Hi friends, a quick note.
You will notice that when you listen to older episodes, anything beyond the most recent eight, you will sometimes hear ads that aren't in my voice right after this message and before the show starts.
This wasn't an easy decision.
I care a lot about protecting the calm space we've built here, but making this change is necessary to keep nothing much happens happening.
If you prefer to listen without ads, premium memberships are available and they're super affordable, about 10 cents a day, and they include the entire catalog ad -free.
We have a link in the notes of this and every episode to help you subscribe.
Thanks for being here.
I'm so grateful that we get to do this together.
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Welcome to bedtime stories for everyone in which nothing much happens.
You feel good, and then you fall asleep.
I'm Catherine Nicholai.
I write and read all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens.
Audio engineering is by Bob Widdersheim.
We are bringing you an encore episode tonight, meaning that this story originally aired at point in the past. It could have been recorded with different equipment in a different location.
And since I'm a person, and not a computer, I sometimes sound just slightly different.
But the stories are always soothing and family -friendly, and our wishes for you are always deep breaths and sweet dreams. Now, since every episode is someone's first, let me say a bit about how this works.
In order to fall asleep, your brain needs just the right amount of engagement.
And if that engagement can be peaceful, unpleasant, well, all the better.
sticking to a regular bedtime routine becomes a lot easier when it feels good.
So, I have a soft, relaxing story to tell you, and I'll tell it twice, going a little slower the second time through.
Just by listening to the sound of my voice, you'll fall asleep.
This is brain conditioning, a sort of grown -up sleep training, so be patient if you are new to it.
You'll find, with practice and over time, that you'll fall asleep more quickly, and if you wake in the middle of the night, don't hesitate to just start the story over again.
Our story tonight is called The Book Fair, and it's a story about a love of reading and the creativity that inspires.
It's also about the last days of school before summer vacation, taking class outside into the open air and the feeling of watching little ones grow up and expand their worlds.
I was a full -time yoga teacher for over 20 years, and I know the power of intentional breathing.
It's why our two deep breaths have been part of our bedtime routine since Episode 1, And that's why I want to introduce you to Moonbird. Moonbird is a handheld breathing device designed to comfortably fit in the palm of your hand.
When you shake it, it will start inflating and deflating.
So in your hand it will feel like you're holding a little bird that is breathing in and out.
And the only thing you need to do is breathe along with it.
When Moonbird inflates, you breathe in.
When Moonbird deflates you breathe out.
Simple, intuitive, it takes all the effort and thinking out of your breathing exercises.
It's the perfect companion to your bedtime ritual.
Or use it when you're meditating, when you're stuck in traffic.
Anytime you need an assist in feeling calm and focused.
Listen, I know how to breathe, to feel better.
But still, I use Moonbird. Because when my mind is racing or wandering, I need a little guidance.
And it makes my deep breathing more effective.
So when you wake in the middle of the night, don't reach for your phone unless it's to restart your bed time story.
That's fine. Reach for Moonbird. Visit Moonbird .life nothing much happens to save 20%.
We've got it linked in our show notes.
Now it's time. Set everything down and switch off the light.
Get into your favorite sleeping position and let your whole body drop heavy into the bed.
The day is over, and all that is left to be done is rest. Take a slow, deep breath in through your nose, and sigh through your mouth.
Nice. Again, The Book Fair There were only a few weeks of school left before summer vacation began, and you could feel the anticipation when you walked the halls.
There was a push -pull energy in every classroom, a push to the end to make the most of the last days of learning, and a pull to the warming weather and adventure of summertime.
Sometimes, that pull was literal.
Our students, and even ourselves, pulled to the windows to look at the trees in full leaf and the bright blue skies.
We teachers were doing our best to walk the line, to keep our students' interest, and still let them be kids who had big feelings about Summer Break.
We'd found over the years that having a few special events to look forward to in last month or so of classes.
Helped everyone come to school with some enthusiasm.
So the schedule would be full, right up until the final day.
We'd planned a school -wide field day, after weeks of being asked, hour after hour, if we could have classes outside.
We finally would be able to say yes.
