The beautiful Spring arrived on swan wings, and now the forest became noisy! The snow is crumbling, streams are running and babbling, ice floes are tinkling in them, the wind is whistling in the branches. And the birds, the birds chirp, sing and sing, they know no rest day or night!
And Santa Claus is not far away - he hears everything.
“That’s what it was,” he thinks, “it was with me. Silence in the forest, only the trees groan. Look, everyone is tired of the spring din. They will be glad now if I return.”
He snuck into the forest at night and hid under a dark spruce tree.
It's dawn now. And Santa Claus hears: the Hare is running through the forest, stamping his feet, screaming loudly.
“Zainka had a bad time,” thinks Santa Claus. - The snow has almost all melted away, the ground is gray, but he is white - everyone sees him and catches him. The scythe has gone completely crazy with fear.”
Lo and behold, the Hare jumped out onto the path. Only he is no longer white: a gray Hare.
Behind him are his comrades - the same gray hares. They shout, stamp their feet, jump over each other.
Santa Claus rolled up his sleeves:
What is Spring doing! The hare called his comrades from all over the forest. Screams. I started leapfrog - I completely lost my fear!
Cheerful hares galloped past.
Dawn is brighter.
And Father Frost sees: sitting in a meadow at the edge of Kosach-Gaterev, black as coal.
“That’s who the trouble is,” thinks Santa Claus. - After all, he spent the night under the snow with me. Now there is no snow, but the forest is still bare. There is nowhere for Kosach to hide or find peace - neither on the ground, nor on a tree.”
But Kosach doesn’t even think about hiding: black grouse flock to him at the edge of the forest, and he flaunts himself in front of them, muttering in a ringing voice:
Chuf-shi! Chuf-shi! Red eyebrows are good! I’ll raise my pigtails and spread my cool wings!
His comrades flock to the meadow. And he bullies them:
Shuf-shu! Shuf-shu! Go left-handed! I'll comb your feathers! He jumped, they hit each other, and only fluff flies!
“What is Spring doing? - Frost is thinking. - A peaceful bird got into a fight. I forgot about peace.”
The day got hot and the black grouse flew away from the meadow.
A Bear is walking through the forest. Skinny.
“How do you feel, clubfoot? - thinks Santa Claus. - Are you crying in your den? If I could sleep and sleep in it, I wouldn’t know hunger.”
And the Bear stopped, dug some roots out of the ground with his claws - chewed, grunted with pleasure: apparently, the roots tasted sweet.
Santa Claus reached under his hat with his hand:
What do you say - and this one is happy about Spring! Nobody bothers me. . Should I go ask her why she drove everyone crazy?
He crawled out from under the spruce and went through the forest to look for Spring.
And the beautiful Spring herself comes to meet him, all in multi-colored flowers, all in sunny gold. He says to him in a pipe voice:
What, old? Did you come to see our dances and songs? Or did you intend to scare someone?
You'll scare them!.. - Santa Claus groans. - The hare has lost his fear now too. And what did you do to them that made everyone praise you and go crazy?
The beautiful Spring smiled:
And you yourself ask them what they are happy about.
She started playing a song and, singing, flew over the forest, over the forest in a green haze.
Santa Claus found the Hare:
What are you happy about?
Spring, Grandfather. I'm glad for the warmth, I'm glad for the sun, I'm glad for the silk grass.
After all, I haven’t seen a green sprout all winter, I’ve peeled off all the aspen trees and gnawed at the bitter bark. And the grass is sweet. Found Santa Claus Kosach:
What are you happy about?
I'm glad to stretch my wings and show off my prowess and strength. Chuf-shi! What a ruff! Red eyebrows are hot, cool wings are good.
Found Santa Claus Bear:
What are you happy about?
The bear became ashamed, closed his paw, and whispered:
I, Grandfather, am glad to see flowers...
Oh-oh, made me laugh, oh, made me laugh! Red girls should rejoice at the flowers, not you, clubfoot. Are you going to make wreaths from them? Do you want me? - I’ll throw a bag of flowers and cover the whole earth with them. All white - one to one.
And shake your sleeve. And from his sleeve there were snowflakes, snowflakes, snowflakes - and the blizzard began to swirl like flakes.
