instruction:
Write a question from the passage such that it identifies a character (a person or a thing) in the passage.
question:
Creating a self portrait is not your typical selfie!
When I taught in the traditional classroom, creating self portraits was something I had students do whether they were four or nine. In fact, I'd have them draw one on the first day of school and one toward the end of the year and to see the change over time was always so interesting.
At least once during the year, likely toward the beginning, I would center a lesson around self portraits.
In younger classes, there would be more than one.
Creating a self portrait teaches students to be aware of themselves. Where is her head in relation to her body? Where are her feet in relation to her legs?
It also teaches children spatial awareness. Where should he begin…with his feet or with his head? Where on the paper should his head be placed? How far down should his arms go? How can his whole body fit on a single piece of paper?
A Lesson on Creating Self Portraits
Whether you are in a classroom, or teaching a child at home, here is a simple lesson on creating self portraits geared toward young children, anywhere from age 2 through age 6. Keep in mind that their final product will show various levels of writing development, depending on what stage of writing they are in. (Basically, a two-year-old's drawing should look very different than that of a five-year-old.)
The teacher will need to model how to draw a self portrait.
Gather the children around an easel or board and clip a paper to it.
Narrate the process as you walk through the steps.
"I am going to draw a picture of myself. I am going to start with my head."
Use your hands to show your actual head on yourself so students are aware of what you talking about. The visuals also help English Language Learners (if you're teaching in an English speaking classroom.) and build vocabulary for all students.
answer:
Who taught about self portraits?


question:
Yes, after my mother died I found out from my supposed half-sister that my dad was not my birth father. She was 19 yrs older than me and had been living in Colorado since I was young. I was born and raised in N.J. I did not see her she did not come to see us. I was grown, married, had children and was living in FL. when she showed up at my door with her husband. I was shocked since we never heard from her and I did not know she even knew where I lived. She stayed all of about 20 minutes, just long enough to very unpleasantly state that "my father is NOT your father and I am NOT your sister!"
I always wondered why my mom hated me SO much, I found out that both my mom and "dad" were having affairs while married and both had children by someone else. I have never met my birth father (to my knowledge) only know his name, but understand that he was the father of my supposed half-brother (which would make him my only whole sibling out of seven siblings.)
Obviously my oldest "half-brother", who is 20 yrs older than me, is not actually related to me either.
I don't have for sure "proof" about my other siblings, but they all have strong resemblances to my "dad" and each other. Growing up people would comment about how much I looked like my mom but I also was told a lot that you would never know me and my other sisters were sisters, we used to laugh about it as kids because my sisters (all light haired/light skinned) and I (dark haired/deeper skin toned) were very different in appearance but we "knew" we were sisters.
I also found out that my apparently ONLY whole brother, approximately 9 yrs older than me, did not even know his real fathers name even though he knew our "dad" was not his birth father.
answer:
Who wondered why her mom hated her?


question:
I woke at dawn when Digger climbed over me to get out of bed, and I woke again an hour later when Pa called, "Everyone up who wants breakfast!" Across the room, Little Bit was dressing in a T-shirt and jeans that had been mine a year before. Ma had put a stack of clean clothes at the foot of the bed for me. I dressed without caring what I put on. The only important items were my cowboy boots and my Roy Rogers belt with two holsters for cap guns, even though I only had one cap gun left, and its trigger was broken.
When I used the toilet, I sat on the front edge of the seat, watching the water beneath me, and scooted off as soon as I was done. I had seen a cartoon in a book at Grandpa Abner's that showed a fish leaping out of a toilet bowl and a woman staring at it with big eyes. I thought that was funny and I knew it was impossible, but I didn't think there was any reason to take chances.
Ma called, "Little Bit has to use the bathroom."
I yelled, "I'm almost done."
Ma called, "Are you off the toilet?"
I yelled, "Yes!" Ma opened the door and brought Little Bit in. Squeezing toothpaste onto my toothbrush, I said, "I wasn't done yet."
Ma said, "Your father's making breakfast in the restaurant." That meant we should hurry, so I slid the brush over my teeth while Little Bit sat next to the sink, and then I ran out of the house.
Stepping into the sunlight was stepping into Florida. I didn't smell oranges -- Ma had explained that oranges grew further south -- but I smelled a humid pinelands that was not like the New Orleans suburb I had known.
answer:

Who needed to hurry in the bathroom?


