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Положение о проведении Конкурса
Составила: преподаватель английского языка
Романова А.А.
Основные принципы «Конкурса чтецов»
1. Удовлетворение потребностей и интересов учащихся.
2. Расширение кругозора.
3. Предоставление возможности для самореализации.
4. Предоставление возможности для самоутверждения
личности в творческом процессе.
5. Доступность.
Задачи «Конкурса чтецов».
1. Совершенствование профессионального мастерства
педагога через подготовку, организацию и
проведение конкурса.
2. Вовлечение учащихся в самостоятельную творческую
3. Повышение интереса к изучению английского языка.
4. Выявление учащихся, которые стремятся к
углублению изучения английского языка.
5. Раскрытие внутренних ресурсов личности учащегося.
6. Активизация познавательной деятельности
Ожидаемые результаты.
1. Поднятие на более высокую ступень
познавательной деятельности учащихся.
2. Развитие мыслительной активности учащихся.
3. Углубление знаний по предмету.
4. Развитие памяти на английскую речь.
Организация конкурса
Конкурс проводится по группам на уроках или
во время консультаций. Жюри являются все
учащиеся группы. Победители выбираются
путем голосования.
Участники конкурса
Группа 1
1. Кузьменых А.
2. Леонов А.
3. Сенин Р.
4. Сиговатов М.
5. Суханов И.
6. Титаренко М.
Группа 2
1. Береснева Т.
2. Гуринович А.
3. Касаткина Ю.
4. Кирюхина К.
5. Пышкина В.
6. Рябов Р.
7. Савельева А.
8. Сарычева И.
9. Ярош К.
Группа 4
1. Жалимов А.
2. Труцков Д.
3. Финашин А.
4. Чеботарев М.
5. Шлыков А.
Группа 7
1. Барсов А.
2. Жилин П.
3. Киселев П.
4. Мельник В.
5. Пронин А
Итоги Конкурса чтецов
Группа/м Групп Группа Группа Группа
а №1 №2
1 место
2 место
3 место
в Иван
Александр Иванови Дмитриев
Береснев Барсов Финашин
а Татьяна Алексан Андрей
Кирюхин Чеботаре Чеботаре
в Михаил
Кристина Михаил Сергееви
Владими Сергееви
Конкурс чтецов
1. Совершенствование навыков выразительного рассказывания стихотворений.
2. Активизация лексического и грамматического материала.
3. Развитие интереса к поэтическим произведениям стран изучаемого языка.
Оборудование: портреты писателей и поэтов; дипломы для поощрения лучших чтецов.
Ход мероприятия
I. Организационный момент
- Good morning, boy* and girls! We shall recite English poems and find out who can do it very
Учитель приветствует детей и сообщает им цель урока Конкурс чтецов может быть
посвящен определенной теме или отдельному виду художественных произведений,
творчеству одного или нескольких писателей. Длинные стихотворения могут быть
представлены несколькими учащимися. Для оценивания выступлений можно создать
жюри, которое подводит итоги в конце урока. Учитель заранее готовит дипломы для
поощрения лучших чтецов.
II. Приведение конкурса
What is this life, if full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?
No time lo stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
Nо time to see, when woods we pass.
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see in broad daylight
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till hеr mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began,
А рост life this is, if full of care.
We have no time to stand and stare.
W.H. Davits
Ants in the Lunchroom
Appearing this morning exactly at nine
They entered our lunchroom and mustered a line.
They seemed to be dancing, or whistling a tune.
Then ran out the door with a fork and a spoon.
They quickly came back for a knife and a plate
Not bothered at all by the size or the weight
They grabbed all the glasses and cups they could find.
They bagged every bowl, leaving nothing behind.
They worked through me morning, till mid-afternoon.
And carried off every last saucer arid spoon.
They searched every shelf and they emptied each drawer,
Then pilfered the platters and dashed out the door.
They put on a truly impressive display
Until they were finished and wandered away.
Although we were puzzled, we had to conclude
Those ants were no dummies; they left all (he food.
Kenn Nesbitt
There's я Monster In My Mirror
There's a monster in my mirror.
With two beady yellow eyes.
