Where the Sidewalk Endsby Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk endsAnd 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 flightTo cool in the peppermint wind.

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

http://www.scholastic.com/teachers/book/sea-sand-me

Lesson Plan

Sea, Sand, Me! Lesson Plan

Subject Area: Language Arts

Book Summary

This delightful rhyming story captures the special moments a mother and daughter share when spending a day at the

beach. Soft pastel illustrations help capture the beauty of a summer afternoon at the shore. 

Objective

Activities will encourage children to hear and identify rhyming words and rhythmic text and recall events in the story.

Before Reading

Show the children the book Sea, Sand, Me! by Patricia Hubbell. Ask them to predict what the story will be about.

Record their predictions on chart paper. Read the story then compare their predictions with the story.

Teaching Plan 

Activities

Sequencing Events

Materials

Sentence strip paper

Marker

Pocket chart

In advance: Write the following sentences on individual strips of paper.

Pack up our beach bags and load up the car. 

Put on my sun hat and put lotion on my nose.

Play in the sand.

Play with the birds.

Meet a friend and build a sand castle.

Play with seaweed and shells.

Dance in the water and jump in the waves.

Eat lunch.

Play beach ball and find shells.

Wave good-bye to my friend.

1. Reread the story to a small group of children. Place the sentences into a pocket chart, mixing up the order of events.

Or place them in the middle of the rug where they can read them. Read each sentence to the students. 

2. Now ask the children to organize the sentences to match the sequences of the story. Encourage them to recall the

events from the story. Invite them to refer to the book, if necessary.

3. Offer all the children an opportunity to engage in the activity. Keep the sentences and the book available so they can

continue practicing this sequencing activity. Some students may even enjoy creating their own drawings to illustrate

each sequence.

Read It With Rhythm

1. Read the book to the children with a lot of expression to emphasize the rhyme and rhythm of the text. Once they have

become familiar with the story, invite them to join in as you read aloud. Students can clap along to the rhythm. 

2. Now leave off the last rhyming word and encourage them to complete the sentence. Have fun reading this lively story

as a group.

Sea and Sand Rhyming Words

Materials

Chart paper and marker

Reread the book. Ask the class to identify each rhyming-word set that they hear. Record the rhyming-word sets on

chart paper. Review the words with the class. Can they think of other words that rhyme with each word set? Add their

new words to the list. 

Rhyming Beach Words

1. Ask the class to create another list of words that describes the beach. Review the book's illustrations so they can

identify different objects like the sun hat, beach bag, umbrella, and birds. They can also include additional words that

are not included in the story, but relate to their own experiences at the beach.

2. Reread the new word list with the children. Now invite them to think of words that rhyme with these words. Add these

to the list.

Rhyming Word Drawings

Materials

Drawing paper 

Craypas, crayons, or watercolor paints

Pencil

Scissors

Rhyming word lists

Resealable plastic bags

1. Cut apart the rhyming-word lists the children developed in the previous activities. Put sets of rhyming words into

individual resealable plastic bags. 

2. Set up a table with art materials and invite several children at a time to do the activity. Tell them that they will each

get a set of rhyming words and they will create a drawing about their words. 

3. Then ask them to create a sentence or story about their drawing that includes their rhyming words. Can they make up

their own rhyme? Offer assistance, if needed. 

4. Invite the children to share their work during group time.

Other Books About the Beach

A Day at the Beach 

by Mircea Vasilu

Read a lovely story about a family's fun-filled day at the beach. 

Tom and Pippo on the Beach

by Helen Oxenbury

An enchanting tale about little Tom, whose father insists that he should wear a hat at the beach to protect him from

the sun. Tom wants to make sure that his stuffed monkey, Pippo, also has a hat to protect his head.

On My Beach There Are Many Pebbles

by Leo Leonni

An inviting book that encourages the development of children's observational and creative-thinking skills, as they look

closer to see what the pebbles really reveal.

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/attention-please-attention-please/

Attention please! Attention please!'Attention please! Attention please!Don't dare to talk! Don't dare to sneeze!Don't doze or daydream! Stay awake!Your health, your very life's at stake!Ho–ho, you say, they can't mean me.Ha–ha, we answer, wait and see.