Bear says:
No, old man! Your flowers are dead. They don't smell and aren't pleasing to the eye. And for the beautiful Spring, every small flower is a bright joy, every one promises happiness. When you come, you will bring a fierce winter with you. Hare, kosach, bear and spring And spring is coming - red summer leads with it. Every small flower stores its honey within itself, every summer promises us a berry.
The Bear was silent and closed his paw again.
And we,” he whispers, “are bears, we have a big sweet tooth!” In the winter I sleep in a den, snow and ice are above me, and my dreams are all about sweets, about honey and about berries.
Well,” said Santa Claus, “if you, shaggy one, dream of sweets, then I really have nothing to do with you.”
He got angry and went so far away that soon the Hare, Kosach and the Bear completely forgot about him.
KGBOU "Novoaltaisk comprehensive boarding school"
Summary of an open lesson on extracurricular reading. V. Bianchi's story “Three Springs”
8th – 9th grade
Prepared by: Lyubov Fedorovna Kiushkina, higher education teacher qualification category
Novoaltaysk, 2017.
Target: create conditions for consolidating the content of the story.
Tasks:
To help consolidate the skill of freely navigating a text and the ability to answer questions;
Enrich the vocabulary of pupils;
Develop verbal and logical thinking through the classification of signs of spring; critical thinking, through answers to thick and thin questions, drawing up a cluster;
Monitor the implementation of pronunciation skills;
Cultivate an interest in reading works about nature.
Equipment: presentation, individual texts, tables.
Vocabulary: fierce, harsh, icy, treacherous.
Lesson plan.
Speech exercises.
Psycho-gymnastics. Goal: correction of the emotional sphere.
Working on the content of the story; creating a cluster.
Summary of the lesson.
Reflection.
Progress of the lesson.
Organizing time. During the lesson you will answer questions and create a cluster based on the content of the story. I want you to be attentive, active, and answer my questions competently.
Speech exercises. Duty sound L
lyu - lo - le - la - lu;
lyu - lyu - fierce;
lo – alo – cold;
le - le - swans;
la – la – earth;
lu - lu - puddle.
Warming has arrived.
It became warm.
The earth has warmed up.
Spring began its attack on the strong, icy fortifications.
Updating the knowledge of the previous lesson.
What is the name of the story we read?
What time of year is the story about?
Tell me, what kind of winter was it? (slide 2)
How do you understand the word “fierce”? (slide 3)
What did winter want? (slide 4)
Who declared war on winter? (slide 5)
What did the sun do during the day? (slide 6.7)
What did winter do at night? (slide 8, 9)
Read and tell me how you understand this sentence? (slide 10, 11)
How is the spring weather this year similar to the weather in the story? (slide 12)
Ira, ask Kostya what the first victory of spring is called?
Julia, ask Vadim what the second victory of spring is called?
Vitya, ask Kirill what the third victory of spring is called?
Guys, what were you doing? (Answered questions).
IV. Psycho-gymnastics.
V. Work on the content of the story; creating a cluster.
VI. Summary of the lesson.
What did you do in class? - What is the name of the story we finished reading? – Who is the author of the story? - What stories? Vitaly Bianchi have you read it yet? - Do you like the stories of Vitaly Bianchi? - Why?
VII. Reflection “Spring Meadow”.
Look what a spring, sunny meadow we have.
Well done, you all coped with all the tasks, you all good mood, everything is great.
it worked out, and from your sunshine, such a sun also lit up in my soul.
u.- Today, I invite you to visit, guess who? Be careful.
If the river is blue
D. - This time of year is spring
y.- So, we are going to visit spring. Or rather, she came to our region.
(children attach symbols to the board)
This is a story for children about spring. About how nature gradually awakens, first the first thawed patches appear, then the rivers wake up, and then the forest dresses in beautiful clothes.
Three springs. Author: Vitaly Bianki
The winter is fierce, she would like to freeze everything to death - people, animals, birds, trees. And starve everyone to death. But the sun - the father of life - has already declared war on it and on March 21 launched a decisive spring offensive.
