Brief summary of the tale
Chamomile understood that she was far from the lush and arrogant flowers that adorned the garden. She grew up near the fence in the thick grass, rejoiced in the sun and rain, and thanked fate for being able to admire the beautiful flowers in the garden. But one day a miracle happened. The lark flew in to sing his wonderful song not to the beautiful flowers from the garden, but to her, a simple modest flower. From such happiness, Romashka was confused and became prettier beyond recognition. And the Lark kept singing to her about what a heart of gold she had. The arrogant flowers from the garden almost burst with envy, and Chamomile felt awkward. Soon the owner cut them off, and Chamomile was very worried that something bad had happened to them. The next morning, Chamomile heard the sad song of a familiar bird. The lark got into the cage. Chamomile suffered from the fact that she could not help the Lark. Here the boys cut out a piece of earth along with the grass on which Chamomile grew in order to put it in the bird’s cage. So Chamomile ended up with the captive. The bird complained that instead of the huge world, she had to sit in a cage, and the boys didn’t even give her something to drink. When Chamomile looked at the suffering of the Lark, her heart was torn to pieces. Chamomile tried to console him as best she could. At night the bird died of grief. The boys cried and lamented. They gave a magnificent funeral to the poor lark, and threw the turf and Chamomile into a ditch; they did not care about the poor flower. You can read the fairy tale online in full on our website.
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Notes for the Literary Reading lesson “Hans Christian Andersen. Chamomile" 3rd grade
01/16/2015 4210 665 Potapova Inna Valerievna
Goals:
introduce students to the literary fairy tale “Chamomile” by H.H. Andersen; learn to analyze a work of art, reason, express your opinion, find the right way out in certain life situations; develop interest in reading, enrich vocabulary; cultivate love for living things, a sense of compassion; learn to clearly express your thoughts, answer questions, maintain a conversation, listen and reason; develop cognitive interest, logical thinking, memory, attention; cultivate responsibility for a friend when working in a group, develop healthy lifestyle skills.
During the classes:
1.
Psychological mood.
2.
Divided into 3 groups (chamomile, peony and tulip shaped tokens available)
3.
Drawing up rules
for working in groups
4. Communication of the lesson objectives by the teacher. Formulation of goals from the student's perspective.
5.
Application of the “Extended lecture” strategy
6. Teacher:
Tell me what garden flowers you know?
Teacher:
I read the text, and you will have to write down the main characteristics of colors in a table
| Chamomile | Peonies, tulips |
| Fills 1 group | Fill out groups 2 and 3 |
Ø general discussion, the teacher fills out the same table on the board, using the students’ answers, even if they are wrong.
Each group member is given a text.
Hans Christian Andersen
"Chamomile"
Listen to this!
Outside the city, right next to the road, there was a dacha. You must have seen her? In front of it is another small garden, surrounded by a painted wooden lattice.
Not far from the dacha, right next to the ditch, a chamomile grew in the soft green grass. The sun's rays warmed and caressed it along with the luxurious flowers that bloomed in the garden in front of the dacha, and our chamomile grew by leaps and bounds. One fine morning she completely blossomed - her yellow, round heart, like the sun, was surrounded by the radiance of dazzling white small petal rays. Chamomile didn’t care at all that she was such a poor, simple flower that no one sees or notices in the thick grass; no, she was happy with everything, greedily reached out to the sun, admired it and listened to a lark singing somewhere high, high in the sky.
Chamomile was so cheerful and happy, as if today was Sunday, but in fact it was only Monday; all the children sat quietly on the school benches and learned from their teachers; our chamomile also sat quietly on its stem and learned from the clear sun and from all the surrounding nature, learned to recognize the goodness of God. Chamomile listened to the lark singing, and it seemed to her that in his loud, sonorous songs he heard exactly what was hidden in her heart; Therefore, the chamomile looked at the happy fluttering songbird with some special respect, but did not envy her at all and was not sad that she herself could neither fly nor sing. “I see and hear everything! - she thought. - The sun caresses me, the breeze kisses me! How happy I am!”
