Kid With Box on Head

During National Writing Project Summer Institute yesterday, my "class" took a mini field trip to USM's museum of art. They are exhibiting children's author and photographer Tana Hoban's collection. Her daughter, Miela Gallob Ford, donated the collection to USM after Mrs. Hoban passed away. It is a great exhibit, and I would highly recommend it to my elementary teacher friends. Text me and I will give you the information. I also highly recommend it to my photography friend, Chris Maul of Chris Maul Photography because I could see him creating similar projects with a writer (ahem, wonder if he knows any of those? ahem, ahem?). Here are some books that Tana Hoban is famous for:









Anywho, one of the pictures in the collection of children's photography inspired the beginning of a writing piece. The title of the picture was "Kid with Box on Head," original, right? This photo pictures a very young girl who has cut out a window in a box and placed said box on her head. She looks like a robot, causing everyone who walks past the picture to chuckle knowingly, and it reminded me of the passionate love that all children have for the simplicity of a box.

This is a very rough, rough draft. My purpose for presenting it on this blog is for you, whoever you are, to help me make it better. Please give me ideas, ask questions, etc. I have a vision of turning this, one day, into a children's book with real photography of children making use of boxes.


To an adult a box is a box. A cardboard cube, a boring bin. An adult packs boxes to the brim with knick knacks and this and that to be moved from here to there or anywhere. They will not stop to play with the box, will not crawl inside the box, and grownups will not decorate the box. They just have no clue.

But children know that a box is more than just a box. We know the truth because even though we are smaller, and younger, and somewhat more wild, we are wiser, and relaxed, and somewhat more clever. We recognize the potential of a box over shiny, new toys in crisp, colorful wrapping paper. A new toy can only be that toy, and the wrapping paper is torn and, therefore, of no use...but the box? The sky is the limit to what it can be. The sky is the limit as to what we can see.

Boxes magically turn into robots as holes are cut for little arms, legs, and faces. Dials, gauges, numbers, and such supply power to a machine friend. Though forbidden to draw on new toys, it is considered quite creative to add symbols and switches to android suits. Adults do not remember robot-speak, it is a language they no longer can hear, but kids CAN - BE - THE - ROBOT.(pic of child with box on head)

On a chilly autumn day, boxes are not just boxes, and leaves are not just leaves. Turtlenecked and scarved, we fill a box with red, orange, and yellow and create a pit to pounce in; Beware! Creepy bugs may crawl up our arms and legs, so there is some danger in diving pleasure. Parents will only be happy that the yard is clean; They also don't quite understand the prize in a fall blanket.

In the winter, if snow is scarce, flattened boxes are sleds that soar down steep, grass-covered hills. We love zooming down, down, down to tumble in a pile at the bottom of the ride. Who needs snow to fly?

Moving to a new house creates a treasure trove of boxes left empty and waiting. What a kingdom these boxes create! Big, small, and medium sized, the boxes create a castle of turrets, drawbridges, dungeons, and moats. In a flash, we can escape to our fortress to defend our freedom from dragons, sorcerors, naps, and little brothers.

A giant fridge box can be a cottage in the woods made picture perfect by Mama's old, red tablecloth hung as curtains, Bordon milk cartons as flower boxes, and white crayon-sketches as a picket fence. Though forbidden in the hallway, it is considered fine art to add any type of family portrait, wallpaper pattern, or fancy chandelier on the cottage walls and ceiling. Interior design by Crayola. Adults think walls are only to hold up buildings. If they only knew!

"All Aboard!" Several boxes create the boxcars of the Santa Fe Express rumbling along the Pecos Valley Railway. While exploring the wild, wild West, we are pioneers of the plains racing a buffalo stampeded across the plains and escorting covered wagons from town to town. We barely escape an outlaw robbery by Jesse James riding past the frieght cars, gun blazing.

In which season of someone's life does a box turn back into a box? Perhaps when one is too old to crawl inside a castle, fort, or cottage. Or perhaps when one can no longer see past the end of one's nose. This doesn't have to happen, you know. Kids, when confronted with cardboard, we must promise to remind our aged friends what the world holds for those who can think outside the box.