Practical Ideas for Teaching Writing as a Process

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DIANE Publishing, 1996 - 224 pages
4 Reviews
Contains a collection of specific classroom strategies & suggestions for teaching writing to elementary school students according to an eight-stage process. Specific techniques for teaching each stage of the writing process & descriptions of proven approaches for using these techniques are also included. "A wonderful resource, a labor of love from a large & talented group of educators." Had its beginnings in the California Writing Project at the Univ. of California, Irvine. Best Seller! Illustrated.
 

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One of the best and most enduring compilations of hands-on lessons for teaching each stage of the writing process. New teachers and old can use this as a resource for creating solid language arts learning activities. Take the time to read the introductions to each chapter to ensure you see how the ideas work into a larger pedagogical approach.
Dale Sprowl, Departments of English and Education, Biola University
 

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Excellent book with great resources for teaching. Love it!!!

Contents

V
7
VI
17
VII
26
VIII
38
IX
51
X
70
XI
81
XII
105
XV
139
XVI
148
XVII
155
XVIII
166
XIX
176
XX
185
XXI
199
XXII
205

XIII
114
XIV
127
XXIII
207

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Page 60 - AT DAYBREAK Billy Buck emerged from the bunkhouse and stood for a moment on the porch looking up at the sky. He was a broad, bandy-legged little man with a walrus mustache, with square hands, puffed and muscled on the palms. His eyes were a contemplative, watery grey and the hair which protruded from under his Stetson hat was spiky and weathered. Billy was still stuffing his shirt into his blue jeans as he stood on the porch. He unbuckled his belt and tightened it again. The belt showed, by the worn...
Page 121 - You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view — until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.
Page 183 - ... after dark. But, perhaps, the general was a devil — An apprehensive night crawled slowly by like a wounded snake, and sleep did not visit Rainsford, although the silence of a dead world was on the jungle. Toward morning when a dingy gray was varnishing the sky, the cry of some startled bird focused Rainsford's attention in that direction.
Page 61 - I want to have a kitty to sit on my lap and purr when I stroke her." "Yeah?" George said from the bed. "And I want to eat at a table with my own silver and I want candles. And I want it to be spring and I want to brush my hair out in front of a mirror, and I want a kitty and I want some new clothes." "Oh, shut up and get something to read," George said. He was reading again. His wife was looking out of the window. It was quite dark now and still raining in the palm trees. "Anyway, I want a cat,"...
Page 60 - His eyes were a contemplative, watery gray and the hair which protruded from under his Stetson hat was spiky and weathered. Billy was still stuffing his shirt into his blue jeans as he stood on the porch. He unbuckled his belt and tightened it again. The belt showed, by the worn shiny places opposite each hole, the gradual increase of Billy's middle over a period of years. When he had seen to the weather, Billy cleared each nostril by holding its mate closed with his forefinger and blowing fiercely....
Page 184 - ... automatic pistol. The hunter shook his head several times, as if he were puzzled. Then he straightened up and took from his case one of his black cigarettes; its pungent incense-like smoke floated up to Rainsford's nostrils. Rainsford held his breath. The general's eyes had left the ground and were traveling inch by inch up the tree. Rainsford froze there, every muscle tensed for a spring. But the sharp eyes of the hunter stopped before they reached the limb where Rainsford lay; a smile spread...
Page 113 - ... soldier drank. He thanked her ceremoniously, bowed to her husband and rode away. An hour later, after nightfall, he repassed the plantation, going northward in the direction from which he had come. He was a Federal scout.
Page 113 - As to his head, he was conscious of nothing but a feeling of fulness— of congestion. These sensations were unaccompanied by thought. The intellectual part of his nature was already effaced; he had power only to feel, and feeling was torment. He was conscious of motion. Encompassed in a luminous cloud, of which he was now merely the fiery heart...
Page 61 - I want to pull my hair back tight and smooth, and make a big knot at the back that I can feel," she said. " I want to have a kitty to sit on my lap and purr when I stroke her.
Page 61 - She went over and sat in front of the mirror of the dressing table looking at herself with the hand glass. She studied her profile, first one side and then the other. Then she studied the back of her head and her neck. "Don't you think it would be a good idea if I let my hair grow out?

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