On this day, it stayed in the sky for exactly half a day, striking the enemy with its arrow-rays. For the next half day - at night - winter froze the earth, repairing its destroyed fortifications. Then the sun began to linger longer and longer in the sky, the day began to grow quickly, the night began to decrease, and the warmth began to increase. Every day now the sun rises higher in the sky, its rays fall straighter on the ground and hit the snow harder.
The first victory is spring in the field.
It began when the first thawed patches appeared in the fields, the first land became free. The rooks were delighted with her and immediately rushed to us. Then - starlings and skylarks.
The rooks are glad that they can pick the field with their noses, pull out awakened worms and beetle larvae from the warmed earth. Starlings catch revived insects, larks collect grains in the field.
Following the larks, male finches arrived from wintering grounds - and are also still feeding on the ground. And the beautiful crested lapwings were the first to arrive among the waders - they occupied the still wet arable lands, from which warm steam was already rising.
The second victory is the river spring.
The field spring had not yet ended, not all the fields were free of snow, but the sun had already launched a new offensive - against the strongest, icy fortifications of winter.
In the fields it retreats, snow runs from them in streams, it escapes from the sun into ravines, under the strong ice of the river. Rivers do not sleep, accumulating strength in captivity. So they strained and stood up.
It was as if a cannon had gone off over the river—the thick ice had cracked. The river broke free and, with thunder and ringing, carried the ice floes to the sea, crumbling and breaking them. But they won’t be able to swim to the distant sea: on the way, the sun will shoot them with its hot golden arrows.
Water birds - ducks, geese, swans, gulls, loons, river and marsh waders - can't wait for the rivers, lakes, and ponds to be cleared. After all, in the freed water they will have something to profit from: fish, various insects, crustaceans, snails, larvae and other aquatic small fry have awakened in it.
And the rivers, freed from ice, rise higher and higher. And it will happen soon: they will overflow their banks, pour into the meadows, flood the valleys and bushes. People will say: “Here comes the flood—the spring flood. The water will water the earth."
This is the second great victory of the sun, the second spring is a river spring.
There will no longer be a trace of snow left in the fields, the rivers will begin to return to their banks, and winter will still not want to give up, it will still rush into counterattacks and send its morning frosts. The last defeated troops of its snow will hide from the sun for a long time in the forest, along the shady slopes of the ravines.
The cuckoo will crow, the forest will be shrouded in greenish fog, swallows will fly, and with the last hard frost the bird cherry tree will bloom with white stars. All the songbirds will return to their homeland, and the marsh hen-crape will come running, hiding in the green, already grown sedge.
The forest will dress. And the nightingale will sing in the blooming, fragrant lilacs.
This will be the third decisive victory of the sun over winter. This is the third spring - forest spring. The last one: summer will come after it.
Double spring.
From the series of stories “Unexpected meetings."
In winter in Leningrad my eyes and ears have little work to do. But then I notice: sparrows were fighting on the roof. And my attention to everything around me immediately doubles: after all, the first scuffle of sparrows is the first hint of spring. There will be more and more signals. Every new bird voice in spring is a gift. And what a pleasure it is to celebrate these new voices until they merge into a huge common choir - the apotheosis of nature and the sun!
Man is supposed to rejoice in spring. But you often think: how many more such joyful encounters will you have in your life?
And once a sly thought came to my mind:
“Why not snatch at least one extra spring from life? After all, my homeland is so great. Every year there are many different springs at different ends of it.
I'll go to the Caucasus. End of February. Spring is just beginning there. Southern spring is short. I will have time to meet her and return. Here we will meet for the second time of the year - our leisurely northern spring.”
Even the color flushed to his face, as if he was planning to deceive fate.
I just had the opportunity to go somewhere - to relax between two jobs.
I take a train ticket to Tuapse and three days later, when I wake up in the morning, I see: spring!
In Tuapse it was hot on the streets, in some places there was already dust, although the mountains all around sparkled with snow. Beautiful lilac-breasted finches were kicking loudly in the gardens.
It is immediately obvious that they have just arrived here: not a single female in their bachelor flocks. The stronger males ran forward. The females will arrive later.
It's only the first of March, but I'm late. Hurry, hurry, forward!
