Saturday, November 30, 2013

Children's Corner; Poetry

What Will You Be?

When you grow up what will you be?
Will you be tall like Dad or short like me?
Will your hair be dark like it is right now?
Or will it turn amber, or auburn, or brown?

Will you run fast with agility and grace?
Or fall behind in a slower pace?
Will words come quickly to your mouth and hand?
Or will mathematics and numbers be your plan?

Whatever you choose and wherever you go,
May you always understand and know,
That you are loved, not for what you do,
But because you're special - because you're you.
 Author: unknown

Friday, November 29, 2013

Children's Corner; Short Stories

The Astrologer

by Aesop


An illustration for the story The Astrologer by the author Aesop
A man who lived a long time ago believed that he could read the future in the stars. He called himself an Astrologer, and spent his time at night gazing at the sky.
One evening he was walking along the open road outside the village. His eyes were fixed on the stars. He thought he saw there that the end of the world was at hand, when all at once, down he went into a hole full of mud and water.
There he stood up to his ears, in the muddy water, and madly clawing at the slippery sides of the hole in his effort to climb out.
His cries for help soon brought the villagers running. As they pulled him out of the mud, one of them said:
"You pretend to read the future in the stars, and yet you fail to see what is at your feet! This may teach you to pay more attention to what is right in front of you, and let the future take care of itself."
"What use is it," said another, "to read the stars, when you can't see what's right here on the earth?"
Take care of the little things and the big things will take care of themselves.


The End

Thursday, November 28, 2013

Children's Corner; Short Stories

The Origin of Thanksgiving

pilgrim girlcornacopia

After landing in Plymouth, the Pilgrims had to struggle to survive through their first wretched and miserable winter in Massachusetts. When spring and summer came it was a welcome relief. They learned so many things that first year. They had planted and cared for their first fields of corn. They had found wild strawberries in the meadows, raspberries on the hillsides, and wild grapes in the woods.In the forest just back of the village wild turkeys and deer were easily shot. In the shallow waters of the bay there was plenty of fish, clams, and lobsters.The summer had been warm, with a good deal of rain and much sunshine; and so when autumn came there was a fine crop of corn.They wanted to celebrate and give thanks to God for all he had provided for them.
"Let us gather the fruits of our first labors and rejoice together," said Governor Bradford.
"Yes," said Elder Brewster, "let us take a day upon which we may thank God for all our blessings, and invite our Indian friends who have been so kind to us."
The great Indian chief, Massasoit, came with ninety of his bravest warriors, all dressed in deerskin's, feathers, and fox tails, with their faces smeared with red, white, and yellow paint.

indian boy

Now there were only eleven buildings in the whole village, four log storehouses and seven little log houses; so the Indian guests ate and slept outside. This was no problem though, for it was one of those warm weeks in the season we call Indian summer.
To supply meat for the occasion four men had already been sent out to hunt wild turkeys. They killed enough in one day to last the whole company almost a week.Massasoit helped the feast along by sending some of his best hunters into the woods. They killed five deer, which they gave to their paleface friends, that all might have enough to eat.
Under the trees were built long, simple tables on which were piled baked clams, broiled fish, roast turkey, and deer meat.The young Pilgrim women helped serve the food to the hungry Indians. One was Mary Chilton, who leaped from the boat at Plymouth Rock; the other was Mary Allerton. She lived for seventy-eight years after this first Thanksgiving, and of those who came over in the Mayflower she was the last to die.
What a merry time everybody had during that week! Young John Howland was there. While they were sailing in mid ocean, he fell overboard but was quick enough to catch hold of a trailing rope. Perhaps after dinner he invited Elizabeth Tilley, whom he afterward married, to sail over to Clarke's Island and return by moonlight.
With them, it may be, went John Alden and Priscilla Mullins, whose love story is so sweetly told by Longfellow.
One proud mother, we may be sure, showed her bright-eyed boy, Peregrine White, who was the first baby born in Plymouth.
And so the fun went on. In the daytime the young men ran races, played games, and had a shooting match. Every night the Indians sang and danced for their friends; and to make things still more lively they gave every now and then a shrill war whoop that made the woods echo in the still night air.

