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Land of Literacy



This wiki is devoted to the the joys and challenges of literacy instruction. Students and Teachers enrolled in courses/workshops facilitated by Laura King will find many supports here. Individuals with the password can add assignments to this site.



 



Sarah commented on Laura

Tue, 15 Sep 2009 14:03:05 +0000

Hi. I can not remember if this is Laura Kings or not. I was wondering if, if this is her!, if I could get a copy of the song with "uck" "ick" etc. in it? I would like it for my class since we are working on those combinations. Sarah Capron Jsc student \ saharatos@aim.com 479-9807 thanks sarah capron lit one in the spring of 09



commented on Phyllis

Mon, 06 Apr 2009 00:39:11 +0000

Laura, For my clarification, should I start the story with me at the microphone spelling Gasoline, or is that more when the contest is going on?



Laura King commented on Phyllis

Sun, 05 Apr 2009 23:28:51 +0000

Phyllis...I think this turned out very well. Your beginning has a nice hook. Your context at the beginning is very nice...can feel the school, hear his voice, etc. You might want a little more build up to actually spelling the word, Gasoline. You could insert dialogue here...put us there..."Gasoline. G-A-S-I-L-I-N-E. Gasoline." I stoo there, with a huge grin on my face, .... I know you say basically the same thing--and you have dialogue after this point, but I would start it with you at the microphone. There are some run-ons, Phyllis...don't want to harp on this, as you are still getting the story down. Just read it over just for punctuation...a few comma splices. Very good relatable story! My word was calendar. "C-A-L-E-N-D-E-R, Calendar."...and my best friend Kathy Link spelled it right and won the spelling bee. I was devastated. When I taught fourth grade, I would always share this story with my class. laura



commented on Phyllis

Sun, 05 Apr 2009 23:11:30 +0000

I had done a good job, I had made it as far as April and she too had made a mistake on that word, neither of us got gasoline right on the first try. Mr. Brenton had switched the words on her last turn. She got that word right. I was happy for her she had worked hard studying, we had studied together at recess. I should be proud of myself, not be angry because April won the spelling bee. I went over to April and congratulated her. Mr. Brenton and Mrs. Baker asked us to stand together for a moment so they could get a picture of us. Both teachers told us how proud of us they were, and how much it showed we had studied on our own time. After the picture was taken April and I went outside to play for recess.



commented on Phyllis

Sun, 05 Apr 2009 23:11:17 +0000

I stood there with a huge grin on my face so confident that he would say congratulation you are the spelling bee winner. Instead, he said “Sorry that is incorrect. Please take your seat.” All that went through my mind is what did I do wrong? What did I say incorrectly, I thought that was right?” Absently, I sat down in the chair in front of all the school and did not know or understand what I had done wrong. April was standing in front of me, her back to me and then the whole school was clapping. She had won the spelling bee. I lost. I left the stage area, went to the bathroom, and cried. I felt like a failure. I was so embarrassed. I just wanted to go home and never have to leave that bathroom and face my friends in the cafeteria again. I was a failure. I cried in the bathroom for what seemed a long time. There was no way to hide from my friends and the teachers that I had been crying, my eyes were red, my eye lids were swollen like plump raisins, looking in the mirror saddened me even more. I attempted to make my face look better by washing it with cold water, listening to my mom in my head saying; “sweetie go splash some cold water on your face it will make you feel better”. After a few minutes in the bathroom and washing my face off from crying. I went out into the cafeteria where everyone was putting their chairs away and Mrs. Baker came over to me and congratulated me. She congratulated me to making it to the final two people in the spelling bee and told me she was proud of me. I did not think about it like that. I could only see that I failed, but that was not true.