And now the beautiful motor ship “Abkhazia” is already unfolding before me a leisurely, majestic panorama of the Caucasian coast and the endless expanse of the sea.
The last thread connecting me with my native north is breaking. I am in the other direction - beautiful, desired, but not native.
Large black birds sit on the pier, like Prussian eagles, with their wings raised and spread out. Birds we have never seen before are cormorants. Funny animals jump out of the waves and fall back into the sea. You won’t see these even in the Leningrad and Moscow zoos: dolphins. And even the seagulls accompanying the ship in a pink and white flock are not our seagulls: pink-breasted with red noses and paws - sea doves.
The ship goes on and on, its propeller counting down time and space.
Here is Gagra.
Impressive picture! Huge mountains. In the crevices there are piles of heavy muddy clouds. At the top there are wild forests covered with snow, fir trees - like a real Siberian taiga. And on a narrow strip of shore there are beautiful toy beehive houses and in front of them - palm trees, cypresses, eucalyptus trees.
Water flows silently, time flows.
Once you visit this cute town, you will certainly be drawn to visit it again.
Once in the fall I was in Sukhumi. And, of course, I, like everyone who has lived here even a little, still have friends among the friendly and hospitable local population.
I was drawn to them. I went to Sukhumi.
What kind of spring could there be when there was no winter?
It's hot on the streets. There's no need for a coat.
I went to the Alekseevskoye Gorge and visited the VIR garden. Blackbirds are singing everywhere. Just imagine this shiny black bird with a golden nose in our northern forest on a white birch tree!
And the emerald-brown-blue kingfisher sitting on a bush above a mountain stream seems to be completely dressed up.
Every day flocks of new birds arrive and set up shop here: they are already at home.
The finches are here too. The male and female flocks are about to break up and split into couples.
And suddenly - unexpectedly - snow.
Real northern snow. And cold. And a blizzard.
The classic “old-timers won’t remember”! Such sudden snow, such unexpected cold here in March!
The snow does not melt the next day. And now a new dish appears in the Ritsa restaurant: fried woodcock.
And on the third day - snow and woodcocks.
I don’t recognize the city: the elephant legs of the palm trees stand straight in the snow. Weighed down by snow, huge banana leaves droop to the ground. On the stripped branches of eucalyptus trees - this Australian tree, like a snake, changes its skin every year - crows, wet from snow, sit on Australian trees and croak with a cold.
A gang of children, armed with sticks, heads up the mountain. I'm going after them.
We meet hunters hung with bundles of dead woodcocks.
Here you go! But in our north, this wonderful twilight bird with large tragic eyes is desirable and desirable. There is always very little prey for hunters. She flies away from us with the first powder. Here she lives in winter on the mountain slopes in beech and other broad-leaved forests. She needs to stick her deep into the soft ground long beak to find edible animals. Snow is death for her.
The mountains were covered with deep snow. The woodcocks went down, straight into the streets. They are exhausted, exhausted.
The boys beat them with sticks.
I only managed to save one woodcock. He couldn't take off. I grabbed it with my hands. Examining him, I noticed that on his left foot, instead of the middle, longest toe, he had a stump. It touched me.
Brought it to me. Let me go to kindergarten. Almost all the snow has melted here.
Woodcock lived in the kindergarten for three days. Then - at night - he flew away.
As soon as the snow melted, summer immediately arrived in Sukhumi.
The local finches have already paired up and built nests. Spring is over.
It's time for me to go back home.
The wolf blizzard was still raging in Leningrad.
I only got to the village at the end of April. I invited a southerner friend, a hunter, with me: in our forests in the spring the draft of woodcocks is good, there is something to brag about.
Once in my native forest, I felt as if I had circled the globe so quickly that I came face to face with myself.
Again flocks of finches were kicking in the trees. They haven't paired up here yet. Flashing its red tail, a woodcock rose in the bushes. Everything that I saw recently on the other side of the country was repeated.
I stood at one edge, my friend stood at another, two hundred paces from me.
The sun set and the birds became silent.
Now the first woodcock should reach out.
But he didn't delay.
“It’s still too light,” I consoled myself. - The sky is clear. The cravings will start late today.”
