Reading competition in kindergarten on the theme: Autumn

Reading competition in kindergarten.
Scenario “Autumn time - the charm of the eyes” Purpose: To develop children’s ability to expressively read by heart. Objectives: to develop a poetic ear, the ability to understand the musicality of poetic speech; teach to feel and display poetic images; to cultivate an aesthetic taste for the poetic genre of fiction; consolidate knowledge about autumn. Equipment: Autumn leaves; pictures depicting a garden, vegetable garden, forest; dummies of mushrooms, vegetables, fruits, berries; three baskets. PROGRESS OF THE EVENT Readers come onto the stage, stand in a semicircle, the presenter reads a poem.
Autumn walks slowly outside the window.
Leaves fall rustling onto the path. Thin aspen trees look into the puddles. Raindrops hang like beads on the branches. Autumn paints groves and forests with gold, farewell bird voices are heard. Swans lazily splash in the pond. Quiet and beautiful in the forest in autumn. Host: Autumn! The colorful splendor of our native forests, the thoughtful silence of our steppes and fields, flocks of lovely birds leaving their native places - all these are signs of autumn. There is not a single poet, artist or composer who does not glorify this wonderful time of year. Let us also glorify our autumn. And our wonderful readers will help us with this, who prepared poems about autumn for this occasion: - Natalia Milovanova, preparatory group - Gleb Ivannikov, Egor Ivannikov, preparatory group - Artem Aralov, senior group - Ulyana Tyutina, senior group - Evgeniy Maksimenkov, middle group - Kirill Galtsev, middle group - Anastasia Gorkovenko, 2nd junior group - Denis Buzin, 1st junior group - Daniil Zubkov, mixed age group Natalia Milovanova will open our reading competition with the poem by E. Alyabyeva “What is autumn?” Natasha: What is autumn? Who do we ask? Autumn means clouds, puddles and rain, Slush, bad weather, Nature is waiting for winter, And you don’t expect warmth from the sun anymore. Autumn is a wonderful variety of leaves, Threads of cobwebs, Chrysanthemums in bloom. Autumn is the birds flying to the south, This is the fall of leaves, Smooth circling. Autumn with a harvest of vegetables and fruits, With warm clothes, A roof made of umbrellas, With withering grass, Hibernation of a bear, With a lot of supplies Among the dense forests. Autumn is a warm fur coat on a hare, There are no more insects, They hid. First snow and puddle, First ice on puddles. The nights are getting longer and the days are getting shorter. Host: Your applause for Natasha. Well, let's continue our holiday. The presenter draws attention to the floor.
Guys, look, the mischievous autumn has scattered colorful leaves around the hall.
He picks up one sheet.
These sheets of paper are not simple, each one has a task written on it that we must complete with you.
There are riddles written on this, let’s guess them: 1. Only the needles of the pine trees are green. He’s afraid to paint them…. (autumn)
2. Parade of flying leaves In the word autumn we call....
(leaf fall)
3. It is everywhere: in the field and in the garden, but it will not get into the house.
And I won't go anywhere while he goes. (rain)
4. The sun’s rays won’t break through because of the thick gray ones….
(clouds)
5. Two birch trees by the river Like in a fairy-tale picture!
Spiders stretched out between them... (cobwebs)
6. Miracle birds began to purr in the distance….
(cranes)
Many poems have been written about these beautiful birds.
Listen to what Poznansky wrote about cranes. I invite Zhenya Maksimenkov, who will read us the poem “Cranes” Zhenya: The cranes are flying, crowing, Sending the last: “Farewell.” They call summer to follow them, take them to the yellow land. I feel sorry for the colorful meadows and my cranes! Only I won’t bother, but in the spring I will meet them. Host: There are two autumns. One is joyful, bright, rich in harvest - early autumn. And the other is sad, with the quiet cry of fine rain, drooping, falling leaves. This period of the year is called late autumn. Here's another task we have to complete. What autumn months do you know? (September, October, November)
Try to guess which month these lines refer to.
This month, summer meets autumn, the forest dresses up with colors. (September)
This month is not easy!.. The autumn table is not empty.” The harvest was collected in the fields - Weddings were having fun.
(October)
This month is September’s grandson, October’s son, and winter’s father.
(November)
Poets describe different autumns in their works.