Since I first awoke this morning.
It's been there to my surprise.
It's as wrinkled as a rhino.
It's hairy as a hound.
And from deep within its beauty
Comes a groaning, moaning sound.
Its long teeth arc sharp and pointed.
Its fat tongue is shaded blue.
And its mouth is drooling liquid
That resembles airplane glue.
There's a monster in my mirror.
With green horns upon its head.
Tell that monster in my mirror
That I'm going back to bed!
Douglas Florian
When I Was One-and-Twenty
When I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say,
"Give crowns, and pounds, and guineas
But not your heart away;
Give pearls away and rubies
But keep your fancy free."
But I was one-and-twenty
No use to talk to me.
When I was one-and-twenty
I heard him say again,
The heart out the bosom
Was never given in vain;
'It's paid with sighs a plenty
And sold for endless rue."
And I was two-and-twenty,
And oh, "it's true, 'it's true.
A.E- Housman
Away from you, I hold hands with the air.
Your imagined untouchable hand. Not there,
Your fingers braid with mine as I walk.
Far away in my heart, you start to talk.
I squeeze the air, kicking the auburn leaves.
Everything suddenly gold. I half believe
Your hand is holding mine, the way
It would if you were here. What do you say?
In my heart? I bend my head to listen, then feel
Your hand reaches out and strokes my hair, as real
As the wind caressing the fretful trees above.
Now I can hear you clearly, speaking of love.
Carol Ann Duffy
The Snowman
He shines like a candle and melts slowly.
He is white and black and gets smaller all the time.
He is as white as feathers arid white horses and snow
He glows in the dark like a glow-worm
He stands on a flat place and makes a shadow in the light.
He crumples in a circle like a circus tent
He turns to ice and slush like a camel's hump.
He runs away like milk and melts like moonlight in the sunshine.
In the morning he Is gone like the moon.
Gillian Clarke
Calendar of Clothes January
January is a time for coats, for caps and fir-lined boots.
February likes hats with flaps and zipped up coloured ski suits.
March can do with anoraks and jeans and wooly tops.
April needs a change of clothes for sun and wind and
May brings cotton tee-shirts with jumpers still on hand.
By June (he skirts arc skimpy, shorts short for playing
on sand.
July comes along in bathing trunks, and caps with dark
green shades.
August gets the sunsuits out with balls and buckets
and spades.
September, and it's back to school, uniform, shirt and
stripy tie.
October brings scarves out again as leaves whirl up
in the sky.
November means turned-up collars against wind and
fog and storm.
December shakes out party frocks. Christmas fun
keeps everyone warm.
Moira Andrew
I meant to do my work today But a brown bird sang in the apple (гее.
And a butterfly flitted across the field.
And the wind went sighing over the land
Tossing the grasses to and fro.
And a rainbow helped out its shining hand So what could I do out; laugh and go?
Richard Le Yalteinne
Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees.
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log.
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
Of doves in a silver - feathered sleep
A harvest mouse goes scampering by
With silver claims and silver eye
And moveless fish in the water gleam
By silver reeds in a silver stream.
Waller de la More
I would I were a careless child.
Still dwelling in my Highland cave,
Or roaming through the dusky wild.
Or bounding o'er the dark blue wave.
The cumbrous pomp of Saxon pride
Accords not with the tree-born soul.
Which loves the mountain's craggy side,
And seeks the rocks where billows roll.
Fortune! take back these cultures lands,
Take back this name of splendid sound!
I hate the touch of servile hands.
I hate the slaves that cringe around.
Place me among the rocks I love.
Which sound to Ocean's wildest roar;
I ask but this - again to rove
Through scenes my youth hath known before.
George Gordon Byron
The Brook Song
Little brook! Little brook!
You have such a happy look.
Such a very merry manner,
As you swerve and curve and crook.
And you ripple, one and one
-Reach each other's hands and run
Like laughing children in die sun!
For winter's rains and ruins are over
. And all me season of snows and sins:
The days dividing lover and lover.
The light that loses, the night that wins:
And tune remembered is grief forgotten.
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten.
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
A.C. Swinburne
I think mice are rather nice
Their tails are long, their faces small.
