Welcome to Storyline Online, brought to you by the SAG-AFTRA Foundation. I’m Dulé Hill, and today I’m going to share the story of As Fast As Words Could Fly, written by Pamela M. Tuck and illustrated by Eric Velasquez. Let’s dive into this inspiring tale!
In Greenville, North Carolina, a young boy named Mason Steele was busy with his schoolwork. His father, who was part of a civil rights group, often brought home new challenges. Mason loved helping out because it made him feel important. One day, his father needed him to write a letter about a restaurant that refused to serve some people. Mason’s letter was so good that his father said it could be sent to the President!
One evening, Mason’s father surprised him with a typewriter. The civil rights group wanted to thank Mason for his hard work. Mason was thrilled and promised to write them a thank-you letter. He practiced typing every day, learning where each letter and symbol was on the typewriter.
When summer ended, Mason started high school. His father announced that Mason and his brothers would attend a nearby school that was previously only for white students. They were nervous because they knew not everyone would welcome them. On their first day, the school bus didn’t stop for them, and when it finally did, they were told to sit at the back.
At school, Mason faced many challenges, but he excelled in typing class. He got a job at the school library, where he impressed the librarian with his typing skills. However, he was unfairly fired, but thanks to the support of his father and civil rights leaders, he was rehired.
One day, Mason’s typing teacher announced a tournament. Mason was chosen to represent his school. Despite the pressure, Mason decided to use a manual typewriter, which reminded him of his roots. He typed faster than anyone else, breaking records with 65 words per minute!
Even though Mason didn’t receive applause, he knew his actions spoke louder than words. His skills and determination showed everyone that he could make a difference. Mason’s story teaches us that actions matter more than words. By working hard and staying true to ourselves, we can change the world around us.
Thank you for joining us at Storyline Online. Remember, just like Mason, you can make a difference by using your talents and staying true to yourself. Keep watching, keep reading, and see you soon!
Imagine you are Mason and write a letter to a leader about an important issue you care about. Use your words to express your thoughts and suggest solutions. Remember, your words have the power to make a difference!
Practice your typing skills by participating in a typing challenge. Set a timer for one minute and see how many words you can type. Try to beat your own record each time, just like Mason did in the tournament!
With your classmates, role-play a scene from the civil rights movement. Discuss how Mason and his family might have felt and what actions they took to overcome obstacles. Reflect on how you can apply these lessons in your own life.
Design a thank-you card for someone who has helped you, just like Mason did for the civil rights group. Use your creativity to express your gratitude and make the person feel appreciated.
Join a discussion circle with your classmates to talk about the story of Mason. Share your thoughts on how actions can speak louder than words and give examples from your own experiences.
**Sanitized Transcript:**
Welcome to Storyline Online, brought to you by the SAG-AFTRA Foundation. I’m Dulé Hill, and today I’m going to read *As Fast As Words Could Fly*, written by Pamela M. Tuck and illustrated by Eric Velasquez.
You ready? Here we go. Trouble was brewing in Greenville, North Carolina. By five o’clock, fourteen-year-old Mason Steele was rushing to finish his schoolwork. Pa would be home from his meeting soon, bringing a new problem. New problems meant more work for Mason. He didn’t mind, though, because helping Pa’s civil rights group made Mason feel really important.
The screen door banged shut. “Where’s Mason?” Pa asked as he scanned the kitchen. “Willis, the boy’s doing his lessons,” Ma sighed. “I need him to write another letter for me. Ma-s-o-n-n-n!” “Yes, sir,” Mason called. He hurried into the room with paper and a pencil. “Whittaker’s Restaurant refused to serve Matt Duncan’s boys,” Pa explained. “We got to form another sit-in.” Mason took notes while Pa rambled on about what had happened. Only Mason could make sense out of what Pa said. Later, Mason turned his notes into a business letter. “This sounds good enough to send to President Lyndon B. Johnson himself,” Pa boasted after he read Mason’s letter.
One evening, after the screen door banged shut, Mason waited for Pa to call him. Instead, he heard Ma and Pa talking quietly. When Mason finally entered the kitchen, he could hardly believe his eyes. “A typewriter!” he gasped. “Yep,” Pa said. “The group wanted to give it to you. Said you’ve been quite a little lawyer for us. Figured a typewriter might help you someday.” Mason slid his fingers over the keys. Each row looked like little steps climbing up. “It’s beautiful,” Mason whispered. “I’ll type the civil rights group a thank-you letter.” “That’ll be the right thing to do,” Ma agreed.
