Brief summary of the Perm pen and inkwell. Speech development lesson

U: Let's remember who introduces these items into his story.

D: Grandfather.

U : Why does he introduce them into his speech?

D: My grandson asked.

U: Guys, what is an inkwell?

D: Inkwell – where ink is stored.

U: An inkwell is a small vessel for storing liquid ink, used when writing with a pen.

Inkwells, depending on the country, era and purpose, were made of different sizes and from various materials (stone, glass, porcelain, metals, polymers), including precious ones. Could (not necessarily) have a lid and stand.

A special varietyinkwell is a non-spill inkwell, which, thanks to a special design that prevents ink from leaking when tilted or turned over (the neck is equipped with a cone-shaped funnel directed inside the container), made it possible to carryready-to-use ink with you, which was very important before the invention of piston (ink-filled) and ballpoint pens.

U: What is this text about? How would you phrase this topic?

D: About how Seryozha learned to extract fairy tales from an inkwell with a pen.

U: How many parts can this text be divided into?

D: Into 4 parts.

U: Let's open the textbooks and make sure of this.

Open your textbooks to page 191 and find exercise 496.

U: I'll give you 1 minute. Look at the text. Let's get ready. I read, and you carefully follow and mark parts of the text. We need this to draw up a plan.

U: Where does Part 1 begin and end?

D: The first part begins with the words “tell grandfather” and ends with the words “dear grandson, with a pen and feather.”

U: What is this part about?

D: This part talks about...

U: How can we title this part?

D: “Where do fairy tales come from?”

(Write down the students’ plan in a notebook + the plan is given on the board).

U: Fine. Now write down the first point of our plan in your notebooks (The plan item opens on the board).

U: Part 1 is a dialogue. Our task is to shorten this part without changing the meaning.

We can translate the entire dialogue into one complex sentence. If we do this, our text will be reduced by 2 times.

On the board (entry opens after discussion):Once Seryozha asked his grandfather where he got his fairy tales from. Grandfather replied that it came from an inkwell.

U: If we count the number of words of the first part in the textbook, then there will be 32, and we have 14 words, that is, we have reduced it by half.

U: Where does part 2 begin and end?

D: The second part ends with Serezha’s question “why is this, grandfather, like this?”

W: How do you understand this part?

T: What does the verb “to extract” mean? Let's see what synonyms for this word the writer uses in this text?

D: To get it - to protect it, you get it, you pull it out, it doesn’t get caught.

W: Correct. Tell me how to understand what was said? Are there really letters, words, fairy tales at the bottom of the inkwell?

D: No.

U: Here we have an allegory going on. But in fact, Seryozha learned the simplest things at school. Remember how you learned to write at school?

T: What do we call this part?

D: “Why doesn’t the fairy tale stick?”

U: Well done. Look at the detailed listing here. We need to remove unnecessary details. Let's use a pencil to erase everything unnecessary from the printout.

On the desk: At school, Seryozha began to extract a fairy tale from an inkwell. I filled up a lot of notebooks, but the fairy tale doesn’t stick. Then he asked his grandfather: “Why is this, grandfather, like this?”

W: Absolutely right. Well done.

How did the grandfather calm his grandson? What did he explain to him?

T: Tell me, which part of the text contains grandfather’s answer?

D: In 3 parts.

T: Name the boundaries of this part.

D: From the words “don’t worry” to the words “the pen is sharper.”

U: Okay. What do we call this part?

D: “Grandfather’s advice.”

U: Well done. Guys, what does the wise old man want to teach Seryozha?

D: The fact that you need to gain experience, that you can’t be an egoist - you need to look into other human destinies. You need to look at people, listen to them. You need to be open to the world.

U: Well done, guys. Right. And to be able to do all this, you need to study a lot and study well.

U: What is the main thing in this part, and what can we not include in the presentation?

(in the printout we emphasize what is important)

U: The part is difficult. Grandfather's advice is an allegory. We will think and reason about vocabulary.

D: Antonyms. For example, liquid is thicker, dull is sharper, etc.

U: It’s not enough to learn to write a letter. What needs to be done to make a fairy tale?

D: Gain experience, then the words will make sense.

U: As you understand: “you will look into more than one inkwell”

U: What does it mean: “the ink will be thicker, the inkwell will be deeper, the pen will be sharper?”

