This spring, as part of my research with CONNECT researcher Dr. Christine Lee, I had the opportunity to observe and record students in the EC2 classrooms as they read the wordless picture book Good Dog, Carl by Alexandra Day. The book itself is simple in structure: a mother leaves her baby in the care of a dog named Carl, and while she is away, Carl and the baby go on a playful adventure throughout the house. Because there are no words on the page, each child became the narrator of their own stories. They brought themselves into the story in completely different ways—through voice, gesture, movement, and narration.
What surprised me the most was how each reading felt entirely new. Even though it was the same book, the meaning and tone changed depending on who was telling the story. In this blog post, I focus on two individuals and two reading groups who stood out to me, not just because of how clearly they brought themselves into the story, but how diverse storytelling can be with a single wordless book.
Example 1: Organized Third-Person Narration
Annie approached Good Dog, Carl with a strong sense of order and confidence. From the first page, it was clear that she was focused on following the story step by step. She carefully narrated each scene as it unfolded, staying close to the illustrations but adding a smooth, logical flow to the events. When Carl and the baby entered the bedroom, she said, “They went into the parent’s bedroom and jumped on the bed.” As they explored the bathroom, she explained, “They walked into the bathroom, they put on blush, they put on beads, and towels.” Later, she added matter-of-factly, “The baby is gonna go down the laundry chute,” and then added, “they took a ride” when the baby climbed onto Carl’s back.
Throughout reading, the student didn’t use sound effects, gestures, or dramatic tones. However, what stood out was her clear sequencing and careful attention to what was happening in each picture. Her narration had structure, pacing, and clear timeline of events—and that structure became its own form of expression. Her reading showed me that storytelling does not always need to be loud or theatrical to be powerful. For her, confidence came from knowing exactly what was going on and being able to communicate it clearly. It was a reminder that some children find their voice through the third person narrative voice. In a story with no words, she created her own path through the narrative by anchoring it in organization and certainty.
Example 2: Voice, Rhythm, and Movement
In this second example, this student’s storytelling style could not have been more different. She brought Good Dog, Carl to life. From her voice to her gestures to the rhythm of her movements, her whole body was engaged. When Carl and the baby bounced on the bed, she playfully said, “bounce bounce bounce” while tapping her feet to match the scene. As the baby swam in the fish tank, she waved her arms in a swimming motion and called out, “swim swim swim.” She added new lines like, “time to go on a ride” when Carl gave the baby a piggyback, followed by “too too too” as she pretended to ride along. She even layered in animal sounds, like “RUF RUF” for Carl and “goo goo gah gah” for the baby, creating a sensory-rich reading experience.
What made her approach so memorable was the way she turned storytelling into a form of play. Each page became a prompt for her to move, improvise, and perform. She treated each page like a scene, using sound, rhythm, and movement to animate the story. Her body became part of the storytelling, and in doing so, she showed me that literacy isn’t just verbal—it can be embodied. She showed me that for many children, literacy is not a quiet activity. It’s interactive. It’s joyful. And it often looks like play.
Even more powerful was how her storytelling naturally pulled others in. Later, when she read Good Dog, Carl in a group, that same energy shaped the way everyone engaged with the book. During the bed-jumping scene, she started saying “boinky boinky boinky” while bouncing her feet, and her group mates immediately echoed her, repeating the phrase and following her rhythm. She didn’t tell anyone what to do. She simply created an atmosphere of fun and expression that others wanted to join. Her storytelling invited collaboration without needing to lead it directly.
This student’s storytelling showed me that literacy doesn’t only happen through spoken sentences. It can happen through rhythm, sound, and motion. It can be physical and shared. Her reading showed how students can connect emotionally and socially through storytelling when they feel free to express themselves fully. Her voice didn’t just tell the story. It invited others into it, and that’s what made her approach so memorable.
Example 3: A Story Built Together
In this example, I present a group of three children reading– each child brought something unique, and together they created a reading that felt spontaneous, energetic, and balanced. One of the students in this group, who was the reader in example 2 continued to use movement and sound to bring the story to life. During the scene where Carl and the baby jumped on the bed, she chanted, “boinky boinky boinky,” while bouncing her body with the rhythm. That moment became a spark that led the other two students in the group to join in immediately, repeating “boinky boinky boinky” with her. It was a playful exchange that felt natural and unscripted, and it showed how one child’s enthusiasm can draw others in and create a shared rhythm.
