These are kind of stacking objectives for English/Language Arts. The focus is on character traits. It is best done with a book with more ambiguous actors--no good and bad guys--and full of strong characters. Recommended texts include Curious George, Where the Wild Things Are, Despereaux, The Magician's Elephant, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane (basically, any book by Kate DiCamillo), Flowers for Algernon, Hamlet, Othello, The Great Gatsby (who am I kidding, you can use the Great Gatsby for everything!), The Percy Jackson Books, Harry Potter, etc. (Basically, it can be taught in any grade).
Remembering
The student will be able to, given a narrative text, identify and list the main characters in the story with 95% accuracy.
Understanding
The student will be able to, given a list of main characters from the story, infer character traits, compare character's traits, and group characters by like traits, with 90% accuracy.
Applying
The student will be able to, given a character from the story, demonstrate an understanding of the character's traits by writing a journal for that character that parallels the events in the story, with 85% accuracy.
Analyzing
The student will be able to, given a character from the story, outline changes in character traits throughout the story and attribute in a report, changes to events in the story, with 90% accuracy.
Evaluating
The student will be able to, given characters in a story, hypothesize the character with the best traits and debate their decision with their classmates, focusing on quality of character traits, with 85% accuracy.
Creating
The student will be able to, given a well developed character, create a new story in which the characters traits play a key role, including a central character change, with 85% accuracy.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
Over the Wall
Believe it or not, this blog post is not about Orion or anything like that. I just thought the metaphor was dually applicable to the idea of language barriers.
Someone mentioned earlier today about the idea of how difficult it would be to be in a place where no one understood you. I decided to comment on this by providing a frustrating story. As most know, I'm Sign fluent and that I have some friends that are Deaf, as well as having some students that I work with as a tutor at SAC that are Deaf. The single most frustrating experience for me is when my bosses (well meaning, I am sure) and other peripheral individuals (those people that just seem to always be around, but don't necessarily work with me) ask me why students who are Deaf do not make more use of the interpreter services available to them. I can think of no more isolating interaction than the interpreter interaction. I know most Deaf people try very hard to meet a hearing person--writing on a notepad, gesturing, etc. This is not an attempt to be a part of the hearing community, but rather an attempt to make a connection with the hearing community. I can also assuredly say that most Deaf people would like to see the same kinds of investments from the Hearing community.
And that leads me to the questions of today. Is Captain Dathon's sacrifice worth it? I wish I could say yes. I mean, in the end, The two societies are able to find a peaceable agreement and live with each other. But it is Picard's first interaction with Dathon's people that reveals the smugness of the primary society and it's view of the secondary, and hints at the tragic conclusion. I wonder if this is very much different from the way the Europeans came upon the Natives--an awkward language, weird rituals, and bold threatening stances. Ceremony. I wonder if these people didn't spend so much time posturing, if Picard had not assumed about Dathon's intentions, but had sought to understand them, if things would have ended sooner, and more positively. You could write a book on 'ifs.'
Dathon died. It reveals some tragic truth about our social structure: bodies bridge gaps more readily than minds build bridges. Pragmatics says, yes, it was worth it, because the end he desired from the experience was reached.
As for Picard, one hopes he came away with a better understanding not of language and people, but of himself, and his assumptions about other, alien, people. It's destructive to interpret any other culture through the lens we interpret ours--to the culture, its people, and to ourselves.
If only if only...
Someone mentioned earlier today about the idea of how difficult it would be to be in a place where no one understood you. I decided to comment on this by providing a frustrating story. As most know, I'm Sign fluent and that I have some friends that are Deaf, as well as having some students that I work with as a tutor at SAC that are Deaf. The single most frustrating experience for me is when my bosses (well meaning, I am sure) and other peripheral individuals (those people that just seem to always be around, but don't necessarily work with me) ask me why students who are Deaf do not make more use of the interpreter services available to them. I can think of no more isolating interaction than the interpreter interaction. I know most Deaf people try very hard to meet a hearing person--writing on a notepad, gesturing, etc. This is not an attempt to be a part of the hearing community, but rather an attempt to make a connection with the hearing community. I can also assuredly say that most Deaf people would like to see the same kinds of investments from the Hearing community.