U: We need to shorten this part, so we will not retell grandfather’s answer allegorically, but in a simple sense, as we understand.

Grandfather replied that the inkwell and pen are not important. You need to be able to communicate with people, be attentive to them.

T: How does the story end? How did Seryozha react to his grandfather’s words?

U: How do you understand the expression “keep your head down”?

U: Is this a phraseological unit? What is its significance?

D: This is a stable expression that means to take into account.

U: Well done. What will we call part 4?

D: “Grandfather’s parable.”

U: What needs to be left in the last part so that we can finish the presentation?

Seryozha remembered his grandfather’s parable and retold it to others.

U: Now we have before us a condensed text, which consists of 59 words.

Conclusion: Guys, thanks to the fact that we removed direct speech and left only the main, important things, our text became half as long as the original one, but at the same time it did not lose its idea.

U: Guys, how many “photos” have we taken to illustrate the content of the text?

D: 4

U: Correct, 4. That is, the number of micro-topics and those points of the plan that were outlined at the beginning.

What conclusion can be drawn about the type of speech of this text?

D: Narration.

W: That's right. What type of speech is narrative?

D: Narration is when they sequentially tell about the events that happen to the characters. This is proven by the sequence of frame changes.

T: What style of speech can this text be classified as and why?

D: Artistic, since it is a parable, fiction, allegory.

U: Okay. And now we will work on punctuation and spelling in the text in order to avoid mistakes when writing.

Someone once said, looking at the inkwell that stood on the desk in the poet’s office: “It’s amazing what doesn’t come out of this inkwell! Will something come out of it this time?.. Yes, truly amazing!”

Exactly! It's simply incomprehensible! I've always said this myself! - the inkwell turned to the goose feather and other objects on the table that could hear her. - It’s wonderful, what doesn’t come out of me! It's just incredible! I myself, really, don’t know what will happen when a person starts drawing from me again! One drop of mine is enough to cover half a page, and there’s just so much that can’t fit on it! Yes, I am something wonderful! All kinds of poetic creations come out of me! All these living people whom readers will recognize, these sincere feelings, humor, wonderful descriptions of nature! I myself won’t understand - I don’t know nature at all - how does all this fit into me? However, this is so! All these airy, graceful girlish images, brave knights on snorting horses and who else came out of me and are coming out? I assure you, all this happens completely unconsciously!

Right! - said the goose feather. - If you approached the matter consciously, you would understand that you are only a vessel with liquid. You wet me so that I can express and put on paper what I carry inside me! The pen is writing! Not a single person doubts this, and I believe that most people understand poetry no less than an old inkwell!

You are too inexperienced! - objected the inkwell. - How long have you served? It hasn't even been a week, and they're almost completely worn out. So do you imagine that this is what you are doing? You are only a servant, and I have had a lot of you - both goose and English steel! Yes, I am very familiar with both goose and steel feathers! And many of you are still in my service, as long as man continues to write down what he learns from me!

Ink barrel! - said the feather.

The poet returned home late in the evening; he came from a concert of a virtuoso violinist and was still impressed by his incomparable playing. The violin seemed to have an inexhaustible source of sounds: drops of water seemed to be rolling, ringing like pearls, birds were chirping, or a storm was roaring in a pine forest. The poet fancied that he heard the cry of his own heart, poured out in a melody similar to a harmonious female voice. It seemed that not only the strings of the violin sounded, but also all its components. Amazing, extraordinary! The violinist’s task was difficult, and yet his art looked like playing, the bow seemed to flutter along the strings itself; anyone, it seemed, could do the same. The violin sang itself, the bow played itself, the whole essence seemed to be in them, but the master who controlled them, who put life and soul into them, was simply forgotten. Everyone forgot, but the poet did not forget about him and wrote this:

“How reckless it would be for the bow and violin to boast of their art. And how often do we, people - poets, artists, scientists, inventors, commanders! We boast, but we are all just tools in the hands of the creator. To him alone honor and praise! And we have nothing to be proud of!”

So this is what the poet wrote and entitled his parable “The Master and the Tools.”

What, did you wait, madam? - said the pen to the inkwell when they were alone. - Did you hear him read out loud what I wrote?

