
MY HANDS TELL A STORY
Clip: 5/1/2023 | 8m 42sVideo has Audio Description, Closed Captions
Shana Davis reads MY HANDS TELL A STORY by Kelly Starling Lyons.
MY HANDS TELL A STORY, by Kelly Starling Lyons with illustrations by Tonya Engel, is about a girl and her grandmother making meaning from the lines on their hands. Each line represents a story from the past. With two young friends, Shana Davis reads the picture book and then creates scented paintings with glue, gelatin power, and paper.
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Let's Learn is a local public television program presented by THIRTEEN PBS

MY HANDS TELL A STORY
Clip: 5/1/2023 | 8m 42sVideo has Audio Description, Closed Captions
MY HANDS TELL A STORY, by Kelly Starling Lyons with illustrations by Tonya Engel, is about a girl and her grandmother making meaning from the lines on their hands. Each line represents a story from the past. With two young friends, Shana Davis reads the picture book and then creates scented paintings with glue, gelatin power, and paper.
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Learn Moreabout PBS online sponsorship- My name is Shana and I have two special guests with me today!
- I'm Lyra.
- And I'm Aria.
- And today we are going to read a story to you.
But first, before we read, let's talk about our five senses.
So we do a lot of things with our hands.
Our hands can create things, grow things, and we also use our other senses.
What are other senses that help us use our hands.
- Sound.
- Sound.
- Smell, like- - Smell.
- If you smell something, you can smell the aroma.
Yes.
And that's my favorite part of cooking.
And sight to see it as we cook it, right?
We watch it.
And what else?
What else?
What's this?
Hearing!
- Hearing.
Very good.
- And taste.
- And taste.
So those are our five senses.
So I want you guys to think about that in the back of your mind while we read our story for today.
Our story is called, "My Hands Tell A Story."
The author is Kelly Starling Lyons, and the illustrator is Tonya Engel.
"'There's my Zoe,' Grandma says, waving me into the kitchen with a floured hand.
"Can I help?"
'Wouldn't be the same without you' she says.
I wash my hands and stand beside her at the table.
Grandma shows me how to kneed the dough into a ball that will rise like magic.
Her hands tell a story if you listen.
'I was just a little girl like you when mama taught me how to make cinnamon bread,' she said.
'Ingredients are only part of it.
You've got to get the rhythm.'"
- [Lyra] "Push and pull.
Push and pull."
- [Shana] "I try to do like grandma, but the dough bunches instead of flats.
It's sticky instead of smooth.
I frown at my hands and wonder if they will ever move like hers.
'Like this,' she says, sprinkling flour like fairy dust and placing her hands over mine.
We use the heels with our palms to push the dough forward.
Then we fold to pull it back again."
- "Push and pull.
Push and pull.
Until it's just right."
- [Shana] "I place the dough into a greased bowl.
Grandma covers with a cloth.
'Making bread takes time,' she says.
So, we sit and wait.
We sit and-" - "Talk."
- [Shana] "Her hands tell a story, if you-" - [Aria] "Listen."
- [Shana] "Grandma holds her palms in front of her like a map.
'They look like roads,' I say, tracing the lines.
She smiles like they go places only she knows.
'Wasn't easy,' she says, 'Typing and filing until my hands ached, then heading down to the studio at night.
some people said I should be happy I was working, but I had a dream of dancing on stage.'
I pictured grandma in spotlight.
Head raises towards the heaven.
Her hands weave a world without saying a word.
Then she takes off, leaping and twirling through time and space.
Her fingers are like branches stretching toward the sky.
I look at my hands and wonder what stories they will tell."
- "Where will they go?"
- "What will they learn?"
- Hmm.
"I glide a fingertip down grandma's rose-painted nails, and across her knuckles, I stop when I get to her wedding ring with flowers blooming on the band.
'When your granddaddy and I got married,' she said, "We bought a little land people said wouldn't grow a thing but weeds.
We broke up the soil, planted and tended, loved and believed.
Our blessings burst through that earth.
Yes, they did.'"
And the blessings burst through.
And what did they have?
What grew?
- Plant.
- A plant.
- Plant.
- Right, yeah.
- "Eating at their house always makes me feel special.
Gifts from their gardens stream in china dishes, squash and onions, collard green, candied yams.
Tangy smells tickle my nose and make my mouth water.
I wonder if one day my hands will grow something too.
Before I know it, we need to check the dough.
I can't believe how big it has swelled.
We flatten it, then dust it with cinnamon sugar.
Next we roll it up and lay it in the pan.
I cover it with cloth so it can rise again.
'Let's get some air,' Grandma says.
Outside on the glider, the wind whistles.
And grandma rubs my head, soft as a whisper.
I hear murmurs of her hand flowing and dancing, praying and planting, stroking my ear when she thinks I'm asleep.
And something happens.
I look at my hands.
I really look at them For the first time.
I can see memories in every line."
- "Clapping games with friends."
- "Drawing my dreams."
- "Building and baking.
'Time for the oven!'
Grandma says, rising to go inside.
While we wait for our bread to be ready, I think about the power in my hands.
They can turn pages, color, and create.
What will tomorrow bring?"
Hm.
"When grandma puts down her crossword puzzle, I jump up and race to the oven."
- "It's time."
- "It's time!
She cuts hunks of our cinnamon swirls bread.
The spicy aroma makes me wiggle.
I spread butter that melts into each nook.
We take a bite and slap our hands together.
Grandma stares at my fingers like she's seeing something new.
"You have my hands,' she says.
Our fingers are long and skinny, sweet brown, like sugar, made for holding and reaching.
'But you'll go places I've never been,' Grandma says with pride.
I see my hands raised in victory as I cross the finish line.
I see them making music.
I see them writing about grandma and me.
At home, I type on my computer and here the tap tap rhythm, softly first, and then louder and stronger."
- "The words fly out."
- "Like they're sailing on a breeze."
- [All] "My hands tell a story, if you listen."
- The end!
- There.
- The end.
- We're making a painting that will smell like fruit.
We're using some non-toxic glue, artificially flavored gelatin powder.
That gives the painting it's scent.
And water.
Ask a trusted adult to help you squeeze glue on the parts of your drawing where you want your colors and scents to be.
You can use a brush, a q-tip, or fingers to spread out the glue.
Next, sprinkle colored gelatin powder where there's glue.
We use strawberry and orange.
Dust all the extra powder.
Before long, you'll see your gelatin powder change colors.
Then you can sprinkle water on the powder to help the colors change faster.
Make sure to ask your adults to help you and have some napkins handy.
Things can get a little messy.
- So here are our finished products.
- This is Aria's scented flower.
- [Aria] So it is red on the petals, and in the middle where the big seed is, it is orange.
- And this is Lyra's delicious scented cupcake.
- Here's my beautiful cupcake.
It's mostly red, and the sprinkles are orange, and the bottom, like, the wrappings orange.
Can't wait to see what you guys create at home.
- Yeah.
See you next time!
- Bye, guys!
- Bye!
[gentle playful music]
Video has Audio Description, Closed Captions
Shana Davis reads MY HANDS TELL A STORY by Kelly Starling Lyons. (8m 42s)
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