Books and more books!
At the 84th annual Academy Awards held last weekend the clip below won the Oscar for Best Animated Short: described as taking place in a world where books are living creatures, it offers sentimental tale about the power of books and storytelling.
Enjoy this awesome story told with a fantastic animation!
About Me
- Teacher Alex
- Portugal
- I am from Coimbra, Portugal, and am currently teaching in a school in Soure, about 30 km away from Coimbra. I have been a teacher of English for over 20 years and have already taught different levels and age groups. After all this time I can say I love working with adult groups because there are no coursebooks and I can create my own resources. I am an avid reader, a blogger and very curious about free tools and their implementation in the classroom.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
What book?
Following my last blogpost on... what book???
A segment from the acclaimed book and movie:
A segment from the acclaimed book and movie:
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Reading Mood
I've just finished reading The Help, by Kathryn Stockett and besides being beautifully written, it is as outstanding as unputdownable! I often found myself immersed in a "reading mood", if there is such thing, but the fact is that as soon as I started reading it, I had some trouble to stop.
The Help is the story of three amazing women - two African American maids working in white households in Jackson / Mississippi during the 1960s and a twenty-two year old graduate, daughter of a prominent white family who dreams of becoming a writer. In a time and place struggling with racial issues, The Help is a compelling, daring story of courage to cross boundaries. A must read, no doubt!
Inspired by this reading, here follows a poem by one of my favourite writers, guess who? Again Maya Angelou, an acclaimed American poet and a Civil Rights Activist.
Million Man March Poem
The night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.
Under a dead blue sky on a distant beach,
I was dragged by my braids just beyond your reach.
Your hands were tied, your mouth was bound,
You couldn't even call out my name.
You were helpless and so was I,
But unfortunately throughout history
You've worn a badge of shame.
I say, the night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark
And the walls have been steep.
But today, voices of old spirit sound
Speak to us in words profound,
Across the years, across the centuries,
Across the oceans, and across the seas.
They say, draw near to one another,
Save your race.
You have been paid for in a distant place,
The old ones remind us that slavery's chains
Have paid for our freedom again and again.
The night has been long,
The pit has been deep,
The night has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.
The hells we have lived through and live through still,
Have sharpened our senses and toughened our will.
The night has been long.
This morning I look through your anguish
Right down to your soul.
I know that with each other we can make ourselves whole.
I look through the posture and past your disguise,
And see your love for family in your big brown eyes.
I say, clap hands and let's come together in this meeting ground,
I say, clap hands and let's deal with each other with love,
I say, clap hands and let us get from the low road of indifference,
Clap hands, let us come together and reveal our hearts,
Let us come together and revise our spirits,
Let us come together and cleanse our souls,
Clap hands, let's leave the preening
And stop impostering our own history.
Clap hands, call the spirits back from the ledge,
Clap hands, let us invite joy into our conversation,
Courtesy into our bedrooms,
Gentleness into our kitchen,
Care into our nursery.
The ancestors remind us, despite the history of pain
We are a going-on people who will rise again.
And still we rise.
The Help is the story of three amazing women - two African American maids working in white households in Jackson / Mississippi during the 1960s and a twenty-two year old graduate, daughter of a prominent white family who dreams of becoming a writer. In a time and place struggling with racial issues, The Help is a compelling, daring story of courage to cross boundaries. A must read, no doubt!
Inspired by this reading, here follows a poem by one of my favourite writers, guess who? Again Maya Angelou, an acclaimed American poet and a Civil Rights Activist.
 | |
| www.achievement.org |
The night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.
Under a dead blue sky on a distant beach,
I was dragged by my braids just beyond your reach.
Your hands were tied, your mouth was bound,
You couldn't even call out my name.
You were helpless and so was I,
But unfortunately throughout history
You've worn a badge of shame.
I say, the night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark
And the walls have been steep.
But today, voices of old spirit sound
Speak to us in words profound,
Across the years, across the centuries,
Across the oceans, and across the seas.
They say, draw near to one another,
Save your race.
You have been paid for in a distant place,
The old ones remind us that slavery's chains
Have paid for our freedom again and again.
The night has been long,
The pit has been deep,
The night has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.
The hells we have lived through and live through still,
Have sharpened our senses and toughened our will.