That is what you extracted from me! - said the inkwell. - You fully deserve this click with your arrogance! And you don’t even realize that they laughed at you! I gave you this click from my own gut. Let me discover my own satire!

Ink Soul! - said the feather.

Hand-footed goose! - answered the inkwell.

And everyone decided that they answered well, and it was pleasant to realize this; With such consciousness one can sleep peacefully, and they fell asleep. But the poet did not sleep; thoughts agitated in him like the sounds of a violin, rolled like pearls, rustled like a storm in the forest, and he heard the voice of his own heart in them, felt the breath of the Great Master...

To him alone honor and praise!

Someone once said, looking at the inkwell that stood on the desk in the poet’s office: “It’s amazing what doesn’t come out of this inkwell! Will something come out of it this time?.. Yes, truly amazing!”

- Exactly! It's simply incomprehensible! I've always said this myself! - the inkwell turned to the goose feather and other objects on the table that could hear her. – It’s wonderful, what doesn’t come out of me! It's just incredible! I myself, really, don’t know what will happen when a person starts drawing from me again! One drop of mine is enough to cover half a page, and there’s just so much that can’t fit on it! Yes, I am something wonderful! All kinds of poetic creations come out of me! All these living people whom readers will recognize, these sincere feelings, humor, wonderful descriptions of nature! I myself won’t understand - I don’t know nature at all - how does all this fit into me? However, this is so! All these airy, graceful girlish images, brave knights on snorting horses and who else came out of me and are coming out? I assure you, all this happens completely unconsciously!

- Right! - said the goose feather. – If you approached the matter consciously, you would understand that you are only a vessel with liquid. You wet me so that I can express and put on paper what I carry inside me! The pen is writing! Not a single person doubts this, and I believe that most people understand poetry no less than an old inkwell!

– You are too inexperienced! - the inkwell objected. - How long have you been serving? It hasn't even been a week, and they're almost completely worn out. So do you imagine that this is what you are doing? You are only a servant, and I have had a lot of you - both goose and English steel! Yes, I am very familiar with both goose and steel feathers! And many of you are still in my service, as long as man continues to write down what he learns from me!

- Ink barrel! - said the feather.

The poet returned home late in the evening; he came from a concert of a virtuoso violinist and was still impressed by his incomparable playing. The violin seemed to have an inexhaustible source of sounds: drops of water seemed to be rolling, ringing like pearls, birds were chirping, or a storm was roaring in a pine forest. The poet fancied that he heard the cry of his own heart, poured out in a melody similar to a harmonious female voice. It seemed that not only the strings of the violin sounded, but also all its components. Amazing, extraordinary! The violinist’s task was difficult, and yet his art looked like playing, the bow seemed to flutter along the strings itself; anyone, it seemed, could do the same. The violin sang itself, the bow played itself, the whole essence seemed to be in them, but the master who controlled them, who put life and soul into them, was simply forgotten. Everyone forgot, but the poet did not forget about him and wrote this:

“How reckless it would be for the bow and violin to boast of their art. And how often do we, people - poets, artists, scientists, inventors, commanders! We boast, but we are all just tools in the hands of the creator. To him alone honor and praise! And we have nothing to be proud of!”

So this is what the poet wrote and entitled his parable “The Master and the Tools.”

- What, did you wait, madam? - said the pen to the inkwell when they were alone. “Did you hear him read out loud what I wrote?”

- That is, what you extracted from me! - said the inkwell. – You fully deserve this click with your arrogance! And you don’t even realize that they laughed at you! I gave you this click from my own gut. Let me discover my own satire!

- Ink soul! - said the feather.

- Paw-footed goose! - answered the inkwell.

And everyone decided that they answered well, and it was pleasant to realize this; With such consciousness one can sleep peacefully, and they fell asleep. But the poet did not sleep; thoughts agitated in him like the sounds of a violin, rolled like pearls, rustled like a storm in the forest, and he heard the voice of his own heart in them, felt the breath of the Great Master...

To him alone honor and praise!

