Monday, June 3, 2013

Multi-Genre Magazine Planning Letter


Multigenre Magazine

When writers have deadlines, it is important that they plan in advance to meet those deadlines. Your Multigenre Magazine is due in school on Wednesday, June 19.

As part of your finished project, you need to:
¨ Write at least five pieces (additional quality pieces will be given extra credit), including:
o   A nonfiction piece
o   A poem
o   A fictional piece
o   An essay or feature article
o   An artistic piece
¨ Revise and edit your pieces to make sure they are the best possible quality
¨ Publish your pieces neatly (either by handwriting the pieces or typing them—an adult may help with the typing)
¨ Assemble your pieces into a magazine with a catchy cover (If multiple students are working together on a magazine, they only need one cover.)

The next page is a planning calendar to help you and your family plan out what still needs to be done for your magazine. Please fill it out this weekend. It is due in school on Tuesday. I will make a copy of it on Tuesday and return it to you. 

6/3
6/4
6/5

6/6








NO SCHOOL
6/7
6/10








Half Day of School
6/11
6/12
6/13









6/14

6/17
6/18
6/19







Multigenre Magazine Due in School!


















Friday, May 31, 2013

Poetry Month: Day 31 (by Jack)

I chose "Fireworks" because it tells a lot of strong words and I like how they rhyme.

Fireworks

Bam! there goes another!
Screaming as it goes 
It's getting high in the sky!
And fizzle- there she blows
WHOOSH!
Up high above the houses
Behind a trail of sparks
Yellow, orange, red and white
Exploding in the dark
-by Jack 

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Poetry Month: Day 30 (by Peter)

I chose "Invitation" by Shel Silverstein because it the definition of "poem" to me. It was the only poem that came to mind.


INVITATION
If you are a dreamer, come in.
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer . . .
If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire,
For we have some flax golden tales to spin.
Come in!
Come in!
-by Shel Silverstein 


Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Poetry Month: Day 29 (by Owen)

I chose "The Magical Eraser" because I think that is funny and it is one of my favorites.

The Magical Eraser

She wouldn't believe
This pencil has
A magical eraser.
She said I was a silly moo,
She said I was a liar too,
She dared me prove that it was true,
And so what could I do--
I erased her! 



Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Poetry Month: Day 28 (by Lily)

I chose "The Hard Poem" because I wrote it myself and it is one of my best.

Hard Poem

Poems are hard
I cannot write
I'm in a frenzy, in a fright,
I simply cannot think tonight
poems are hard.

Poems are hard
my teacher told me I should make
a poem of anything, say a snake
but I cannot, even for her sake
poems are hard.

Poems are hard 
but I must now try,
though by and by and by,
I cannot lest-a fly!
poems are hard.

Poems are hard 
I'll think of water in a dome 
but say, is this a real poem?
and now, I really must go home,
poems are hard.
-Lily


Monday, May 27, 2013

Poetry Month: Day 27 (by Katie)


The poem I want to share with you today is called "Things" by Eloise Greenfield. You've probably heard it read over the loudspeaker by Ms. Phillips during Family Friday.

I chose this poem because it really captures the staying power of poetry. Just like Eloise Greenfield, there are poems I've carried with me my entire life. Some are humorous poems I read again and again in Shel Silverstein's poetry books. Others are poems that my mom recited to me each night when I was falling asleep, poems her mother had shared with her. Still more are the poems I wrote as a child and memorized to perform for my classmates and family. There is even a poem about getting underwear for Christmas that my first grade teacher taught me; my entire extended family will never forget it! Poems are powerful, and "Things" by Eloise Greenfield certainly represents that.

Things
Went to the corner
Walked in the store
Bought me some candy
Ain't got it no more
Ain't got it no more
Went to the beach
Played on the shore
Built me a sandhouse
Ain't got it no more
Ain't got it no more
Went to the kitchen
Lay down on the floor
Made me a poem
Still got it
Still got it

Poem ©Eloise Greenfield. All rights reserved.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Poetry Month: Day 26 (by Matthew)

I chose "True Story" because I love how it lied over and over and it keeps going until it gets so worse it
has to stop at the end.