A deep spiritual trembling embraces the soul in the spring in the forest at these hours. Naked daughter of the north - White Night- drives sleep away from the eyes. The white bodies of birches and the silvery trunks of aspens mysteriously come to life in it. Lean, prickly pines stretch out their prickly hands to them. And the dense spruce trees darken mysteriously in the depths of the bare forest. The ghost of unquenched love then rises from the black, stuffy earth to the sky twinkling with pale stars.
Birds don't sleep these nights. Having watched the sun go into silence in silence, they soon cannot stand it and burst into song again. Soaring up to the thin tops of the fir trees, our gray white-browed thrushes and warblers sing. A black-eyed robin flutters in the bushes. And in a voice hoarse with passion, the cuckoo that has just flown to its homeland suddenly begins to scream into the night.
In vain, falling silent, she waits for an answer to her call: the cheerful, ringing laughter of the female. The female cuckoos have not arrived yet. They will arrive when the forest is covered with leaves...
Casting a spell, a black grouse chuffs and mutters loudly somewhere.
Among all these wonderful sounds, my ear is looking for one thing - the most desirable: the quiet, hoarse “grunting” and “circling” of a pulling woodcock. After waiting about a quarter of an hour after sunset, male woodcocks rise from the ground and scurry restlessly over the forest. They search and look out for their females. This is called “traction”.
I tensed up in anticipation of the first grunt. I remembered how in past springs I stood idle on white evenings in this same place and ten or fifteen beautiful weevils flew over my head, ten or fifteen times I raised my gun to my shoulder and fired, nervously, afraid of missing the short moment of a possible hit.
But anxiety was already creeping into my heart: something happened this spring. There will be no such abundant cravings today. It hasn't started for too long.
And then suddenly - as always when you are standing on the traction - unexpectedly, although all your thoughts are occupied with waiting for this sound - a light “tsipit, tsipit, horr, horr!” came from somewhere.
I turned sharply in that direction. And I saw: above the edge of the forest where my friend stood, against the background of a greenish dawn, a bird was rushing in jerks in the air.
In a strange way, she flew forward with her long, lowered tail. And she had no head.
An instant illusion dissipated: what seemed to me to be the tail of a bird was the long, carefully lowered beak of a woodcock.
And I saw how suddenly the woodcock gathered into a ball - it was no longer possible to distinguish where its tail was, where its head was - and fell lifelessly down.
Then the sound of a shot immediately reached me.
“Well,” I sighed with relief, “there is one!” Now it will begin.
I was glad that my friend would not return home as a “priest” - without game.
But nothing “started.” The forest darkened, the outlines of individual trees merged in it. An hour has passed. But the woodcocks still didn’t pull.
“Your vaunted thrust is good,” he said angrily. - He just held out. Here he is. In the Caucasus in winter I beat dozens of them.
A friend handed me a killed woodcock.
Looking at the bird, I noticed that on its left leg it had a stump instead of the middle, longest toe.
I felt like an electric shock.
I, of course, cannot claim that this is the same woodcock whose life I recently saved thousands of kilometers from here - in Sukhumi. But I just remembered that our northern woodcocks fly to the Caucasus for the winter and mix there with the Caucasian ones.
I remembered the Sukhumi hunters, hung with bundles of woodcocks.
Perhaps it was from my northern forest that woodcocks - these birds with large tragic eyes - gathered in a flock and spent the winter in the deciduous snowless forests above the city of Sukhumi. Maybe. Very possible.
And I began to think: what a huge word we have - “Motherland”! What part of the globe does it embrace! And yet, south and north, east and west are one economy.
Here are the birds: if you destroy a flock of them in the south in winter, you will be left without hunting in the north in the spring.
Notes
(39) - VIR - All-Union Institute of Plant Growing.
Spring is coming, make way for spring!
“...And finally spring has come. I began to walk through the thawed patches in the garden. The days were warm and humid. Beyond the ravine, steam rises from the thawed ground. The ground receded, and there was fog all day long across the meadows.
And the roosters crowed at the top of their lungs, filling the village with their cries, the sparrows chattered like crazy through the bare viburnum and currant bushes...”
