Thunder Cake Activities || Homeschooling

ABOUT THE BOOK
Reaching once again into her rich childhood experience, Patricia Polacco tells the memorable story
of how her grandma—her Babushla—helped her overcome her fear of thunder when she was a
little girl. Ms. Polacco’s vivid memories of her grandmother’s endearing answer to a child’s fear,
accompanied by her bright folk-art illustrations, turn a frightening thunderstorm into an adventure
and ultimately…a celebration!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Patricia Polacco was born in Lansing, Michigan in 1944. Her stories are inspired by her Russian,
Ukrainian, and Irish heritage. As a child, Polacco struggled to learn to read and learn that she was
dyslexic at the age of 14. In her stories, she shares with readers her cultural background as well as
her struggles and achievements in school. She found relief by expressing herself through art and is
an inspiration for all, especially those with learning struggles. She is world famous, not only
because of her 115 books, but because of humanitarian causes. She wrote her first children’s book
at age 41.

BEFORE READING
Use these questions before reading the story to help students activate background knowledge and
make predictions:
• Introduce the author Patricia Polacco and her struggles with reading as a child.
• Examine the cover
• I notice that the sky is dark, what do you think is going to happen?
• Where do you think the story takes place?
• What do you think Thunder Cake is?


AFTER READING
Use these questions while after reading the story to help students understand what they just read.
• What did the girl learn from her grandmother?
• Why did the grandma have the girl count every time she heard a loud noise?
• How did the grandmother help the girl overcome her fears?
• What did the author want to teach you?
• Do you think this is a true story? Why or why not?
BRING BOOK TO LIFE
• If you were by yourself and a storm was coming, what would you do?
• What are you scared of and do you have something that makes you feel better? Give an example of your own.
COOPERATIVE LEARNING
• Brainstorm and name common sounds people are afraid of (in pairs).
• Work with another partner to think of situations you might have to find a place to hide