Thanksgiving Dinner


The Indians had already learned to love and fear Captain Miles Standish. Some of them called him "Boiling Water" because he was easily made angry. Others called him "Captain Shrimp," on account of his small size.
During this week of fun and frolic it was a wonder if young Jack Billington did not play some prank on the Indians. He was the boy who fired off his father's gun one day, close to a keg of gunpowder, in the crowded cabin of the Mayflower.
After the third day, the Indian king and his warriors said farewell to their English friends and began their long tramp through the woods to their wigwams on Mount Hope Bay.
On the last day of this Thanksgiving party the Pilgrims had a service of prayer and praise. Elder Brewster preached the first Thanksgiving sermon. After thanking God for all his goodness, he did not forget the many loved ones buried on the hillside.
He spoke of noble John Carver, the first governor, who had died of worry and overwork.
Nor was Rose Standish forgotten, the lovely young wife of Captain Miles Standish, whose death was caused by cold and lack of good food.
And then there was gentle Dorothy, wife of Governor Bradford, who had fallen overboard from the Mayflower in Provincetown harbor.
The first Thanksgiving took place nearly three hundred years ago. Since that time in 1621, almost without interruption, Thanksgiving has been kept as a day to be thankful for all God has given us whether in good times or bad. At this time children and grandchildren return home, the long table is spread, and brothers and sisters, separated often by many miles, again sit side by side.
Today Thanksgiving is observed in the United States as a season of sweet and blessed memories of that first thanksgiving.

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Children's Corner; Poetry

A Thanksgiving Fable


Thanksgiving Mouse, It was a hungry pussy cat, 
upon Thanksgiving morn,
And she watched a thankful little mouse, 
that ate an ear of corn.
"If I ate that thankful little mouse, 
how thankful he should be,
When he has made a meal himself, 
to make a meal for me!

"Then with his thanks for having fed, 
and his thanks for feeding me,
With all his thankfulness inside, 
how thankful I shall be!"
Thus mused the hungry pussy cat, 
upon Thanksgiving Day;
But the little mouse had overheard
and declined (with thanks) to stay.


by Oliver Herford

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Children's Corner; Poetry

Thanksgiving Time



When all the leaves are off the boughs,

And nuts and apples gathered in,

And cornstalks waiting for the cows,

And pumpkins safe in barn and bin,

Then Mother says, "My children dear,

The fields are brown, and autumn flies;

Thanksgiving Day is very near,

And we must make thanksgiving pies!"



Author: Unknown

Children's Corner; Poetry

Father, We Thank Thee


Father, we thank Thee for the night,
And for the pleasant morning light,
For rest and food and loving care,
And all that makes the world so fair.

Help us to do the things we should,
To be to others kind and good,
In all we do, in all we say,
To grow more loving every day.


(Author Unknown)

Monday, November 25, 2013

Children's Corner; Poetry


Friday, November 22, 2013

The National Parks: “America’s Best Idea” for Authentic Learning

Using the National Parks Services and the many publicly publicized historical parks and sites within America to engage students in learning about their environments, history and each other.