Ivan BUNIN, “Song of the Lark”
“...The beautiful spring flew in on swan wings - and then it became noisy in the forest! The snow is crumbling, streams are running and babbling, ice floes are tinkling in them, the wind is whistling in the branches. And the birds, the birds chirp, sing and sing, they know no rest either day or night!..
...Every new bird voice in spring is a gift. And what a pleasure it is to celebrate these new voices until they merge into a huge common choir - the apotheosis of nature and the sun!”
Vitaly BIANCHI
“...The black branches glistened, the wet snow rustled, sliding from the roofs, and the damp forest rustled importantly and cheerfully beyond the outskirts. Spring walked across the fields like a young mistress. As soon as she looked at the ravine, a stream immediately began to gurgle and overflow in it. Spring was coming, and the sound of streams became louder and louder with every step.
The snow in the forest darkened. At first, brown pine needles, which had fallen off during the winter, appeared on it. Then a lot of dry branches appeared - they were broken by a storm back in December - then last year's fallen leaves turned yellow, thawed patches appeared and on the edge of the last snowdrifts the first coltsfoot flowers bloomed...”
Konstantin PAUSTOVSKY, “Steel Ring”
Aren't these amazing lines, I want to re-read them again and again. An amazing time of year that leaves no one indifferent. Primary school teachers tell how to conduct an excursion in the spring forest, how to see the awakening of nature together with children.
2nd class
Subject. “All springs are warmed by breath,
Everyone around loves and sings...”
Goals. Develop students' speech creative imagination through words, music, painting; cultivate a caring attitude towards nature.
During the classes
Teacher. Today we will take an exciting journey. But guess where, guess for yourself.
She came and smiled -
The snowstorms have subsided.
Started calling
Drop bell.
The river has awakened
The ice has melted
Snow-white outfit
We put on the gardens.
Let's roar and get to work
The tractors took up
And the birds sang:
“It’s time to build nests!”
So this is...
Children. Spring.
The teacher opens the board with a drawing of Spring in the form of a girl in a Russian sundress decorated with spring flowers.
U. We will take a journey into the world of colors and sounds of spring. Let's listen to her song and look at its colors. Let's try to understand what the birds are chirping, the stream is murmuring, the first leaves of the birch tree are quietly whispering.
A song about spring sounds.
– Let’s all say the word “spring” together.
Children complete the task.
– What semantic associations arise in you when you hear this word?
D. Spring is light and joy.
- Happiness, hope.
– Love, streams, flowers.
- Drops, icicles, birdsong, green grass...
The teacher writes down the words – the children’s answers – on the board.
U. There are “three springs” in nature. Read the story by Vitaly Bianki, which is called “Three Springs”. Try to determine what three springs exist in nature.
While the children read on their own, calm music plays.
– So, what “three springs” exist in nature?
D. Field spring.
- River spring.
- Forest spring.
On the board are posters depicting spring landscapes: field spring, river spring, forest spring.
U. And these periods are also called differently - spring of light, spring of water and spring of green grass. Which month corresponds to the spring of the world?
D. March.
U. Spring water?
D. April.
U. Green grass in spring?
D. May.
U. Admire: spring is coming,
The cranes are flying in a caravan,
The day is drowning in bright gold
And the streams rustle through the ravines...
Do you hear? What unusual words! It was a poetic stream babbling. He picked up our paper boat and is carrying it along the spring waves. Who wants to read poems about spring?
Children pass the boat to each other and read poems about spring.
– You listened to the poems. And now, having chosen the desired color ( There are colorful leaves in front of the children), try to convey your mood from these poems. Please pick up the leaves.
Children complete the task.
– Look how beautiful and cheerful our class has become. It is probably no coincidence that the poet Alexey Pleshcheev said:
All faces look cheerful,
“Spring” - you read in every gaze,
And he, like a holiday, is happy about her,
Whose life is just hard work
and grief.
Read Pleshcheev’s poem “Spring”. Determine what sounds spring is filled with.
Children first read silently, and then one of the students reads aloud.
– So, what sounds is spring filled with?
D. The ringing of streams, the whistling of a nightingale, the beating of a heart, the laughter of children, the singing of birds...