The night has been long.
This morning I look through your anguish
Right down to your soul.
I know that with each other we can make ourselves whole.
I look through the posture and past your disguise,
And see your love for family in your big brown eyes.
I say, clap hands and let's come together in this meeting ground,
I say, clap hands and let's deal with each other with love,
I say, clap hands and let us get from the low road of indifference,
Clap hands, let us come together and reveal our hearts,
Let us come together and revise our spirits,
Let us come together and cleanse our souls,
Clap hands, let's leave the preening
And stop impostering our own history.
Clap hands, call the spirits back from the ledge,
Clap hands, let us invite joy into our conversation,
Courtesy into our bedrooms,
Gentleness into our kitchen,
Care into our nursery.
The ancestors remind us, despite the history of pain
We are a going-on people who will rise again.
And still we rise.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Charles Dickens' 200th Birthday
 |
| Today's Google Doodle celebrating Charles Dickens' bicentenary |
 |
| Charles Dickens, Oil on Canvas by William Powell Frith |
Nick Gibb, the Minister of State for Schools, stated that "Every child ought to read a Dickens novel by the age of 11" but, according to the writer's biographer, Claire Tomalin, Charles Dickens' novels are "too long for today's young" due to their short attention spans. It is no doubt a shame because what he wrote so long ago is still "amazingly relevant". Anyway, regardless of other people's opinions or your age, have a look at these free Google eBooks - free digital copies of Dickens' books that have been carefully scanned by Google and they are FREE for all of you to read online - so no excuses then!!! Check:
Celebrations are on in England and worldwide and if you would like to know what's on, check at Charles Dickens Museum and here. For us teachers and students, parents and children, do check this BBC link - it has got loads of information presented in an attractive way and includes some activities, namely a quiz as well as this fantastic British Council link - no surprise being by the BC, right?
Have a nice day :=)
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Guess Activity
After the thrill of going to the movies for "Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows" and solving the worksheets, students were invited to write a film synopsis but without disclosing its title. Here are some examples... can you guess the titles of films 1 / 2 / 3 and 4??
Friday, February 3, 2012
The Reading Mother
One of the books I purchased and mentioned here before Christmas was Geronimo Stilton Special Edition: Christmas Catastrophe. I read out loud one chapter every night and my youngest kid just loved it - so much that two more titles are on their way!
I have always read my two boys bedtime stories but not many in English and now I ask myself why. The feedback and my kid's improvement in reading, vocabulary, pronunciation...have been so remarkable that I will certainly go on.
As a reading mother, let me share a lovely poem with you:
I had a mother who read to me
Sagas of pirates who scoured the sea.
Cutlasses clenched in their yellow teeth;
"Blackbirds" stowed in the hold beneath.
I had a Mother who read me lays
Of ancient and gallant and golden days;
Stories of Marmion and Ivanhoe,
Which every boy has a right to know.
I had a Mother who read me tales
Of Gelert the hound of the hills of Wales,
True to his trust till his tragic death,
Faithfulness lent with his final breath.
I had a Mother who read me the things
That wholesome life to the boy heart brings-
Stories that stir with an upward touch.
Oh, that each mother of boys were such!
You may have tangible wealth untold;
Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.
Richer than I you can never be --
I had a Mother who read to me.
I have always read my two boys bedtime stories but not many in English and now I ask myself why. The feedback and my kid's improvement in reading, vocabulary, pronunciation...have been so remarkable that I will certainly go on.
 | |||||||
| S. Gillilan (1869-1954) |
I had a mother who read to me
Sagas of pirates who scoured the sea.
Cutlasses clenched in their yellow teeth;
"Blackbirds" stowed in the hold beneath.
I had a Mother who read me lays
Of ancient and gallant and golden days;
Stories of Marmion and Ivanhoe,
Which every boy has a right to know.
I had a Mother who read me tales
Of Gelert the hound of the hills of Wales,
True to his trust till his tragic death,
Faithfulness lent with his final breath.
I had a Mother who read me the things
That wholesome life to the boy heart brings-
Stories that stir with an upward touch.
Oh, that each mother of boys were such!
You may have tangible wealth untold;
Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.
Richer than I you can never be --
I had a Mother who read to me.
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