And a Mashrik-ul-Askar’ [Bahai House of Worship] shall necessarily be built... but a little patience is needed.”

Of Sarah, He also said, “Thou will become the envy of the queens of all regions and wilt be the rival of all the celebrated people of the world.”

In 1912, ’Abdu’l-Baha made His historic journey to the United States and Canada. From August 16 to August 23, He was at Green Acre. He hosted a Unity Feast that attracted so many people that traffic was stopped on the road leading to Green Acre.

During this time, Sarah Farmer was ill, but she was able to come to Green Acre for one brief, tender reunion with [Page 7]‘Abdu’l-Baha. They took a carriage ride to a hill called Monsalvat. ’"Abdu’l-Baha pointed out certain trees and spots to Sarah, then He took her hand in His and said, “This is hallowed ground made so by your vision and sacrifice.” Then He looked at Sarah and the others gathered there and said, “This is where the first Baha’i University will be built.” Pointing to a spot in the center of the area, He then said, “This is where the second Baha'i Temple in the United States will be raised. In reality, all this has been built and is right now ready to become a material reality whenever the Supreme Concourse finds mankind purified enough to bring about its consummation

...People will stream up and down the hill to some department in the University and to the Temple for prayers, which shall be in the midst of it” Sarah Farmer died four years later, without seeing the university or the temple of which the Master had spoken. But her vision of Green Acre as a great learning center has been realized. Every summer and for many weekends during the rest of the year, Baha’is and their friends gather at Green Acre to discuss important topics, meditate and refresh themselves. Many children enjoy the beautiful surroundings and the classes they attend there. The room in which ’Abduw’1-Baha stayed is now a place of prayer and meditation.

Abdu'l-Baha with some of his entourage during His visit to Green Acre in 1912.

Green Acre remains a place where people of all races and religions can meet. It reflects the vision of Sarah Farmer— the vision of peace. ‘Abdu’l-Baha shared this vision with Sarah. When He was at Green Acre, He said:

“Are you well and happy? This is a delightful spot; the scenery is beautiful and an atmosphere of spirituality halos everything. In the future, God willing, Green Acre shall become a great center, the cause of the unity of the world of humanity, the cause of uniting hearts and binding together the east and the west. This is my hope.” @ [Page 8]

Byers!

little ARNO e

Text by Deborah Bley _ with Joyce Block.

Photos by Mark Block.

5 j Special thanks to Dodson Elementary School, Nashville, Tn.

Hi! My name is Hayden Block. I’m five years old and I’m a little person.

[Page 9]

I mean, I’m not just a little kid; ’m a dwarf, and I'll always be smaller than my friends who are the same age as me.

Ba.

Being small means that sometimes I have to get help from taller people. I’m named after a Baha’i poet, Robert At school, my teacher, Mrs. Dennis, Hayden. He was a great writer,even found a stool just the right size so I though he was nearly blind. can reach the sink.

please turn the page [Page 10]

I love kindergarten! My favorite thing is working at the computer. I’m good at it, too!

= Being small can be fun, too! At a _) a y friend’s house, I go in and out the aS tes little “doggie” door. I can get into At home, I get help from my older places other kids can't. I also find the brother, Chase. He knows when to best places to hide for hide-and-seek, help and when to let me do it myself. like under the kitchen sink! [Page 11]I’m a Baha’ child, just like you. I know lots of prayers by heart and say them at bedtime. Good night!

[Page 12]12

By Heart

his memory verse is about what Abdu' Bahé wants for us-to make us special and outstanding among all people It’s a tall order, but as we discover our own talents and work on them, we can keep ‘Abdu'l-Bahda’s wish for us in mind.

_rdaieiahatianfeages The Bah@is must be distinguished L from others. . For, youd desire spiritual distinction — that 1s, you must become eminent & distinguished in morals. Inthe, love of God you must become distinguished from all else. You must become distinguished i for loving humanity, for

unity and accord, / for love and justice. . for removing prejudices and promoting international peace. fi

‘Abdu’l-Baha *

The Promulgation of Universal Peace, p. 190

calligraphy by Michael Hughey [Page 13]oa igFimios what can make us special is having to make a hard choice in a dangerous time and place. If that choice is about being firm in what we know to be true, big changes can happen inside us that unlock doors to courage and power that can amaze the world. This poem is about ten women who were Baha’is living in Iran, and who gave up their lives because they would not change their religion. When the poet says that they fulfilled their names, she asks us to look at what each of their names meant, and think about how each woman’s act was like her name. You already know one of the women, Muna Mahmiudnizhad because of the music video “Mona with the Children”. Now you will know Muna’s dear friends, too.