The National Parks: “America’s Best Idea” for Authentic Learning

Children's Corner; Short Stories

The Ugly Duckling

by Hans Christian Andersen


An illustration for the story The Ugly Duckling by the author Hans Christian Andersen
IT was lovely summer weather in the country, and the golden corn, the green oats, and the haystacks piled up in the meadows looked beautiful. The stork walking about on his long red legs chattered in the Egyptian language, which he had learnt from his mother. The corn-fields and meadows were surrounded by large forests, in the midst of which were deep pools. It was, indeed, delightful to walk about in the country. In a sunny spot stood a pleasant old farm-house close by a deep river, and from the house down to the water side grew great burdock leaves, so high, that under the tallest of them a little child could stand upright. The spot was as wild as the centre of a thick wood. In this snug retreat sat a duck on her nest, watching for her young brood to hatch; she was beginning to get tired of her task, for the little ones were a long time coming out of their shells, and she seldom had any visitors. The other ducks liked much better to swim about in the river than to climb the slippery banks, and sit under a burdock leaf, to have a gossip with her. At length one shell cracked, and then another, and from each egg came a living creature that lifted its head and cried, "Peep, peep." "Quack, quack," said the mother, and then they all quacked as well as they could, and looked about them on every side at the large green leaves. Their mother allowed them to look as much as they liked, because green is good for the eyes. "How large the world is," said the young ducks, when they found how much more room they now had than while they were inside the egg-shell. "Do you imagine this is the whole world?" asked the mother; "Wait till you have seen the garden; it stretches far beyond that to the parson's field, but I have never ventured to such a distance. Are you all out?" she continued, rising; "No, I declare, the largest egg lies there still. I wonder how long this is to last, I am quite tired of it;" and she seated herself again on the nest.
"Well, how are you getting on?" asked an old duck, who paid her a visit.
"One egg is not hatched yet," said the duck, "it will not break. But just look at all the others, are they not the prettiest little ducklings you ever saw? They are the image of their father, who is so unkind, he never comes to see."
"Let me see the egg that will not break," said the duck; "I have no doubt it is a turkey's egg. I was persuaded to hatch some once, and after all my care and trouble with the young ones, they were afraid of the water. I quacked and clucked, but all to no purpose. I could not get them to venture in. Let me look at the egg. Yes, that is a turkey's egg; take my advice, leave it where it is and teach the other children to swim."
"I think I will sit on it a little while longer," said the duck; "as I have sat so long already, a few days will be nothing."
"Please yourself," said the old duck, and she went away.
At last the large egg broke, and a young one crept forth crying, "Peep, peep." It was very large and ugly. The duck stared at it and exclaimed, "It is very large and not at all like the others. I wonder if it really is a turkey. We shall soon find it out, however when we go to the water. It must go in, if I have to push it myself."
On the next day the weather was delightful, and the sun shone brightly on the green burdock leaves, so the mother duck took her young brood down to the water, and jumped in with a splash. "Quack, quack," cried she, and one after another the little ducklings jumped in. The water closed over their heads, but they came up again in an instant, and swam about quite prettily with their legs paddling under them as easily as possible, and the ugly duckling was also in the water swimming with them.
"Oh," said the mother, "that is not a turkey; how well he uses his legs, and how upright he holds himself! He is my own child, and he is not so very ugly after all if you look at him properly. Quack, quack! come with me now, I will take you into grand society, and introduce you to the farmyard, but you must keep close to me or you may be trodden upon; and, above all, beware of the cat."
When they reached the farmyard, there was a great disturbance, two families were fighting for an eel's head, which, after all, was carried off by the cat. "See, children, that is the way of the world," said the mother duck, whetting her beak, for she would have liked the eel's head herself. "Come, now, use your legs, and let me see how well you can behave. You must bow your heads prettily to that old duck yonder; she is the highest born of them all, and has Spanish blood, therefore, she is well off. Don't you see she has a red flag tied to her leg, which is something very grand, and a great honor for a duck; it shows that every one is anxious not to lose her, as she can be recognized both by man and beast. Come, now, don't turn your toes, a well-bred duckling spreads his feet wide apart, just like his father and mother, in this way; now bend your neck, and say 'quack.'"
The ducklings did as they were bid, but the other duck stared, and said, "Look, here comes another brood, as if there were not enough of us already! and what a queer looking object one of them is; we don't want him here," and then one flew out and bit him in the neck.
"Let him alone," said the mother; "he is not doing any harm."
"Yes, but he is so big and ugly," said the spiteful duck "and therefore he must be turned out."
"The others are very pretty children," said the old duck, with the rag on her leg, "all but that one; I wish his mother could improve him a little."
"That is impossible, your grace," replied the mother; "he is not pretty; but he has a very good disposition, and swims as well or even better than the others. I think he will grow up pretty, and perhaps be smaller; he has remained too long in the egg, and therefore his figure is not properly formed;" and then she stroked his neck and smoothed the feathers, saying, "It is a drake, and therefore not of so much consequence. I think he will grow up strong, and able to take care of himself."
"The other ducklings are graceful enough," said the old duck. "Now make yourself at home, and if you can find an eel's head, you can bring it to me."
