Summary Skrebitsky respite. Forest great-grandfather (stories)

Lesson objectives:

1. To acquaint with the concept of "popular science literature" through reading the article by G. Skrebitsky "Respite". Develop the habit of conscious and fluent reading.
2. Develop speech, memory, attention, observation.
3. Bring up careful attitude to nature.

Equipment: a portrait of a writer, books for an exhibition, cards with a plan.

During the classes

1. Organization of the beginning of the lesson.

- New books live lines
Open the way wide.
We couldn't live without books
Their eternal light is dear to us,
Good and interesting books...

Children in chorus: “We send greetings to the whole class!”

2. Updating basic knowledge.

- Let's check how you know the genres of the works.

What is a "genre"? (A genre is a stable subset of a work of art.)

Test.

I. Krylov "The Cuckoo and the Rooster" ____________________________________________________

E. Uspensky "Uncle Fedor, a cat and a dog" _____________________________________________

S. Yesenin "C Good morning!» ____________________________________________________

M. Prishvin "Golden Meadow" ______________________________________________________

All of these works are classified as fiction.

3. The topic of the lesson.

- Today in the lesson we will get acquainted with the concept of "popular science literature", which includes an article, essays.

— How do you understand this term?

- AT scientific article not only the phenomena and their signs are described, but also a scientific justification is given to them.

4. Preparation for reading.

- What do trees look like? different time of the year? Describe them.

— What do you especially remember?

What was beautiful about it?

- Guess the riddle about which tree we will read the article:

Ran across the edge
Girlfriends in white dresses.
(Birch) illustration

- Read the title of the article.

- Choose related words for the word "respite". (rest, rest, rest)

- Compare their values.

- Listen now, how interestingly and surprisingly subtly described the birch at different times of the year, it would seem in a tree that is usual for us, but such an unusual Georgy Alekseevich Skrebitsky, who loved to go to the river, to the forest, imagine himself a brave traveler, hunter, loved to observe for plants and animals.

5. Reading and analyzing the article.

A) Primary reading.

- Who owned the name "respite" before?

- What do people call this word now?

(Holistic reading by prepared students.)

B) Repeated reading along the chain with commenting.

- What did the road look like?

What were the travelers doing in the cool shade of the tree?

- What was the name of this birch locals?

— What did the Respite look like in early spring? In autumn?

- What did birch serve for birds and people?

- What did the guys at the birch adapt to do?

What does a birch tree look like in winter?

— What happened to Respite in the spring?

— What did the place left from the Respite look like?

Who corrected this mistake and how?

- What does this place look like now?

6. Summarizing the knowledge gained from reading.

a) Read the beginning of the article on your own. How many parts were divided? (2)

- Why?

What is the first part about? In the second part?

- How to title part 1? How to title part 2?

- Independent reading of the article to the end.

What is the third part about? In the fourth part?

How to title part 3? How to title part 4?

Plan.

1. A birch grew by the road.
2. Bonfire between the roots.
3. The birch has dried up.
4. Again, the "breather" is noisy.

B) Retelling the text according to the plan.

C) Selective reading. Working with illustrations.

Read the description of the birch in the summer for the first illustration.

What does a birch tree look like in autumn? Read.

- Read what the Winter Respite looks like.

What does the road from the village to the forest look like now?

What conclusion do you draw from this article?

D) Exhibition of popular science literature.

7. The result of the lesson.

- What work did you meet? What genre of literature does it belong to?

- What is the main idea?

She stands apart from everyone
Here on a high hillock.
green branches shirt
Rinse in the summer breeze.

Coming out of the woods, kids
Under it they will sit down to rest.
She was nicknamed "Respite".
Rested - and further on the road.

From the village to the nearest forest, the road went through a wide field. You walk along it on a summer day - the sun bakes, it's hot. There seems to be no end to this field.

But just in the middle of the road, a green, spreading birch grew by the road itself.