Soon school was out. During the summer, Mason and his two older brothers, Willis Jr. and Henry, picked tobacco with a few of the white boys who lived nearby. Patrick and Daniel Jones were the only two who acted friendly. They often raced against Mason and his brothers to be the first to fill the mule cart. In the evenings, Mason was weary from the day’s work, but that didn’t stop him from practicing his typing. Using his index fingers to pick out the keys, he learned where every letter and symbol was located on the typewriter.
Summer flew by. Before he knew it, Mason started his first year of high school. After the third week, Pa called him and his brothers into the kitchen one evening. “Boys, I got some real important news for you,” he began. “We just won a case we’ve been fighting for a long time. It ain’t right for y’all to be bused twelve miles to Bethel Union High School when Belvoir High ain’t but three miles away.” The boys’ eyes widened. “P-P-Pa, you know them white folks ain’t gonna like us going to their school not one bit,” Willis Jr. stammered. “Like it or not, y’all’s going,” Pa replied. “Somebody’s got to make a change.” The boys stared at one another in disbelief. “The bus’ll be here early Monday morning, so be ready,” Pa said as he got up from the table and left the room.
Monday morning, Mason and his brothers were nervous. They watched the school bus come roaring up the road. The driver slowed down just enough for the boys to see the white students on the bus laughing at them. Then he sped up, blowing dust in the boys’ faces. “They just don’t want us on their bus,” Willis Jr. said. “I don’t want to ride their bus anyway,” Mason added. The boys trudged back to the house. When they told Pa the driver hadn’t stopped for them, he was furious. The next day, the same thing happened. The third day, the bus stopped. Slowly the boys climbed the steps. “Move it! I ain’t got all day,” the driver yelled. “And get to the back!” The boys stumbled over one another as they hustled down the aisle. Henry spotted a familiar face. “Hey, Patrick,” he said. Patrick didn’t answer. He just looked straight ahead. “You Steele boys are asking for trouble,” Daniel whispered. The driver took off. The sudden motion threw the boys into their seats.
When the boys arrived at Belvoir High, the principal, Mr. Bullock, barricaded the doorway. He looked as if he had smelled something unpleasant. “Report to class after the bell rings,” he snapped, and thrust their schedules toward them. “How will we know where to go?” Willis Jr. asked. “You found a way to get in here, so find your way around.” Mr. Bullock turned and stormed into the building. By the time Mason located the right room, the class had already started. Cold stares and grimaces greeted him when he entered. Mason knew which seat was his: the one in the back corner.
Against the odds, Mason did well in school. He especially liked typing class. The teacher, Mrs. Roberts, ignored him, but he paid strict attention when she helped others. At home, Mason practiced what he had learned. It wasn’t long before he needed to earn some money to buy typing paper and other supplies. Mason found out that the Neighborhood Youth Corps sponsored an after-school program that offered jobs. He applied and received a position in the school library. “What can you do, boy?” Mrs. Turner, the librarian, asked. “I can type, ma’am,” Mason answered. “Well, come over here so I can show you what to do.” Mrs. Turner took a stack of index cards and sat down at a typewriter. “Pay attention, because I’m not going over this with you a second time.” Mason had to transfer the information on the spines of books onto the cards. Mrs. Turner typed one card and left him without further instructions.
Two hours later, Mrs. Turner approached Mason. “How’s it coming, boy?” she demanded. Mason handed her his stack of index cards. Mrs. Turner’s eyes bulged. “My goodness! How many cards did you type?” “I think about one hundred, ma’am,” Mason replied. Mrs. Turner checked the cards. She couldn’t find a single mistake. “Gracious, boy,” she said. “You type faster than Mrs. Roberts.” Mrs. Roberts was pleased to be relieved from the library work. She became friendlier to Mason in typing class. She even allowed him to use the new electric typewriter. The first time Mason used the electric typewriter, the letters jumped onto the paper with the slightest touch. He had to get used to pressing a button to return to the left margin of his paper. He could type faster and more quietly on the electric typewriter, but he missed the tinkling bell on the manual typewriter that signaled a new line.
Mason continued to improve his typing skills. Before long, he could type forty words per minute. His job was going well too, and he was earning the money he needed for typing supplies. Then Mason was fired without explanation. “They messed with the wrong fella,” Pa fumed when he found out what had happened. “I’m gonna call Golden Frinks on this one. He’s a field secretary for the SCLC.” Mason had heard plenty of Pa’s stories about the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, the organization that coordinated nonviolent action to end segregation. Pa had said that field secretaries interviewed people who complained about unequal treatment. Then they organized a march, a sit-in, or a protest. “Golden Frinks was personally selected by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.,” Pa added. “And believe me, son, Mr. Frinks shakes ground.”