True Story


This morning I jumped on my horse
And went for a ride,
And some wild outlaws chased me
And shot me in the side.
So I crawled into a wildcats cave
To find a place to hide
But some pirates found me sleeping there
And soon they had me tied
To a pole and built a fire
Under me---I almost cried
Till a mermaid came and cut me loose
And begged to be my bride
So I said id come back Wednesday
But I must admit I lied.
Then I ran into a jungle swamp
But I forgot my guide
And I stepped into some quicksand
And no matter how hard I tried
I couldn’t get out, until I met
A watersnake named Clyde
Who pulled me to some cannibals
Who planned to have me fried
But an eagle came and swooped me up
And through the air we flied
But he dropped me in a boiling lake
A thousand miles wide
And you’ll never guess what I did then---
I DIED

-by Shel Silverstein 

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Poetry Month: Day 25 (by David)

I chose "Tiger" because in third grade I did the "Tiger" poem for a show me and my class did a show.

Tiger
Tiger! Tyger! burning bright 
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder , & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
-by William Blake 


Friday, May 24, 2013

Poetry Month: Day 24 (by Kate)

I chose "The Party" because it is my brother's birthday and I really want him to have a great birthday and I am so proud of him.

The Party

So much depends upon
my little brother
becoming
so big
and
having a great birthday.
-by Kate

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Poetry Month: Day 23 (by Aidan)

I chose "Excited" because it's my sister's birthday and she said I should, also this is one of my favorites.

Excited
Were in this line,
feels so    l     o    n    g,
watching the fast passers zing right past us.
My legs feel waited.
Brooke is tired.
"Finally!" We say.
We come to the ride.
We hop in the car, one by one.
Were "shaking",
Were excited.
3...2...1...
BLAST!!!!!!
And were in the tunnel,
lights all different colors,
Rasberry red,
lemon yellow,
lime green,
blueberry blue,
mandarin orange,
grape purple.
The ride stops.
Awesome,we say.
AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-by Aidan M.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Poetry Month: Day 22 (by Ava)

I chose "Mr. Meow" because I like the way Gary Soto chose his words and put them together and how he makes the cat seem superior to the world around him.

Mr. Meow

For I will consider Mr. Meow,
For he is a cat with a blade of grass under his paw,
For the grass is gone in three licks,
For he blinks, for he purrs the stomach of plenty,
For he yawns when the clock strikes noon.
It's noon now. Mr. Meow rises,
His front legs stretched forward in homage to his shadow.
And for the sake of his pink tongue
He prances to his water bowl.
He pokes his nose at the image of himself
And his whiskers rake the surface.
Done, Mr. Meow braves the jungly yard,
For he is a cat with seven days off,
For he is the warden of the sparrow and the pear shaped
robin,
For he is the prince of the flea in his left shoulder,
For he is the conductor of that bell under his chin,
For briefly he is the sentry at an anthill gone cold.

Mr. Meow seizes the day.
He steps through hillside grass that whispers at his thighs.
He shakes the flea from his left shoulder to his right knee.
He nudges the bell and the birds sail into the trees.
He drinks from his paw print filled with rain.
He sits with his tail like a question mark behind him,
For he must consider his duties:
For one catch a leaf in midair,
For two avoid all roads with yellow stripes.
For three roll to his back and pedal his legs,
For four spark the stockings of a nicely dressed woman,
For five perk up ears when a Chihuahua barks,
For six venture to the fence and meow to the bark,
For seven climb a tree and meow to get down,
For eight blink sleepily at the embers in the fireplace,
For nine snag his collar on a branch,
For ten hurry from rain and meow at the back door.

Mr. Meow knows best. He loves all of his nine lives.
He knows the kindness of a stranger's caress,
For his father's father sailed on the Nile,
For his mother's mother hauled her young in her teeth,
For snow taught him cold, fire taught him Stay Back,
For he stepped into fog and once disappeared,
For he learned dizziness from a grandfather clock's pendulum.
True, Mr. Meow was trained to sniff for mice.
True, he befriends the toad and the toad's cousin, the tadpole.
True, he will consider what falls beneath the kitchen table.

His fears are rain, and bats with reddish eyes.
His happiness is tossing the bottle cap and catching it
in his fangs.
But what more does he know, what to consider?
For in idleness he fools a walnut,
For his head shovels into a nice girl's lap,
For he cries but not too loudly,
For he can raise a leg over his head,
For he sports his grey coat,
For his tail whips him to action when a wheel comes too close,
For he reigns tall on the throne of a garbage can,
For his eyes shine in the closet,
For he climbs a curtain for a better view of the sofa,
For if a dam breaks he can swim with his ears pulled back,
For he creeps to a dirty sock under the bed,
For under the bed he dusts with his belly,
For his engines run,
For he comes running when the refrigerator door is opened.
Spying a plate of chicken wings,
He'll reach in with washed and eager paws
And, unlike the dog, devour politely just what he can eat!
-by Gary Soto


Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Poetry Month: Day 21 (by Quinn)

I chose "I Don't Want To" because I feel like this some times and it is funny.