They haven't got any chins at all.
Their ears are pink, teeth teeth are white.
They run about the house at night.
They nibble things they shouldn't touch
And no one seems to like them much.
But I .think mice are very nice.
Rose Tyleman
My father has a pair of shoes
So beautiful to see!
I want to wear my father's shoes.
They are too big for me.
My baby's brother has a pair.
As cunning as can be!
My feet won't go into that pair.
They are too small for me.
There's only one thing I can do
Till I gel small or grown.
If I want to have a fitting shoe,
I'll have to wear my own.
Tom Robinson
The Little Jumping Girls
Jump, jump, jump, jump away
From this town into the next today
. Jump, jump, jump, jump over the moon;
Jump all the morning and all the noon.
Jump, jump, jump, jump all night;
Won't our mothers be in a fight?
Jump, jump, jump over the sea;
What wonderful wonders we shall see.
Jump, jump, jump, jump far away;
And all come home some other day.
III. Подведение итогов
- OUR lesson is over. The bell has gone. You have recited the poems very well. Now it's lime to
choose the best pupil. Can you help me? I will name the name of the pupil and you will clap
your hands.
В конце урока учитель предоставляет слово жюри, которое подводит итоги конкурса
чтецов. Если при проведении конкурса жюри не было задействовано, то оценивание
выступлений учащихся проводится следующим образом: учитель называет имена
выступивших детей, а зрители хлопают в ладоши. Ученик, который заслужил самые
громкие аплодисменты, становится победителем.
Sometimes you say "Hello!"
Because the bell has gone,
And every day you say
"Good day, good day, good day".
It's time to say "Good-bye",
Good-bye, my children, bye.
Учитель награждает дипломами победителей конкурса чтецов и рассказывает с
учащимися стихотворение для прощания.
— Get your things together. Good-bye.
ГОУ НПО № 71
План-конспект урока
Конкурс чтецов
Составила: преподаватель английского языка
Романова А.А.
The Arrow and the Song
I shot an arrow into the air —
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air — It fell to earth, I knew not where; For who has sight so keen and strong
That it can follow the flight of a song?
Long, long afterwards, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.
(Henry W. Longfellow)
Six Serving Men
I have six honest serving men —
They taught me all I knew.
Their names are What and Why and When
And How and Where and Who.
I send them over land and sea.
I send them East and West;
But after they have worked for me,
i give them all a rest. I let them rest from nine till five, For I am busy then As well at breakfast, lunch and
tea For they are hungry men.
But different folk have different views;
I know a person small,
She keeps ten million serving men,
Who get no rest at all!
She sends them on her own affairs,
From the second ahe opens her eyes —
One million Hows, ten million Wheres,
And seven million Whys!
(Д. Kipling)
The Swing
How do you like to go up in a swing, Up in the air so blue? Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!
Up in the air and over the wall.
Till 1 can see so wide.
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the country-side — Till I look down on the garden green, Down on the roof so brown —
Up in the air I go flying again, Up in the air and down.
(Robert L. Stevenson)
Wind on the Hill
No one can tell me, Nobody knows. Where the wind comes from. Where the wind goes.
It's flying from somewhere
As fast as it can
I couldn't keep up with it
Not if I ran. But if I stopped holding The string of my kite.
I would blow with the wind For a day and a night.
And then when I found it.
Wherever it blew,
I should know that the wind
Had been going there too.
So then I could tell them
Where the wind goes...
But where the wind comes from
Nobody knows.
(A. Milne)
One road leads to London,
One road runs to Wales,
My road leads me seawards
To the white dipping sails.
One road leads to the river
As it goes singing slow.
My road leads to shipping
Where the bronzed sailors go.
Leads me, lures me, calls me
To salt green tossing sea;
A rood without earth's road-dust
Is the right road for me.
A wet road heaving, shining,
A wild with seagulls' cries,
A mad salt sea-wind blowing
The salt spray in my eyes.
My road calls me, lures me
West, east, south and north.
Most roads lead men homewards.
My road leads me forth.
(J. Masefield)
Nature, Seasons...