Many lush, proud flowers bloomed in the garden, and the less fragrant they were, the more important they became. The peonies were puffing out their cheeks - they all wanted to become bigger than the roses; Is it really a matter of size? There was no one more colorful and elegant than tulips, they knew this very well and tried to stay as straight as possible in order to be more conspicuous. None of the proud flowers noticed the small daisy growing somewhere near the ditch. But Chamomile often looked at them and thought, “How elegant and beautiful they are! A lovely songbird will certainly come to visit them! Thank God that I’m growing up so close - I’ll see everything and admire it to my heart’s content!” Suddenly there was a sound of “queer-queer-wit!”, and the lark descended... not into the garden to the peonies and tulips, but straight into the grass, to the modest chamomile! Chamomile was completely at a loss with joy and simply didn’t know what to think or what to do!
The bird jumped around the daisy and sang. “Oh, what nice soft grass! What a cute little flower in a silver dress with a golden heart!”
The yellow heart of the chamomile really shone like gold, and the dazzling white petals shone with silver.
Chamomile was so happy, so glad that it was impossible to say. The bird kissed her, sang a song to her and again soared towards the blue sky. A good quarter of an hour passed before the chamomile recovered from such happiness. She looked joyfully and shyly at the lush flowers - after all, they saw what happiness befell her, who should appreciate it if not them! But the tulips stretched out, puffed up and turned red with annoyance, and the peonies were just ready to burst! It’s good that they didn’t know how to speak - the daisy would have gotten it from them.’ The poor thing immediately realized that they were out of sorts and was very upset.
CONTINUATION
At this time, a girl appeared in the kindergarten with a sharp shiny knife in her hands. She went straight to the tulips and began to cut them one by one. Chamomile gasped. "Horrible! Now they are finished!” Having cut the flowers, the girl left, and the chamomile was glad that it grew in the thick grass, where no one saw or noticed it. The sun set, she rolled up the petals and fell asleep, but in her dreams she kept seeing a cute bird and a red sun.
In the morning, the flower again straightened its petals and extended them, like a child’s little hand, towards the bright sun. At that same moment the voice of a lark was heard; the bird sang, but how sad! The poor thing had fallen into a trap and was now sitting in a cage hanging by the open window. The lark sang about the vastness of the sky, about the fresh green fields, about how good and free it was to fly in freedom! The poor bird's heart was very heavy - she was in captivity!
Romashka wanted to help the captive with all her heart, but with what? And the chamomile forgot to think about how nice it was around, how nicely the sun warmed, how its silver petals sparkled; she was tormented by the thought that she could do nothing to help the poor bird.
Suddenly two boys came out of the kindergarten; one of them had in his hands a knife as large and sharp as the one with which the girl cut the tulips. The boys went straight to the chamomile, which could not understand what they needed here.
“Here we can cut a nice piece of turf for our lark!” - said one of the boys and, thrusting the knife deep into the ground, began to cut out a quadrangular piece of turf; the chamomile ended up right in the middle of it.
- Let's pick out the flower! - said another boy, and the daisy trembled with fear: if she was picked, she would die, but she wanted to live so much! Now she could get to the poor prisoner!
- No, it’s better to stay! - said the first of the boys. - It’s so beautiful!
And the daisy fell into the lark's cage. The poor thing loudly complained about his captivity, rushed about and beat himself against the iron bars of the cage. But the poor chamomile did not know how to speak and could not console him with a word. And how she wanted it! The whole morning went like this.
- There is no water here! - the lark complained. “They forgot to give me something to drink, they left and didn’t leave me a single sip of water!” My throat is completely dry! I'm burning all over and I'm chilling! It's so stuffy here! Oh, I will die, I will no longer see the red sun, nor fresh greenery, nor all of God’s world!
To refresh himself at least a little, the lark plunged his beak deeply into the fresh, cool turf, saw a daisy, nodded his head to it, kissed it and said:
- And you will wither here, poor flower! You and this piece of green turf - that's what they gave me in exchange for the whole world! Every blade of grass should now be a green tree for me, every petal of yours should be a fragrant flower. Alas! You just remind me what I've lost!
“Oh, how can I console him!” - thought the chamomile, but could not move a leaf and only smelled stronger and stronger. The lark noticed this and did not touch the flower, although he plucked all the grass out of thirst.