Ten

Martvied

Women of Shiraz

hey danced and sang Muné Until they reached c Their hanging place

And chanted The praises of God.

They were ten

Baha’i women,

Ten pure doves who died For the oneness of mankind.

Zarrin Shirin Tzzat

Their names: Nusrat and ‘Izzat, (Assistance and Might) Muna and Ru’yéa, (Aspiration and Dream) Zarrin, Simin, Shirin, (Golden, Silver, Sweet) Akhtar, Mahshid and Téhirih (Star, Moon-like and the Pure)

Ru’ya Simin Akhtar

Mahshid -— Téhirih Nusrat They fulfilled their names. 13

Photographs provided by the Persian Affairs Committee

[Page 14]14

Koya

A story for early readers by Mary K. Radpour

illustrated by Louise Taylor

I. Roya is new here. Roya came from far away. Roya looks sad.

2. Roya can not say hello. : i

She can not read my book. She writes her name like this: l. 9) Why can’t Roya talk to mer?

3. Roya comes from Iran. | | can not read her name. | can not say: “‘How are you?”

[Page 15]

4. So | say ‘‘Allah-u-Abha!’”” 5. Roya can talk to mel! Roya smiles. | can talk to Royal Roya pats my doll. Roya says “‘doll-ee?”’

6. Come on, Roya! Let’s play!

15

[Page 16]Wer Peace is a local tssue, that means that you can do something about it. One thing you can do is to write to the leaders of the world expressing your desire for peace. Send it along with a picture of yourself, your friends and family perhaps. The Bahd’is of Hamilton Township, N.J. are encouraging this single, simple idea in their area and invite you to do the same. They have shared with us a sampling of letters written by 6-8 year olds and sent to President Reagan, The White House, Washington, D.C. 20500. We have also included a couple from children in the Chattanooga, TN area. Read them and give some thought to doing a little writing of your own.

the Childrens’

World Peace Crusade

Dear President Reagan:

I wonder how it will be if we had a war. We have to save Dear President Reagan: our people. We want our

Please help bring peace in people to be safe and we want the world. Help wage peace. our world to be in peace... Save the whales.

Neda Fazilat, 7

Dear President Reagan:

Please make peace. Both Amanda Murphy, 6 > teams have enough bombs to Dear President Reagan: & blow up this whole world... I wish we could have peace § We don’t want to lose our. Dear President Reagan: so we could have no wars... 2 world and our homes and ‘I hope I will never see a If you had a family and one $ friends and animals’ _ war because Ido not want a of them died, I bet you would = andoceans.. ss -war.I want peace. be sad. 2

16 Tim Olson, 8 Katy Clevenger,6 ShaezaMcNear,7 = [Page 17]Dear President Reagan:

Please strive for peace; disarmament alone will not bring about peace. Peace is needed in order to deal with many of the world’s problems. Peace should play a major role in society today, because if governmental peace is brought about the peoples’ hearts of the world will grow closer. Disarmament is not the only way to peace, love is a better way to establish peace. Thank you for listening.

Ben Rice, 13

Dear President Reagan: Please make this world good. This is our world. We want this world good, like no

wars and bombs. It is very good. I like it. Please can we have peace?...

Laura Umans, 7

Dear President Reagan: ~

...l want peace throughout the U.S.A. If you can,.then please do it. If you can’t, then please tell me okay?...If there is a war, then nobody would be there to live in the city so the jungle would move into the city. So please try © to do it. |

David Nawi, 8 |

Dear President Reagan: Hello, my name is Patty Oskui and I live in Knoxville, TN. I am eleven years old. Iam writing to you about world peace. I would like to see peace on earth. Because I am scared about the way people are living in other countries, they can’t even settle down for one day because of all the wars and bombings going on. I want my children to grow up knowing that there is peace on earth. I would like to see everyone on earth united. Thank you for reading my letter and I hope you can do something about our world.

Patty Oskui, 11

Dear President Reagan:

Do you want the world to be safe or do you want the world not to be safe? Do you want it to?

Adam Crossley, 7

Dear President Reagan: Peace—Can we please have peace, okay?

Aaron Crossley, 6

Dear President Reagan:

Try to make peace in the U.S. Try to make white people . like black people. Why is there wars anyway? Why would anybody want to destroy Earth? Iam 7.years old. I like Earth.