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Text content of presentation slides: based on the text by Evgeny Andreevich Permyak “Pen and Inkwell”. Evgeniy Andreevich Permyak. A PARABLE is a short story containing a lesson in an allegorical, allegorical form. “Tell me, grandfather,” Seryozha once asked, “where do you get fairy tales from?” - From the inkwell, my friend, from the inkwell. - How do you get them out of there, grandpa? - A pen with a feather, dear grandson, a pen with a feather. Text Condensed text “Tell me, grandfather,” Seryozha once asked, “where do you get fairy tales from?” - From the inkwell, my friend, from the inkwell. - How do you get them out of there, grandpa? - A pen with a feather, dear grandson, a pen with a feather. Seryozha once asked his grandfather where he got his fairy tales from. Grandfather replied that he pulled them out of the inkwell with a pen and feather. “Tell me, grandfather,” Seryozha once asked, “where do you get fairy tales from?” - From the inkwell, my friend, from the inkwell. 1 - How do you get them out of there, grandpa? - A pen with a feather, dear grandson, a pen with a feather. Seryozha entered school. I began to extract a fairy tale from the inkwell. First the sticks. Then the hooks. Then the letters. And then the words. Seryozha filled up a lot of notebooks, but the fairy tale doesn’t stick. 2 - Why is this, grandpa? Maybe my ink is thin, or my inkwell is small, or my pen is dull? 3 - Don't worry, Sergey! - the grandfather consoles. -The time will come - not just a fairy tale, but maybe you will pull out something bigger... Unless, of course, you look into more than one inkwell, if you don’t start living without people, on your own - then the ink will be thicker, and the inkwell will be deeper, and the pen is sharper... The little guy didn’t understand everything then, but he remembered his grandfather’s parable. I got it into my head and told it to others. 4 Microthemes. Words of thematic chain 1. Tales from the inkwell From the inkwell, a fairy tale, does not catch Microthemes. Words of the thematic chain 2. The fairy tale does not stick Entered school, from the inkwell, the fairy tale does not stick Microthemes. Words of the thematic chain Consoles, pulls you out, on your own, you can’t start living without people 3. .Live with people, and not on your own Microthemes. Words of the thematic chain 4. I remembered the grandfather's parable. I remembered the parable, reeled it in, retold it. Methods of text compression Generalization Exception Simplification Text Compressed text 1. “Tell me, grandfather,” Seryozha once asked, “where do you get fairy tales from?” - From the inkwell, my friend, from the inkwell. - How do you get them out of there, grandpa? - A pen with a feather, dear grandson, a pen with a feather. Seryozha once asked his grandfather where he got his fairy tales from. Grandfather replied that he pulled them out of the inkwell with a pen and feather. Text Compressed text 2. Seryozha entered school. I began to extract a fairy tale from the inkwell. First the sticks. Then the hooks. Then the letters. And then the words. Seryozha filled up a lot of notebooks, but the fairy tale doesn’t stick. Seryozha entered school and began to extract fairy tales from the inkwell. First sticks, hooks, then words. The tale doesn't stick. Text Condensed text 3. .- Why is this, grandpa? Maybe my ink is thin, or my inkwell is small, or my pen is dull? - Don't worry, Sergei! - the grandfather consoles. -The time will come - not just a fairy tale, but maybe you will pull out something bigger... Unless, of course, you look into more than one inkwell, if you don’t start living without people, on your own - then the ink will be thicker, and the inkwell will be deeper, and the pen is sharper... Seryozha was upset, but his grandfather consoled him and said that if he didn’t start living on his own without people, then his ink would be thicker, the inkwell deeper, and the pen sharper. Text Condensed text 4. The little guy didn’t understand everything then, but he remembered his grandfather’s parable. I got it into my head and told it to others. The little guy didn’t understand everything, but he remembered the parable. I got it into my head and told it to others.

Attached files

Who?
Pen and inkwell
What are hands for?
Hasty knife
First fish
How Masha became big
Kite
How Misha wanted to outwit his mother
Deuce
The worst thing
Reliable person
Tricky rug
Two proverbs

Dear young friend!
With every new book you make new friends. You will find them here too. These are different people. The good ones and the not so good ones are the ones you probably don’t want to be like. But you can find out who is which only by reading the book. Attentively. Slowly. Because a hasty reader can mistake something good for bad. You never know there are nice boys and girls who are a little mistaken about something. They don’t understand something. They don’t understand something and seem bad.
Well, you can figure it out for yourself and decide who you should take as your friends and who you shouldn’t.
Read and decide!
Author