Listen to M. Yasnova’s poem “Sparrow” performed by Ulyana Tyutina. Ulyana: Autumn looked into the garden - the birds flew away. Yellow snowstorms rustle outside the window in the morning. Underfoot, the first ice crumbles and breaks. The sparrow in the garden sighs, but is embarrassed to sing. Under the birch, under the aspen, barely moving, like a brood of ducks, leaves are floating along the river. - Don’t forget, don’t forget to come back to us in the spring! And the mother trees stand and rustle anxiously, And look at the very, very yellow little leaves... Host: And this is how V. Avdienko describes autumn in his poem “Autumn Walks Along the Path.” I invite Daniil Zubkov to the stage. Daniel: Autumn is walking along the path, her feet are wet in the puddles. It's raining and there's no light. Summer has disappeared somewhere. Autumn is walking, Autumn is wandering. The wind threw off the glued leaves. Underfoot there is a new rug, Yellow-pink - Maple. Presenter: Autumn decorates the squares with colorful foliage. Autumn feeds the birds, animals and you and me with a harvest. And in the gardens, and in the vegetable garden, And in the forest, and by the water, nature has prepared all kinds of fruits. Here is the next task that autumn has in store for us. Look at how wonderful the autumn paintings are (exhibits three paintings depicting a garden, a vegetable garden, and a forest)
.
And here are the gifts of autumn that grew there (scatters vegetables, fruits, mushrooms, berries, tree fruits)
.
The presenter conducts the game “Gifts of Nature.”
The children are divided into 3 teams: “gardeners”, “gardeners”, “foresters”.
Each team is invited to collect “gifts of nature” into baskets, depending on the place in which they grew: in the garden, in the vegetable garden, or in the forest. Let's listen to what happened one autumn in the garden. I invite Gleb and Egor Ivannikov to the stage, who will perform for us A. Krylov’s fable “Methodius the Goat.” Gleb and Egor: - Who is walking in the garden there? - It’s me, the goat Methodius. - For what kind of business? — I help the guards. I protect the cabbage. I protect every leaf. - Why cabbage suddenly, and not radishes and onions? You forgot about them, it turns out? “I haven’t forgotten anything, But I don’t have enough strength for everyone.” I don’t know how to preserve onions, but radishes make me lose weight. And cabbage is good, And it needs guards, Because the most delicious, The most delicious cabbage leaf. And now I invite the youngest participant in the competition, Denis Buzin, to our stage. He will read us N. Lukonina’s poem “Maple Leaf” Denis: A maple leaf on your palm will slowly fall. This is golden autumn coming towards us along the path. Host: Guys, look at what a beautiful autumn bouquet of leaves I have. And the leaves in it are all different: some are yellow, others are red. But they differ not only in color, but also in shape. This one, for example, is small and round, but this one is all carved. Why do you think all the leaves are different? Of course, because they are from different trees. Please help me figure out what kind of leaves these are. Fallen leaves The conversation is barely audible: - We are maple leaves... (maple)
- We are oak leaves....
(oak)
- Leaves from rowan...
(rowan)
- Leaves from aspen....
(aspen)
- Leaves from a birch tree....
(birch)
All are different and very beautiful.
Presenter: The autumn leaves are beautiful, as if painted with gold and crimson paint. Listen to what a beautiful poem Kirill Galtsev prepared for us. poem “Leaves” by Shibytskaya. Kirill: Autumn holiday in the forest, and it’s light and cheerful. These are the decorations that autumn has hung here. Each golden leaf is a little sun. I will collect it in a basket and put it on the bottom. I take care of the leaves... autumn continues. My holiday does not end for a long time. Presenter: But how beautifully I. Mikhailova wrote about autumn leaves in her poem “Autumn with a long thin brush.” Anastasia Gorkovenko reads a poem. Nastya: Autumn repaints the leaves with a long thin brush. Red, yellow, gold, How beautiful you are, colored leaf! And the wind blew its thick cheeks, blew it, blew it, and blew, blew, blew on the motley trees! Red, yellow, gold! The entire colored sheet flew around. Host: Have you ever seen the unusually graceful dance of a falling leaf? Let's try to fulfill it with you, and at the same time we will complete one more task. The presenter invites dancers from each group to the stage. Participants dance to the music. Spectators choose the most original and beautiful dance composition. Host: Autumn is truly a magical time of year. To confirm my words, I invite Artem Aralov to the stage, who will read the poem “Even a cat has miracles.” Artem: Even a cat has miracles! Her eyes turned yellow overnight And now, until spring, she will have yellow dreams. But there is no secret at all. The whole white light is in yellow paint. And flowers and foliage. So, autumn has come to us again! Host: Our competition has come to an end. While the jury is summing up the results of the competition, I invite everyone to the autumn round dance. Children perform an Autumn round dance. The jury sums up the results of the competition and awards the participants.

