Didattica Scuola Primaria

Outlines for narrative, essay-style or descriptive texts. The website www.ercolebonjean.com is rich with writing material for elementary schools and the relative working structures. This consists of over 200 essays to read, save and print if needed, which could be useful as starting point for classroom work. Here are some examples: Writing a description of a person My teacher Character presentation He is so funny he is like a clown. Yes, I am talking about my teacher, Ercole Bonjean. Physical description My teacher is of strong build; his hair is grey and white, and his eyes are bright blue, full of joy. He has an aquiline nose, very funny, a thin and narrow mouth, which is often smiling, all contained in a plump face. Personality and behaviour My teacher behaves and acts just like a teacher. Ercole is very, very generous, vivacious, and cheerful with us; sometimes when we disobey he is very strict, but also calm. Ercole is at ease in his env

 A crocodile’s tears The crocodile’s tears pour like a waterfall into the big river. The moon watches him, laughing. It asks the sun for some light, so that it can take a photograph of the scene. The crocodile cries for the small, delicate gazelle who used to run free between the river banks. She is not going to run anymore, and she won’t be eating the tasty grass off the riverbanks anymore. This thought makes the crocodile weep with sadness and guilt for his moments of cruelty. The yellow face of the sun disappears into the darkness of the sky, and the crocodile feels even lonelier. Eventually, he loses consciousness and manages to sleep a healing sleep. He sleeps for few hours, being woken by a feeble sunray. The path to dawn has begun. His first feeling is one of deep hollowness. His stomach is grumbling and demanding to be filled. Like every morning, this demand is one that the crocodile simply cannot wish away; so he crawls into the thickest bush on the riverbank, and he w

 Learning how to write a text appropriate to the addressee Let’s write and read through the following texts: The Trip My mum woke me up saying: “Wake up, lazybones!” That’s right. I don’t understand how such an integral part of my body can be used as an insult. But I got up anyway, I got ready and I set out, or setted out or however you spell that past tense, towards the school bus. The school trip to Mt. Resegone was a complete blast, from start to finish. We made so much noise, we were unstoppable. The driver, a touchy and hostile man, kept instigating confrontation. But who cares! He was such a pain! We had so much fun! We could not stop laughing! Even the teachers were laughing non-stop. The trip That morning my mum woke me up saying: “Wake up, lazybones!” I turned the other way, but then I remembered that I was supposed to leave for my school trip that morning and I got up right away. I set out, or setted out, I should check the correct grammar, towards

A nursery rhyme… in fancy dress In the sky a streamer runs In the sky a streamer’s spun Arlequin and Colombina are on the run Brighella and the Blue Fairy share in the fun The joyful chariot spins With sounds and colours it fills the streets Time flies and evening comes, The storm packs up and goes With his bin and with his broom The sweeper takes what the day’s consumed Ercole Bonjean Translation by Chiara Amoretti Similar posts: Ercole Bonjean poem Ercole Bonjean short story Elementary school Saves and prinks

 As happy as can be Once upon a time, and for another 200 years, there was a small house on the hill with a big backyard, a small field and a great vineyard, which attracted the best sunrays. Here was a family that, in the robotic era, had no laptops or digital TVs. Instead of these trickeries, they prefer a great number of hens that lie eggs that taste like egg; vineyards which produce wine that tastes like wine. The small farm is led by a little demon, Devilina, who rules everybody with a high-pitched voice, like a navy commander. A few days ago she had a genius idea, combining her love for chocolate and her awareness of Ovetta’s abilities in producing GIGA eggs. She summons dad, mum, and the sisters and sends them to the GOLD supermarket, where they sell BRASIL cocoa and ITALIAN NATURAL SUGAR. In the evening she secretly prepares the day’s meal, to which she adds cocoa and sugar, mixing and stirring well. When the rooster crows, she brings it to Ovetta who does not seem to l

Classic fables: the ugly duckling One summer afternoon Mother Duck smiled as she looked at her new-born eggs, which were soon to crack open. “Crick crack”, went the first egg. “Crick crack” went the other eggs, one after the other. The shells broke and five yellow balls of fur came out. “How beautiful you are!” said their mum. But one last egg, bigger and darker than the others, was still closed. Mother Duck was worried, but finally it started opening too. “Pac!” went the shell as it broke open. Mother Duck was very surprised when she saw her new baby. “It looks nothing like the other ones!” she said. “He is so big, and he has grey feathers and a big beak!” “How ugly he is!” said all the other ducks in the farm. “How ugly he is!” said his five brothers. “That’s ok. He will be handsome when he grows up!” sighed his mum, and she brought all her babies at the lake for their first swim. The days went by, but for the ugly duckling they were not happy days. His brothers would pec

 Individual description - In a field at dawn The darkness of the sky began to brighten up as if magically, and I began to distinguish the elements of the field. In front of me the grass was covered by dew drops which, with the light of the first few sunrays, began to look like tiny little diamonds for the few seconds before the sun made them drop to the ground. I could now recognize the pallid green of the grass, but as the sun came up everything looked orange. At that moment I felt a great sense of lightness, the sun began to be visible, the air got warmer, the night was over. Translation by Chiara Amoretti Similar posts: Elementary school Saves and prints

Blue lights The lights are on The sea sparkles With many shades of blue. It’s nice to peek At his gloss and his colours: The faint and the strong, The light and the dark; It is the same and it is different, It is joy and it is pain, It is immense love. The lights go down, Only a fragment Of Moon brightens The darkness of the sea; Its murmur rises and, If you learn to listen, The joy of its quietness will pervade you. Ercole Bonjean  © Translation by Chiara Amoretti

