Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Swinging Statues

Can you believe that these are the swinging statues found at my local small town movie theater.  They are so beautiful and would look great in a library or hospital atrium.  

Friday, August 26, 2011

Scholastic Warehouse-Utah

Have you ever visited the scholastic warehouse in your area?  I've been to two now and they are amazing.  The place that lodges the book fair materials has sales throughout the year and I always score great deals.  Here's what I got on my last visit and spent about 40 dollars including a cash register not shown.  I'm not sure what I'll use it for yet but I thought it was cool!

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Summer Books

It's the end of summer and I have read a total of 5 books, none of which are listed below!  I'm so behind!

Monday, August 22, 2011

Paper Doll Books

While visiting a local antique and craft store, I was "schooled" in all the variety of paper doll books.  Some are pretty fancy!

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Princess Festival

An event we attended this summer was very fun for both mom and daughter.  Each princess got a book for signatures and then the day was spent mapping out and tracking down famous literary characters.  There were plays, dancing and lots of twirling.  Very fun!

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Even Most Poems

 Winkin Blinkin & Nod
  by Eugene Field
Winkin' Blinkin' and Nod, one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe;
Sailed on a river of crystal light into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going and what do you wish?" the old moon asked the three.
"We've come to fish for the herring fish that live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we" said Winkin' Blinkin' and Nod. 
The old moon laughed and he sang a song as they rocked in the wooden shoe.
And the wind that sped them all night long ruffled the waves of dew.
Now the little stars are the herring fish that live in that beautiful sea;
"Cast your nets wherever you wish never afeared are we!"
So cried the stars to the fishermen three - Winkin' Blinkin' and Nod. 
So all night long their nets they threw to the stars in the twinkling foam.
Then downward came the wooden shoe bringing the fishermen home.
Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed as if it could not be.
And some folks say twas a dream they dreamed of sailing that misty sea.
But I shall name you the fishermen three - Winkin' Blinkin' and Nod. 
Now Winkin' and Blinkin' are two little eyes and Nod is a little head.
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies is a wee ones trundle bed.
So close your eyes while mother sings of the wonderful sights that be.
And you shall see those beautiful things as you sail on the misty sea
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three - Winkin' Blinkin' and Nod.

A Slash of Blue
By Emily Dickinson
A slash of Blue --
A sweep of Gray --
Some scarlet patches on the way,
Compose an Evening Sky --
 A little purple -- slipped between --
Some Ruby Trousers hurried on --
A Wave of Gold --
A Bank of Day --
This just makes out the Morning Sky.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Even More Poems

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

    by Lewis Carroll

All in the Golden Afternoon
All in the golden afternoon
    Full leisurely we glide;
For both our oars, with little skill,
    By little arms are plied,
While little hands make vain pretence
    Our wanderings to glide.

Ah, cruel Three!  In such an hour
    Beneath such dreamy weather,
To beg a tale of breath too weak
    To stir the tiniest feather!
Yet what can one poor voice avail
    Against three tongues together?  
Imperious Perma flashes forth
    Her edict “to begin it” –
In gentler tone Secunda hopes
     “There will be nonsense in it!” –
While Tertia interrupts the tale
    Not more than once a minute.
Anon, to sudden silence won,
    In fancy they pursue
The dream-child moving through a land
    Of wonders wild and new,
In friendly chat with bird or beast –
    And half believe it true. 

And ever, as the story drained
    The wells of fancy dry,
And faintly strove that weary one
    To put the subject by,
“The rest next time –”  “It is next time!”
    The happy voices cry.

Thus grew the tale of Wonderland:
    Thus slowly, one by one,
Its quaint events were hammered out –
    And now the tale is done,
And home we steer , a merry crew,
    Beneath the setting sun.  
Alice!  A childish story take,
    And with a gentle hand
Lay it where Childhood’s dreams are twined
    In Memory’s mystic band,
Like pilgrim’s wither’d wreath of flowers
    Pluck’d in a far-off land. 

Friday, August 5, 2011

More Poems

Letter C
Oh letter C, why kan't you see
you drive me up the wall!
You konstantly konfuse me.
I kan't kount on you at all.
You seem to be so sivilized,
but this is krystal klear,
I'd be a whole lot happier
if you would disappear.
I kan not komprehend you.
You make my mind a mess.
Sometimes they say you make a K,
at other times an S.
It's not that I am kareless.
It's not that I am lazy,
but letter C, why kan't you see
you drive me nearly krazy!
--Eric Ode
I Think My Dad is Dracula
I think my dad is Dracula.
I know that sounds insane,
but listen for a moment and
allow me to explain.
We don't live in a castle,
and we never sleep in caves.
But, still, there's something weird
about the way my dad behaves.
I never see him go out
in the daytime when it's light.
He sleeps all day till evening,
then he leaves the house at night.
He comes home in the morning
saying, "Man, I'm really dead!"
He kisses us goodnight, and then
by sunrise he's in bed.
My mom heard my suspicion
and she said, "You're not too swift.
Your father's not a vampire.
He just works the graveyard shift."
--Kenn Nesbitt

Wednesday, August 3, 2011


Where the Sidewalk Ends
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

Shel Silverstein
"Mike Teavee..."
The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks! 
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.

Roald Dahl
If I run in a race 
and don’t come in last 
would it be fair to say 
that I’m pretty fast.
maybe I am, but, 
when it’s time to go.
Compared to my bike
I’m a little bit slow.

But I see lots of cars 
Go by with a zoom 
Between my speed and their’s 
There’s plenty of room.
I saw in school 
where the shuttles depart. 
I couldn’t compare
Even with a headstart
So if I run in a race, 
and don’t come in last. 
It would be fair to say, 
that I’m pretty fast.
World's Hardest Test
Preparing today for the standardized test
our teacher said there was a lot to digest.
We'd have to divide by the square root of three
and learn to spell zygote, fa├žade and marquis.
We'd need to play xylophone, trumpet and flute,
accordion, banjo, piano and lute,
recite all the capital cities by heart
and learn to take rocketship engines apart.
We'd have to speak Latin, Swahili and Greek,
learn nuclear fusion and fencing technique,
remember the fables of Persia and Rome
and crack all the codes in the human genome.
Then just when we thought that our heads might explode
from learning Chinese or dissecting a toad
she told us the very best thing she could say:
that she was just kidding; it's April Fool's Day.
--Kenn Nesbitt

Monday, August 1, 2011

Poetry Project

This idea is pretty common.  I've seem many teachers at many grade levels do a variation on this.  The one I like to do is this:  The Poetry Notebook.  The back few pages have notes with definitions or mini lessons like authors purpose, and the beginning section has the requirements listed below.  It ends up to be a composition notebook with decorated pages and a variety of poems that are meaningful to the person.  It's fun and definitely a keeper!

“Poetry should be like fireworks, packed carefully and artfully, ready to explode with unpredictable effects.”
Lillian Moore
“Poetry is more than meaning.  It speaks to the hears as well as the mind.  You can like a poem for what it says (mind part) or you can like a poem for how it makes you feel (heart part).  It’s the heart part that really separates poetry from other forms of writing.”
Poetry doesn’t have to be the main course- fit poetry in “around the edges of your classroom.”  Begin or end each day by having a student read a poem they have selected.
Poetry Notebook Components
1.  Title in Fancy Letters
2.  Design Relates to Poem
3.  Neatness
4.  Poem Glued in
5.  Completely Colored

Authors Purpose
To entertain
To give advice or persuade
To give information
Explain how to do something