Thunder Cake
by Patricia Polacco
On sultry summer days at my grandma’s farm in Michigan, the air gets damp and heavy.
Stormclouds drift low over the fields. Birds fly close to the ground. The clouds glow for an instant
with a sharp, cracking light, and then a roaring, low, tumbling sound of thunder makes the
windows shudder in their panes. The sound used to scare me when I was little. I loved to go to
Grandma’s house (Babushka, as I used to call my grandma, had come from Russia years before),
but I feared Michigan’s summer storms. I feared the sound of thunder more than anything. I always
hid under the bed when the storm moved near the farmhouse.
This is the story of how my grandma—my Babushka—helped me overcome my fear of
thunderstorms.
Grandma looked at the horizon, drew a deep breath and said, “This is Thunder Cake baking
weather, all right. Looks like a storm coming to me.”
“Child, you come out from under that bed. It’s only thunder you’re hearing,” my grandma said.
The air was hot, heavy, and damp. A loud clap of thunder shook the house, rattled the windows
and made me grab her close.
“Steady, child,” she cooed. “Unless you let go of me, we won’t be able to make Thunder Cake
today!”
“Thunder Cake?” I stammered as I hugged her even closer.
“Don’t pay attention to that old thunder, except to see how close the storm is getting. When you
see lightning, start counting…real slow. When you hear the thunder, stop counting. That number is
how many miles away the storm is, so we have time to make the cake and get it into the oven before
the storm comes, or it won’t be real Thunder Cake.”
Her eyes surveyed the black cloud a way off in the distance. Then she strode into the kitchen.
Her worn hands pulled a thick book from the shelf above the woodstove.
“Let’s find that recipe, child,” she crowed as she lovingly fingered the grease-stained pages to a
creased spot.
“Here it is…Thunder Cake!”
She carefully penned the ingredients on a piece of notepaper. “Now let’s gather all the things
we’ll need!” she exclaimed as she scurried toward the back door.
We were by the barn door when a huge bolt of lightning flashed. I started counting, like
Grandma told me to, “1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10.”
Then the thunder ROARED!
“Ten miles…it’s ten miles away,” Grandma said as she looked at the sky. “About an hour away,
I’d say. You’ll have to hurry, child. Gather them eggs careful-like,” she said.
Eggs from mean old Nellie Peck Hen. I was scared. I knew she would try to peck at me.
“I’m here, she won’t hurt you. Just get them eggs,” Grandma said softly.
The lightning flashed again. “1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9” I counted.
“Nine miles,” Grandma reminded me.
Milk was next. Milk from old Kick Cow. As Grandma milked her, Kick Cow turned and looked
mean, right at me. I was scared. She looked so big.
ZIP went the lightning. “1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8” I counted.
BAROOOOOOOOM went the thunder.
“Eight miles, child,” Grandma croaked. “Now we have to get chocolate and sugar and flour
from the dry shed.”
I was scared as we walked down the path from the farmhouse through Tangleweed Woods to
the dry shed. Suddenly the lightning slit the sky!
“1-2-3-4-5-6-7” I counted.
BOOOOOOOOOM BA-BOOOOOOM, crashed the thunder. It scared me a lot, but I kept
walking with Grandma.
Another jagged edge of lightning flashed as I crept into the dry shed. “1-2-3-4-5-6” I counted.
CRACKLE, CRACKLE BOOOOOOM, KA-BOOOOOM, the thunder bellowed. It was dark
and I was scared.
“I’m here, child,” Grandma said softly from the doorway. “Hurry now, we haven’t got much
time. We’ve got everything but the secret ingredient.”
“Three overripe tomatoes and some strawberries,” Grandma whispered as she squinted at the
list.
I climbed up high on the trellis. The ground looked a long way down. I was scared.
“I’m here, child,” she said. Her voice was steady and soft. “You won’t fall.”
I reached three luscious tomatoes while she picked strawberries. Lightning again!
“1-2-3-4-5” I counted.
KA-BANG BOOOOOOOOOAROOOOOM, the thunder growled.
We hurried back to the house and the warm kitchen, as we measured the ingredients. I poured
them into the mixing bowl while Grandma mixed. I churned butter for the frosting and melted
chocolate. Finally, we poured the batter into the cake pans and put them into the oven together.
Lightning lit the kitchen! I only counted to three and the thunder RRRRRUMBLED and
CRASHED.
“Three miles away,” Grandma said, “and the cake is in the oven. We made it! We’ll have real
Thunder Cake!”
As we waited for the cake, Grandma looked out the window for a long time. “Why, you aren’t
afraid of thunder. You’re too brave!” she said as she looked right at me.
“I’m not brave, Grandma,” I said. “I was under the bed! Remember?”
“But you got out from under it,” she answered, “and you got eggs from mean olf Nellie Peck
hen, you got milk from old Kick Cow, you went through the Tangled Woods to the dry shed, you
climbed the trellis on the barnyard. From where I sit, only a very brave person could have done all
them things!”
I thought and thought as the storm rumbled closer. She was right. I was brave!
“Brave people can’t be afraid of a sound, child,” she said as we spread out the tablecloth and set
the table. When we were done, we hurried into the kitchen to take the cake out of the oven. After the
cake had cooled, we frosted it.
Just then the lightning flashed, and this time it lit the whole sky.
Even before the last flash had faded, the thunder ROLLED, BOOOMED, CRASHED, and
BBBBAAAAARRRRRROOOOOMMMMMMMMED just above us. The storm was here!
“Perfect,” Grandma cooed, “just perfect.” She beamed as she added the last strawberry to the
glistening chocolate frosting on top of the Thunder Cake.
As rain poured down on our roof, Grandma cut a wedge for each of us. She poured us steaming
cups of tea from the samovar.
When the thunder ROARED above us so hard it shook the windows and rattled the dishes in
the cupboards, we just smiled and ate our Thunder Cake.
From that time on, I never feared the voice of thunder again.