Natelege. ares Swainson, 7 if

Sdhpyect Ee 0

-“ Shaheen Counts, 6

Dear President Reagan: 1986 is the International Year of Peace. I want peace all the other years too. So does every other person I know...

if there’s a war everybody will be killed and there will be houses with nobody to live in them and that’s a waste of earth.

Jesse Richards, 8

Dear President Reagan: Do not have war.

Marie Tomarelli, 6

Dear President Reagan: Iam writing to you with what may seem a small voice

within a crowd who prays you can hear my plea. All my prayers are for world peace and to see my little sister to be able to grow up ina world of peace. I ask you please help the children of this country to grow up ina world where they will not have to fear their next day. My name is David Donaldson and I ama Baha'i of Chattanooga who dreams of the day when peace abounds. I send a cry of the heart to you. Thank you for your time and patience.

David Donaldson, 16

Dear President Reagan:

Hi. My name is Shaheen. I am 6 years old. Please don’t make me sad. Goodbye.

17 [Page 18]

Be “A Nes N; t LEE 4 ) |

35 a Cl ot

by Gloria Boudreau

ina McGaen backed her wheelchair up to the high school bulletin board. & dg

Afade Bes

RAKE ®

COme to our o our meeting iter: School in Reom aiQ-SEPTEMBER 10

Tina thought about the little drama group shed organized in seventh grade with the neighborhood children. “A natural,’ was what Mr. Johnson next door had called her. “You should try for a stage career, dear.’

[Page 19]She sighed. Of course, that was before the accident last year that destroyed the nerves in her legs. Sensing someone behind her, she glanced around. Tim Hancock’s grin lit up his freckled face.

“Hi, Tina. Planning on joining? I was a member last year. We had a wickedly good time.”

“Well, ’'m considering it.” She was reluctant to commit herself. “Guess we have the next class together’

At 2:30 p.m., Tina maneuvered toward 212— Mr. Cleveland’s English classroom, wheeling herself next to Tim who was seated in the back row. A few of the kids stared at her in surprise, then quickly looked away.

Pausing in his conversation with an attractive brunette, Tim smiled at her. Her next-door neighbor and childhood friend, he'd visited her in the hospital last year. Hed stood by her bed, shuffling his feet, looking everywhere but at Tina. Finally hed muttered something about seeing her soon and practically loped toward the door. “Don't bother,’ shed snapped. “T’ll do just fine without you.”

He'd stayed away for a month before barging into her house one day and shouting, “Maybe you can get along without me, but I need your friendship, Tina.” They'd stared at each other, then both burst into tears, the first ones she'd shed since the accident.

Mr. Cleveland rapping on the desk cut off her reminiscing. “Attention, everyone!” He paused until the buzz of conversation stopped. “Now, I listed our needs on the board. I hope we can staff each adequately. The turnout today is just great.”

Tina stared at the blackboard.

STAGECREW PUBLICITY COSTUMES

SCENERY TICKETS ACTORS & ACTRESSES

Well, publicity and tickets were possibilities. She hated to sew and definitely couldn't manage the props. She also determined to try out for a part. She scribbled her name on the list and passed it on.

Mr. Cleveland signaled for attention. “I have copies of the musical we'll be doing. Be here next Wednesday, same time,

for tryouts.”

Tina swung by the desk and picked up a copy of the play. Mr. Cleveland gave her a strange look, then cleared his throat. “Uh, young lady, ’m afraid there arent any parts you could handle in the show.” His Adam's apple moved in and out as he swallowed nervously.

She started to reply, thought better of it, and reluctantly returned the script. Clattering down the hall at top speed, she released some of her pent-up anger.

“Hey, wait up.” Tim loped after her. “What’s bugging you?” He grabbed the back of the wheelchair and spun it around.

“Leave me alone. ’m not wanted in the play, that’s obvious.” She blinked rapidly to hold back the tears.

“Wanted? Oh, as an actress, you mean? Well, maybe a kid in a wheelchair just wouldn't fit in this particular musical. There's lots of other ways you can help.”

“Be quiet! You’re just like the others.” She tried to pull away, but he held her chair back.

“Tina, don’t be stupid. Every one of us is restricted in some way. I can’t take a part

because I’m tone deaf.’ please turn the page

19 [Page 20]20

“Big deal! Do people stare at you because you can't sing on key?” She couldn't keep the disgust from her voice. “But Ill be a good sport. I signed up to help and I will” She turned and rolled her chair down the ramp next to the stairs. No one understood, not even Tim.