I Don't Want To
I don't want to play on the side walk. 
I don't want to lick any ice cream.
I don't want to slurp any soup.
I don't want to listen to any music.
I don't want to look at any cartoons.
I don't want to read any stories.
I don't want to blow up any balloons.


I don't want to dig in the garden.
I don't want to roll on the rug.
I don't want to wrestle the puppy.
I don't want to give you a hug.
I don't want to shoot any baskets.
I don't want to bang on my drum.

I don't want to line up my soldiers.
I don't want to whistle or hum.



I don't want to program my robot.
I don't want to strum my guitar.
I don't want to use my computer.
I don't want to wind up my car.
I don't want to color with crayons.
I don't want to model with clay.
I don't want to stop my wanting. . .
I'm having that kind of day.
-by Jack Prelutsky 


Monday, May 20, 2013

Poetry Month: Day Twenty (by Iris)

I chose "My Parents' Room" because it's my dad's birthday, and this is about his room. Happy birthday,         Dad and Katie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My Parents' Room 

''C'mon, Iris!'' yelled Nate. "Jump!!!!"


I stand on my parent's dresser, ready to leap.

"Not 'till you move.'' I say.
He boings, a spring, off of the bed.
I bend my knees and....

JUMP!!!!!
-by Iris

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Poetry Month: Day Eighteen (by Nicole)

The Crocodiles Toothache          By: Shel Silverstein             ( Nicole)

The Crocodile
Went to the dentist
And sat down in the chair,
And the dentist said,"Now tell me, sir,
Why does it hurt and where?"
And the Crocodile said, "I'll tell you the truth,
I have a terrible ache in my tooth,"
And he opened his jaws so wide, so wide,
That the dentist, he climbed right inside,
And the dentist laughed, "Oh isn't this fun?"
As he pulled the teeth out, one by one.
And the Crocodile cried, "You're hurting me so!
Please put your pliers and let me go."
But the dentist just laughed with a Ho Ho Ho,
And he said, "I still have twelve more to go-
Oops, that's the wrong one, I confess
But what's one crocodiles tooth, more or less?"
Then suddenly, the jaws went SNAP,
And the dentist was gone, right off the map,
And where he went one could only guess...
To North or South or East or West...
He left no forwarding address.
But what's one dentist more or less?


           

Friday, May 17, 2013

Poetry Month: Day Seventeen (by Lila)

I chose "Father's Day" because its my dad's birthday!

Father's Day
by Dean Koontz

I'm glad for Dad
Even when I'm bad,
Even when I'm mean,
Even when I'm green
With envy or
I've tracked the floor
With filthy muck
Or when I chuck
My little brother
At my mother.
I'm glad for Dad
Even when he's mad
About this or that
About the cat
I zipped inside my sister purse
Oh, I've  done worse.
When, I've been bad,
I'm glad for Dad,
For his stern voice
At my bad choice.
Dad says because of me he's losing his hair
Watching him go bald, I know he must care.



Thursday, May 16, 2013

Poetry Month: Day Sixteen (by Luke)

I chose "Sister for Sale" because   I like how it does repetition at the beginning when it says
''one sister for sale! one sister for sale! one crying and spying young sister for sale! '' and I like how
he has rhymes in it because it says '' I'm really not kidding , so who'll start bidding?''


Sister for Sale by Shel Silverstein 
One sister for sale!
One sister for sale!
One crying and spying young sister for sale!
I'm really not kidding,
so who'll start bidding?
Do I hear a dollar?
 a  nickel?
a penny?
oh isn't there, isn't there,isn't there any
one kid who will buy this old sister for sale,
This crying and spying young sister for sale?

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Poetry Month: Day Fifteen (by Eli)

I chose "Another" because this poem because it relates to my topic that I'm writing my anthology is about. The poem is about divorce.

Another
drawn-out
night

another
bitter, brutal
fight.

time
stood still
till
morning
broke
with a
trembling
throbbing
terrored-force

as
I woke up
sleepily
half-believing
i hadn't
hear
the
dreaded
word


Divorce
-by Lee Bennett Hopkins

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Poetry Month: Day Fourteen (by Indi)

I chose "Reid's Birthday" because Tuesday is his b-day and I wrote a poem book about him and today is May 14!
HIS B-DAY!

Reid's Birthday
Reid has a birthday May 14 it is,
For his party he had pizza and cake
And after he watched a movie.
Two people stayed for the sleepover.
And they had ''lego chima'' sets
What a terrible night for me
and
mom.
OUCH!
[I like saying ouch]
-by Indi


Monday, May 13, 2013

Poetry Month: Day Thirteen (by Julia)

I chose "Abusement Park" because It really shows how nauseous people can get on amusement park rides. Just thinking about it makes me sick!    UGH!