Whoever goes from the forest to the village or back, will definitely sit down and rest in the cool shade under the old tree.

And it used to be so glorious: all around the whole field even shone from the sun, and under the thick birch it was fresh, cool. Overhead, green leaves rustle, as if they are calling to sit down and rest a little.

So the locals called this birch "Respite".

In early spring it will only warm better sun, and Respite has already turned green, standing in the middle of the field, elegant, completely strewn with sticky young leaves.

And in the fall, Respite became all yellow. The wind will blow, and golden leaves will fly from the tree.

Entire flocks of migratory birds sat down to rest on the birch.

And so it used to be, from year to year, for many years: whether a person goes from the forest to the village, whether a bird flies from somewhere far away - for everyone, the birch in the middle of the field serves as a rest.

But then one autumn the guys returned home with bundles of brushwood. We reached the birch and, as expected, sat down to rest.

Around in autumn it is unpleasant: the field is empty, gray, the bread has long been removed from it, only the dry stubble sticks out like a hard prickly brush. And by the road itself, the potato ridges darken. The tops on them turned black, the rains and winds nailed them to the very ground.

The guys sat a little under a tree, and then one of them suggested: “Let's make a fire, warm ourselves and bake potatoes in the ashes.”

No sooner said than done. They broke dry sticks from brushwood, began to make a fire, but it does not burn, the fire is blown out by the wind.

Wait! - shouts one little boy. - Drag the branches to the birch. There, at the very roots, it’s like a stove, there the fire won’t blow out.

So they arranged it.

Since then, the guys have settled down between the birch roots to make a fire, bake potatoes. And it was very convenient to kindle a fire: they would tear the bark from the same birch, it burns hot, in an instant the fire will flare up.

All the bark at the bottom of the tree was stripped. And between the roots, the fire burned out a large black hole - a real furnace.

Winter came. The children stopped going to the forest.

Everything around - both fields and forests - was covered with snow. in the middle white field only one birch was visible. Its branches were icy, covered with hoarfrost. And, when the sun rose in the morning, the birch seemed soft pink, as if drawn with a thin brush against the blue background of the frosty sky. Only below, at the very roots, the charred hole was still black. But even now she was not very noticeable - outside she was slightly powdered with snow.

But now the winter is over. Streams flowed, thawed patches appeared in the field, everything around bloomed, turned green.

And only one Respite this spring was not covered with dense green foliage. She stood naked, darkened. The wind broke her dry branches and left only hooked thick branches.

Our birch has dried up, now there will be no respite, - they said in the village.

And then one day people with an ax and a saw arrived on a drogue, felled a dry tree and took it away for firewood.

There was only one stump left from the Respite, and below it - a black charred hole.

Once a forester was walking from the village to his lodge, and the guys with him also went into the forest to pick berries. We reached the middle of the field. It's hot, but there is nowhere to hide from the sun, one stump sticks out by the road.

The forester looked at him and waved his hand.

Who, - he says, - had the conscience to ruin the respite? They burned a hole at the very roots, and even peeled off the entire bark from the trunk ...

The boys were embarrassed. That's what they did out of ignorance. They looked at each other and told everything to the forester.

He shook his head.

Well, - he says, - what happened, you can’t turn it back, and now you need to correct your guilt.

The guys were happy. But how to fix it?

And here's how, - said the old man, - come to my lodge in the autumn. We will dig up young bushes and birch trees, plant them all the way.

From the village to the nearest forest, the road went through a wide field. You walk along it on a summer day - the sun bakes, the heat. There seems to be no end to this field.

But just in the middle of the way, near the road itself, a green spreading birch grew.

Whoever goes from the forest to the village or back will definitely sit down and rest in the cool shade under the old tree.

And it used to be so glorious: all around the whole field even shone from the sun, and under the thick birch it was fresh, cool. Overhead, green leaves rustle, as if they are calling to sit down and rest a little.

So the locals called this birch "Respite".