Friday morning Mr. Cleveland asked all the committee members to remain after school for a brief meeting. Tina went grudgingly, rejecting Tim’s friendly gesture to push her. Her rigidly set lips and flushed cheeks discouraged any other friendly overtures.

“Okay, let’s have quiet,’ Mr. Cleveland shouted, rapping on his desk until all chatter ceased. “Tryouts went well the other night and I’ve selected the cast. Even

though you all can’t be winners, I do hope you'll remain in the chorus.’ He cleared his throat and read off the names.

Mark Loftus had one of the leads. That was the boy whod signed up with Tina for Publicity and Tickets. Wow! What a fantastic-looking guy. Tina forgot her anger for a moment and gaped. Although she didn’t know the two girls picked, everyone else seemed to approve. Next, the walkons and one-liners were listed.

“Now I'd like to discuss publicity. Unfortunately, only two of you signed up to do this. Tina and Mark, could you remain a few minutes after the others leave?”

She sighed and wheeled herself towards the teacher’s desk. Mark was there already,

grinning at her.

“Hi, partner. Guess were it. Hope you're a better artist than I am.”

Tina shrugged. “Fair, I guess. I'll do the posters if you provide the slogan and find places to post them.”

“Okay! I know a few merchants in town. They'll put them in their windows, I’m sure. How about meeting at my house tomorrow for a drawing session? Three oclock?”

“Sure! Where do you live?”

After writing out his address, Mark grabbed his books and rushed away. Tina could see one of the leading ladies waiting for him. They disappeared around the corner.

The next afternoon, Tina’s mom dropped her and a bundle of posterboard off at Mark’s house. The wheelchair posed a problem. Mark had no ramp up to his porch. Before Mrs. McGaen had unpacked her chair, however, Mark opened the car door, scooped Tina into his arms, and carried her into the house. Astonished, Mrs. McGaen followed with the chair. “Well, I can see you're in good hands, Tina. Pick you up at five.”

Before the afternoon [Page 21]was over, Mark and Tina had decided on a format for posters, called a local printer and discussed ticket costs, and composed a press release. Tina hadn't been so excited since before

her accident.

For the first time ina year, Tina began to worry about her looks, brushing her long, straight blond hair until it shone, choosing her most becoming sweaters and blouses to wear to school each day. She noticed the leading lady had a short haircut, feathered back on the sides. She decided to get her hair styled, a suggestion that delighted her mother who called the hairdresser before Tina could change her mind.

But even the new hairdo didn't help achieve her goal—getting on stage. She watched the rehearsals, pretending Mark was singing to her, but it hurt not to be a part of things. “Why not write your own play?” Tim suggested as they shared a soda after school. “Maybe Mr. Cleveland would use it for the spring production.”

“Huh, he probably wouldn't like my play either” she mumbled, but the idea, once planted,

kept growing.

Tickets for the musical sold out. In fact, they had to schedule an extra performance. Mark and Tina received a round of applause from the cast for their excellent publicity. “I'd rather be applauded for my performance,’ she told Tim.

Two weeks before Christmas, Tina watched the first night performance from backstage. They were good. After the curtain calls, Mark rushed over to her, his eyes glowing with success. He bent over and kissed her lightly. “You’re terrific, Tina,’ he whispered, then dashed off to change clothing.

Crash! A wooden prop tumbled to the floor. Turning quickly, she spotted Janet and another cast member standing near the

stagedoor. How long had they been there, she wondered? Pretending to address her friend, but speaking loudly enough for Tina to hear, Janet said, “Being crippled has its advantages. People feel sorry for you.” She tossed her head and disappeared backstage. Sorry for her? Is that what prompted Mark’s kiss? Well, shed show them all. She brushed the tears from her eyes and waited for her mother to take her home. A heavy snowstorm during Christmas vacation only added to Tina’s melancholy. Housebound while her brother and her friends went skiing and tobogganning, she spent her time writing. After a week back at school, the Harlequins

please turn the page

21 [Page 22]22

c(“ e

met to discuss their next production. “Let’s not do another musical. I want to try for a part this time,’ Tim declared. “T’ve already selected the play, and yes, Tim, it’s a straight drama— written by one of you, in fact. ’m pleased to announce that Tina McGaenss play, “The Long Road’ will be our spring production. Congratulations, Tina!” Mr. Cleveland gestured in her direction as everyone turned to stare.

“Aw right!” Tim yelled. Tina felt her heart pounding.