And so they made themselves comfortable; but the poor duckling, who had crept out of his shell last of all, and looked so ugly, was bitten and pushed and made fun of, not only by the ducks, but by all the poultry. "He is too big," they all said, and the turkey cock, who had been born into the world with spurs, and fancied himself really an emperor, puffed himself out like a vessel in full sail, and flew at the duckling, and became quite red in the head with passion, so that the poor little thing did not know where to go, and was quite miserable because he was so ugly and laughed at by the whole farmyard. So it went on from day to day till it got worse and worse. The poor duckling was driven about by every one; even his brothers and sisters were unkind to him, and would say, "Ah, you ugly creature, I wish the cat would get you," and his mother said she wished he had never been born. The ducks pecked him, the chickens beat him, and the girl who fed the poultry kicked him with her feet. So at last he ran away, frightening the little birds in the hedge as he flew over the palings.
"They are afraid of me because I am ugly," he said. So he closed his eyes, and flew still farther, until he came out on a large moor, inhabited by wild ducks. Here he remained the whole night, feeling very tired and sorrowful.
In the morning, when the wild ducks rose in the air, they stared at their new comrade. "What sort of a duck are you?" they all said, coming round him.
He bowed to them, and was as polite as he could be, but he did not reply to their question. "You are exceedingly ugly," said the wild ducks, "but that will not matter if you do not want to marry one of our family."
Poor thing! he had no thoughts of marriage; all he wanted was permission to lie among the rushes, and drink some of the water on the moor. After he had been on the moor two days, there came two wild geese, or rather goslings, for they had not been out of the egg long, and were very saucy. "Listen, friend," said one of them to the duckling, "you are so ugly, that we like you very well. Will you go with us, and become a bird of passage? Not far from here is another moor, in which there are some pretty wild geese, all unmarried. It is a chance for you to get a wife; you may be lucky, ugly as you are."
"Pop, pop," sounded in the air, and the two wild geese fell dead among the rushes, and the water was tinged with blood. "Pop, pop," echoed far and wide in the distance, and whole flocks of wild geese rose up from the rushes. The sound continued from every direction, for the sportsmen surrounded the moor, and some were even seated on branches of trees, overlooking the rushes. The blue smoke from the guns rose like clouds over the dark trees, and as it floated away across the water, a number of sporting dogs bounded in among the rushes, which bent beneath them wherever they went. How they terrified the poor duckling! He turned away his head to hide it under his wing, and at the same moment a large terrible dog passed quite near him. His jaws were open, his tongue hung from his mouth, and his eyes glared fearfully. He thrust his nose close to the duckling, showing his sharp teeth, and then, "splash, splash," he went into the water without touching him, "Oh," sighed the duckling, "how thankful I am for being so ugly; even a dog will not bite me." And so he lay quite still, while the shot rattled through the rushes, and gun after gun was fired over him. It was late in the day before all became quiet, but even then the poor young thing did not dare to move. He waited quietly for several hours, and then, after looking carefully around him, hastened away from the moor as fast as he could. He ran over field and meadow till a storm arose, and he could hardly struggle against it. Towards evening, he reached a poor little cottage that seemed ready to fall, and only remained standing because it could not decide on which side to fall first. The storm continued so violent, that the duckling could go no farther; he sat down by the cottage, and then he noticed that the door was not quite closed in consequence of one of the hinges having given way. There was therefore a narrow opening near the bottom large enough for him to slip through, which he did very quietly, and got a shelter for the night. A woman, a tom cat, and a hen lived in this cottage. The tom cat, whom the mistress called, "My little son," was a great favorite; he could raise his back, and purr, and could even throw out sparks from his fur if it were stroked the wrong way. The hen had very short legs, so she was called "Chickie short legs." She laid good eggs, and her mistress loved her as if she had been her own child. In the morning, the strange visitor was discovered, and the tom cat began to purr, and the hen to cluck.
"What is that noise about?" said the old woman, looking round the room, but her sight was not very good; therefore, when she saw the duckling she thought it must be a fat duck, that had strayed from home. "Oh what a prize!" she exclaimed, "I hope it is not a drake, for then I shall have some duck's eggs. I must wait and see." So the duckling was allowed to remain on trial for three weeks, but there were no eggs. Now the tom cat was the master of the house, and the hen was mistress, and they always said, "We and the world," for they believed themselves to be half the world, and the better half too. The duckling thought that others might hold a different opinion on the subject, but the hen would not listen to such doubts. "Can you lay eggs?" she asked. "No." "Then have the goodness to hold your tongue." "Can you raise your back, or purr, or throw out sparks?" said the tom cat. "No." "Then you have no right to express an opinion when sensible people are speaking." So the duckling sat in a corner, feeling very low spirited, till the sunshine and the fresh air came into the room through the open door, and then he began to feel such a great longing for a swim on the water, that he could not help telling the hen.
"What an absurd idea," said the hen. "You have nothing else to do, therefore you have foolish fancies. If you could purr or lay eggs, they would pass away."
"But it is so delightful to swim about on the water," said the duckling, "and so refreshing to feel it close over your head, while you dive down to the bottom."
"Delightful, indeed!" said the hen, "why you must be crazy! Ask the cat, he is the cleverest animal I know, ask him how he would like to swim about on the water, or to dive under it, for I will not speak of my own opinion; ask our mistress, the old woman- there is no one in the world more clever than she is. Do you think she would like to swim, or to let the water close over her head?"
"You don't understand me," said the duckling.