commented on Phyllis

Sun, 05 Apr 2009 23:11:00 +0000

Mr. Brenton spoke with his big voice into the microphone, and the speakers made one of those annoying squealing noises. The ones where everyone puts their shoulders into their necks and gets great big goose bumps; I hate that noise, I can still feel that sensation going up my back. Anyway, he introduced us all and wished us all luck. He called on the first person and she got the answer right. Everyone clapped, but Mr. Brenton asked the audience to hold their applause or the spelling bee would take all afternoon and he thought we all wanted to go out and play. Everyone laughed at that. The next person answered their word right and then it was my first time “up”. I got the word right and moved onto the next round of words. Eventually the words began to get harder and harder, it came down to me and one other girl in my class. I was so nervous. It was getting hot in the auditorium the lights that were pointed at the stage made our area even hotter and the words kept coming. Mr. Brenton asked the other girl (April) if she could spell the word (gasoline) and she got the word wrong. My heart started beating so fast; I was excited I thought for sure I was going to win (gasoline) I read that at the gas pumps every day that I went to the store with my Dad. Everyday I read the letters GASOLINE, so it was my turn to spell it. Mr. Brenton said, Phyllis can you spell gasoline. It sounded like it took him forever to say the word Gas O line. I stood up with a stomp on the stage and said very loudly the word first Gasoline then G-A-S-I-L-O-N-E and spoke the word again gasoline.



commented on Phyllis

Sun, 05 Apr 2009 23:10:37 +0000

Now when I say whole school, I mean only 65 people (students and teachers), so it was not a big group of people. I had studied and was confident but all of us in the spelling bee were a little nervous. The contestants were all the students in the fifth grade class. The words were the ones we had learned over the whole year and now here was the biggest test could, I remember them? The stage was set up there were enough chairs for each of my classmates and I to sit up there, the rest of the students, teachers, staff, and some parents were seated in chairs in front of us like an audience. The MC (person in charge of the announcing of the words) was Mr. Brenton. Mr. Brenton was our teacher that year, he knew all of us and how nervous we were. Mr. Brenton always expected each of us to do our best even when we had not done great he was kind and encouraging. Nothing about his looks stood out about him but his voice was commanding. His voice was deep, and loud, at times that made him seem frightening to the younger students in the building, but once you became one of his students that fear left and the admiration for him took over.



commented on Phyllis

Sun, 05 Apr 2009 23:10:20 +0000

Spelling Bee My father worked at the grade school I attended. Every day he drove the bus I rode to school then he worked at the school all day as the janitor. Sometimes, I was able to stay at school and play while he delivered the other students home from the school day and then I would ride home on the back of the truck, sitting in the center of the spare tire with the wind whipping my hair around my face. We always stopped at the local store, parking by the gas pumps to get gas. Gasoline, I saw that word every day, I listened to the adults complain about the price of it and how people were sitting in lines hours long just to get a tank of it. Gasoline was one of the most important commodities of the 1970’s. It was the end of the year and classes were almost over for the summer. Our teachers had created a day of fun for the students to enjoy some reflection on our learning so they set up some fun math games, some science labs, and some outside activities and right after lunch I will never forget our class had a spelling bee, in front of the whole school.



commented on Phyllis

Sun, 05 Apr 2009 23:09:15 +0000

Please look at my third draft and see if anyone could help edit it a little more. Thanks for the advice in advance. Phyllis



Laura King edited FrontPage

Sun, 08 Mar 2009 08:35:45 +0000

Dr. Seuss finish the title.doc
www.grantwiggins.org/documents/UbDQuikvue1005.pdf
UNDERSTANDINGBYDESIGN--puppetry
Understanding_by_Design_Template puppet.doc
Lesson Plan.mhttraits.pdf
traits.pdf

Video Clips...
Glimpse into classrooms to learn more about the "teacher lens."






