Mais um mês de atividades na Biblioteca que chegou ao fim. Aqui vai a newsletter com um apanhado resumido do que por aqui se passou. Espero que gostem.
Decorreu na nossa Biblioteca o Concurso Nacional de Leitura. Os alunos, compenetrados responderam aos questionários sobre as obras escolhidas.
Os três melhores irão representar a nossa Escola na segunda fase do concurso, na Biblioteca Municipal Almeida Garrett.
A primeira fase do concurso nacional de leitura, a nível de turma decorrerá na última semana de dezembro, para selecionar dois alunos por turma para a segunda fase.
A segunda fase decorrerá na Biblioteca da Escola, na primeira semana de aulas, em Janeiro.
As obras de leitura obrigatória são:
MISSÃO IMPOSSÍVEL A AIA - CONTOS Ana Maria Magalhães e Isabel Alçada Eça de Queirós
Bob Dylan é o vencedor do Prémio Nobel da literatura de 2016. O músico folk de 75 anos, norte-americano, é o primeiro cantor a receber a distinção, por "ter criado novas expressões poéticas na grande tradição da canção americana", segundo revelou a secretária-permanente da Academia Sueca Sara Danius.
DN 13 Out 12.01
Mr Tambourine Man Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
Though I know that evenin's empire has returned into sand
Vanished from my hand
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping
My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming.
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship
My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wanderin'
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it.
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
Though you might hear laughin', spinnin' swingin' madly across the sun
It's not aimed at anyone, it's just escapin' on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin'
And if you hear vague traces of skippin' reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it's just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn't pay it any mind, it's just a shadow you're
Seein' that he's chasing.
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
How many roads must a man walk down Before you call him a man ? How many seas must a white dove sail Before she sleeps in the sand ? Yes, how many times must the cannon balls fly Before they're forever banned ? The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind The answer is blowin' in the wind.
Yes, how many years can a mountain exist Before it's washed to the sea ? Yes, how many years can some people exist Before they're allowed to be free ? Yes, how many times can a man turn his head Pretending he just doesn't see ? The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind The answer is blowin' in the wind.
Yes, how many times must a man look up Before he can see the sky ? Yes, how many ears must one man have Before he can hear people cry ? Yes, how many deaths will it take till he knows That too many people have died ? The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind The answer is blowin' in the wind.
Don't Think Twice It's Alright It ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe It don't matter, anyhow An' it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe If you don't know by now When your rooster crows at the break of dawn Look out your window and I'll be gone You're the reason I'm trav'lin' on Don't think twice, it's all right It ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe That light I never knowed An' it ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe I'm on the dark side of the road Still I wish there was somethin' you would do or say To try and make me change my mind and stay We never did too much talkin' anyway So don't think twice, it's all right It ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal Like you never did before It ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal I can't hear you any more I'm a-thinkin' and a-wond'rin' all the way down the road I once loved a woman, a child I'm told I give her my heart but she wanted my soul But don't think twice, it's all right I'm walkin' down that long, lonesome road, babe Where I'm bound, I can't tell But goodbye's too good a word, gal So I'll just say fare thee well I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind You could have done better but I don't mind You just kinda wasted my precious time But don't think twice, it's all right Songwriters: BOB DYLAN ---------------------------------------------------------//--------------------------------------------- It's Alright, Ma Darkness at the break of noon Shadows even the silver spoon The handmade blade, the child's balloon Eclipses both the sun and moon To understand you know too soon, there is no sense in trying Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn Suicide remarks are torn From the fool's gold mouthpiece the hollow horn Plays wasted words proves to warn That he not busy being born is busy dying Temptation's page flies out the door You follow, find yourself at war Watch waterfalls of pity roar You feel to moan but unlike before You discover that you'd just be one more person crying So don't fear if you hear A foreign sound to your ear It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing As some warn victory, some downfall Private reasons great or small Can be seen in the eyes of those that call To make all that should be killed to crawl While others say don't hate nothing at all, except hatred Disillusioned words like bullets bark As human gods aim for their mark Made everything from toy guns that spark To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark It's easy to see without looking too far that not much is really sacred Our preachers preach of evil fates Teachers teach that knowledge waits Can lead to hundred-dollar plates Goodness hides behind its gates But even the President of the United States Sometimes must have to stand naked An' all the rules of the road have been lodged It's only people's games that you got to dodge And it's alright, Ma, I can make it Advertising signs that con you Into thinking you're the one That can do what's never been done That can win what's never been won Meantime life outside goes on all around you You lose yourself, you reappear You suddenly find you got nothing to fear Alone you stand with nobody near When a trembling distant voice, unclear Startles your sleeping ears to hear That somebody thinks they really found you A question in your nerves is lit Yet you know there is no answer fit To satisfy insure you not to quit To keep it in your mind and not forget That it is not he or she or them or it that you belong to Although the masters make the rules For the wise men and the fools I got nothing, Ma, to live up to For them that must obey authority That they do not respect in any degree Who despise their jobs, their destinies Speak jealously of them that are free Do what they do just to be Nothing more than something they invest in While some on principles baptized To strict party platform ties Social clubs in drag disguise Outsiders they can freely criticize Tell nothing except who to idolize and say, "God bless him" While one who sings with his tongue on fire Gargles in the rat race choir Bent out of shape from society's pliers Cares not to come up any higher But rather get you down in the hole that he's in But I mean no harm nor put fault On anyone that lives in a vault But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him Old lady judges watch people in pairs Limited in sex, they dare To push fake morals, insult and stare While money doesn't talk, it swears Obscenity, who really cares propaganda, all is phony While them that defend what they cannot see With a killer's pride, security It blows the minds most bitterly For them that think death's honesty Won't fall upon them naturally Life sometimes must get lonely My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards False goals, I scuff at pettiness which plays so rough Walk upside-down inside handcuffs Kick my legs to crash it off Say, "Okay, I have had enough, what else can you show me?" And if my thought dreams could be seen They'd probably put my head in a guillotine But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only Songwriters: BOB DYLAN
O livro deste mês, na HORA do CONTO, é o « Menino Nicolau » de Sempé e Goscinny.