"We don't understand you? Who can understand you, I wonder? Do you consider yourself more clever than the cat, or the old woman? I will say nothing of myself. Don't imagine such nonsense, child, and thank your good fortune that you have been received here. Are you not in a warm room, and in society from which you may learn something. But you are a chatterer, and your company is not very agreeable. Believe me, I speak only for your own good. I may tell you unpleasant truths, but that is a proof of my friendship. I advise you, therefore, to lay eggs, and learn to purr as quickly as possible."
"I believe I must go out into the world again," said the duckling.
"Yes, do," said the hen. So the duckling left the cottage, and soon found water on which it could swim and dive, but was avoided by all other animals, because of its ugly appearance. Autumn came, and the leaves in the forest turned to orange and gold. then, as winter approached, the wind caught them as they fell and whirled them in the cold air. The clouds, heavy with hail and snow-flakes, hung low in the sky, and the raven stood on the ferns crying, "Croak, croak." It made one shiver with cold to look at him. All this was very sad for the poor little duckling. One evening, just as the sun set amid radiant clouds, there came a large flock of beautiful birds out of the bushes. The duckling had never seen any like them before. They were swans, and they curved their graceful necks, while their soft plumage shown with dazzling whiteness. They uttered a singular cry, as they spread their glorious wings and flew away from those cold regions to warmer countries across the sea. As they mounted higher and higher in the air, the ugly little duckling felt quite a strange sensation as he watched them. He whirled himself in the water like a wheel, stretched out his neck towards them, and uttered a cry so strange that it frightened himself. Could he ever forget those beautiful, happy birds; and when at last they were out of his sight, he dived under the water, and rose again almost beside himself with excitement. He knew not the names of these birds, nor where they had flown, but he felt towards them as he had never felt for any other bird in the world. He was not envious of these beautiful creatures, but wished to be as lovely as they. Poor ugly creature, how gladly he would have lived even with the ducks had they only given him encouragement. The winter grew colder and colder; he was obliged to swim about on the water to keep it from freezing, but every night the space on which he swam became smaller and smaller. At length it froze so hard that the ice in the water crackled as he moved, and the duckling had to paddle with his legs as well as he could, to keep the space from closing up. He became exhausted at last, and lay still and helpless, frozen fast in the ice.
Early in the morning, a peasant, who was passing by, saw what had happened. He broke the ice in pieces with his wooden shoe, and carried the duckling home to his wife. The warmth revived the poor little creature; but when the children wanted to play with him, the duckling thought they would do him some harm; so he started up in terror, fluttered into the milk-pan, and splashed the milk about the room. Then the woman clapped her hands, which frightened him still more. He flew first into the butter-cask, then into the meal-tub, and out again. What a condition he was in! The woman screamed, and struck at him with the tongs; the children laughed and screamed, and tumbled over each other, in their efforts to catch him; but luckily he escaped. The door stood open; the poor creature could just manage to slip out among the bushes, and lie down quite exhausted in the newly fallen snow.
It would be very sad, were I to relate all the misery and privations which the poor little duckling endured during the hard winter; but when it had passed, he found himself lying one morning in a moor, amongst the rushes. He felt the warm sun shining, and heard the lark singing, and saw that all around was beautiful spring. Then the young bird felt that his wings were strong, as he flapped them against his sides, and rose high into the air. They bore him onwards, until he found himself in a large garden, before he well knew how it had happened. The apple-trees were in full blossom, and the fragrant elders bent their long green branches down to the stream which wound round a smooth lawn. Everything looked beautiful, in the freshness of early spring. From a thicket close by came three beautiful white swans, rustling their feathers, and swimming lightly over the smooth water. The duckling remembered the lovely birds, and felt more strangely unhappy than ever.
"I will fly to those royal birds," he exclaimed, "and they will kill me, because I am so ugly, and dare to approach them; but it does not matter: better be killed by them than pecked by the ducks, beaten by the hens, pushed about by the maiden who feeds the poultry, or starved with hunger in the winter."
Then he flew to the water, and swam towards the beautiful swans. The moment they espied the stranger, they rushed to meet him with outstretched wings.
"Kill me," said the poor bird; and he bent his head down to the surface of the water, and awaited death.
But what did he see in the clear stream below? His own image; no longer a dark, gray bird, ugly and disagreeable to look at, but a graceful and beautiful swan. To be born in a duck's nest, in a farmyard, is of no consequence to a bird, if it is hatched from a swan's egg. He now felt glad at having suffered sorrow and trouble, because it enabled him to enjoy so much better all the pleasure and happiness around him; for the great swans swam round the new-comer, and stroked his neck with their beaks, as a welcome.
Into the garden presently came some little children, and threw bread and cake into the water.
"See," cried the youngest, "there is a new one;" and the rest were delighted, and ran to their father and mother, dancing and clapping their hands, and shouting joyously, "There is another swan come; a new one has arrived."
Then they threw more bread and cake into the water, and said, "The new one is the most beautiful of all; he is so young and pretty." And the old swans bowed their heads before him.
Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his wing; for he did not know what to do, he was so happy, and yet not at all proud. He had been persecuted and despised for his ugliness, and now he heard them say he was the most beautiful of all the birds. Even the elder-tree bent down its bows into the water before him, and the sun shone warm and bright. Then he rustled his feathers, curved his slender neck, and cried joyfully, from the depths of his heart, "I never dreamed of such happiness as this, while I was an ugly duckling." - -
THE END 