U. Prove this with lines from the poem.
Children complete the task.
– Spring is a time of renewal not only in nature, but also in the human soul. Read the first quatrain to yourself.
Children complete the task.
– Now imagine that you and I are admiring the spring nature at the open window; spring is blowing through the window. Read this quatrain from the perspective of a person who is delighted with the beauty and freshness of spring.
Expressive reading for 2-3 students.
- Let's try it together.
Reading a quatrain in chorus.
The snow is already melting, the streams are flowing,
There was a breath of spring through the window...
The nightingales will soon whistle,
And the forest will be dressed in leaves!
– Guys, what type of art conveys the beauty of the world through sounds?
D. Music.
U. This is how Tchaikovsky heard the music of spring. Listen to the sounds of music and try to imagine a spring picture.
The play by P.I. is playing. Tchaikovsky.
– Music sounded. When you listened to it, what picture of spring nature did you imagine?
Children's answers.
– Tchaikovsky called his play “April. Snowdrop". Under the blow of a light spring breeze, the first flowers open their petals - snowdrops.
Physical education minute
The flower was sleeping and suddenly woke up.
(Torso left, right.)
I didn't want to sleep anymore.
(torso forward, backward.)
He moved, stretched,
(Hands up, stretch.)
He soared up and flew.
(Hands up, left, right.)
The sun will just wake up in the morning,
The butterfly circles and curls.
(Spin around.)
“But the first to bring spring to us on the wings of birds.” Imagine that we are not in a school classroom, but in a forest clearing where the voices of birds are heard.
- It was the nightingale who sang.
The valleys are dry and colorful,
The herds rustle and the nightingale
Already singing in the silence of the night.
Who owns these lines?
D. Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin.
U. Attention! This poem will now be read. Your task is to listen carefully to the lines and try to determine what Pushkin calls spring in his poem.
Reading by the student of the poem “Persecuted by the spring rays...”
– So, what does Pushkin call spring?
D. Morning of the year.
– Nature’s clear smile
Through a dream he greets the morning of the year...
U. If spring is the morning of the year, what do you think summer will be like?
D. On a hot day.
U. What about autumn?
D. In the evening of the year.
U. Winter?
D. At night. Nature freezes and sleeps.
U. Well done! What amazing comparisons you came up with. Once again, carefully re-read the lines of this poem, imagining yourself in the role of artists, because you will have to determine the color scheme of the poem.
Students reread the poem.
- So, you are artists. Color each leaf of our spring twig in the color that is present in Pushkin’s lines.
Children work in groups.
– Look how diverse and magnificent the colors of spring are.
The twigs are hung on the board, the children prove the presence of this or that color with lines from the text of the poem.
– Spring excited the hearts of real artists. I invite you to take a closer look at their paintings.
On the board are reproductions of paintings by I.I. Levitan “March” and “Spring. Big Water”, K.F. Yuona “Spring Sunny Day”,
A.K. Savrasov “The rooks have arrived.”
– In Yuon’s painting there is still snow all around, but the sun is shining brightly like spring. The high blue sky, the first thawed patches we see in Levitan’s painting. And in this painting by Levitan, the water overflowed its banks and flooded the surrounding area. The first messengers of spring - rooks - build nests on tall birch trees in Savrasov's painting.
We visited the artist’s workshop, but there is also a poet’s workshop. She is in his soul, his heart, his memory. Our task is to pick up the missing definitions and adjectives.
And cheerful... the forest, and the wind between the birches
It's already blowing gently, and... birch trees
Drop... the rain of their... tears
And they smile through their tears.
Children work in groups independently. Analysis of well-chosen definitions.
A quatrain is written on the board.
And the sonorous forest is cheerful, and the wind
between the birches
It's already blowing gently, and the white birches
Drop the quiet rain of their own
diamond tears
And they smile through their tears.
– We saw how difficult the work of a poet, writer, artist, musician is. I suggest you not to be afraid of difficulties. Have your say about spring. Remember everything that was said today, write a short creative sketch on the topic “All springs are warmed by the breath.”
Calm music sounds. Children write essays.
Natalya SMIRNOVA,
teacher high school № 8
Kostroma
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