Monday, July 1, 2013

Monday, July 1st

We started off the day with Seinfeld's take on "Bloom's Taxonomy"-Watch Here: You-Tube Video Our TMT was lead by Rebecca. She showed us some Book Trailers made by Animoto- an easy to use site that creates amazing videos. Be sure to check out how to sign up for the Educate version where your students can create longer videos for free. We got into our Writing Groups for the next hour. After that, Brigid took outside where we were able to look away from our screens for a little while and take in nature. We wrote observations down for 10 minutes and then wrote down our thoughts and questions. We were able to visit each spot and that person shared their thoughts and questions out loud. When we came back inside, we brainstormed ways to use nature with our students. Here are just a few off our list: take a historical perspective, have a student read their description of their spot and the rest of the class tries to find that spot based on the writing piece, develop similes and metaphors, write haiku and teach word choice, create a possible story that happened in your spot, simply observe outside and then choose a scene that could be used for laptop wallpaper.  Lunch time!

After lunch -- poetry!  Please share some of the poetry you wrote by posting it as a comment below.  The poetry speed dating generated some fantastic, engaged conversation; it was great to watch.  Poor Lorrie, she was again stuck with the less flashy lesson, but she made it flashy in her own way, with music and lollipops.  I love Lorrie's techniques for calling on groups (the group with the most years of teaching experience, the group with the member who has the most pets, the group with a member who has underwear and a bra that match, person who has been married the longest total number of years...). Then there was writing and question asking and preparing for the last day, with a poem from the Writer's Almanac to close.

1 comment:

  1. Paint Chip Poetry #1

    The *volcanic ash* settles over town
    A *glimmer* of *silk sails*
    is revealed as a *mirage*
    There is no ocean here
    No *fountain of youth*
    No *arctic thaw* to wash this land clean
    The dust settles, *winddrift*ed
    In the air, the smell of dirt and *rawhide laces*
    A memory lingers
    like a taste of *delicate winter melon*
    Barely there,
    distant, as if an *arial view*
    of a time that was lush, fecund
    Vegetal, like the smell of *shallow tide*
    But a breeze blows and the memory is lost.