Did any of you ever meetA child called Goldie Pinklesweet?Who on her seventh birthday wentTo stay with Granny down in Kent.At lunchtime on the second dayOf dearest little Goldie's stay,Granny announced, 'I'm going downTo do some shopping in the town.'(D'you know why Granny didn't tellThe child to come along as well?She's going to the nearest innTo buy herself a double gin.)

So out she creeps. She shuts the door.And Goldie, after making sureThat she is really by herself,Goes quickly to the medicine shelf,And there, her little greedy eyesSee pills of every shape and size,Such fascinating colours too ––Some green, some pink, some brown, some blue.'All right,' she says, 'let's try the brown,'She takes one pill and gulps it down.'Yum–yum!' she cries. 'Hooray! What fun!They're chocolate–coated, every one!'She gobbles five, she gobbles ten,She stops her gobbling only whenThe last pill's gone. There are no more.Slowly she rises from the floor.She stops. She hiccups. Dear, oh dear,She starts to feel a trifle queer.

You see, how could young Goldie know,For nobody had told her so,That Grandmama, her old relationSuffered from frightful constipation.This meant that every night she'd giveHerself a powerful laxative,And all the medicines that she'd boughtWere naturally of this sort.The pink and red and blue and greenWere all extremely strong and mean.But far more fierce and meaner still,

Was Granny's little chocolate pill.Its blast effect was quite uncanny.It used to shake up even Granny.In point of fact she did not dareTo use them more than twice a year.So can you wonder little GoldieBegan to feel a wee bit moldy?

Inside her tummy, something stirred.A funny gurgling sound was heard,And then, oh dear, from deep within,The ghastly rumbling sounds begin!They rumbilate and roar and boom!They bounce and echo round the room!The floorboards shake and from the wallSome bits of paint and plaster fall.Explosions, whistles, awful bangsWere followed by the loudest clangs.(A man next door was heard to say,'A thunderstorm is on the way.')But on and on the rumbling goes.A window cracks, a lamp–bulb blows.Young Goldie clutched herself and cried,'There's something wrong with my inside!'This was, we very greatly fear,The understatement of the year.For wouldn't any child feel crummy,With loud explosions in her tummy?

Granny, at half past two, came in,Weaving a little from the gin,But even so she quickly sawThe empty bottle on the floor.'My precious laxatives!' she cried.'I don't feel well,' the girl replied.Angrily Grandma shook her head.'I'm really not surprised,' she said.'Why can't you leave my pills alone?'With that, she grabbed the telephoneAnd shouted, 'Listen, send us quickAn ambulance! A child is sick!It's number fifty, Fontwell Road!Come fast! I think she might explode!'

We're sure you do not wish to hearAbout the hospital and whereThey did a lot of horrid thingsWith stomach–pumps and rubber rings.Let's answer what you want to know;Did Goldie live or did she go?The doctors gathered round her bed,'There's really not much hope,' they said.'She's going, going, gone!' they cried.

'She's had her chips! She's dead! She's died!''I'm not so sure,' the child replied.And all at once she opened wideHer great big bluish eyes and sighed,And gave the anxious docs a wink,And said, 'I'll be okay, I think.'

So Goldie lived and back she wentAt first to Granny's place in Kent.Her father came the second dayAnd fetched her in a Chevrolet,And drove her to their home in Dover.But Goldie's troubles were not over.You see, if someone takes enoughOf any highly dangerous stuff,One will invariably findSome traces of it left behind.It pains us greatly to relateThat Goldie suffered from this fate.She'd taken such a massive fillOf this unpleasant kind of pill,It got into her blood and bones,It messed up all her chromosomes,It made her constantly upset,And she could never really getThe beastly stuff to go away.And so the girl was forced to stayFor seven hours every dayWithin the everlasting gloomOf what we call The Ladies Room.And after all, the W.C.Is not the gayest place to be.So now, before it is too late.Take heed of Goldie's dreadful fate.And seriously, all jokes apart,Do promise us across your heartThat you will never help yourselfTo medicine from the medicine shelf.' 