Laura King uploaded Lesson Plan.mht

Sun, 08 Mar 2009 08:31:46 +0000

Lesson Plan.mht



Laura King uploaded traits.pdf

Sun, 08 Mar 2009 08:17:22 +0000

traits.pdf






Sarah edited Sarah

Tue, 03 Mar 2009 19:24:31 +0000

Is this where I put my paper? I am so lost...i cant even find the Assessment sheet :(Sarah CapronLiteracy IIMy ExperienceCarebear PondStepping out on to the porch protruding off the back of my dad’s house I could gaze out over two acres of well groomed land. The grass was a healthy green and the blades shown when the sun hit their glossy sides. Two square gardens full of raspberry bushes and weeded out vegetables, in the beginning stages of life, took up a portion of the yard. In front of the porch and in sections of the yard were strategically placed beautiful flowers, apple and crabapple trees, and lilac bushes. At the back of the two acres of freshly mowed sod sat a border of untamed shrubs followed by dense woods. The various songs from the birds, chirping grasshoppers, and fresh air smells mixed with floral scents, encouraged one to close their eyes and drink in a deep gulp of country air. The yard beckoned to my youthful mind to fill my day with exploration.Of course, that is just what I did. There is a method to exploring that most adults can not fathom doing now. A slow wandering around in the yard produced discoveries of small sticks, newly fallen off the maple tree, which would soon turn into shapes, weapons, or piles of peeled bark and green strips. There would be an occasional bug to catch and examine, until it would pierce my skin or leave a small present in the palm of my hand. Traveling behind the shed in the hidden part of the yard I would discover the sour tastes from long red and green stemmed rhubarb. The large leaves at the tip become wings or a fan for awhile, until boredom would once again set in and it was time to move on. A tree on the opposite side, surrounded by several others, contained small bumps that would spurt out juice when pinched by dirty and jagged nails. It was a fun game until some wayward sap landed directly on the eyeball and then it would become a respected enemy masked by the beauty that surrounds it. The large pine behind the garden was just right for climbing and it was then that the real adventure began.From the highest point of the tree that could be climbed a vast view spread out before the observer. It was from this angle that I deduced that the lawn was to clean from the debris I needed for thorough exploring. Down below the tree however contained a vision of the garden that could not be afforded while walking on solid ground. At this wonderful height I could see the square patch of dirt that had yet to be pawed through by my own hands.Within minutes my feet landed on the ground with a solid thump. My knees bent and my body lurched forward as I charged to my destination. As I slid to a stop a cloud of dust rose up and hung on the bubbles of air that usually remained invisible. Quickly small hands with long fingers dug into the moist earth building a pile of dirt and a large hole beside it. It was not long before long squiggly worms were unearthed for examination and experimenting, later in life defined as tortured.Out of the corner of my eye something moved; looking and seeing nothing the inspection of the brown wiggly worms continued. Again small movement caught my eye but this time the location was within sight. I moved my hand to the area and a small rock leaped into the air and thudded several inches away. Small beady eyes blinked at me as I slowly crept forward with my hands cupped out in front. The brown blob matched the color of the dirt. Two of the legs were hunched underneath it with long toes, which reminded me of ET’s fingers, protruding out from beneath its rounded belly. Quickly my hands darted out to catch it before it could escape from view. Its flat head banged against folded f[...]



bunnyrunfast@yahoo.com edited Laurie

Mon, 02 Mar 2009 18:41:02 +0000

Dear laura,
I have all
Still working on my assignments done three weeks in advance!
BIG WORDS THAT CHANGE THE WORLD.doc
assignments!