“Tryouts are Wednesday, everyone.” Mr. Cleveland held up the scripts.

Tina wheeled up to his desk for a copy, not that she needed it. “I won't disappoint you in the lead,’ she said.

Mr. Cleveland’s smile faded. “You realize you'll have to audition, I hope, Tina?”

Tina’s initial surprise only lasted a few seconds.

“Of course,’ she replied confidently. He was trying to be fair, but she'd certainly get the part. Who else could play a girl in a wheelchair as well?

Janet auditioned for the lead, also, and Tina had to admit she wasn’t bad—almost believable. Almost! When the auditions were complete, Mr. Cleveland stood up, cleared his throat, and began to announce the cast.

“Mark Loftus will play [Page 23]Henry, Sharon will be the mother, Tim the father, and Janet Sullivan will play

the lead.”

Weakly applauding, the others turned to look sympathetically at Tina. Her mouth felt dry and her face burned. How could he do this?

“Tina, please remain for a few minutes,’ he asked calmly, just as if her whole world hadn't fallen apart.

After everyone else left, she burst into tears, unable to contain herself any longer. “You must know I can play that role better than Janet. She's never known what it’s like to be helpless. I do.”

“Yes, you do know. But Janet is a better actress. She knows how to project her voice and capture an audience. I’m sorry, Tina, but I call it as I see it. Would you want me to give you the role out of pity?”

“Of course not. But I can work on the voice and any other problems. Janet won't give it the feeling I could.”

“That's what I wanted to talk to you about. You could help her, Tina.”

“You've got to be kidding. Forget it.” Angrily, she propelled herself out of the door. They'd find out, all of

them. Let the play flop. Then maybe they’d beg her forgiveness.

She stayed away from the first few rehearsals, avoiding the kids. Early one morning on her way to class, Janet confronted her. “I know you don’t like me much and I can’t blame you, but I could use some advice and...”

“TH think about it?’ Tina snapped, swerving out of the way and toward the Biology laboratory. Sure she would, ina pig’s eye, she thought. In her haste to get away, she banged into a doorway and almost ran down a teacher. Her stomach churned and her head ached.

That evening she ate her supper in silence, taking secret pleasure in her family’s concern. Back in her room, she tried to sort out what really mattered to her. Having friends mattered. Seeing her own play produced mattered, even if she wasn’t in it. After all, it was her creation.

The following afternoon she was in the auditorium. Watching didn’t hurt as much as she'd thought. Before she could stop herself, she was shouting, “Janet, that’s wrong, wrong, wrong. When you fall and try to get up, think

about wanting to do something so badly and knowing you never will. Keep that thought.”

Janet stopped, then did as Tina suggested.

“Better, much better,’ Mr. Cleveland yelled.

“T can see I’m outranked around here. How about taking over as director,

Miss McGaen?” The cast chorused their approval.

On opening night, Tina was in the wings again, this time happy to be part of things. Janet’s performance was awesome. Admitting that only caused a small twinge of jealousy.

She watched Mark and Janet taking their final bows, then Janet turned and beckoned to Tina. Surprised, she hesitated, then rolled onto the stage as Janet spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen, this play was written and directed by a talented classmate of ours. I'd like you to meet a real star—Miss Tina McGaen.”

The audience rose to their feet, thunderously applauding. Mark appeared with a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses, whispering as he bent to hand them to her, “I won't ever forgive you if you refuse to go to the cast party with me.” This time her tears were happy ones. @

23 [Page 24]

Our ... House Worship,

in Ind

id you know that you

were one of the builders of this new House of Worship in India? The Baha’i children of the world made a special effort to give to the Fund that has helped erect this beautiful temple shaped like a lotus blossom. In thousands of Baha’i communities and families all over the world your money clinked into fund boxes: pennies and dimes, centimes and francs, pesos and centavos, markka, krona and Ore, yen, and shillings and pence! That money and your love together helped to make this jewel of a building in India, to welcome worshippers from all religions into its open doors.

We're so proud of you master builders who gave your own special gifts to the Fund for this House of Worship. What great things will you do in the future? We can hardly wait to see! [Page 25]Hitchen SiAK i’ Water Fountain

by Rita Leydon

H° weather is the time for water games, isn’t it? Here’s one that is both fun and scientific. Mom will have no objection if you invite her to be in on the learning and if you ask for permission before you take her kitchen things.