In early spring, the sun will only warm up better, and Respite has already turned green, standing in the middle of the field, elegant, completely strewn with sticky young leaves.

And in the fall, Respite became all yellow. The wind will blow and golden leaves will fly.

Entire flocks of migratory birds sat down to rest on the birch.

And so it used to be, from year to year, for many years: whether a person goes from the forest to the village, whether a bird flies from somewhere far away - for everyone, the birch in the middle of the field serves as a place of rest.

But then one autumn the guys returned home with a bundle of brushwood. They reached the birch and, as expected, sat down to rest.

Around in autumn it is unpleasant: the field is empty, gray, the bread has long been removed from it, only the dry stubble sticks out like a hard prickly brush. And by the road itself, the potato ridges darken. The tops on them turned black, the rains and winds nailed them to the very ground.

The guys sat a little under a tree, and then one of them suggested; "Let's make a fire, warm up and bake potatoes in the ashes."

They broke dry sticks from brushwood, began to make a fire, but it does not burn: the fire is blown out by the wind.

— Wait! yells one little boy. - Drag the branches to the birch. There, at the very roots, it’s like a stove, there the fire won’t blow out.

So they arranged it.

Since then, the guys have settled down between the birch roots to make a fire, bake potatoes. And it was very convenient to kindle a fire: they would tear the bark from the same birch, it burns hot, in an instant the fire will flare up.

They stripped all the bark from the tree. And between the roots they burned out a large black hole - a real furnace.

Winter came. The children stopped going to the forest.

Everything around: both fields and forests - it was covered with snow. In the middle of the white field, only one birch could be seen. Its branches were icy, covered with hoarfrost. And when the sun rose in the morning, the birch seemed soft pink, as if drawn with a thin brush against the blue background of the frosty sky. Only below, at the very roots, the charred hole was still black. But even now she was not very noticeable - outside she was slightly powdered with snow.

But now the winter is over. Streams flowed. There were thawed patches in the field, everything around bloomed, turned green.

And only one Respite this spring was not covered with green foliage. She stood naked, darkened. The wind broke off dry branches from her and left only hooked thick branches.

“Our birch has dried up, now there will be no respite,” they said in the village.

And then one day people with an ax and a saw arrived on a drogue, felled a dry tree and took it away for firewood.

There was only one stump left from Respite, and below it was a black charred hole.

Once a forester was walking from the village to his lodge, and the guys with him also went into the forest to pick berries. We reached the middle of the field. It's hot, but there is nowhere to hide from the sun, one stump sticks out by the road.

The forester looked at him and waved his hand.

“Who, then,” he says, “had the conscience to ruin the respite? They burned a hole at the very roots, and even peeled off the entire bark from the trunk ...

The boys were embarrassed. Here's what they've done. They looked at each other and told everything to the forester. He shook his head.

“Well,” he says, “what happened, you can’t bring back, and now you need to correct your guilt.”

The guys were happy. But how to fix it?

“Well, here it is,” said the old man. “Come to my lodge in the fall. We will dig up young bushes and birch trees, plant them all the way.

So we decided. It was about ten years ago.

And now from the forest the whole road is lined with trees and bushes. And in the middle of the path sticks out an old wide stump.

In this place, as before, everyone sits down to rest. Some sit on a stump, and some just like that, on the ground, under the shade of dense young birches. And this place is still called "Respite".

She stands apart from everyone

Here on a high hillock.

Green branches shirt

Rinse in the summer breeze.

Coming out of the woods, kids

Under it they will sit down to rest.

She was nicknamed "Respite".

From the village to the nearest forest, the road went through a wide field. You walk along it on a summer day - the sun bakes, it's hot. There seems to be no end to this field.

But just in the middle of the road, a green, spreading birch grew by the road itself.

Whoever goes from the forest to the village or back, will definitely sit down and rest

In the cool shade under an old tree.