 Jesus or Barabbas “Evil be freed!” Shouts the crowd, As Pilate washes himself, Barabbas smiles. The road is steep, The cross is heavy. He falls. He gets back up. It’s dark; The wind whispers, The Earth screams, There is nothing it can do: It’s silent, Everything is quiet. The sun rises. The light returns To brighten up faces, And peace To warm up hearts.    Ercole Bonjean Translation by Chiara Amoretti

Carnival The floats parade immersed in colours and sounds. It’s a swarm of confettis and streamers: yellow, green, red and lots and lots of blue brighten up the day. People play music, dance, sing, and laugh. It’s not a mask, it’s not an act, they are actually laughing. It’s their face behind the mask, nothing can cover the joy revealed by their eyes and their mouths. For a few hours we will all be the way we are thanks to the masks that hide us. It’s not cold anymore and the Sun is in great shape. It laughs the winter’s bad dreams away. Now it warms the crowd up, pointing its rays to the streets of the carnival. The sound of the trumpets greets them, making silly faces to each other. A man screams when his face is covered in whipped cream, straight from the spray can. Why can’t he taste it instead of shouting? He would notice how sweet it is: like the smile of the little rascal who stands in front of him, laughing. Ercole Bonjean This text can be useful for a number of

  The Comet The comet Breaks the darkness of the night. Its light fills The small hut And brightens the people. ‘He is born!’, it tells us. Time flies fast, Streets are aglow with lights. People run, And buy gifts. Buying is a priority, At Christmas. But a face smiles in the shade, A mother holds her child to her bosom, A father understands his mistakes, A soldier comes home. It’s love, You can’t buy it, Or sell it, Only give it. He is born, Jesus is born! The comet appears, Enveloping the world in light, Brightening the starry night. Ercole Bonjean Translation by Chiara Amoretti

It’s Christmas It’s Christmas, dear children It’s here for everyone For young and for old. Jesus is born Like many other kids On this day into the world. He brings you a gift, Which is not a miniature train He brings you a gift, Which is not for simple play He brings you a big kiss, As big as Love itself is: If you need it you can use it any day. (Ercole Bonjean) Suitable for I grade students. Translation by Chiara Amoretti

A Colourful Nursery Rhyme Dreadful days, Rainy, cheeky days. A dark sky, stern and sad. But the Earth still spins, From Caracas to Gibraltar, Only a little, little by little, From Beijing to Berlin. Here comes a swarm of colours, Sweet melodies and odours. Round and round goes the hornet, Singing a beautiful sonnet. In her yellow yellow dress, The buttefly shows her finesse. Don’t run away, Spring, And make the night sing. Ercole Bonjean Translation by Chiara Amoretti Visualizza e stampa

Christmas Present “I want a big present, mum.” “You can’t always get what you want.” “I’d like only one present this Christmas.” “You will get many presents, not just one.” “But I only want one present.” “What could you possibly want so desperately?” “Maria’s cuddles to Baby Jesus!” Ercole Bonjean Translation by Chiara Amoretti

 Fantastical narrative: Logos Thousands of light years away from Earth, lost among the galaxies, there is the planet Logos. What is most surprising is that we are accustomed to imagining an alien being completely different from us: ugly, three-eyed, with a flaccid body, sometimes hairy, and so on. Actually, the inhabitants of Logos are exactly like us. The only difference is, they live in a more advanced society than ours, technologicy-wise. There are no economic problems there, or struggles for survival. There are no rich and no poor, everyone is equal. Do you feel like having chicken and chips? Just press a button, and there it is. Do you want to travel? Forget high speed trains! You can reach any other planet from your home in very little time. You just sit in your personal spaceship, choose your destination, press a button and… go! At this point I can anticipate that you, my little readers, are faced with a doubt. You are beginning to like this planet and so you a

 In memory of the dead: a poem for November 2 nd . Up in the Sky Every night I look at the sky Looking for a star You are the most beautiful one In the depths of the bluest sky You are my mother I am sure of it, it’s you. (Ercole Bonjean) Translation by Chiara Amoretti Similar posts: Ercole Bonjean poem Ercole Bonjean short story

 Close reading and textual interpretation – The End of a Friendship The dog and the cat once were the greatest of friends: they napped together, ate together, and played in great harmony. One day the cat caught its reflection in the surface of a lake and, very pleased with its image, thought it was the most beautiful and most elegant of animals. The dog, who certainly was not beautiful (it was a poor basset hound) took offence in this. And so it was that the two animals could no longer stand each other; the dog started playing with other dogs, and the cat with a ball of wool. Their friendship ended forever, and they became enemies. (Ercole Bonjean) Translation by Chiara Amoretti Close reading: Have cat and dog always been enemies? No, the cat and the dog were once friends. What happened then? One day the cat caught its reflection in a lake and thought it was the most beautiful animal. What was the cat’s attitude like after he started feeling

  Mr Winter With a slow slow pace It sends rain, snow and wind; How cold is his face, How rare to see it smiling. It only feels a little joy, When the children are at play Then, its eyes lose their freeze And it lights the sky up with glee. Slowly, with its cane, It stops the wind and the rain; Here comes the night, It closes its eyes: it’s Spring. Ercole Bonjean Translation by Chiara Amoretti Similar posts: Ercole Bonjean poem Ercole Bonjean short story Save and print