These are the things you will need:

We fi

SEB OR St = eS) OFF

APLASTIC MILK Jug

A ST KAW A oy fo PY ESSE CLAY nis COLORING

1. Make a hole in the bottle top (with the scissors and Mom’ help). The straw has to fit through this hole.

2. Fill the bottle with cold water to the middle. Add a few drops of coloring. Screw on the lid firmly. Push the straw through the hole down into the water. Now squeeze clay around the straw and lid (to make a good seal). Push a plug of clay into the end of the straw and push a pin through that, so you have a very tiny, fine hole.

3. Place this very scientific looking apparatus into the milk container (which has had its top removed) which is in the sink. Now turn the faucet on HOT (let it get good and hot), then fill the milk container up to the bottle cap. In a little bit...look out!! A fountain in the sink!!

What happened? Do you know? The hot water that surrounded the bottle warmed the air that was trapped in the bottle. The air expanded and needed more space, so it pushed. It was easier for the water to move (up the straw and out the hole) than for the glass bottle to expand. So the fountain was caused, by air pressure, wasn’t it?

I love water games, don’t you? M@ _.-"

em 8 we y

29 [Page 26]3 f

ts ‘ 3 8 B % ¥

SEE IIPEL IOS:

26 [Page 27]

ONY

Leck)

and the

Invincible Sword

e¢ hat a mess,” Danny Duckworth said.

The chairs outside of the principal’s officer were soft.

“Did you have to go and tell?” Danny Duckworth said.

Those chairs were very comfortable— unless you were in trouble.

“Don’t you know that every principal has an electric paddling machine?” Danny Duckworth said.

I knew I was in trouble.

It was one of those problems you ran into for being a smart student. There were a lot of those kinds of problems, more than you would think. Like having to take clarinet lessons when you wanted to be playing ball.

by R. Gregory Shaw

“You have to develop your potential;’ they said.

Or going to Saturday morning special-enrichment lectures, missing the cartoons on TV.

“It’s an honor to be chosen; they said.

Or pretending you don’t know the answer when you really do, because nobody likes a show-off.

“But there’s no excuse for a boy with your brains to get anything less than an A,’ they said.

Well, I learned that there are more important things in the world than just school grades. And I learned it from someone who never even went to school. I learned it from Wheelbarrow Joe.

please turn the page

Wheelbarrow Joe

27 [Page 28]28

Driving with my Grandpa, I used to see him along the road from Monongah to Morgantown.

“There's old Joe,’ Grandpa would say. “All these years and he’s still at it.”

Dressed in a red bandana and a beat-up baseball cap, wearing a coat so long that it dragged on the ground, he walked his wheelbarrow up and down that road every day. But what a wheelbarrow! It had a horn to squeeze and a bicycle light, six reflectors, a hundred bottle caps and even an old license plate that he found somewhere. Grandpa said he picked up rags, bottles, chunks of coal, and any old junk that caught his eye, and then he carried it off in his wheelbarrow. Nobody knew where he lived.

The day I met Mr. Joe was the day my Grandpa threw the sword away. It was a real sword—so heavy I could barely pick it up—stored in the basement since before I was born. Oh, I hated to see that sword sitting in the garbage can. What kid wouldn't want his own sword? I sat up on the back-porch, watching for the garbage truck to come and carry it away.

Instead, Wheelbarrow Joe came rolling along.

“Yahoo!” he yelled. “It’s a golden sword!” He took it up and waved it over his head.

“Hey, boy,” he pointed at me.

“Why are you throwing away such a beautiful sword?”

“Tm not throwing it away,’ I said, sadly. “If my Grandpa would let me, I'd keep it for my own.”

“Well, you don’t have to wear a long face over it.” Joe put on a goofy frown. “Tl just put this in my barrow, and Ill leave you an invisible sword, that nobody can take away.”

“An invisible sword. What can I do

with an invisible sword?” I scoffed, but came down off the porch.

“So maybe I don’t mean just invisible. I mean invincible—mighty and unbeatable. A sword that will win every battle you fight.”

An invincible sword! The wheelbarrow man was getting me interested.

“How does it work?” I wanted to know.

Joe looked around—like he was making sure that no one else was listening—then he sat down ona garbage can lid.

“The sword that wins every battle you fight,” he said, “is the sword of truth, and you carry it in your heart always. You can fight your battles with lies, or you can fight your battles with truth. If you try it with lies, a part of you dies. But let the truth in, and you'll always win.”

I smiled at the rhyme.

“But lots of times I tell the truth,’

I said, “and I just get into more trouble than I was in before.”