Thursday, November 21, 2013

Children's Corner; Poetry





I Ain't Been to School


By: Robert Pottle




I ain’t been to school,
not never before.
That’s all changin’ now
as I run through the door.

I drool on my worksheet
then chew on a book.
I eat off the floor
and growl at the cook.
I drink from the toilet.
I spill all the glue.
I lick my new teacher
and leak on her shoe.
The principal says that
I broke every rule.
I just learnt the reason
dogs can’t go to school.


Text © Robert Pottle, reprinted from I'm Allergic to School, published by Meadowbrook Press. Illustration © Mike & Carl Gordon. Any copying or use of this poem or illustration without consent is unlawful.



More High Schools to Team Up with Employers

A practice that we need to integrate and utilize for the sake of our children's futures!!! Career and employment readiness is something that is often preached, but no one is willing to lend that helping hand that can further another. Spread the word!!!

More High Schools to Team Up with Employers

Educational Institutions Need New Blood

In the U.S Virgin Islands we have been plagued with leasing opportunities and a stagnant economy which has in turn caused many of us to ignore topics of great importance for immediate needs that supersede these topics of great importance due to dire need. Well our practices have left us,our children, and our futures in a dark place; the blind eye that we have taken to the deviants of society have left us arrogant and ignorant to a more progressive means of evolving as a society. If we do not take care of such problems now then our ideologies and norms will be lead astray in the future; now is the time to put our futures at the forefront and begin shaping a better future, and what a better place to begin than our educational institutions and educators. Many of our founding fathers ( and mothers) of education spend their entire careers assessing and philosophizing the best practices to utilize for the progression of different children with different needs, and we have only two programs in place within our public education institutions that offer such programs typically to English language learners. Years ago our local government adapted to the common core standards, but our schools have yet to implement them. We need to ‘mobilize the educational movement’ to meet the needs of our students and educational institutions as we do our electoral and violence campaigns for it is just as important if not more so.
The emphasis we have put on standardized testing doesn't help the students,but it makes them timid to know that this test is/can be used to rate their IQ’s. Jean Piaget used standardized testing of reasoning for use with children. His research became the foundation for his method of interviewing; used to study the development of children intellectualism. A method of such sort should be in place within our educational institutions, but they are not, instead we have children being promoted year after year without learning their essentials, as well as children not being promoted at all for ignorance on the part of the educator for not providing engaging/progressive work that would meet that child’s needs. I recognize that within the public school systems it may be hard for educators to this with all students, but with the tenacity and dedication that I've seen educational professionals refer students to alternative programs (just to get them out of their classroom), their should be a program in place that children can be referred to for child centered learning to improve their intellectual standing and eventually prepare them for integration with the rest of the school population once more (as is done within the alternative programs for troubled students). Piaget stated “thus i engaged my subjects in a conversations patterned after psychiatric questioning, with the aim of discovering something about the reasoning process underlying their right but especially wrong answers” (Morrison, 2009). We too need to develop a curriculum which encourages our teachers to utilize such questioning techniques to improve/promote thinking within all areas of education; early learners to intermediate and high school. Many of the actions carried out by adolescents today are the products of false beliefs and norms taught to the young by the ignorant to promote their own norms and beliefs. If we can teach them within the classroom and at home about the different philosophies of life and get them to ask some of the hard questions and answer such questions, many of the outlooks that they've received through ‘distorted lenses’ on the streets can and will change.
Piaget’s theory of learning was based off of cognitive development; it explains how individuals think, perceive, understand, and learn (Morrison, 2009).He viewed intelligence as the process by which children acquired knowledge, not where knowledge is measured by intelligence. Piaget's cognitive theory states through direct experiences with the physical world, children develop intelligence;

  • Active learning- children develop knowledge through engaging learning activities (physically and mentally)
  • Adaptation- the process of building units of knowledge through interactions with the environment consisting of two processes; assimilation and accommodation
  • Assimilation- process of fitting new information into existing knowledge units
  • Accommodation - changing/ altering old units of knowledge to update with new information
  • Equilibrium - a balance between new and old knowledge, developed through assimilation and accommodation.
While these studies were intended for early childhood learners I don’t see why we can’t implement it throughout our public school systems, Pre-K through 12 grade. Many early childhood programs follow published and recognized curriculum's, in the USVI though we haven’t ,made any such determinations. Most early childhood care takers teach at minimal levels providing children with little opportunity for learning. The program curriculum's that early childhood educators adhere by are out of date and by far not meeting age appropriate standards. A curriculum is a set of objectives that define the knowledge or information that children will be taught; if the curriculum is continued at it’s pace children are the only ones losing. Our curriculum's need to include age appropriate, progressive activities that children can learn from such as health classes, fruits & vegetable awareness, physical fitness, and every classroom or facility should have at least two learning centers for a variety and to keep children engaged within their learning activities. Teaching our children the basics just isn't going to cut it anymore, the world is changing and if we don’t catch up we all will be left behind.
While locally I haven’t heard many ill talking about new common core implementations, I have read quite a bit of controversy via online resources and chat rooms. To the best of my understanding, since I've never taught at elementary or secondary schools,the standards and curriculum provide a process that includes a shared vision of expectations with multiple pathways for attaining them (Strickland, 2012). I don’t understand why so many educators feel that they are being told how to teach now, if in any case they are being told ‘what’ to teach, not ‘how’ and it is for the benefit of the children. While many will not be able to go to Ivy league schools with such standards all children, regardless of class and background, can have the same education levels and opportunities to expand their horizons. Its not about the teachers, but the students.
With the use of underlying factors within Piaget’s stages of development we could adapt his techniques and research to fit our culture and it’s needs.While our government has promised us the use of Common Core Standards it has still yet to be implemented, although it’s being claimed to be ‘progressing’ since it was announced September 30, 2010. Other than Piaget there are many other theories to be considered that fit a wide array of our shortfalls; Vygotsky, Erikson, and Gardner are all influential educators whose lives work were dedicated to many of the problems that we face now; when will we dedicate our lives to the education of the future? We rally and protest for everything except education, but we wonder why our children aren't doing well in schools; we blame teachers, the institutions and even politicians, all of which do have a hand in educational structure, but so do we as the parents and taxpayers. Virgin Islanders we've rallied against eight percent cuts for government workers, drugs, crime, and violence, all topics that are rampant within our society. But it is also time we take a stand for those who cannot stand for themselves due to lack of knowledge; they are unaware that they are behind and will be until we do something to change that. The next time we rally, it should be for our children.