And that leads me to the questions of today. Is Captain Dathon's sacrifice worth it? I wish I could say yes. I mean, in the end, The two societies are able to find a peaceable agreement and live with each other. But it is Picard's first interaction with Dathon's people that reveals the smugness of the primary society and it's view of the secondary, and hints at the tragic conclusion. I wonder if this is very much different from the way the Europeans came upon the Natives--an awkward language, weird rituals, and bold threatening stances. Ceremony. I wonder if these people didn't spend so much time posturing, if Picard had not assumed about Dathon's intentions, but had sought to understand them, if things would have ended sooner, and more positively. You could write a book on 'ifs.'
Dathon died. It reveals some tragic truth about our social structure: bodies bridge gaps more readily than minds build bridges. Pragmatics says, yes, it was worth it, because the end he desired from the experience was reached.
As for Picard, one hopes he came away with a better understanding not of language and people, but of himself, and his assumptions about other, alien, people. It's destructive to interpret any other culture through the lens we interpret ours--to the culture, its people, and to ourselves.
If only if only...
Orion and the Scorpion
My descriptive piece! Yay! It was hiding out under my coffee table, probably afraid of the dog. :-/
Orion climbs over the horizon
a leg and an arm first--a hunter mounting a wall,
with new stars--a trophy--in his belt
and a witch on his shoulder.
He passes the winter here, scanning
the sleeping earth for the last living creatures
and then slips away,
us leaving him behind as he looks elsewhere for life;
then:
the scorpion comes;
hunting for him.
I'm going to have to play with format some more, but that's the basic idea.
Orion climbs over the horizon
a leg and an arm first--a hunter mounting a wall,
with new stars--a trophy--in his belt
and a witch on his shoulder.
He passes the winter here, scanning
the sleeping earth for the last living creatures
and then slips away,
us leaving him behind as he looks elsewhere for life;
then:
the scorpion comes;
hunting for him.
I'm going to have to play with format some more, but that's the basic idea.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
About My Missing Descriptive Piece
I totally and completely lost it. :( I am still looking for it. I know I showed it to some of my people on Friday, but then it got eaten by the massive stack of things to do that is my desk. Sad day.
Randy
Randy
Monday, October 26, 2009
My Expository/Informational Text
Okay, so I'm a little confused about what I'm supposed to be doing here. I am not completely sure if it is supposed to be an informational text or a 'how to' text, so I went with a how to text. This will be in the form of a small booklet, like something you might get with a small telescope, and will provide the steps to finding the north star. Those steps are as follows (I haven't made the book yet):
Step 1: Find the big dipper or Cassiopeia. The big dipper is one of the most recognizable constellations in the sky: It looks like a big scooping spoon. Even though it is easy to find, it is not always in the sky. If it is not, Cassiopeia is. Casseiopeia is either a big bright m or a w in the sky.
Step 2: If the Big Dipper is in the sky, draw a line to connect the last two stars in the spoon. Follow that line for five times the distance between these two stars. There you will find the North Star, and the little dipper.
Step 3: If Cassiopeia is in the sky, look at the first 'V' of the W. cut the V in half and follow it the way that the V opens (it may be useful to think that the mouth of the V is trying to eat the north star!) to find the North Star. Keep in mind that when Cassiopeia appears as an M, you will need to use the second mouth, rather than the first.
A brief explanation: The big dipper and Cassiopeia are circumpolar constellations, which means that they both rotate around the North Star, which is directly north of planet earth (but very far away!). This is why if you cannot see one, you can see the other, and why they can always be used to find the North Star.
Step 1: Find the big dipper or Cassiopeia. The big dipper is one of the most recognizable constellations in the sky: It looks like a big scooping spoon. Even though it is easy to find, it is not always in the sky. If it is not, Cassiopeia is. Casseiopeia is either a big bright m or a w in the sky.
Step 2: If the Big Dipper is in the sky, draw a line to connect the last two stars in the spoon. Follow that line for five times the distance between these two stars. There you will find the North Star, and the little dipper.
Step 3: If Cassiopeia is in the sky, look at the first 'V' of the W. cut the V in half and follow it the way that the V opens (it may be useful to think that the mouth of the V is trying to eat the north star!) to find the North Star. Keep in mind that when Cassiopeia appears as an M, you will need to use the second mouth, rather than the first.