And it used to be so glorious: all around the whole field even shone from the sun, and under the thick birch it was fresh, cool. Overhead, green leaves rustle, as if they are calling to sit down and rest a little.

So the locals called this birch “Respite”.

In early spring, the sun will only warm up better, and Respite has already turned green, standing in the middle of the field, elegant, completely strewn with sticky young leaves.

And in the autumn Respite became all yellow. The wind will blow, and golden leaves will fly from the tree.

Entire flocks of migratory birds sat down to rest on the birch.

And that's how it used to be,

From year to year, for many years: whether a person goes from the forest to the village, whether a bird flies from somewhere far away - for everyone, the birch in the middle of the field serves as a rest.

But then one autumn the guys returned home with bundles of brushwood. We reached the birch and, as expected, sat down to rest.

Around in autumn it is unpleasant: the field is empty, gray, the grain has been removed from it for a long time, only dry stubble sticks out like a hard prickly brush. And by the road itself, the potato ridges darken. The tops on them turned black, the rains and winds nailed them to the very ground.

The guys sat a little under a tree, and then one of them suggested: “Let's make a fire, warm ourselves and bake potatoes in the ashes.”

No sooner said than done. They broke dry sticks from brushwood, began to make a fire, but it does not burn, the fire is blown out by the wind.

- Wait! one little boy screams. - Drag the branches to the birch. There, at the very roots, it’s like a stove, there the fire won’t blow out.

So they arranged it.

Since then, the guys have settled down between the birch roots to make a fire, bake potatoes. And it was very convenient to kindle a fire: they would tear the bark from the same birch, it burns hot, in an instant the fire will flare up.

All the bark at the bottom of the tree was stripped. And between the roots, the fire burned out a large black hole - a real furnace.

Winter came. The children stopped going to the forest.

Everything around - both fields and forests - was covered with snow. In the middle of the white field one could see only one birch. Its branches were icy, covered with hoarfrost. And when the sun rose in the morning, the birch tree seemed soft pink, as if painted with a thin brush against the blue background of the frosty sky. Only below, at the very roots, the charred hole was still black. But even now she was not very noticeable - outside she was slightly powdered with snow.

But now the winter is over. Streams flowed, thawed patches appeared in the field, everything around bloomed, turned green.

And only one Respite this spring was not covered with dense green foliage. She stood naked, darkened. The wind broke her dry branches and left only hooked thick branches.

“Our birch has dried up, now there will be no Respite,” they said in the village.

And then one day people with an ax and a saw arrived on a drogue, felled a dry tree and took it away for firewood.

There was only one stump left from Respite, and below it was a black charred hole.

Once a forester was walking from the village to his lodge, and the guys with him also went into the forest to pick berries. We reached the middle of the field. It's hot, but there is nowhere to hide from the sun, one stump sticks out by the road.

The forester looked at him and waved his hand.

- Who, - he says, - had the conscience to ruin the respite? They burned a hole at the very roots, and even peeled off the entire bark from the trunk ...

The boys were embarrassed. That's what they did out of ignorance. They looked at each other and told everything to the forester.

He shook his head.

- Well, - he says, - what happened, you can’t turn it back, and now you need to correct your guilt.

The guys were happy. But how to fix it?

“And here’s how,” said the old man, “come to my lodge in the fall. We will dig up young bushes and birch trees, plant them all the way.

So we decided. It was about ten years ago.

And now, from the village to the forest, the entire road is lined with trees and bushes. And in the middle of the path sticks out an old wide stump.

In this place, as before, everyone sits down to rest. Some sit on a stump, and some just like that, on the ground, under the shade of dense young birches. And this place is still called "Respite".

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She stands apart from everyone
Here on a high hillock.
green branches shirt
Rinse in the summer breeze.

Coming out of the woods, kids
Under it they will sit down to rest.
She was nicknamed "Respite".
Rested - and further on the road.