It would be a whole day of outdoor activities.
There would be a chalk drawing contest on the back parking lot, a treasure hunt with clues planted all over the playground, races and games on the athletic fields, and snack tables set up just about everywhere.
Our cafeteria staff would make gallons of lemonade and pyramids of Rice Krispies snacks.
There would be giant fruit bowls full of apples and pears and bananas that no one would eat, and at lunch time a small caravan of cars would pull up delivering enough pizzas to us all.
A feat that seemed impossible, but somehow happened every year.
There was also the spring concert to look forward to.
Our fifth through eighth graders would file into their seats on stage in the auditorium, and nervously grip their trumpets and clarinets.
Our music teacher would stand on her riser with the music spread open on a stand in front of her, a baton in her hand, and wait until every musician's eyes were on her.
She'd raise her baton.
They'd all take a breath together, their instruments raised and ready, and off they'd go.
That was one of my favorite nights of the year.
Our students playing together with such focus and care.
Whenever I walked through the music hallway, I'd hear them working through a new piece or else playing something they'd worked on for weeks with pride, and I'd smile.
All of them coming so far.
That was a night when all our local restaurants would be busy.
Families taking their saxophonists and xylophone players out for a meal, still in their matching dress pants and button -down shirts.
Of course, our eighth graders would be graduating and moving on, and that was always an emotional day for all of us.
When you see a student, especially one who might have struggled on their way up from elementary school, now standing in front of their families and fellows, ready to head into their next journey.
It makes your heart brim, so glad for them and grateful to have been a part of it.
And then when they come back to visit years later.
When they stop into your classroom or office and you can spot a little face inside of the grown -up one they now wear and they tell you what they are doing, how their life is going, that's a feeling of pride.
a child you helped in your way to raise, who comes home and remembers you.
I was thinking of all of these moments, getting a little misty if I'm honest as I was setting up for my own personal favorite end of the school year event, and that was the book fair.
We were a book -obsessed school that had started years ago with our last school librarian whose love for reading was so great that it became contagious.
She ran reading contests for every grade and started a couple of different book clubs for for the staff.
She made curated tables in the library, for different genres, for every holiday, for the birthdays of favorite authors.
She wore costumes pretty regularly and had boxes of props the kids could play with as they listened to stories.
And she turned our small, poorly -attended book fairs into events that the whole school looked forward to.
When she retired, it took several of us to fill her shoes.
but we'd managed to keep this love for books a mainstay in our school.
And the fair was still a big part of it, it no longer fit in the school library.
So we were setting up in the gymnasium today, and we didn't just set up a bunch of folding tables and lay out books on them.
We made the gym into a portal to distant lands and other times.
Part of what made our students fall in love with reading was bringing the stories out of the books, so we'd each picked a few favorite titles and with the help of the 7th and 8th grade art classes, were transforming each section of the gem into a slice of those worlds.
One of my picks told a story of a world under the ocean where Atlantis still thrived, and the art students had covered the windows with blue and green gels, so that the light coming in, rippled like water.
There were streamers that moved on a crank, washing over you, a bit like those strips of cloth in a car wash, and we had a speaker playing wave sounds.
Across the gym, in our classic section, rubber hobbit feet had been procured, and set in a row under a half -dozen hanging cloaks.
I'd heard there was a ring hidden somewhere in the display, and that one of the many science fair of volcanoes, had been saved to erupt at an exciting moment.
We had book worlds for all ages of our students, ghost stories and first loves, mysteries and adventures, sports and science, and every way to be in the world.
In our school we welcomed every story and our students flourished as their worlds grew wider with each turned page.
We would send them into the summer with an arm -load of new ideas and I was already looking forward to welcoming them back in the fall, to watch them continue to grow.
The Book Fair There were only a few weeks of school left before summer vacation began.
You could feel the anticipation when you walked the halls.
There was a push -pull energy in every classroom.
A push to the end to make the most of the last days of learning.
And a pull to the warmer weather on adventure of summertime.
Sometimes that pull was literal.
Our students and ourselves pulled to the windows to look at the trees in full leaf and bright blue skies.