Gerry Hine edited Gerry

Mon, 16 Feb 2009 22:06:44 +0000

MySoapboxMy sister Dolly was the person who guided all that went on in the household where I grew up. Now days Nowadays you might have called my brothers and sisters latch key kids. Back in the sixties, it was “the way it is”. We were a tight knit bunch of kids. Dolly is the oldest sister, two older brothers, Brother and Ronnie, and a younger brother and sister, Darryl and Anne made up the kids in my household. I was right in the middle. It was always peaceful and my world existed within the length of Oronoque Road down to the Boston Post Road in one direction and up the big hill onto Zion Hill Road towards “Big Rock”, a truly monumental journey, in the other direction. A trip to Big Rock was not undertaken lightly, but the reward was seeing the faint markings on the far side of the rock that look like fossil footprints. We never could figure out what type of dinosaur left those footprints. My neighborhood was build post built post- WWII out of an old sand quarry and my earliest memories are of Cape Cod houses on sand lots with no grass and a few small elm trees that the neighborhood dad’s dads dug out of the woods and transplanted into their front yards. There was a loop of road just to the south or of our home called Joyce Court. The Court that measured exactly one half mile when using the odometer of the family station wagon.All my friends lived on Joyce Court and we shared many summertime adventures up either in the high grass bordering the north side of the development or on the street or in the yards of the Court. It is amazing how well organized the kids were back then. There were two gangs of kids, one gang lived on our side of the court Court and the other group lived on the far side. I still remember how alien the far side of the Court seemed to me whenever I had occasion to be over there. One midsummer, the boys held a soapbox derby race. The object of the race was to make a cart that was strong enough to go down the steep side of the hill located towards the back side backside of Joyce Court and then travel the circumference of the Court to end up back at the starting line. To perform this task each driver of a cart had to have a team of pushers. You have to remember, Joyce court Court is flat except for that hill at the back end of the loop, and you had to have someone push your cart if you expected to finish the race. There were few rules of conduct for this race other than only two people at a time could push the cart and the push that got the race started was clearly marked off so that the carts used gravity alone going down the hill until a specified point at the bottom where pushing commenced once again.The Scriappa’s are one of the families closest to my own. There were three boys, Mickey, who was Brother’s age, Tommy, who was Ronnie’s age and Carmine, who was the same age as my brother Darryl. Mickey was the gang leader for our side of the neighborhood. He did a great job organizing us into playing games like war, or planning bike and foot races. For the truly extravagant productions, the suggestions for things like circus and haunted house came from my sister Dolly. During the summer of 1964, there was a Little Rascals movie on the television one Saturday morning featuring a soapbox derby race where all the kids build these outlandish carts to go down Dead Man’s Hill, of course Hill. Of course, after seeing that that, we had to do it too. Teams were decided at a meeting held in the Scriappa’s backyard and Mickey gave us a week for all contestants to build their carts. I remember playing over at Carmen’s house and seeing their cart one day while the o[...]



Gerry Hine edited Gerry

Mon, 16 Feb 2009 21:23:28 +0000

My sister Dolly was the person who guided all that went on in the household where I grew up. Now days you might have called my brothers and sisters latch key kids. Back in the sixties, it was “the way it is”. We were a tight knit bunch of kids. Dolly is the oldest sister, two older brothers, Brother and Ronnie, and a younger brother and sister, Darryl and Anne made up the kids in my household. I was right in the middle. It was always peaceful and my world existed within the length of Oronoque Road down to the Boston Post Road in one direction and up the big hill onto Zion Hill Road towards “Big Rock”, a truly monumental journey, in the other direction. A trip to Big Rock was not undertaken lightly, but the reward was seeing the faint markings on the far side of the rock that look like fossil footprints. We never could figure out what type of dinosaur left those footprints. My neighborhood was build post WWII out of an old sand quarry and my earliest memories are of Cape Cod houses on sand lots with no grass and a few small elm trees that the neighborhood dad’s dug out of the woods and transplanted into their front yards. There was a loop of road just to the south or our home called Joyce Court that measured exactly one half mile when using the odometer of the family station wagon. towards to the back side of Joyce Court and then travel the circumference of the Court to end up back at the starting line. To perform this task each driver of a cart had to have a team of pushers. You have to remember, Joyce court is flat except for that hill at the back end of the loop, and you had to have someone push your cart if you expected to finish the race. There were few rules of conduct for this race other than only two people at a time could push the cart and the push that got the race started was clearly marked off so that the carts used gravity alone going down the hill until a specified point at the bottom where pushing commenced once again.The Scriappa’s are one of the families closest to my own. There were three boys, Mickey, who was Brother’s age, Tommy, who was Ronnie’s age and Carmine, who was the same age as my brother Darryl. Mickey was the gang leader for our side of the neighborhood. He did a great job organizing us into playing games like war, or planning bike and foot races. For the truly extravagant productions, the suggestions for things like circus and haunted house came from my sister Dolly. During the summer of 1964, there was a Little Rascals movie on the television one Saturday morning featuring a soapbox derby race where all the kids build these outlandish carts to go down Dead Man’s Hill, of course after seeing that we had to do it too. Teams were decided at a meeting held in the Scriappa’s backyard and Mickey gave us a week for all contestants to build their carts. I remember playing over at Carmen’s house and seeing their cart one day while the older kids were not around to chase us away. It was a thing of beauty. The center piece of wood was a two inch by twelve inch by ten foot long weathered board with cross legs of two by six wood acting as axels to nail the wheels onto. The construction of the seat was angled scrap wood matching the width of the main frame. There was a pad nailed to the backrest. If you have ever seen those rail drag cars, you know what I mean. It was a thing of beauty and it looked fast! By contrast, the cart I helped to build with my brothers looked ugly and squat. While building our cart, my brother Ronnie took me with him to scavenge wheels off discarded stuff from the swamp bordering the new supermarket [...]



