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My sister plays with fire

Actually my plan was to storyboard a choreography for children losely based on a stories from Arabian Nights to use on my website, but since the plan is to use stories from our own lives I came up with three stories about my sister, my brother and myself, when we were kids.

1 My sister sets the shed on fire
When I was a kid, my family used oil fuel for heating which was stored in a large tank inside a shed. My sister (being about 5 years old) was playing with a burning stick which she put in and out of the oil tank. When it went in, the fire was gone, when she took it out, it cought fire again. Fascinating! Of course the shed cought fire and burnt down with all the chaos of fear of explosion, fire alarm etc. Once the fire was under control, we noticed my little sister had gone. We searched everywhere and finally we found her under the bed, were she had hidden, afraid of being punished.

2. My brother has a religious moment
My family isn't religious and although we all went to catholic schools, my family member are quite atheistic. Except once. It was winter and the pond close to our house was frozen. My father, brother, sister were throwing stones over the pond and our dog Sascha was fetching them. Then our dog went through the ice. We were panicking, the ice was way to thin for our weight and Sascha was to far away to reach by any means. So we were shouting Sascha, Sascha, hoping the dog would manage to get on the ice again. Suddenly - to my utter surprise - my brother went on his knees and prayed: dear God, please let Sascha come out of the water again. And indeed: Sascha - being already exhausted - managed to get his hind legs on the edge of the crack and himself out of the water and came racing back to us.

3. Me picking a fight with my teacher
I was very shy and withdrawn as a kid and also very allergic to injustice and hypocrisie. When I was 11/12 (last grade, primary school) we had a teacher we all hated. One day he said: Everyone who hates me, raise your finger (in Holland we raise our index finger instead of our hand...). Of course the whole class enthusiastically raised their fingers. Then he said: everyone who doesn't hate me can leave the class, the rest gets an asignment. There were 6 people left, five of them of the notorious perky, insolent group, the sixth shy unassuming obedient me, We all had to write an essay 'why I hate the teacher'. When I got home my mother was furious and said I didn't have to but I insisted that I didn't want to hide behind her back. So the next we all had to present our little stories. He almost forgot me btw (I had to remind him), but some of my remarks obviously hit a mark because the remainder of the year it was (in a sarcastic tone) 'is this all right for you?' 'have I explained it enough?' etc. much to my embarrassment.

I picked the second story because it offers many opportunities with perspective, emotions etc and is also challenging with regard to research (what did the fire truck look like e.g.)

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