Strickland, D. S. (2012). Planning curriculum to meet the common core state standards. Reading Today, 29(4), 25-26. Retrieved from http://search.proquest.com/docview/926994517?accountid=32521

Morrison, G.S. (2009). Early Childhood Education Today. Pearson Education, Inc.,Upper Saddle River, NJ 07458

Children's Corner; Short Stories

The Origin of Thanksgiving 

pilgrim girlcornacopia

After landing in Plymouth, the Pilgrims had to struggle to survive through their first wretched and miserable winter in Massachusetts. When spring and summer came it was a welcome relief. They learned so many things that first year. They had planted and cared for their first fields of corn. They had found wild strawberries in the meadows, raspberries on the hillsides, and wild grapes in the woods.In the forest just back of the village wild turkeys and deer were easily shot. In the shallow waters of the bay there was plenty of fish, clams, and lobsters.The summer had been warm, with a good deal of rain and much sunshine; and so when autumn came there was a fine crop of corn.They wanted to celebrate and give thanks to God for all he had provided for them.
"Let us gather the fruits of our first labors and rejoice together," said Governor Bradford.
"Yes," said Elder Brewster, "let us take a day upon which we may thank God for all our blessings, and invite our Indian friends who have been so kind to us."
The great Indian chief, Massasoit, came with ninety of his bravest warriors, all dressed in deerskin's, feathers, and fox tails, with their faces smeared with red, white, and yellow paint.


indian boy

Now there were only eleven buildings in the whole village, four log storehouses and seven little log houses; so the Indian guests ate and slept outside. This was no problem though, for it was one of those warm weeks in the season we call Indian summer.
To supply meat for the occasion four men had already been sent out to hunt wild turkeys. They killed enough in one day to last the whole company almost a week.Massasoit helped the feast along by sending some of his best hunters into the woods. They killed five deer, which they gave to their paleface friends, that all might have enough to eat.
Under the trees were built long, simple tables on which were piled baked clams, broiled fish, roast turkey, and deer meat.The young Pilgrim women helped serve the food to the hungry Indians. One was Mary Chilton, who leaped from the boat at Plymouth Rock; the other was Mary Allerton. She lived for seventy-eight years after this first Thanksgiving, and of those who came over in the Mayflower she was the last to die.
What a merry time everybody had during that week! Young John Howland was there. While they were sailing in mid ocean, he fell overboard but was quick enough to catch hold of a trailing rope. Perhaps after dinner he invited Elizabeth Tilley, whom he afterward married, to sail over to Clarke's Island and return by moonlight.
With them, it may be, went John Alden and Priscilla Mullins, whose love story is so sweetly told by Longfellow.
One proud mother, we may be sure, showed her bright-eyed boy, Peregrine White, who was the first baby born in Plymouth.
And so the fun went on. In the daytime the young men ran races, played games, and had a shooting match. Every night the Indians sang and danced for their friends; and to make things still more lively they gave every now and then a shrill war whoop that made the woods echo in the still night air.


Thanksgiving Dinner


The Indians had already learned to love and fear Captain Miles Standish. Some of them called him "Boiling Water" because he was easily made angry. Others called him "Captain Shrimp," on account of his small size.
During this week of fun and frolic it was a wonder if young Jack Billington did not play some prank on the Indians. He was the boy who fired off his father's gun one day, close to a keg of gunpowder, in the crowded cabin of the Mayflower.
After the third day, the Indian king and his warriors said farewell to their English friends and began their long tramp through the woods to their wigwams on Mount Hope Bay.
On the last day of this Thanksgiving party the Pilgrims had a service of prayer and praise. Elder Brewster preached the first Thanksgiving sermon. After thanking God for all his goodness, he did not forget the many loved ones buried on the hillside.
He spoke of noble John Carver, the first governor, who had died of worry and overwork.
Nor was Rose Standish forgotten, the lovely young wife of Captain Miles Standish, whose death was caused by cold and lack of good food.
And then there was gentle Dorothy, wife of Governor Bradford, who had fallen overboard from the Mayflower in Provincetown harbor.
The first Thanksgiving took place nearly three hundred years ago. Since that time in 1621, almost without interruption, Thanksgiving has been kept as a day to be thankful for all God has given us whether in good times or bad. At this time children and grandchildren return home, the long table is spread, and brothers and sisters, separated often by many miles, again sit side by side.
Today Thanksgiving is observed in the United States as a season of sweet and blessed memories of that first thanksgiving.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Children's Corner; Short Stories

The Little Red Hen
   
Anmfa014.wmf (9284 bytes)The little Red Hen was in the farmyard with her chickens, when she found a grain of wheat.