Joe just laughed.

“That’s because your sword is rusty. See, the truth sword gets sharper every time you use it. Let’s suppose there’s some big problem at school and you and another feller are telling the teacher two different stories. Who's she going to believe? If your truth sword is rusty, because sometimes you use it and sometimes you don't, the battle might go against you in the short run. But if you’ve been using the truth day in and day out, the teacher’s going to know it, and that other feller won't stand a chance. Ain’t nobody beats the sharp sword of truth!”

It sounded good to me.

“So what do I have to do?” I asked.

Joe lifted up my grandpa’s sword and held the point right in front of my eyes.

In a deep voice, he said, “Do you [Page 29]swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

“I do,’ I solemnly swore.

“So help me God?”

“So help me God,’ I repeated.

“Then I got my sword,’ Joe said, putting it into his barrow, “and you got yours. Now don’t you lose it.”

The raggedy man waved his hand over his shoulder, as I watched him walk away. I never saw Wheelbarrow Joe again.

But I thought about him often. Even sitting outside that principal’s office, I was thinking about Mr. Joe. oe

I was in trouble, becauseIhadlet “ Danny Duckworth copy answers off of — my science test. I didn’t know if the teacher saw us or not, but I did know my heart felt bad, like a rusty sword was poking around inside it, trying to get out.

When I just couldn't stand it anymore, I went and told the teacher the whole truth.

“Oh, no,’ Danny Duckworth said.

We got sent down to the principal’s office. I knew we were in trouble, but for some reason, my heart felt like everything would work out okay.

I didn’t feel real scared.

“You'll get scared when you see that electric paddle” Danny Duckworth said.

But I didn’t believe there really was an electric paddle. The sixthgraders made up stories like that to keep the younger kids worried. Remembering old Wheelbarrow Joe, why would I worry about a probably make-believe paddle? I knew I had an invincible sword.

[Page 30]30

O DOT

I A X ae a__®

~~ by Rita Leydon

Lars has a summer friend. Do you know what it is?

aI2lo

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[Page 31]Or oh ase

lis!

Who is the Child? 285:

by Susan Engle and Michael Moutrie “Si transcribed by Mimi McClellan M

1.Who is the child? ’Al- i- Mu- ham- mad, born in Shi2.Who is the child? Raised by His Un- cle, Oct- o- ber 3.Who is the child? Ten- der and Ho- jy, wrote the Bay

ci- ty of ro- ses? Who is the child? Grown straight and hum- ble and gen- tle? Who is the child? We bow before- told the Glo- ry? Who is the child? Cho- sen : by

— ows true, Who told us, “Iam, Iam, Iam the Prom- ised One” fore, for He said “Iam, Iam, Iam _ the Prom- ised God to tell us “Iam, Iam, Iam _ the Prom- ised

2.

oO Kap cil ———

One” Do you know Him? Have you heard His name?

— Set Seems Does your heart feel the beauty of His presence? Do you love Him

—

as did Mul-la Hu-sayn? If you’ve found Who ‘you’ve been da capo al fine A

—

seek-ing, you can tell me. One” yes He said, “Iam, Iam, lam

ritard

eel

een the Prom-ised One.” 3 1 [Page 32]32

Book Nook

a review by Deborah L. Bley

Why Am I Different?

by Norma Simon, illustrated by Dora Leder, published

by Albert Whitman and Ca, Chicago, 1976.

Yo are not like anybody else on earth! Even if you havea twin, youre not exactly the same. Maybe you like

strawberries and your sister doesn’t, or perhaps

she’s had her tonsils taken out, but you still have yours.

There is a book that helps us think about what’s different —and the same-—about each of us: how we look, what we eat, our religions, how we play, where we live. The drawings in Why Am I Different? are of all kinds of children and, with the questions and thoughts presented in the book, we

can see all the wonderful “flavors” of our friends around the world.

Best of all, Why Am I Different? helps you discover how special you are just by being you! @

Note to parents:

The narrator changes throughout the book and this may feel confusing on the first reading. Be aware that after the first few pages, each single page represents a new point of view and this can help you explore the concepts presented with your child. [Page 33]

“_..to pursue his profession and calling...”

Parents’ page

by Betty D. Morris & Dorothy C. Edwards

“True reliance is for the servant to pursue his profession and calling in this world, to hold fast unto the Lord, to seek naught but His grace, inasmuch as in His hands is the

destiny of all His servants.”