The next morning, Golden Frinks, Pa, and other civil rights workers went to the Board of Education. An investigation began. The Board of Education discovered that Mrs. Turner’s husband didn’t want her to stay after school with a Black boy. The federal government was funding the Youth Corps and now threatened to stop giving the school money for the program because Mason was treated unfairly. Mason was rehired.
One day in typing class, Mrs. Roberts announced that there was going to be a typing tournament among some of the high schools in the county. The fastest typist in the class would represent Belvoir High. The students fiercely competed against one another. Mr. Bullock reviewed the scores. Then he announced the winner. “Mason Steele will represent our school in the typing tournament.” “How can a Black student represent our school?” a student blurted out. “We can’t afford any more trouble with the Board of Education,” Mr. Bullock responded, stealing a glance at Mason. Do I really want to do this? Mason thought. But then he recalled Pa’s words. Somebody’s got to make a change.
On the day of the tournament, Mr. Bullock and Mrs. Roberts drove Mason to Farmville High School. Upon entering the auditorium, Mason scanned the room. He tried to ignore the stares of the white students as he considered the selection of electric and manual typewriters. Mason knew if he chose a manual typewriter, he would lose time. He would have to take his left hand off the keys so he could hit the lever to start each new line. All the other students sat down at electric typewriters. Mason had to make a decision. He closed his eyes to think. His typewriter at home flashed before him. Mason sat down at a manual typewriter. The judge went over the rules, then shouted, “Begin!” Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-DING. Mason finished his first line. He couldn’t hear how fast the other students were typing. He focused only on his paper. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-DING. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-DING. Mason’s fingers flew over the keys. His typing echoed throughout the auditorium. BZZZZZZZZ! “Time’s up!” the judge yelled. All eyes were on Mason as the judge collected the papers. After a long wait, the results were announced. “I can’t believe this. I really can’t believe this,” the judge said into the microphone. “Mason Steele, from Belvoir High, has broken all previous records with a typing speed of sixty-five words per minute.” No one cheered. Mason just stared straight ahead. Mr. Bullock accepted the typing championship plaque for Belvoir High. Not a single person in the audience applauded. Mason received nothing.
“That’s some skill you have,” Mrs. Roberts complimented Mason on the drive back to school. “Thank you, ma’am,” Mason responded. “I just have one question,” Mr. Bullock said. “Why in the world did you choose a manual typewriter?” Mason cleared his throat. “’Cause it reminds me of where I come from, sir.” Neither of the adults said anything more to Mason the rest of the way. But Mason knew his words typed on paper had already spoken for him — loud and clear.
The end.
This is a great book. What I love about this book is yes, words do matter. But actions matter that much more. Mason’s father and civil rights group gave him a little gift of a typewriter, but Mason received that gift, worked that gift, and in the end, used that gift to change the minds of others. He didn’t need to talk about it. He just had to do it. So no matter what people think about you, what they say about you, you don’t always need to respond. Just do you. Live your life just like Mason.
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Words – Units of language that convey meaning and are used to form sentences. – In her story, she chose her words carefully to create a magical world.
Actions – Things that characters do in a story, which help to move the plot forward. – The hero’s actions in the book showed his bravery and kindness.
Writing – The activity of creating text, such as stories, essays, or poems. – She spent the afternoon writing a short story about a dragon and a princess.
Letter – A written message from one person to another, often used in stories to reveal important information. – In the novel, the mysterious letter changed the detective’s understanding of the case.
School – A place where students learn and study various subjects, often featured in stories about growing up. – The main character faced many challenges at her new school but made friends along the way.
Typing – The act of writing on a computer or typewriter by pressing keys. – He spent the evening typing his essay on the computer for his English class.
Challenges – Difficult situations or obstacles that characters must overcome in a story. – The protagonist faced many challenges, but each one taught her something valuable.
Tournament – A competition in which players or teams compete against each other, often used in stories to build excitement. – In the fantasy novel, the tournament determined who would become the next knight.
Skills – Abilities or expertise that characters develop or use in a story. – The young wizard had to practice his skills to defeat the dark sorcerer.
Difference – A way in which things or characters are not the same, often highlighting diversity or conflict in a story. – The difference between the two friends was their approach to solving problems, which made their adventures interesting.