We teachers were doing our best to walk the line, to keep our students' interest, and still let them be kids.
We'd found over the years that having a few special events to look forward to in the last month or so of classes helped everyone come to school with some enthusiasm, so the schedule would be full, right up till the final day.
We'd planned a school -wide field day, after weeks of being asked, hour after hour, if we could have classes outside.
We would finally be able to say, yes, It would be a whole day of outdoor activities, with a chalk drawing contest on the back parking lot.
A treasure hunt with clues planted all over the playground.
Land, races and games on the athletic fields, and snack tables set up just about everywhere.
Our cafeteria staff would make gallons of lemonade and pyramids of rice krispie snacks.
There would be giant fruit bowls full of apples and pears and bananas that no one would eat.
And at lunchtime, a small caravan of cars would pull up, delivering enough pizzas to to feed us all – a feat that seemed impossible but somehow happened every year.
There was also the spring concert to look forward to.
Our fifth - through eighth -graders would file into their seats on stage in the auditorium and nervously grip their trumpets and clarinets.
Our music teacher would stand on her riser with her music spread open on a stand in front of her, a baton in her hand, and wait till every musician's eyes were on her.
She'd raise her baton and they'd all take a breath together, their instruments raised And off they'd go.
That was one of the best nights of the year.
Our students playing together with such focus and care.
Whenever I walked through the music hallway, I'd hear them working through a new piece, or else playing something they'd worked on for weeks with pride.
And I'd smile, all of them coming so far.
That was a night when all our local restaurants would be busy, families taking their saxophonists and xylophone players out for a meal, still in their matching dress pants and button -down shirts.
Of course, our eighth graders would be graduating and moving on, and that was always an emotional day for all of us.
When you see a student, especially one who might have struggled on their way up from elementary school, now standing in front of their families and fellows, ready to head into the next journey.
That makes your heart brim, so glad for them, and so grateful to have been a part of it.
And then when they come back to visit years later, when they stop into your classroom or office, and you can spot the little face inside of the grown -up one they now wear, And they tell you what they are doing and how their life is going.
It's a feeling of pride, a child you helped in your way to raise, who comes home and remembers you.
I was thinking of all these moments, getting a little misty, if I'm honest. I was setting up for my own personal favorite end -of -the -school -year event and that was the book fair.
We were a book -obsessed school.
It had started years ago with our last school librarian, whose love for reading was so great that it became contagious.
She ran reading contests for every grade and started a couple of different book clubs for the staff.
She made curated tables in the library for different genres, for every holiday, for the birthdays of favorite authors.
She wore costumes pretty regularly and had boxes of props the kids could play with as they listened to stories.
She turned our small, poorly attended book fairs into events that the whole school looked forward to.
When she retired, it took several of us to fill her shoes.
But we'd managed to keep this love for books a mainstay in our school.
And the Fair was still a big part of it.
It no longer fit in the school library, so we were setting up in the gymnasium today.
We didn't just set up a bunch of folding tables and lay out books on them.
We made the gym into a portal to distant lands and other times.
Part of what made our students fall in love with reading was bringing the stories out of the books.
So we'd each picked a few favorite titles, and with the help of the seventh and eighth gem into a slice of those worlds.
One of my picks told a story of a world under the ocean where Atlantis still thrived, and the art students had covered the windows with blue and green gels.
So the light coming in rippled like water.
There were streamers that moved on a crank, washing over you a bit like those strips of cloth in a car wash.
And we had a speaker playing wave sounds.
Across the gym, in our classics section, rubber Hobbit feet had been procured, and sat in a row under a half dozen hanging cloaks.
I'd heard there was a ring hidden somewhere in the display, and that one of the many science fair volcanoes had been saved to erupt at an exciting moment.
We had book worlds for all ages of our students, ghost stories and first loves, mysteries and adventures, sports and science, and every way to be in the world.
In our school, we welcomed every story, and our students flourished as their worlds grew wider, with each turned page.
We would send them into the summer with an armload of new ideas and I was already looking forward to welcoming them back in the fall to watch them continue to grow.
Sweet dreams. Awesome
