Let's make a poem

So it's time to be a little creative. 

Instead of always teaching grammar and vocabulary, we tried something new with my German beginners class.

The idea was to practise vocabulary (infinitives) and the prepositions mit + Dative and ohne + Akkusative!

The "Elfchen" is a poem that consists of 11 words.

1. line: one word

2. line 2 words

3. line: 3 words

4. line: 4 words 

5.line: 2 words

I have also included a video with instuctions in German in the padlet.

You can find other poem ideas over here"

Haiku

Cinquain

Playing with words... in German

Almost two weeks before the C1 German exams and I thought we should relax a bit and listen to some music, play with words, create poetry....
Some people will just say: "WHAT? Are you CRAZY? What are you doing? You have two weeks! TWO weeks!! Do some tests!! Work on Grammar!!And more tests!!!!"""
But I will not do that.... OK, yes, tests and compositions as homework, yes, comment on the written work, yes, talk on the guidelines, but , NO, I will refuse to get stressed...
My way? Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't....
But believe me, a few more tests will not "save" the student, if they don't actually care about the language, if they don't take a book or a newspaper, magazine and read, if they don't watch a film, if they don't listen to a song, actually listen and try to understand what it means. That goes for all languages...
I said it in the Pecha Kucha in TESOL Macedonia Convention  and I will say it again: Our goal is to be able to produce language, not get a certificate and forget everything afterwards. If you can do that, then yes , you will probably pass the exam as well.

Especially with the German language, we have to try harder, since it is not a language you come across the whole time like English...

So what did we do today?
I have found a wonderful site created by Goethe Institut, USA. It covers various fields, like culture, music and football, called "Step into German"
Every month they have a new song with worksheet and exercises on the song.

This month's song was called "Einmal um die Welt" by an artist called Cro.



Well, my student Katerina and I went beyond the suggested activities that included questions to initiate conversations and mix&match exercises, we also wrote a poem with rimed words from the song-text.
And here is the result:

Ich bin wirlkich tot,

Gib mir ein bisschen Brot.

Ich brauche eine Hand.

So brechen wir die Wand.

Ich wasche mire die Haare mit Shampoo

und erinnere mich and deine Handkuss.

Ich habe kein Geld,

was auch mir nicht gefällt.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe: Totentanz, Erstveröffentlichung 1815.

Der Türmer, der schaut zu Mitten der Nacht
Hinab auf die Gräber in Lage;
Der Mond, der hat alles ins Helle gebracht;
Der Kirchhof, er liegt wie am Tage.
Da regt sich ein Grab und ein anderes dann:
Sie kommen hervor, ein Weib da, ein Mann,
In weißen und schleppenden Hemden.

Das reckt nun, es will sich ergetzen sogleich,
Die Knöchel zur Runde, zum Kranze,
So arm und so jung, und so alt und so reich;
Doch hindern die Schleppen am Tanze.
Und weil hier die Scham nun nicht weiter gebeut,
Sie schütteln sich alle, da liegen zerstreut
Die Hemdlein über den Hügeln.

Nun hebt sich der Schenkel, nun wackelt das Bein,
Gebärden da gibt es vertrackte;
Dann klippert's und klappert's mitunter hinein,
Als schlüg' man die Hölzlein zum Takte.
Das kommt nun dem Türmer so lächerlich vor;
Da raunt ihm der Schalk, der Versucher, ins Ohr:
Geh! hole dir einen der Laken.

Getan wie gedacht! und er flüchtet sich schnell
Nun hinter geheiligte Türen.
Der Mond, und noch immer er scheinet so hell
Zum Tanz, den sie schauderlich führen.
Doch endlich verlieret sich dieser und der,
Schleicht eins nach dem andern gekleidet einher,
Und, husch, ist es unter dem Rasen.

Nur einer, der trippelt und stolpert zuletzt
Und tappet und grapst an den Grüften;
Doch hat kein Geselle so schwer ihn verletzt,
Er wittert das Tuch in den Lüften.
Er rüttelt die Turmtür, sie schlägt ihn zurück,
Geziert und gesegnet, dem Türmer zum Glück,
Sie blinkt von metallenen Kreuzen.

Das Hemd muß er haben, da rastet er nicht,
Da gilt auch kein langes Besinnen,
Den gotischen Zierat ergreift nun der Wicht
Und klettert von Zinne zu Zinnen.
Nun ist's um den armen, den Türmer getan!
Es ruckt sich von Schnörkel zu Schnörkel hinan,
Langbeinigen Spinnen vergleichbar.

Der Türmer erbleichet, der Türmer erbebt,
Gern gäb er ihn wieder, den Laken.
Da häkelt – jetzt hat er am längsten gelebt –
Den Zipfel ein eiserner Zacken.
Schon trübet der Mond sich verschwindenden Scheins,
Die Glocke, sie donnert ein mächtiges Eins,
Und unten zerschellt das Gerippe.

'Twas The Night Before Christmas

'Twas The Night Before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

Written in 1822 by Clement C. Moore, "