From the village to the nearest forest, the road went through a wide field. You walk along it on a summer day - the sun bakes, it's hot. There seems to be no end to this field.

But just in the middle of the road, a green, spreading birch grew by the road itself.

Whoever goes from the forest to the village or back, will definitely sit down and rest in the cool shade under the old tree.

And it used to be so glorious: all around the whole field even shone from the sun, and under the thick birch it was fresh, cool. Overhead, green leaves rustle, as if they are calling to sit down and rest a little.

So the locals called this birch "Respite".

In early spring, the sun will only warm up better, and Respite has already turned green, standing in the middle of the field, elegant, completely strewn with sticky young leaves.

And in the fall, Respite became all yellow. The wind will blow, and golden leaves will fly from the tree.

Entire flocks of migratory birds sat down to rest on the birch.

And so it used to be, from year to year, for many years: whether a person goes from the forest to the village, whether a bird flies from somewhere far away - for everyone, the birch in the middle of the field serves as a rest.

But then one autumn the guys returned home with bundles of brushwood. We reached the birch and, as expected, sat down to rest.

Around in autumn it is unpleasant: the field is empty, gray, the bread has long been removed from it, only the dry stubble sticks out like a hard prickly brush. And by the road itself, the potato ridges darken. The tops on them turned black, the rains and winds nailed them to the very ground.

The guys sat a little under a tree, and then one of them suggested: “Let's make a fire, warm ourselves and bake potatoes in the ashes.”

No sooner said than done. They broke dry sticks from brushwood, began to make a fire, but it does not burn, the fire is blown out by the wind.

Wait! - shouts one little boy. - Drag the branches to the birch. There, at the very roots, it’s like a stove, there the fire won’t blow out.

So they arranged it.

Since then, the guys have settled down between the birch roots to make a fire, bake potatoes. And it was very convenient to kindle a fire: they would tear the bark from the same birch, it burns hot, in an instant the fire will flare up.

All the bark at the bottom of the tree was stripped. And between the roots, the fire burned out a large black hole - a real furnace.

Winter came. The children stopped going to the forest.

Everything around - both fields and forests - was covered with snow. In the middle of the white field, only one birch could be seen. Its branches were icy, covered with hoarfrost. And, when the sun rose in the morning, the birch seemed soft pink, as if drawn with a thin brush against the blue background of the frosty sky. Only below, at the very roots, the charred hole was still black. But even now she was not very noticeable - outside she was slightly powdered with snow.

But now the winter is over. Streams flowed, thawed patches appeared in the field, everything around bloomed, turned green.

And only one Respite this spring was not covered with dense green foliage. She stood naked, darkened. The wind broke her dry branches and left only hooked thick branches.

Our birch has dried up, now there will be no respite, - they said in the village.
And then one day people with an ax and a saw arrived on a drogue, felled a dry tree and took it away for firewood.
There was only one stump left from the Respite, and below it - a black charred hole.

Once a forester was walking from the village to his lodge, and the guys with him also went into the forest to pick berries. We reached the middle of the field. It's hot, but there is nowhere to hide from the sun, one stump sticks out by the road.
The forester looked at him and waved his hand.
- Who has it, - he says, - had the conscience to ruin the respite? They burned a hole at the very roots, and even peeled off the entire bark from the trunk ...
The boys were embarrassed. That's what they did out of ignorance. They looked at each other and told everything to the forester.
He shook his head.
- Well, - he says, - what happened, you can’t turn it back, and now you need to correct your guilt.
The guys were happy. But how to fix it?
- And here's how, - said the old man, - come to my lodge in the autumn. We will dig up young bushes and birch trees, plant them all the way.
So we decided. It was about ten years ago.
And now, from the village to the forest, the entire road is lined with trees and bushes. And in the middle of the path sticks out an old wide stump.
In this place, as before, everyone sits down to rest. Some sit on a stump, and some just like that, on the ground, under the shade of dense young birches. And this place is still called "Respite".