Later in the story, one of the students who had been quiet at the start found his moment during the laundry chute scene. As the baby slid down, he exclaimed, “help help help,” followed by “let’s save the baby!” His contribution brought a dramatic flair that made the moment feel urgent and exciting. It was a reminder that even the quieter children are tuned in and can add emotional weight when they feel ready.
The third student in the group kept the story grounded. He offered steady narration that kept the group focused on the events of the story. He described what was happening in the pictures clearly and consistently, which gave structure to the more expressive parts brought in by the other two friends. His presence helped pace the story so that the performance remained balanced and understandable.
Each of them brought a different style, and together they divided and co-constructed storytelling in a way that relied on listening, timing, and mutual awareness. They had to pay attention to each other to know when their method of storytelling came in. Watching them read together showed me how powerful group storytelling can be when children are allowed to blend their styles, follow each other’s lead, and build something as a team. This kind of collaboration shows just how rich and social reading can be when we let kids take ownership of it.
Example 4: Routine and Respect
In the final example, I present two students who had a very structured and synchronized storytelling. Sitting side by side, they naturally alternated every two pages, establishing a quiet rhythm. They seemed to intuitively understand whose turn it was. In one instance, when it looked like one student might continue reading past his part, the other chimed in with, “OK, I’ll read the next page,” not as a correction but as a way to keep their pattern of turn-taking going.
Each time they switched turns, they clearly signaled to one another whose turn it was by gently turning the book toward the next reader. It might seem like a small thing, but it showed how aware they were of each other. Even more striking was how they built off one another’s narration. They often used the phrase “and then” to transition between pages, which helped the story feel continuous. Rather than starting fresh with each turn, they picked up where the other left off. That kind of linking made the story feel like a true collaboration, not just two individuals reading in parts.
Their coordination was powerful as it revealed a different kind of communication. They were listening to each other, tracking the flow of the story, and maintaining a shared pace. Their ability to verbalize when one person was up showed how even quiet readers can engage in meaningful oral collaboration. It wasn’t just about turn-taking. It was about mutual awareness and trust.
Watching them read reminded me that collaboration doesn’t always come with volume or flair. Sometimes it’s with small cues, gestures, and the unspoken understanding between two children who are present with each other. Their reading showed me that reading wordless books can carry depth, intention, and care—and that, too, is powerful storytelling.
Concluding Thoughts
This project pushed me to rethink what it means to “read” a story. Watching children interpret Good Dog, Carl made it clear that literacy is not just about decoding letters or sounding out words. It is about how children make meaning from what they see and how they bring that meaning to life through their own voices, movements, and interactions. Each child I observed brought something distinct and meaningful. Annie showed how structure and sequencing could guide a story with clarity and confidence. Sophia demonstrated how sound, rhythm, and movement could turn a silent book into something deeply expressive and collaborative. Lance, Oli, and Sophia, as a group, revealed the power of collective storytelling—how attention, timing, and trust can shape a shared narrative. Violet and Ash offered a model of quiet communication, showing that mutual respect and verbal coordination are just as powerful as performance.
Reading with these children showed me that every child brings a different kind of intelligence to storytelling. Some express it through third-person narratives. Others through emotion or physicality. Some lead with boldness. Others listen and wait for the right moment to speak. What they all showed me is that literacy, when we allow it to be expansive, becomes a space where children can be creative, self-directed, and in control of their own voices.
In a classroom, we often emphasize correctness and comprehension. But in these readings, I saw how powerful it can be to let students take the lead, to let them interpret, perform, and build meaning in their own ways. Good Dog, Carl may be a wordless book, but the stories it produced were full of language—verbal, visual, emotional, and embodied. What I took away from this work is not just a better understanding of early literacy, but a deeper appreciation for the way children think, create, and connect when we give them the space to do so. And that, to me, is where real learning happens.
Kenneth Nguyen is a fourth-year UCLA student majoring in Education and Social Transformation. As a CONNECT Research Intern working with Dr. Christine Lee, he explores how storytelling, embodiment, and student voice shape early literacy practices. His work focuses on inclusive, creative approaches to learning that affirm the unique strengths of every child.
Questions about this blog post can be directed to Dr. Christine Lee (clee@labschool.ucla.edu).