So evening came, and no one brought water to the poor bird. Then she spread her short wings, fluttered them convulsively and squeaked pitifully several more times:
- Drink! Drink!
Then her head tilted to the side and her heart burst from melancholy and torment.
Chamomile also could no longer roll up her petals and fall asleep like the day before: she was completely ill and stood with her head hanging sadly.
Only the next morning the boys came and, seeing the dead lark, they cried bitterly, bitterly, then they dug a grave for him and decorated it all with flowers, and put the lark himself in a beautiful red box - they wanted to bury him like a king! Poor bird! While she lived and sang, they forgot about her, left her to die in a cage from thirst, and now they gave her a magnificent funeral and shed bitter tears over her grave!
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Analysis of the fairy tale Chamomile
The fairy tale Chamomile reveals themes that remain relevant today. The fairy tale has a tragic ending, but it is filled with ideas of goodness and compassion for one’s neighbor. The unassuming Chamomile is a symbol of altruism. She sincerely rejoices in her simple happiness, knows how to rejoice and worry about others, and is ready, without hesitation, to lend a helping hand. The image of Chamomile reveals the idea of Christian humanism. The fairy tale condemns arrogance and pride - arrogant garden flowers did not know how to rejoice and love, they are selfish and arrogant. The author also condemns the behavior of the boys who first tortured the poor bird and then buried it with honors.
What does the fairy tale Chamomile teach? The fairy tale teaches a lot:
- you need to be optimistic and enjoy everything that surrounds you;
- one should not envy and boast;
- people must be treated with respect;
- It is not the external gloss that attracts people, but the inner beauty of a person;
- you need to empathize and help people in trouble;
- You should treat the environment and its inhabitants with care.
The fairy tale Daisy by Andersen
Listen to this!
Outside the city, right next to the road, there was a dacha. You must have seen her? In front of it is another small garden, surrounded by a painted wooden lattice.
Not far from the dacha, right next to the ditch, a chamomile grew in the soft green grass.
The sun's rays warmed and caressed it along with the luxurious flowers that bloomed in the garden in front of the dacha, and our chamomile grew by leaps and bounds. One fine morning she completely blossomed - her yellow, round heart, like the sun, was surrounded by the radiance of dazzling white small petal rays. Chamomile didn’t care at all that she was such a poor, simple flower that no one sees or notices in the thick grass; no, she was happy with everything, greedily reached out to the sun, admired it and listened to the lark singing somewhere high, high in the sky.
Chamomile was so cheerful and happy, as if today was Sunday, but in fact it was only Monday; all the children sat quietly on the school benches and learned from their teachers; our chamomile also sat quietly on its stem and learned from the clear sun and from all the surrounding nature, learned to recognize the goodness of God. Chamomile listened to the lark singing, and it seemed to her that in his loud, sonorous songs he heard exactly what was hidden in her heart; Therefore, the chamomile looked at the happy fluttering songbird with some special respect, but did not envy her at all and was not sad that she herself could neither fly nor sing. “I see and hear everything! - she thought. - The sun caresses me, the breeze kisses me! How happy I am!”
Many lush, proud flowers bloomed in the garden, and the less fragrant they were, the more important they became. The peonies were puffing out their cheeks - they kept wanting to become bigger than roses; Is it really a matter of size? There was no one more colorful and elegant than tulips, they knew this very well and tried to stay as straight as possible in order to be more conspicuous. None of the proud flowers noticed the small daisy growing somewhere near the ditch.
But Chamomile often looked at them and thought: “How elegant and beautiful they are! A lovely songbird will certainly come to visit them! Thank God that I’m growing so close - I’ll see everything and admire it to my heart’s content!” Suddenly there was a sound of “queer-queer-wit!”, and the lark descended... not into the garden to the peonies and tulips, but straight into the grass, to the modest chamomile! Chamomile was completely at a loss with joy and simply didn’t know what to think or what to do!
The bird jumped around the daisy and sang: “Oh, what nice soft grass! What a cute little flower in a silver dress with a golden heart!”