The Wind
I saw you toss the kites on high
And blow the birds about the sky
; And all around I heard you pass
Like ladies' skirts across the grass
— О wind, a-blowing all day long,
О wind, that sings; so loud a song
I saw the different things you did,
But always you yourself you hid.
I felt you push, 1 heard you call,
I could not see yourself at all —
О wind, a-blowing all day long,
О wind, that sings so loud a song!
О you that arc so strong and cold,
О blower, are you young or old?
Are you a beast of field and tree.
Or just a stranger child than me?
О wind, a-blowing all day long.
О wind, that sings so loud a song!
{Robert L. Stevenson)
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon.
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
Then the traveller in the dark.
Thanks you for your tiny spark;
How could he see where to go.
If you did not twinkle so?
In the dark blue sky you keep,
Often through my curtains peep.
For you never shut your eye.
Till the sun is in the sky.
As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveller in the dark.
Though I know not what you are.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
(A. and J. Taylor)
The Seasons
... The flowery Spring leads sunny Summer,
And yellow Autumn presses near,
Then in his turn comes gloomy Winter
Till smiling Spring again appear.
Thus seasons dancing, life advancing.
Old Time and Nature their changes tell;
But never ranging, still unchanging
I adore my Bonny Bell.
(Й. Burns)
Dust of Snow
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I have rued.
(Я Frost)
The frost La here,
The fuel is dear.
And woods are sear,
And fifes burn clear,
And frost is here
And hag bitten the heel of the going year.
Bite, frost, bite!
The woods are all the searer,
The fuel is all the dearer,
The fires are all the clearer,
My spring is all the nearer,
You have bitten into the heart of the earth.
But not into mine.
(A. Tennyson)
Silver Bells
Here the sledges with the bells.
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment
Their melody fortells.
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle
In the ice air of night!
While the stars, that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
In the crystaline delight.
Keeping time, time, time
In a sort of Runie rhyme»
To the tintinnabulation
That so musically wells
Prom the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells,
From the jungling and the tinkling
Of the bells.
(Edgar A. Рое)
To the Thawing Wind
Come with rain, о loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the neater;
Give the hurried flower a dream;
Make a settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whatever you do tonight;
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages over;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.
(Я Frost)
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills.
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils,
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay;
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not be gay
In such a jocund company!
I gazed — and gazed — but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought.
For oft, when on my couch I lie в
In vacant or in pensive mood.
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude,
And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils.( Wordsworth)
So here we are in April, in snowy, blowy April,
In flowsy, blowzy April, the rowdy-dowdy time.
In soppy, sloppy April, in wheezy, breezy April,
In ringing, stinging April, with a singing swinging rhyme!
The smiling sun of April on the violets is focal.
The sudden showers of April seek the dandelions out.
The tender airs of April make the local yokel vocal,
And he raises rustic ditties with a most melodious shout.
So here» we are in April, in tipsy, gipsy April,
In showery, flowery April, the twinkly. sprinkly days.
In tingly, jingly April, in highly wily April,
In mightly, flightly April with its highty-tighty ways!
The duck is fond of April, and the clicking chickabiddy,
And other barnyard creatures have a try at carolling.
There's something in the air to turn a stinddy kiddy giddy.
And even I am forced to raise my croaking voiceand sing.
(T. Robtn&on)
Rain in Summer
How beautiful is the rain!
After the dust and heat
In the broad and fiery street,
In the narrow lane.
How beautiful is the raint
How it clatters along the roofs
Like the tramp of hoofs,
How it gushes and struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout.
Across the window pane
It pours and pours,
And swift and wide
With a muddy tide,
Like river down the gutter roars
The rain, the welcome rain!
(Henry W. Longfellow)
No sun — no moon!
No morn — no noon —
No dawn — no dusk — no proper time of day —
No sky — no earthly view —
No distance looking blue —
No road — no street — no other side the way —
No end to any Row —
No indications where the Crescents go —
No top to any steeple —
No recognition of familiar people!