A brief explanation: The big dipper and Cassiopeia are circumpolar constellations, which means that they both rotate around the North Star, which is directly north of planet earth (but very far away!). This is why if you cannot see one, you can see the other, and why they can always be used to find the North Star.
Friday, October 16, 2009
My Persuasive Piece
Following my group's advice, I abandoned the boring essay and went with a flier to get kids to come to a Star Party. It took forever to make. It is obviously an appeal to a fourth grader's ego. Enjoy.
Randy
Randy
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
My Narrative (Finally)
John and Elizabeth had gone fishing with their father before, a few times, to sleep rocking in the bottom of the boat while dad fished late into the night. This was the first time that Dad had asked John to help thought, and it was the first time he had taken John by himself. Elizabeth pouted some, but Dad had said that she could help him take the fish to market, and mom let her help pack their lunches, and that seemed to make things better. So Dad and John set sail in the early evening, floating out to see and into the setting sun, with Mom and Elizabeth waving at them from the shore.
The calm water turned dark when the sun went down, and John's father did not hang a lantern on the boat like he normally did. The two of them sat in silence, John lying at the bottom of the boat, starting up at the stars, clear in the night sky and reflecting off of the water. Then John's father began to talk from his fishing perch. John knew that the stars were important; he knew that his dad used them to go and come home safe, and even to monitor the time. Tonight, Dad told the story of the two bears.
"Once," he said, "they were two humans, a mother and son who loved each other very much. But because the mother drew anger from the gods, she was turned into a bear. She stayed near her son and watched him grow. One day he was hunting and encountered his mother, and decided that a bear would be a good trophy. To save the mother, the gods turned the boy into a bear as well, and then put them both among the stars, so that when we are lost, we can see how they found each other, and find our own loved ones."
John loved the stories his father told. His father's voice was slow and rhythmic like the waves. Even though John knew all of the stories, having heard them as a kid, he loved to them over and over. He climbed out of the bottom of the boat and his father made room for him on the fishing perch, where he was going through the net for snags. John pointed up to the small bear and identified the North Star for his father. Dad smiled at his son's ability.
The night went on this way; father and son watching the constellations rise and sometimes Dad would tell the story, while other times John would recount the story of the constellation. Neither of them seemed to notice the wind picking up, except that John wrapped himself in a blanket to protect from the crisp breeze. But the wind kept blowing, and John's father decided that they should head back a little earlier than normal. He walked over to the sail to trim it and steer them toward home. Just as he grabbed the sail, a very strong gust blew and, John, used to seeing his fathers work, watched as the gust ripped the sail from his father's hand and his father fell into the bottom of the boat. John ran over to his father, but he knew immediately that he had been hurt, and that he would have to get the boat back to land on his own, out of the coming storm before things got worse. Working the sail and the rudder was a familiar job for John and his sister--his dad would always let them move it. But Father would always tell them when and how far: staring knowingly at the stars and telling them 'right' and 'left' and 'an arm's length.' John glanced forward at Ursa Major, mother bear, riding the horizon, and then set to work at turning around the boat.
John proved a good sailor: his father lay in the bottom of the boat, covered in a sea blanket to keep warm and dry, and John worked, sailing by the stars. He watched the time go by as constellations slid beneath the horizon as new ones rose. He had no idea what time it was, only that he was tired and the stars had changed--and that some of the new ones were less familiar to him. The wind was picking up and fear kept John awake.
Soon a light appeared on the horizon, and John thought at first that it was the hints of the sin peeking out, and was immediately relieved and filled with dread. Even while he was glad for the end of the night, John had no idea how to sail in the day---the day made the water and sky look all the same. He feared to think that he had been sailing for so long. The light seemed to make time freeze, and John watched it in fear that it would at any minute erupt over the horizon as the glowing sun. He glanced up at the little bear, the brightness of the North Star seeming dim in the presence of this new light.
The light on the horizon was not the sun. It rose and rose like a new star: bright, but not the sun. John got closer and closer and realized what he was looking at--it was the lighthouse! He was almost home! He adjusted the boat's path a little, knowing what the wharf would be off to the left of the lighthouse, and trimmed the sails. He then sat beside his father and tried to wake him to let him know. His father's eyes opened bright, he watched the North Star high above, and then felt the light of the on them.