Todos os que ouvem e lêem as histórias, se divertem imenso com as peripécias deste pequeno irreverente.
Dá gosto ver professores e alunos a saírem bem dispostos da Biblioteca.
Aqui deixamos um excerto do livro para aguçar curiosidades e tentar toda a gente a ler o resto.
Desde cedo foi um aluno mal comportado, expulso por indisciplina do Colégio Moderno de Bordéus, lança-se na vida activa, foi um homem de vários ofícios tais como: empregado de um negociante devinhos, monitor de colónias de férias (que mais tarde viria a
influenciar nos seus desenhos)e paquete deescritório.
Aos 18 anos alista-se voluntariamente e vai para Paris e passa a pente fino a redacção, e em 1951 (aos 19 anos) vende o seu primeiro desenho ao “Sud-Ouest”. O encontro de Goscinny coincide com o início de uma grande carreira de «ilustrador de imprensa». Com o menino Nicolau cria um imenso leque de ilustrações de miúdos da escola primária com as suas características zaragatas. Paralelamente às aventuras do jovem aluno da escola primária, estreia-se no Paris Match, em 1956, e colabora com numerosas revistas. O seu primeiro álbum de desenho aparece em 1962: “Rien n’est simple” vão seguir-lhe muitos mais álbuns que traduzem a sua visão irónica dos nossos defeitos e dos defeitos do mundo.
GOSCINNY
Goscinny, nasceu em Paris, França,em 14 de agosto de 1926, filho de pai polaco e de mãe ucraniana. Mudou com os seus país para a Argentina em 1928, com dois anos de idade e passou a sua infância em Buenos Aires. O seu pai era professor de Matemática na escola que Goscinny frequentou, mostrando uma notável aptidão para as artes. Muitos de seus primeiros trabalhos foram publicados nas revistas da escola, como Notre Voix e Quartier Latin. (...)
Em 1955, com a parceria de Morris, foi lançado o extremamente bem sucedido "Lucky Luke". Ainda nesse ano, lancaram a revista Pilote onde começaram a mostrar as obras de vários artistas novos e talentosos. Goscinny também criou o livro para crianças Le Petit Nicolas, com Jean-Jacques Sempé e, em 1956, escreveu editoriais e histórias para a Pilote bem como argumentos para filmes.
Em 1974, juntamente com Uderzo fundou os Estúdios Idefix para fazer versões animadas de Astérix, sendo a sua primeira produção "Os doze trabalhos de Astérix", tendo obtido um enorme sucesso. Posteriormente, produziram uma versão cinematográfica de "Lucky Luke"
As aulas recomeçaram e tem sido uma agitação, novos amigos nas turmas, reencontro com os velhos amigos que deixamos de ver nas férias, os professores, os livros , as salas, tudo diferente...
Na nossa biblioteca também é a mesma coisa. Os velhos amigos esperam por ti arrumadinhos nas prateleiras do costume mas há imensos amigos novos que foram chegando e que aguardam impacientes que os venhas conhecer.
Hoje o 8º B da nossa escola, apresentou-se no auditório da Biblioteca Almeida Garrett, com "Textos Cruzados", uma leitura dramatizada e dançada.
Na aula de Português, com a professora Noémia Queijo, e no âmbito do PAC, este ano sobra a autora Luísa Dacosta, surgiu a ideia de cruzar excertos do livro dela « Sonhos na palma da mão», ouvido na Hora do Conto na biblioteca, com outros estudados durante o ano : Farrusco, de Miguel Torga; O Gato Malhado e a Andorinha Sinhá, de Jorge Amado; O príncipe feliz, de Óscar Wilde e o Principezinho de Saint-Exupéry.
Fica aqui o registo desta atuação e o livreto com os excertos trabalhados e os alunos participantes..
O tempo primaveril só se fez sentir no final do mês mas a nossa newsletter já antecipa o calor e exibe a natureza florida em todo o seu esplendor, como pano de fundo para os nossos alunos, eles também flores deste nosso jardim.
