Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Prompt:

You've heard the saying "raining cats and dogs."
What is it raining (make up your own type of "rain"), and why?  

Important Note:  If you need to finish your child's book, work on that!

Mother's Day Gifts of Poetry or Prose
for mother or for someone else.
Your project:
If it is below average, you will receive nothing, nada, zilch.
If it is average, you will receive 75%.
If it is above average, you will receive 85%.
If it is absolutely outstanding, you will receive 100%.
Schedule:
Today, plan, write,  and revise.
Next time, finish up so it is ready to give.

Resources:
 Forms of Poetry:  Write Source 2000, page 202 - 207
http://www.readwritethink.org/files/resources/lesson_images/lesson391/I-am-poem.pdf I Am Poem
or http://ettcweb.lr.k12.nj.us/forms/iampoem.htm

Poems for Two Voices 
http://browseinside.harpercollinschildrens.com/index.aspx?isbn13=9780064460934

Your project could be

• a long poem
• a collection of short poems
• a memoir
• a short story
• a story or poem with photos
• "newspaper" article
• What else?

http://blog.theconnectionweshare.com/craft-activities-ideas-for-kids/mothers-day-gifts-from-kids/

Why Gifts of Writing? They last. They’re personalized and more personal than most other gifts. They show more thought:  the writer spent a special kind of time and made a special kind of effort. They show a writer’s love better than anything. You can make your mother, father, or granny cry.

Some Samples: 

Walk to the Mail    -- Siobhan Anderson You say I have to come with you,   to journey across many fences and lawns, to go and retrieve the mail. With a sign I step outside, only to find myself in knee-high snow. You take my mittened hand in yours as we enter the small forest and lightly jump the fence. We pass a garden covered with snow twinkling in the sun. You tell me all the things that could grow here: forget-me-nots, baby's breath, sweet peas. I pray that spring will come soon. We reach the mailbox and unload the bills, letters, and postcards. Then, slowly, we trudge back home. But before we reach our door, I glance back. Leaning across the horizon, I see us, shadow by shadow, footprint by footprint in the blank snow, father by daughter.

Dinnertime Adagio  by Anne Atwell-McLeod Three people encircle a warm oak table. All day their thoughts dance to different tunes until a mask of India ink spreads over the white house. Then they congregate to eat the meal that brings them together. Their voices rise up and dance to one tune in the candlelight. Their conversation surrounds them. Voices bounce back and forth. And the tune becomes a symphony. When the music dies the warm oak table is cleared. The three people go their separate ways, and the shards of tonight's talk rise to take their places in the musical mosaic of our dinnertime conversations.

A Sort of Almost Tritina for Nat by Hallie Herz When you came home from school, all we wanted to do was wrestle, Like little animals, we nipped and clawed. . . and animals we were. When Mom sent us downstairs, you pinched me until I cried Uncle! (with my fingers crossed) then jumped up again to  wrestle. Bruised and battered, we eventually tired of wrestling. Panting like wild animals, you sported toothmarks, I a giant bruise. This line is supposed to be the enjoy, but instead I'm going to use it to tell you I miss you so much when you're gone and you're the best brother in the entire world and I love you a lot.

If you have extra time, and need to wait, quietly read or work on writing something else.

Mother's Day jokes:  http://boyslife.org/features/29557/20-funny-mothers-day-jokes/

If time, more Hormone Jungle.