The rain came right as John and his father came to shore. John called and Elizabeth came and helped pull the boat in--their father helping, but protecting his hurt arm and rubbing his head where he had fallen. John rolled the boat over after they had lain down they mast, and they all ran toward the house, where John's mother was waiting in the doorway. John went in last, looking back and seeing the big bear and the small bear even through the rain, shining bright, reminding everyone that they could find their way home. Then his father put a hand on his shoulder and brought him into the warmth of the house, smiling at him as any proud father would.
The calm water turned dark when the sun went down, and John's father did not hang a lantern on the boat like he normally did. The two of them sat in silence, John lying at the bottom of the boat, starting up at the stars, clear in the night sky and reflecting off of the water. Then John's father began to talk from his fishing perch. John knew that the stars were important; he knew that his dad used them to go and come home safe, and even to monitor the time. Tonight, Dad told the story of the two bears.
"Once," he said, "they were two humans, a mother and son who loved each other very much. But because the mother drew anger from the gods, she was turned into a bear. She stayed near her son and watched him grow. One day he was hunting and encountered his mother, and decided that a bear would be a good trophy. To save the mother, the gods turned the boy into a bear as well, and then put them both among the stars, so that when we are lost, we can see how they found each other, and find our own loved ones."
John loved the stories his father told. His father's voice was slow and rhythmic like the waves. Even though John knew all of the stories, having heard them as a kid, he loved to them over and over. He climbed out of the bottom of the boat and his father made room for him on the fishing perch, where he was going through the net for snags. John pointed up to the small bear and identified the North Star for his father. Dad smiled at his son's ability.
The night went on this way; father and son watching the constellations rise and sometimes Dad would tell the story, while other times John would recount the story of the constellation. Neither of them seemed to notice the wind picking up, except that John wrapped himself in a blanket to protect from the crisp breeze. But the wind kept blowing, and John's father decided that they should head back a little earlier than normal. He walked over to the sail to trim it and steer them toward home. Just as he grabbed the sail, a very strong gust blew and, John, used to seeing his fathers work, watched as the gust ripped the sail from his father's hand and his father fell into the bottom of the boat. John ran over to his father, but he knew immediately that he had been hurt, and that he would have to get the boat back to land on his own, out of the coming storm before things got worse. Working the sail and the rudder was a familiar job for John and his sister--his dad would always let them move it. But Father would always tell them when and how far: staring knowingly at the stars and telling them 'right' and 'left' and 'an arm's length.' John glanced forward at Ursa Major, mother bear, riding the horizon, and then set to work at turning around the boat.
John proved a good sailor: his father lay in the bottom of the boat, covered in a sea blanket to keep warm and dry, and John worked, sailing by the stars. He watched the time go by as constellations slid beneath the horizon as new ones rose. He had no idea what time it was, only that he was tired and the stars had changed--and that some of the new ones were less familiar to him. The wind was picking up and fear kept John awake.
Soon a light appeared on the horizon, and John thought at first that it was the hints of the sin peeking out, and was immediately relieved and filled with dread. Even while he was glad for the end of the night, John had no idea how to sail in the day---the day made the water and sky look all the same. He feared to think that he had been sailing for so long. The light seemed to make time freeze, and John watched it in fear that it would at any minute erupt over the horizon as the glowing sun. He glanced up at the little bear, the brightness of the North Star seeming dim in the presence of this new light.
The light on the horizon was not the sun. It rose and rose like a new star: bright, but not the sun. John got closer and closer and realized what he was looking at--it was the lighthouse! He was almost home! He adjusted the boat's path a little, knowing what the wharf would be off to the left of the lighthouse, and trimmed the sails. He then sat beside his father and tried to wake him to let him know. His father's eyes opened bright, he watched the North Star high above, and then felt the light of the on them.
The rain came right as John and his father came to shore. John called and Elizabeth came and helped pull the boat in--their father helping, but protecting his hurt arm and rubbing his head where he had fallen. John rolled the boat over after they had lain down they mast, and they all ran toward the house, where John's mother was waiting in the doorway. John went in last, looking back and seeing the big bear and the small bear even through the rain, shining bright, reminding everyone that they could find their way home. Then his father put a hand on his shoulder and brought him into the warmth of the house, smiling at him as any proud father would.
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