Three girls once argued about which of them would be the best first-grader.
“I will be the best first-grader,” says Lucy, “because my mother has already bought me a school bag.”
“No, I’ll be the best first-grader,” said Katya. - My mother sewed me a uniform dress with a white apron.
“No, I. No, I..,” Lenochka argues with her friends. - Not only do I have a school bag and a pencil case, not only do I have a uniform dress with a white apron, they also gave me two white ribbons in my braids.
The girls argued like that, they argued - they became hoarse. They ran to their friend. To Masha. Let her say which of them will be the best first-grader.
They came to Masha, and Masha was sitting at her ABC book.
“I don’t know, girls, who will be the best first-grader,” Masha answered. - I have no time. Today I have to learn three more letters,
- What for? - the girls ask.
“And then, so as not to turn out to be the worst, the very last first-grader,” said Masha and began to read the primer again.
Lucy, Katya and Lenochka became quiet. There was no more arguing about who would be the best first-grader. And so it is clear.

FEATHER AND INKBOTTLE

Tell me, grandfather,” Seryozha once asked, “where do you get fairy tales from?”
- From the inkwell, my friend, from the inkwell.
- How do you get them out of there, grandpa?
- A pen with a feather, dear grandson, a pen with a feather.
- How to fish with a fishing rod?
- No, my little one, it’s not a fairy tale.
“You’ll fish it out,” says grandfather. - First, you need to get sticks from the inkwell and learn how to transfer them to your notebook. And then the fairy tale can catch on.
Seryozha entered school. I began to extract a fairy tale from the inkwell. First the sticks. Then the hooks. Then the letters. And then the words. Seryozha filled up a lot of notebooks, but the fairy tale doesn’t stick.
- Why is this, grandfather, like this? Maybe my ink is thin, or my inkwell is small, or my pen is dull?
“Don’t worry, Sergei!” the grandfather consoles. - The time will come - not just a fairy tale, but maybe you will pull out something bigger. If, of course, you look into more than one inkwell, if you don’t start living without people, on your own - then the ink will be thicker, and the inkwell will be deeper, and the pen is sharper
The little guy didn’t understand everything then, but he remembered his grandfather’s parable. I got it into my head and told it to others.

WHAT ARE HANDS FOR?

Petya and grandfather were great friends. We talked about everything.
A grandfather once asked his grandson:
- Why, Petenka, do people need hands?
“To play with a ball,” answered Petya.
- And for what else? - asked the grandfather.
- To hold a spoon.
- And what else?
- To pet the cat.
- And what else?
- To throw pebbles into the river
Petya answered his grandfather all evening. He answered correctly. I judged everyone else only by my own hands, not by my mother’s, not by. father's, not by labor, working hands, with which all life, the whole world is held together.

HURRY KNIFE

Mitya was whittling a stick. Planed and abandoned. It turned out to be an oblique stick. Uneven. Ugly.
“How is this so?” asks Mitya’s father.
“The knife is bad,” Mitya answers, “it cuts askew.”
“No,” says the father, “the knife is good.” He's just in a hurry. It needs to be taught patience.
- But as? - asks Mitya.
“And so,” said the father.
He took the stick and began to plan it little by little, little by little, carefully.
Mitya understood how to teach a knife patience, and he also began to whittle little by little, little by little, carefully.
For a long time the hasty knife did not want to obey, it was in a hurry: it tried to swerve, now at random, but it didn’t work out. Mitya forced him to be patient.
The knife became good at whittling. Smooth. Beautiful. Obediently.

FIRST FISH

Yura lived in a large and friendly family. Everyone in this family worked. Only Yura was not working. He was only five years old.
Once, Yurina’s family went to catch fish and cook fish soup. We caught a lot of fish and
They gave it all to grandma. Yura also caught one fish. Ruff. And I also gave it to my grandmother. For fish soup.
Grandmother cooked fish soup. The whole family on the shore sat down around the pot and started praising their ears:
- That’s why our fish soup is delicious, because Yura caught a huge ruff. That’s why our fish soup is fatty and rich, because fish soup is fatter than catfish.
And even though Yura was small, he understood that the adults were joking. Is there a lot of profit from a tiny brush? But he was still happy. He was happy because his little fish was in the big family ear.