Gerry Hine edited Gerry

Mon, 16 Feb 2009 21:14:34 +0000

My sister Dolly was the person who guided all that went on in the household where I grew up. Now days you might have called my brothers and sisters latch key kids. Back in the sixties, it was “the way it is”. We were a tight knit bunch of kids. Dolly is the oldest sister, two older brothers, Brother and Ronnie, and a younger brother and sister, Darryl and Anne made up the kids in my household. I was right in the middle. It was always peaceful and my world existed within the length of Oronoque Road down to the Boston Post Road in one direction and up the big hill onto Zion Hill Road towards “Big Rock”, a truly monumental journey, in the other direction. A trip to Big Rock was not undertaken lightly, but the reward was seeing the faint markings on the far side of the rock that look like fossil footprints. We never could figure out what type of dinosaur left those footprints. My neighborhood was build post WWII out of an old sand quarry and my earliest memories are of Cape Cod houses on sand lots with no grass and a few small elm trees that the neighborhood dad’s dug out of the woods and transplanted into their front yards. There was a loop of road just to the south or our home called Joyce Court that measured exactly one half mile when using the odometer of the family station wagon.All my friends lived on Joyce Court and we shared many summertime adventures up either in the high grass bordering the north side of the development or on the street or in the yards of the Court. It is amazing how well organized the kids were back then. There were two gangs of kids, one gang lived on our side of the court and the other group lived on the far side. I still remember how alien the far side of the Court seemed to me whenever I had occasion to be over there. One midsummer, the boys held a soapbox derby race. The object of the race was to make a cart that was strong enough to go down the steep side of the hill located towards to back side of Joyce Court and then travel the circumference of the Court to end up back at the starting line. To perform this task each driver of a cart had to have a team of pushers. You have to remember, Joyce court is flat except for that hill at the back end of the loop, and you had to have someone push your cart if you expected to finish the race. There were few rules of conduct for this race other than only two people at a time could push the cart and the push that got the race started was clearly marked off so that the carts used gravity alone going down the hill until a specified point at the bottom where pushing commenced once again.The Scriappa’s are one of the families closest to my own. There were three boys, Mickey, who was Brother’s age, Tommy, who was Ronnie’s age and Carmine, who was the same age as my brother Darryl. Mickey was the gang leader for our side of the neighborhood. He did a great job organizing us into playing games like war, or planning bike and foot races. For the truly extravagant productions, the suggestions for things like circus and haunted house came from my sister Dolly. During the summer of 1964, there was a Little Rascals movie on the television one Saturday morning featuring a soapbox derby race where all the kids build these outlandish carts to go down Dead Man’s Hill, of course after seeing that we had to do it too. Teams were decided at a meeting held in the Scriappa’s backyard and Mickey gave us a week for all contestants to build their carts. I remember playing over at Carmen’s house and seeing their cart one day while the older kids were not around to chase us a[...]



Laura King edited SideBar

Mon, 16 Feb 2009 14:43:09 +0000

networkleader.pbwiki.com
mhspelling.pbwiki.com
networkleader09.pbwiki.com
mhteachers.pbwiki.com
acsulitteam.pbwiki.com



Laura King edited Laurie

Sun, 15 Feb 2009 14:03:42 +0000

Dear laura,
I have all my assignments done three weeks in advance!
BIG WORDS THAT CHANGE THE WORLD.doc







Laura King uploaded taking attendance.jpg

Sun, 15 Feb 2009 13:06:50 +0000

(image)



Laura King edited FrontPage

Sun, 15 Feb 2009 13:04:08 +0000




Laura King edited FrontPage

Sun, 15 Feb 2009 13:04:03 +0000