A Victorian subject
returns to our schools.
Exams will be written –
you know that’s the rule.
Students will start to
go out “in the field”,
like Dame Jane Goodall
whose studies revealed
so much about chimpanzees
in the wild. Let’s
get back to nature
with every child!
Those woodlands hold therapy,
beauty, fragility.
Discover your love for
our world’s Natural History.
Celebrating the return of Natural History in school education.
https://teach.ocr.org.uk/naturalhistory
Run out of paper? Never fear! There are plenty of leaves now autumn's here! Paint a face today, what a joke, on a leaf from an elm, maple or oak. What leaf will you paint? Go in search of a leaf from a beech or silver birch. Want to paint leaves? Never fuss! Plenty of trees are deciduous!
Hello, my friends. Are we sitting comfortably,
nice and comfortably, after all that blowing
out in the forest? It’s good to see you: oak,
maple, elm, larch, sycamore, beech –
bright in your autumn colours . . . And
there’s room on the carpet for all of us.
It’ll be good to share our stories. We can tell
those humans how we like to live and breathe
on our beautiful planet, just like them --
drink lots of water and get food from the soil too,
talk to the birds and other creatures -- just like humans . . .
indeed. . . Bring on the stories, the music – Hooray . . .
Katherine Gallagher
I started the windy weather,
blowing my sister’s hair
with all my might.
But SHE started the rains,
when she cried and cried,
storming off in a fright.
I was the radiant sun,
shining, smiling bright;
inviting my sister to come back in
and dine.
And then I was a tree, a pond,
a plant, a stone, a scrap of thing –
And then, like a pretty bird,
she left me there,
with my imaginings,
tingling …
We know not his name or rank.
we know not where he was born.
We know he is Australian,
and his life by war was torn.
He went to fight on the Western Front,
And in the heat of battle died.
His remains were found and honoured,
but were never identified.
Known to God, and God alone,
he sleeps in sacred peace.
The Great War is well over,
but our debt will never cease.
Is it H.I.S.T.O.R.Y or M.Y.S.T.E.R.Y? Could be either, could be neither. Makes you think, that in a wink, you can win the game with such P.I.Z.Z.A.Z.Z!
Have you wondered from where rabbits came?
Well, one answer is found in a name.
Carthaginians claimed
“Land of rabbits” was Spain.
And “Ispania”, their word, is to blame.
There once was a man named Jesus: A carpenter by trade, Not famed for his chairs and tables, But the people that he made! Not with chisel, saw and hammer, But with words both wise and true He shaped them for God’s service And he showed them what to do.
He said God was his Father And he his Father’s Son His deeds, though quite amazing, Did not please everyone. Yet normal folk admired him: He cared for those in need. While children he would welcome And hungry crowds would feed.
His nation had some leaders Who loved their wealth and power They plotted how to kill him And seized him one late hour. They claimed he was a rebel And deemed him fit to die Their governor condemned him As they yelled: “Crucify!”
His death was slow and painful: Nailed to a cross of wood. He hung there for many hours Till they were sure he was gone for good. Once dead he was quickly buried In a garden cave nearby. His death he himself had predicted, But he didn’t deserve to die.
On a Friday it was he was buried, But on Sunday his friends got a shock: The mouth of the cave was wide open, Because someone had moved a huge rock. In vain his disciples had entered: They found Jesus’ body not there! Who was it that wanted to take it? If only they knew who and where!
They’d forgotten his other prediction, That after he died he would rise. It must have been hard to believe it, Until he was seen by their eyes! We read their reports in the Gospels, Like those penned by Matthew and John, For those who will choose to believe them, The impact of Jesus lives on.
Australian Children’s Poetry 