The yellow heart of the chamomile really shone like gold, and the dazzling white petals shone with silver.
Chamomile was so happy, so glad that it was impossible to say. The bird kissed her, sang a song to her and again soared towards the blue sky. A good quarter of an hour passed before the chamomile recovered from such happiness. She looked joyfully and shyly at the lush flowers - after all, they saw what happiness befell her, who should appreciate it if not them! But the tulips stretched out, puffed up and turned red with annoyance, and the peonies were just ready to burst! It’s good that they didn’t know how to speak - the chamomile would have gotten it from them! The poor thing immediately realized that they were out of sorts and was very upset.
At this time, a girl appeared in the kindergarten with a sharp shiny knife in her hands. She went straight to the tulips and began to cut them one by one. Chamomile gasped. "Horrible! Now they are finished!” Having cut the flowers, the girl left, and the chamomile was glad that it grew in the thick grass, where no one saw or noticed it. The sun set, she rolled up the petals and fell asleep, but in her dreams she kept seeing a cute bird and a red sun.
In the morning, the flower again straightened its petals and extended them, like a child’s little hand, towards the bright sun. At that same moment the voice of a lark was heard; the bird sang, but how sad! The poor thing had fallen into a trap and was now sitting in a cage hanging by the open window. The lark sang about the vastness of the sky, about the fresh green fields, about how good and free it was to fly in freedom! The poor bird's heart was very heavy - she was in captivity!
Romashka wanted to help the captive with all her heart, but with what? And the chamomile forgot to think about how nice it was around, how nicely the sun warmed, how its silver petals sparkled; she was tormented by the thought that she could do nothing to help the poor bird.
Suddenly two boys came out of the kindergarten; one of them had in his hands a knife as large and sharp as the one with which the girl cut the tulips. The boys went straight to the chamomile, which could not understand what they needed here.
“Here we can cut a nice piece of turf for our lark!” - said one of the boys and, thrusting the knife deep into the ground, began to cut out a quadrangular piece of turf; the chamomile ended up right in the middle of it.
- Let's pick out the flower! - said another boy, and the daisy trembled with fear: if she was picked, she would die, but she wanted to live so much! Now she could get to the poor prisoner!
- No, it’s better to stay! - said the first of the boys. - It’s so beautiful!
And the daisy fell into the lark's cage. The poor thing loudly complained about his captivity, rushed about and beat himself against the iron bars of the cage. But the poor chamomile did not know how to speak and could not console him with a word. And how she wanted it! The whole morning went like this.
- There is no water here! - the lark complained. “They forgot to give me something to drink, they left and didn’t leave me a single sip of water!” My throat is completely dry! I'm burning all over and I'm chilling! It's so stuffy here! Oh, I will die, I will no longer see the red sun, nor fresh greenery, nor all of God’s world!
To refresh himself at least a little, the lark plunged his beak deeply into the fresh, cool turf, saw a daisy, nodded his head to it, kissed it and said:
- And you will wither here, poor flower! You and this piece of green turf - that's what they gave me in exchange for the whole world! Every blade of grass should now be a green tree for me, every petal of yours should be a fragrant flower. Alas! You just remind me what I've lost!
“Oh, how can I console him!” - thought the chamomile, but could not move a single leaf and only smelled stronger and stronger. The lark noticed this and did not touch the flower, although he plucked all the grass out of thirst.
So the evening passed, and no one brought the poor bird water. Then she spread her short wings, fluttered them convulsively and squeaked pitifully several more times:
- Drink! Drink!
Then her head tilted to the side and her heart burst from melancholy and torment.
Chamomile also could no longer roll up her petals and fall asleep like the day before: she was completely ill and stood with her head hanging sadly.
Only the next morning the boys came and, seeing the dead lark, cried bitterly, then they dug a grave for him and decorated it all with flowers, and put the lark himself in a beautiful red box - they wanted to bury him like a king! Poor bird! While she lived and sang, they forgot about her, left her to die in a cage from thirst, and now they gave her a magnificent funeral and shed bitter tears over her grave!
The turf and daisy was thrown onto the dusty road; no one thought about the one who still loved the poor bird most of all and with all her heart wanted to console her.