"Who will plant this wheat?" she said.

"Not I," said the Goose.

"Not I," said the Duck.

"I will, then," said the little Red Hen, and she planted the grain of wheat.

When the wheat was ripe she said, "Who will take this wheat to the mill?"

"Not I," said the Goose.

"Not I," said the Duck.

"I will, then," said the little Red Hen, and she took the wheat to the mill.

When she brought the flour home she said, "Who will make some bread with this flour?"

"Not I," said the Goose.

"Not I," said the Duck.

"I will, then," said the little Red Hen.

When the bread was baked, she said, "Who will eat this bread?"

"I will," said the Goose

"I will," said the Duck

"No, you won't," said the little Red Hen. "I shall eat it myself.  Cluck! cluck!"  And she called her chickens to help her.
  

Friday, November 15, 2013

Children's Corner; Poetry

God is Near



God is with us all the time
Making sure we're safe and fine;
Taking care of all our needs
And helping us to do good deeds.


In summer heat and winter cold
We always have His hand to hold
And though we're worried, glad or sad
We're daily cared for by our Dad.


God is near, in fact He's here
And we don't have to live in fear
Of anything or anyone
When we have faith in God's own Son.

by Belinda van Rensburg


© 2012


Everyone Please be sure to check out this link for the author's website, I personally found all poetry to be enlightening, uplifting, and inspiring and I'm sure you will too!!


A Tarnished Trophy; Progress

A Tarnished Trophy; Progress

On November 5, earlier this month the governor extended congratulations to two teachers within our territory Shabre Providence and Diana Tyson as District Teachers of the Year and to Ms. Providence who has been selected as the State Teacher of the Year. I too would like to personally graduate both women on displaying exemplary excellence in a time where their professions are considered stagnant (if recognized appropriately at all). Their dedication towards their profession and the children that they help to progress should be used as an example for all, but it is not. We do still have teachers and professionals within educational institutions that aren’t worthy of their positions or titles, and because of such children are suffering. During the past week I’ve heard of two accounts, one through public news/resources and the other a first hand account, of which undermine the norms and values that most teachers/ educational professionals work so hard to uphold.
One of my readers expressed to me earlier this week a problem that they noticed with their daughter who is two years of age. They had recently enrolled her in a preschool program from a daycare facility closer to home and was beginning to notice some changes. Their daughter seems to be having a lot of loud outbursts of hostility where she would scream and yell ‘NO’ repeatedly while threatening to hit or pointing her finger. The parent first assumed that something may be taking place at school that shouldn’t, and upon her visit for an investigation, she realized that the teachers yell harshly at the students. Children are very impressionable, unfortunately I was familiar with the preschool and could affirm their beliefs with my own knowledge. It is actually a common practice to use only one ‘tone’ when parents are present regardless of which child it may be, for it is suspected that parents would assume that it is truly their nature and practice with the kids. In such a case one has one of two options, enroll with another program or request that teachers utilize a ‘different technique’ with regards to verbal discipline, neither of which is necessarily going to be a pleasant experience. It was my suggestion to bring it to their attention at the next PTA meeting or at the end of the quarter when the children's progressions are assessed with parents. While it may seem as though the matter is being ‘pushed aside’, in truth it is not, by making note of such practices it makes the argument stronger for the necessary points to be considered for the best interest of the students.
On Saturday, November 9, 2013, The Virgin Islands Daily News detailed an account of a 15 year old student on the island of St. Croix where he alleged that he was choked unconscious, by a school monitor, causing him to fall down several flights of stairs and sustain several injuries. Injuries reported includes a laceration to his face that required 17 stitches and a busted lip. This student was reportedly treated by EMT’s and regained consciousness, but as of then no VIDE official nor school officials followed up with the family of the minor who went to the emergency room for treatment and stayed at home the following day to recover from the injuries he sustained that Thursday. Such actions undermine all the hard work that teachers and educational officials alike strives to maintain and progress. With our schools lacking teachers, much needed equipment and repairs, and new programs such negative actions from one member tarnishes an already rusted trophy. As Virgin Islanders we need to strive for a better USVI for all and our children, for if not we will be looking to a future of uneducated aggressors that can only cause our stagnant community to decline at a much more rapid pace.