HOW MASHA BECAME BIG

Little Masha really wanted to grow up. Very. But she didn’t know how to do it. I tried everything. And I walked in my mother’s shoes. And she was sitting in my grandmother’s hood. And she did her hair like Aunt Katya’s. And I tried on beads. And she put the watch on her hand.
Nothing worked. They just laughed at her and made fun of her.
One day Masha decided to sweep the floor. And swept it. Yes, she swept it so well that even my mother was surprised:
- Mashenka! Are you really getting big with us?
And when Masha washed the dishes clean and wiped them dry, then not only mother, but also father was surprised. He was surprised and said to everyone at the table:
- We didn’t even notice how Maria grew up with us. And he not only sweeps the floor, but also washes the dishes.
Now everyone calls little Masha big. And she feels like an adult, although she walks around in her tiny shoes and short dress. No hairstyle. No beads. No watch.
Apparently, they are not the ones who make little ones big.

KITE

A good breeze blew. Smooth. In such a wind, a kite flies high. He pulls the thread tight. The wet tail flutters merrily. Beauty!
Borya decided to make his own kite. He had a sheet of paper. And he planed the shingles. Yes, there was not enough wetness for the tail and threads on which to fly snakes.
And Syoma has a large skein of thread. He has something to fly snakes with. If he had taken out a piece of paper and some wetness for his tail, he would have flown his own kite too.
Petya had a washcloth. He saved it for the kite, the only thing he was missing was a drink and a sheet of paper with shingles.
Everyone has everything, but everyone is missing something.
The boys sit on the hill and grieve. Borya presses his sheet of shingles to his chest. Syoma clenched his threads into his fist. Petya hides his washcloth in his bosom.
A good breeze is blowing. Smooth. High in the sky, friendly guys launched kites. He waves his wet tail merrily. He pulls the thread tight. Beauty!
Borya, Syoma and Petya could also fly such a kite. Even better. They just haven’t learned to be friends yet - that’s the problem.

HOW MISHA WANTED TO OUTSIT MOM

Misha’s mother came home after work and clasped her hands:
- How did you, Mishenka, manage to break off a bicycle wheel?
- It, mom, broke off on its own.
- Why is your shirt torn, Misha?
- She, mommy, tore herself apart.
- Where did your other shoe go? Where did you lose it?
- He, Mom, got lost somewhere.
Then Misha’s mother said:
- How bad they all are! They, the scoundrels, need to be taught a lesson!
- But as? - Misha asked.
. “Very simple,” my mother answered. - If they have learned to break themselves, to tear themselves apart, and to get lost themselves, let them learn to repair themselves, to sew themselves up, to find themselves. And you and I, Misha, will sit at home and wait for them to do all this.
Misha sat down by the broken bicycle, in a torn shirt, without a shoe, and thought deeply. Apparently this boy had something to think about.

TWO

There lived a shaggy little dog in the schoolyard. Her name was “Deuce.” No one knew why she was given such a nickname.
Only everyone knew that the kids were offending
her.
- Oh, you worthless Deuce!.. Here you go!.. Here you go!..,.
They threw stones at Deuce and drove her into the bushes. She whined pitifully.
One day teacher Maria Ivanovna saw this and said:
- Is it possible to treat a dog poorly just because it has a bad name? You never know who in the world is given bad names. After all, they are not judged by them, but by who they belong to.
The kids fell silent. Let's think about these words. And then they caressed Deuce and treated her to whatever they could. It soon turned out that Deuce is a very good and understanding little dog. They even wanted to call her “Five,” but one girl said:
- Guys, is it all about the name?..

THE WORST

Vova grew up as a strong and strong boy. Everyone was afraid of him. And how can you not be afraid of this! He beat his comrades. He shot at the girls with a slingshot. He made faces at the adults. He stepped on the dog's tail, Cannon. He pulled out the whiskers of Murzey the cat. I drove the prickly hedgehog under the closet. He was even rude to his grandmother.
Vova was not afraid of anyone. He was not afraid of anything. And he was very proud of this. I was proud, but not for long.
The day came when the boys didn’t want to play with him: they left him and that’s it. He ran to the girls. But the girls, even the kindest ones, also turned away from him.
Then Vova rushed to Pushka, and he ran away into the street. Vova wanted to play with the cat Murzey, but the cat climbed onto the closet and looked at the boy with unkind green eyes. Angry.
Vova decided to lure the hedgehog out from under the closet. Where there! The hedgehog moved to another house to live a long time ago.
Vova approached his grandmother. The offended grandmother did not even look up at her grandson. The old woman sits in the corner, knitting a stocking and wiping away tears.
The worst of the worst that ever happened in the world came: Vova was left alone. Alone!