Roald Dahl

I Want It NowGooses, geesesI want my geese to lay gold eggs for easterAt least a hundred a dayAnd by the way

I want a feastI want a bean feastCream buns and doughnutsAnd fruitcake with no nutsSo good you could go nuts

No, now

I want a ballI want a partyPink macaroonsAnd a million balloonsAnd performing baboons andGive it to me now

I want the worldI want the whole worldI want to lock itAll up in my pocketIt's my bar of chocolateGive it to me now

I want todayI want tomorrowI want to wear 'emLike braids in my hair andI don't want to share 'em

I want a party with roomfuls of laughterTen thousand tons of ice creamAnd if I don't get the things I am afterI'm going to scream

I want the worksI want the whole worksPresents and prizesAnd sweets and surprisesOf all shapes and sizes

And now

Don't care how, I want it nowDon't care how, I want it now 

Roald Dahl

A Nursery DarlingA Mother's breast: Safe refuge from her childish fears, From childish troubles, childish tears, Mists that enshroud her dawning years! see how in sleep she seems to sing A voiceless psalm--an offering Raised, to the glory of her King In Love: for Love is Rest. 

A Darling's kiss: Dearest of all the signs that fleet From lips that lovingly repeat Again, again, the message sweet! Full to the brim with girlish glee, A child, a very child is she, Whose dream of heaven is still to be At Home: for Home is Bliss. 

Lewis Carroll

A Boat beneath a Sunny Sky/life is but a dreamA BOAT beneath a sunny sky,Lingering onward dreamilyIn an evening of July --Children three that nestle near,Eager eye and willing ear,Pleased a simple tale to hear --Long has paled that sunny sky:Echoes fade and memories die:Autumn frosts have slain July.Still she haunts me, phantomwise,Alice moving under skiesNever seen by waking eyes.Children yet, the tale to hear,Eager eye and willing ear,Lovingly shall nestle near.In a Wonderland they lie,Dreaming as the days go by,Dreaming as the summers die:Ever drifting down the stream --Lingering in the golden dream --Life, what is it but a dream?

THE END 

The Rowing SongRound the world and home againThat's the sailor's wayFaster faster, faster faster

There's no earthly way of knowingWhich direction we are goingThere's no knowing where we're rowingOr which way the river's flowing

Is it raining, is it snowingIs a hurricane a–blowing

Not a speck of light is showingSo the danger must be growingAre the fires of Hell a–glowingIs the grisly reaper mowing

Yes, the danger must be growingFor the rowers keep on rowingAnd they're certainly not showingAny signs that they are slowing. 

Roald Dahl

http://www.englishforums.com/English/OrangesByGarySoto/zzrpq/post.htm

Oranges

The first time I walkedWith a girl, I was twelve,Cold, and weighted downWith two oranges in my jacket.December. Frost crackingBeneath my steps, my breathBefore me, then gone,As I walked towardHer house, the one whosePorch light burned yellowNight and day, in any weather.A dog barked at me, untilShe came out pullingAt her gloves, face brightWith rouge. I smiled,Touched her shoulder, and ledHer down the street, acrossA used car lot and a lineOf newly planted trees,Until we were breathingBefore a drugstore. WeEntered, the tiny bellBringing a salesladyDown a narrow aisle of goods.I turned to the candiesTiered like bleachers,And asked what she wanted -Light in her eyes, a smileStarting at the cornersOf her mouth. I fingeredA nickel in my pocket,And when she lifted a chocolateThat cost a dime,I didn't say anything.I took the nickel fromMy pocket, then an orange,And set them quietly onThe counter. When I looked up,The lady's eyes met mine,And held them, knowingVery well what it was allAbout.

Outside,

A few cars hissing past,Fog hanging like oldCoats between the trees.I took my girl's handin mine for two blocks,Then released it to letHer unwrap the chocolate.I peeled my orangeThat was so bright againstThe gray of DecemberThat, from some distance,Someone might have thoughtI was making a fire in my hands.

-Gary Soto

I've been reading this poem and have found it very enjoyable to read. However I want to look deeper into the poen line by line. What I have noticed so far is that when the girl is talked about, she is always associated with a brightness and a glow. What do the oranges connote? Do you think the two oranges weighing him down is the weight of his relationship or something? "Beneath my steps, my breath" = he is weightless when he is around her, infatuated perhaps? "I turned to the candies Tiered like bleachers" = perhaps connoting people that might sit on bleachers, kind of like this is a show and people are watching them, a drama? The deeper I go into the poem, the less I seem to understand. Anyone have any interesting acknowledgements of the poem or anything else you've noticed, any metaphors, connotations? What do you feel the oranges represent?