Abusement Park
We went to an amusement park,
my family and I.
We rode on rides so scary,
I expected I would die.

We rode a roller coaster
called The Homicidal Comet.
It had so many loop-de-loops
it nearly made us vomit.

We rode The Crazed Tornado,
and it jerked us hard and quick.
If it were any longer,
we would certainly be sick.

We rode The Psycho Octopus,
which packed a nasty punch.

I think we're pretty lucky
that we didn't lose our lunch.

And last we rode repeatedly
The  Flailing Tilt-a-Whirl.
It shook us all so sharply,
I'm surprised we didn't hurl.

I haven't felt that nauseous
since I can't remember when.
I'm really looking forward
to the day we go again.
-by Kenn Nesbitt


Sunday, May 12, 2013

Poetry Month: Day Twelve (by Omala)

I chose "DDivorced" because I think it really went with my anthology  because I am writing about divorce.

DDivorced

I was walking
home from school
opened the door
it slammed against the wall boom
I sow my mom and my dad
Fighting
their voices hitting me like thunder
I yell,
"stop it now"
 I stared at them


they said they where going
to get a divorce
"stop stop it now"i mutter to myself
I run to my room
I hate them so much.
They open the door.
My mom says they have a system
one day at my dads house and a dad at my moms house
I think it's so
complicated.
but for now
I have to.
Deal.
with it.
-BY ZACHARY MILLER

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Poetry Month: Day Eleven (by Ava M.)

I chose "Pack" because it really stood out to me like I thought it was really cool because i like how he adds all those details and hidden thoughts.

Pack
The boxes
into the car,
pile of dishes,
load in the clothes,
squeeze in
pots and pans,
our two radios-
can't waste a space-
 everything goes.

Crowd in the Mama,
the Daddy,
the sister,
jam in the brother,
make room for my toes-
can't waste space-
everything goes.

Bundle the memories
we're moving today
from
Scranton, PA,
to
Newark, NJ.
-by Lee Bennett Hopkins



Friday, May 10, 2013

Poetry Month: Day Ten (by Nina)

I chose "The Dreaded" because I really think it shows a whole new "going to the vet "experience.

The Dreaded
vet
soon your on your way
once
you've been pushed and stuffed in a
crate.
then into a car,and bad smells waft into your nose
and nauseousness fills your stomach
then 
your there.
left in your crate 
which
 is put 
on the
floor.
where dogs try and sniff you.
you try to hide in the shadows of your crate.
then into a room where you're let out.
strangers come and poke you.
then they talk to your owner.
then back into the crate,
through the waiting room,
into the car,
nauseousness.
then,finally
HOME.
here I am 14 years old,
a kitten no more. 
And now I know never
to give up, 
you'll always
reach
what you call
home. 
Now my young kittens listen
close
hope is a very precious
thing that 
is not to be 
lost, no never to 
be lost. 
-by Nina


Thursday, May 9, 2013

Poetry Month: Day Nine (by David)

I chose "Lie" because out of all my poems this had most powerful words because it had the most powerful sentences and kind of showed personification.

Lie
Lie is the killer of truth
Lie is the son of ignorance
Lie is troublemaker of life
Lie is the cook of unfaithfulness
Lying is killing hope
Lying is hopeless
Lying fights confidence
Lying is the power of trouble
Lying isn't helping
Lying affects confidence
Lying loves the bad tempered
Lying invents more problems
Lying creates psychos
Lie was made from lazy
Lie, why would you do it?
-By David
 

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Poetry Month: Day Eight (by Aden)

I chose "The Raven" because last year my class had a poetry performance which was really fun and my favorite poem was  "The Raven". Also I like this poem because I love the wonderful words that Edgar Allan Poe  used this is why I chose  "The Raven."


The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore--
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door--
Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;--vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow--sorrow for the lost Lenore--
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me--filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door--
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;
This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"--here I opened wide the door--
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"--
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is and this mystery explore--
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;--
'Tis the wind and nothing more.

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he,
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door--
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door--
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then the ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore--
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning--little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door--
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if its soul in that one word he did outpour
Nothing farther then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered--
Till I scarcely more than muttered: "Other friends have flown before--
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore--
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never--nevermore.'"

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore--
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee--by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite--respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!--
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by Horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore--
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!--quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadows on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted--nevermore!
-by Edgar Allan Poe