RELIABLE PERSON

On the first desk in first class sat the son of the brave test pilot Andryusha Rudakov. Andryusha was a strong and brave boy. He always protected those who were weaker, and everyone in the class loved him for this.
Sitting next to Andryusha was a thin little girl, Asya. The fact that she was small and weak could still be forgiven, but the fact that Asya was cowardly was something Andryusha could not come to terms with. You could scare Asya by giving her scary eyes. She was afraid of every dog ​​she met.
Chonki, ran away from the geese. Even the ants scared her.
It was very unpleasant for Andryusha to sit on the same desk with such a coward, and he tried in every possible way to get rid of Asya. And her. were not transplanted.
One day Andryusha brought a large spider in a glass jar. Seeing the monster, Asya turned pale and immediately ran to another desk.
This is how it began. For two days Asya sat alone, and teacher Anna Sergeevna did not seem to notice this, and on the third day she asked Andryusha to stay after class.
Andryusha immediately guessed what was going on, and when everyone left the class, he, feeling guilty, embarrassedly said to the teacher:
- It was not in vain that I brought the spider. I wanted to teach Asya not to be afraid of anything. And she was scared again.
“Well, I believe you,” said Anna Sergeevna. “Whoever knows how, helps his comrades grow, and I called you to tell you a little story.”
She sat Andryusha in his place at the desk, and she sat down next to Asino.
- Many years ago, a boy and a girl were sitting in the same class. We sat just like
We are sitting now. The boy's name was Vova, and the girl's name was Anya. Anya grew up as a sickly child, and Vova grew up as a strong and healthy boy. Anya was often ill, and Vova had to help her learn her homework. One day Anya injured her leg with a nail. She was so injured that she couldn’t come to school: she couldn’t wear either a shoe or felt boots. And it was already the second quarter. And one day Vova came to Anya and said: “Anya, I’ll take you to school on a sled.” Anya was happy, but objected: “What are you, what are you, Vova! This will be very funny! People will laugh at us.” the whole school "But the persistent Vova said: “Well, let them laugh!” From that day on, Vova brought Anya in and out on a sled every day. At first the guys laughed at him, and then they themselves began to help. By spring, Anya recovered and was able to cross with all the guys to the next grade. I can finish the story here if you don’t want to know who Vova and Anya became.
- And by whom? - Andryusha asked impatiently.
- Vova became an excellent test pilot. This is your father Vladimir Petrovich Rudakov. And the girl Anya is now your teacher Anna Sergeevna.
Andryusha lowered his eyes. So he sat at his desk for a long time. He vividly imagined the sled, the girl Anya, who now became his teacher, and the boy Vova, his father, whom he so wanted to be like.
The next morning Andryusha stood at the porch of the house where Asya lived. Asya, as always, appeared with her grandmother. She was afraid to go to school alone.
“Good morning,” Andryusha said to Asya’s grandmother. Then he greeted Asya. - If you want, Asya, we’ll go to school together.
The girl looked at Andrya in fear. He deliberately speaks so affably; you can expect anything from him. But the grandmother looked into the boy’s eyes and said:
- With him, Asenka, it will be more convenient for you than with me. He will fight off the dogs and will not give offense to the boys.
“Yes,” Andryusha said quietly, but very firmly.
And they went together. They walked past unfamiliar dogs and hissing geese. They did not give way to the boisterous bully goat. And Asya was not afraid.
Next to Andryusha, she suddenly felt strong and brave.