Baha'u'llah, Baha’ World Faith, p. 141

hoosing our field of work (i.e. our

“profession and calling”) is a process that requires skills and perceptions. This process usually does not begin in earnest until high school age when our sense of individual identity begins to solidify. For many of us, the process never really ends. Our degree of success in choosing and pursuing fields of work almost always depends on a foundation of self-awareness and informationgathering skills developed throughout childhood.

The foundation for work-selection requires awareness of the world of work, awareness of one’s own unique pattern of skills, talents, values and interests and how that pattern fits into the world of work. Guiding a child toward a better understanding of himself and the world-at-large can be incorporated into the natural activities of family-life. No special training or skills are required, just an awareness of the importance of providing this guidance from an early age. Time invested during those years is likely to save a person from drifting later.

Modeling Attitudes toward Work

“Sometimes I can't believe that I’m getting paid to do what I love to do most. And the next project assignment we have is going to give us all a chance to try out some of our own ideas”

“If I have to hear my supervisor tell me one more time how to do my job when I’m ten times more qualified than he is, I’ll...I don’t know what I can do. Nobody is hiring people without at least a Master’s degree, even if they have experience.”

Children get most of their attitudes toward work from their parents. Parents model attitudes about work in general and about their own work choices in a number of ways. When a parent shares something about his work with excitement and enthusiasm,

a child is given a sense that work is Se thine to look forward to and be

excited about. If a parent becomes increasingly tense and irritable as time to leave for work approaches and comes home weary, with negative accounts of the day’s events, a child begins to dread work and to regard it as a necessary evil.

Attitudes modeled for children about work reflect the success or failure of the parents in their own work-selection process.

Guiding Self-Awareness

The key to success in the workselection process is knowledge of oneself. Parents, in interacting with a child on a daily basis, guide him to an awareness of his strengths and weaknesses, his interests and values, his skills and abilities. They also help him to come to an understanding of how these aspects affect his life.

By making available involvement in organizations such as Scouting, 4-H, Baha’i children’s classes, Boys’ and Girls’ Clubs, summer camp, parents can provide opportunities to discover and develop special interests and skills. Participation in extracurricular school activities such as choir, band and sports also provide opportunities for self-exploration.

Special lessons, such as piano, voice, dance, horseback riding, tennis, art, computer science, or gymnastics assist a child to develop self-awareness. However, parents should be aware that participation in such activities should be viewed as “investigating” rather than “developing” talents or interests. Developmentally, a child simply tries on “roles” the way adults try on hats or shoes. Until mid to late teens, he is “shopping” for a role that feels good to him. Holding him to one choice too soon can arrest his self-investigation.

Discovering the World of Work “Come on! Get up! Breakfast is ready. They’re ginning cotton today! If we get down there soon, we can watch from beginning to end?

Parents can convey enthusiasm and interest towards work by taking their children on “field trips’-to cotton gins or carpet mills, to bottling plants or dairies, to courtrooms or hospitals—wherever people are working. On these trips, parents should talk to people and encourage their children to ask questions, to find out what people are doing, how they came to do what they are doing and if they like what they are doing.

Some of the best sources for workplace “field trips” are the workplaces of parents. In addition, seeing parents at work adds another dimension to the role-modeling which parents provide for children.

Matching Patterns with Possibilities

By the time a child has reached mid teens, he should begin conscious vocational exploration. His goal should be to match his unique pattern of strengths and weaknesses, interests and values, skills and abilities, intelligence and achievement with specific requirements of various jobs and professions.

At this time guidance counseling can assist the process. Parents should take an active role in assuring that this service is available to their child, either through school guidance counseling, private guidance counseling, or a combination of both.

If a child has developed positive attitudes towards work, if he has become familiar with the world of work, if he has come to know himself, and if he is enabled to match his unique capabilities with those required by specific jobs and professions, he will have a firm foundation from which “to pursue his profession and calling in this world” @

Betty D. Morris and Dorothy C. Edwards are career counselors in private practice in Chattanooga, TN. Ms. Morris has an M.S. in counseling and nine years experience in Montessori education. Ms. Edwards has an M.S. in vocational evaluation and holds national board certification as a vocational evaluator.

33 [Page 34]

Linnell, age 9, from

sent us this calligraphic symbol. It is her rendition of what RTT eT I axe Bahai ring-stone symbol. The three vertical curves symbolize God, the Manifestations and Mankind. The horizontal curve shows how they are

connected. The twin stars are _ Bah@’u'lléh and the Bab.

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