No countries for showing 'em —
No knowing 'em! —
No travelling at all — no location,
No inkling of the way — no notion —
"No go" — by land or ocean —
No mail — no port —
No news from foreign coast —
No Park — no Fting — no afternoon gentility —
No company — no nobility —
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member —
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees.
No fruit, no flowers, no leaves, no birds —
(Г. Hood)
Fanny Poems
The Pessimist
Nothing to do but work,
Nothing to eat but food,
Nothing to wear but clothes.
To keep one from going nude,
Nothing to breathe but air
Quick as a flash 'tis gone,
Nowhere to fall but off.
Nowhere to stand but on.
Nothing to comb but hair.
Nowhere to sleep but bed,
Nothing to weep but tears.
Nothing to bury but dead.
Nothing to sing but songs.
Ah, well, alas! alack!
Nowhere to go but out,
Nowhere to come but back.
Nothing to see but sights,
Nothing to quench but thirst,
Nothing to have but what we've got.
Thus through life we are cursed.
Nothing to strike but a gait,
Everything moves that goes.
Nothing at all but common sense
Can ever withstand these woes.
(B, T. Kins)
Grizzly Bear
И you ever, ever, ever meet a grizzly bear,
You must never, never, never ask him where
He is going.
Or what he is doing,
For if you ever, ever dare
To stop a grizzly bear.
You will never meet another grizzly bear.
(M. Austin)
Bacon and Eggs
Now blest be the Briton, his beef and his beer.
And all the strong waters that keep him in cheer.
But blest beyond cattle and blest beyond kegs
Is the brave British breakfast of bacon and eggs
Bacon and eggs.
Bacon and eggs.
Sing bacon, Red bacon.
Red bacon and eggs!
О breakfast! О breakfast! The meal of my heart!
Bring porridge, bring sausage, bring fish for a start
-Bring kidney and mushrooms and partridges' legs
. But let the foundation be bacon and eggs
Bacon and eggs. Bacon and eggs,
Bring bacon
, Crisp bacon.
And let there be eggs.
(-4. P. Herbert)
Hurdy-gurdy organ-grinder
Lost his wife and couldn't find her
. He sought her late, he sought her early
With hurdy-gurdy hurly-burly.
Pound her in a gingerbread house
, Waltzing with a waltzing mouse,
He locked them in his hurdy-gurdy,
Which suggested the plot of "Aide" to Verdi.
(O. Saah)
Select Biography for Beginners
The art of Biography
Is different from Geography.
Geography is about Maps,
But Biography is about Chaps.
Sir Christopher Wren
Said, "I'm going to dine with some men,
If anybody calls.
Say I'm designing St Paul's."
Geoffrey Chaucer
Always drank out of a saucer.
He said it made him feel such an ass
To drink out of a glass.
Jonathan Swift
Never went up in a lift;
Nor did the author of "Robinson Crusoe"
Do so.
The people of Spain think Cervantes
Equal to a dozen Dantes;
An opinion resented most bitterly
By people of Italy.
The great Duke of Wellington
Reduced himself to a skeleton
He reached seven stone two.
And then — Waterloo!
What I like about Clive
Is that he is no longer alive
There is a great deal to be said
For being dead.
George the Third
Ought never to have occured.
One can only wonder
At so grotesque a blunder.
(£. C. Bently)
Fisherman's Luck
Caught no fish,
Tell you why,
Water too low.
Wind too high.
Left dark glasses.
Brought wrong bait,
Boots sprung leak,
Started too late.
Too many people
Drat those boys!
Too many dogs.
Too much noise.
Flies wouldn't float,
Lost best hooks.
Owner of stream
Gave dirty looks.
Could tell you more.
Talk two seasons.
Got no fish,
Plenty of reasons.
(R Armour)
This is a cat that sleeps at night.
That takes delight
In visions bright.
And not a vagrant that creeps at night
On box cars by the river.
This is a sleepy cat to purr
And rarely stir
It's shining fur.
This is a cat whose softest purr
Means salmon, steaks, and liver.
That is a cat respectable.
Con nee table
With selectable,
Whose names would make you quiver.
That is a cat of piety,
Not satiety,
But sobriety,
Its very purr is of piety
And thanks to its Feline Giver.
(S. Lewis)
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