Tricky rug
Fairy tale

Mashenka grew up smart, but she didn’t understand everything.
She once went into the forest and was stung by Nettle.
- Oh, you are so and so, prickly! Why do you live in the world? One harm from you!
And Nettle laughed at this and said:
- Likewise, you can only judge a bee by its sting. But the bee also gives honey.
Then Masha shouts to the whole forest:
- How can you, you slacker, compare yourself to a working bee!
“Tell you what,” says Nettle, “come here in the fall, I’ll make you smarter.”
Mashenka couldn’t believe that she could gain some sense from Nettle, but she came. What if Nettle says something sensible?
- Well, come on, add some wisdom to me, and I’ll listen.
And Nettle turned yellow in the fall. Got old. Her voice became creaky and hard.
“Get some mittens, Mashenka,” says Nettle, “and pull me out and tie me up in bundles.”
Mashenka put on her mittens. She pulled out the Nettle and tied it in bunches.
“Now,” says Nettle, “soak me in the river and then dry me.”
Masha soaked Nettle, dried it in the sun and asked:
- What else can you come up with?
“Now,” says Nettle, “break my stems, crumple them, knock out the excess from them, and then you’ll see for yourself.”
Again Mashenka did everything as Nettle ordered, and then the result was a long, strong nettle fiber.
Masha thought for a moment, and then decided: if there is fiber, you can spin threads from it.
Masha hid the threads and thought again. I thought and thought and decided to weave a rug out of threads. She wove a rug and embroidered a young, cheerful Nettle on it with green threads.
Mashenka hung the rug on the wall and said:
- Thank you, Nettle, thank you for making me smarter. Now I know that not everything in the world is empty and worthless, what seems empty and worthless.
And from then on Masha began to think about everything, delve into everything, everywhere, in every little thing, looking for benefits for people. And I looked for it. Even in snake venom and white mold I found healing power.
And when Masha grew old and became a grandmother, she bequeathed her nettle rug to her little children:
- Look, grandsons, at the tricky rug and spread your mind. Not everything in the world has yet been discovered and found.

TWO PROVERBS

Kostya grew up a thrifty boy. If his mother gives him a penny or even a penny, Kostya will definitely put the money in his piggy bank. And his friend Fedya is the opposite. As soon as he has a nickel or a dime, he will definitely buy something. Either grains for pigeons, or food for fish, or sausages for the dogs' joy.
Once there was a fair in a large village. Kostya raked out a handful of coppers from his piggy bank and decided to buy various varieties and a seven-voice accordion. But Fedya stayed at home. What should he do at the fair without money? Just stare.
Kostya was walking through the forest to the fair and got lost. Suddenly he sees a Dove flying. And pigeons fly everywhere, they know all the roads.
- Show me, Dove, the way! - Kostya asks. - I'll give you money.
The dove responds to this:
- Why do I need your money? I don't have a pocket. And who are you for me to show you the way?
“And I’m Fedin’s comrade,” Kostya answers.
“Then it’s a different matter,” says Dove. - I'll show you.
The Dove showed Kostya the way, and he went. He walks and sees: the bridge over the river has been demolished, but he doesn’t know how to find the ford. Suddenly he looks, a roach swims up to him and says:
- I know you, Kostya. You are Fedin comrade. Go, I'll show you the ford.
And she showed it.
Kostya came to the fair. And at the fair there are all kinds of people: both good and bad. The bad man took out Kostya’s money. The poor fellow began to cry. How long have I been saving!
Suddenly the Kuzlyat Dog runs up to him. Completely alien. Unfamiliar. She found out what was going on and said to Kostya:
- Do not be sad! Wait for me here.
And dogs are known to have a good sense of smell. They can sniff out and find out everything. Any thief will be found.
The Dog sniffed out whoever had Kostya’s money, took it away and brought it to Kostya. She brought them to Kostya and whispered something to him.
Kostya bought various varieties, nuts, sweets and a seven-voice accordion. Kostya goes home and treats everyone to various varieties, nuts and sweets. And birds, and fish, and dogs.
Kostya came to his village, found Fedya and gave him a seven-voice accordion:
- Here's a gift for you, my good friend!
He can’t believe his eyes:
- What happened to you, Kostya? How kind you have become!
“Now I will always be like this,” says Kostya and hugs his friend.
Fedya doesn’t understand anything about what happened to Kostya. Fedya didn’t know that the Dog at the fair whispered in Kostya’s ear. And she whispered to him two proverbs:
“Don’t have a hundred rubles, but have a hundred friends.”
“It’s good to be thrifty, but better to be kind.”