Nature TrailAt the bottom of my gardenThere's a hedgehog and a frogAnd a lot of creepy-crawliesLiving underneath a log,There's a baby daddy long legsAnd an easy-going snailAnd a family of woodlice,All are on my nature trail.

There are caterpillars waitingFor their time to come to fly,There are worms turning the earth overAs ladybirds fly by,Birds will visit, cats will visitBut they always chose their timeAnd I've even seen a fox visit This wild garden of mine.

Squirrels come to nick my nutsAnd busy bees come buzzingAnd when the night time comesSometimes some dragonflies come humming,My garden mice are very shyAnd I've seen bats that growlAnd in my garden I have seenA very wise old owl.

My garden is a lively placeThere's always something happening,There's this constant search for foodAnd then there's all that flowering,When you have a gardenYou will never be aloneAnd I believe we all deserveA garden of our own. 

Benjamin Zephaniah

School Rules

by Bruce Lansky

Do not oversleep and miss the school bus-you'll be late.That's a habit teachers generally don't appreciate.

Never tell your friends at school that you still wet your bed.They are sure to tease you, and you'll wish that you were dead.

Never call your teacher a name when she's not near you.Teachers' ears are excellent, so they can always hear you.

Do not read a textbook when your hands aren't clean-it's trickyto separate the pages when the pages get real sticky.When you go out for a team it's always wise to practice.When you are a substitute, the bench can feel like cactus.

Do not copy homework from a friend who is a dummy.If you do, I'm sure that you will get a grade that's crummy.

And if your report card's bad, don't blame it on your buddy.Kiss up to your parents quick, or they might make you study.

Rolly the Rabbit Poem for kidsI'm a rabbit

said Rolly Rabbit

I've been a rabbit my whole life.

I eat carrots and other plants.

I do my rabbit dance

I wiggle my bunny tail

When I see you I

hop hop hop away

then I stop

and look at you.

Oh Rolly you sure are a rabbit

said Spunky Squirrel

All you do is eat and

hop hop hop, 

You can't climb a tree

like me.

You have no ears to speak of

said Rolly Rabbit

and your tail is

so long and so thin

why just look at the thing! 

The dog would catch me

on the trail

if I had that tail. 

David Michael Jackson

Gubble Bum (kids poem)Gubble bum, gubble bumHave you seen my gubble bum? The last I sawIt was over thereStuck on the backOf that there chair...Gubble bum, oh gubble bumI do so miss my gubble bumI had a wad that was quite hugeI chewed it all day longI blew the bestest gubblesSo big, so pink, so strong...Oh gubble bum, dear gubble bumI do so miss my gubble bumWhat's that you say? You cannot move? Oh there it is! ! Underneath your shoe! ! 

(HW) (31 January, 2007) 

Dee Daffodil

A Poem For My KidsIf you do the best you canAnd don't pretend to know itYou'll surely heed the words from thisUneducated poet

You're bound to look upon the tube And watch with eyes of wonderBut don't forget forgotten booksWith pages torn asunder

For books can teach a thousand wordsAnd words you'll find amazingBut on the box are only showsThat leave you blankly gazing

With maths and English you will learnAnd gain an understandingYou won't be painting doors and framesOr spending hours sanding

So study hard its sure to bringYou grades of b's and a'sYou'll make your old man proud and he'llForget his schooling days

Then off to uni you can goFor honors and degreesDegrees will help you find a jobTo pay tuition fees

You'll work your way up to the topAnd reach the highest barThen with your wages mighty big I'll buy a fancy car 

Stuart Furzer

The Meehoo with an Exactlywattfrom the book "A Light in the Attic" (1981)

Knock knock!Who's there?Me!Me who?That's right!What's right?Meehoo!That's what I want to know!What's what you want to know?Me, who?Yes, exactly!Exactly what?Yes, I have an Exactlywatt on a chain!Exactly what on a chain?Yes!Yes what?No, Exactlywatt!That's what I want to know!I told you - Exactlywatt!Exactly what?Yes!Yes what?Yes, it's with me!What's with you?Exactlywatt - that's what's with me.Me who?Yes!Go away!Knock knock...

The little boy and the old man

Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."Said the old man, "I do that too."The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants.""I do that too," laughed the little old man.Said the little boy, "I often cry."The old man nodded, "So do I.""But worst of all," said the boy, "it seemsGrown-ups don't pay attention to me."And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand."I know what you mean," said the little old man.

Shel Silverstein