We recommend watching:

Scenario for autumn fun in kindergarten. Middle-senior group Scenario of a reading competition for a kindergarten based on Pushkin's fairy tales Autumn phenomena in nature Autumn Festival in a mixed-age group of a kindergarten

Poems about autumn for elementary school

Autumn

Autumn. Our entire poor garden is crumbling, Yellowed leaves are flying in the wind; Only in the distance they show off, there, at the bottom of the valleys, the bright red brushes of withering rowan trees.

My heart is happy and sad, Silently I warm and squeeze your little hands, Looking into your eyes, I silently shed tears, I don’t know how to express how much I love you.

A. Tolstoy

The swallows disappeared, And yesterday the dawn All the rooks flew Yes, like a net, they flashed over that mountain.

In the evening everyone sleeps, It’s dark outside. The dry leaf falls, At night the wind gets angry and knocks on the window.

It would be better if there was snow and a blizzard, glad to meet you with your breasts! As if in fright, shouting, the Cranes fly to the south.

If you go out - it’s hard - at least cry! Look, tumbleweeds are jumping across the field like a ball.

A. Fet

Autumn

Autumn has come, the flowers have dried up, and the bare bushes look sad.

The grass in the meadows withers and turns yellow, Only the winter in the fields turns green.

A cloud covers the sky, the sun does not shine, the wind howls in the field, the rain drizzles...

The waters of the Fast Stream rustled, the birds flew away to warmer lands.

A. Pleshcheev

Leaf fall

The forest, like a painted tower, purple, golden, crimson, stands like a cheerful, motley wall above a bright clearing.

Birches with yellow carvings Shine in the blue azure, Like towers, fir trees darken, And between the maples they turn blue Here and there in the through foliage Clearances in the sky, like windows. The forest smells of oak and pine, Over the summer it has dried up from the sun, And Autumn, a quiet widow, Enters its motley mansion...

Ivan Bunin

Before the rain

A mournful wind drives a flock of clouds to the edge of heaven. The broken spruce groans, The dark forest whispers dully. On a stream, pockmarked and motley, A leaf flies behind a leaf, And in a stream, dry and sharp; It's getting cold. Twilight falls over everything, Having swooped in from all sides, A flock of jackdaws and crows are circling in the air, screaming...

N. Nekrasov

Uncompressed strip

Late fall. The rooks have flown away, the forest is bare, the fields are empty,

Only one strip is not compressed... It makes me sad.

It seems that the ears of corn are whispering to each other: “We are bored of listening to the autumn blizzard,

It's boring to bend down to the ground, bathing fat grains in dust!

Every night we are ravaged by the villages of every passing voracious bird,

The hare tramples us, and the storm beats us... Where is our plowman? what else is waiting?

Or are we worse born than others? Or did they bloom and spike unharmoniously?

No! We are no worse than others - and long ago the grain filled and ripened in us.

Didn’t he plow and sow for the same reason, so that the autumn wind would scatter us?..”

The wind brings them a sad answer: “Your plowman has no urine.”

He knew why he plowed and sowed, but he started the work beyond his strength.

The poor guy is feeling bad - he doesn’t eat or drink, the worm is sucking his aching heart,

The hands that made these furrows dried up into slivers and hung like whips.

The eyes dimmed and the voice disappeared, which sang a mournful song,

As if leaning on a plow with his hand, the Plowman walked thoughtfully in a stripe.

Nikolay Nekrasov

Autumn

The lingonberries are ripening, the days have become colder, and the bird's cry makes my heart sadder.

Flocks of birds fly away, beyond the blue sea. All the trees shine in a multi-colored dress.

The sun laughs less often, There is no incense in the flowers. Soon Autumn will wake up and cry awake.

Konstantin Balmont

The fields are compressed, the groves are bare. The fields are compressed, the groves are bare. There is fog and dampness from the water. The sun quietly rolled down like a wheel behind the blue mountains.

The dug-up road sleeps. Today she dreamed that there was very, very little time left to wait for the gray winter.

Oh, and I myself, in the ringing thicket, saw yesterday in the fog: The red moon as a foal Harnessed to our sleigh.

S. Yesenin

September

The rain is pouring down large peas, the wind is breaking, and the distance is unclean. The tousled poplar closes with the silvery underside of the leaf. But look: through the hole of the cloud, Like through an arch of stone slabs, Into this kingdom of fog and darkness The first ray, breaking through, flies. This means that the distance is not forever curtained by Clouds, and, therefore, it is not in vain that, like a girl, a nut, flaring up, Shined at the end of September. Now, painter, grab brush by brush, and on a canvas, golden like fire and garnet, draw this girl for me. Draw, like a tree, an unsteady young princess in a crown with a restlessly sliding smile on a tear-stained young face.

N. Zabolotsky

Autumn seamstress

So that the little earth can spend the winter without hassle, Autumn sews a patchwork blanket for her. Carefully sews the leaf to the leaf, adjusts the stitch with a pine needle. Leaves to choose from - any will come in handy. Here the purple one lies next to the crimson one. Although golden is very much to the seamstress’s taste, brown or even spotted will do. They are carefully held together by a thread of spider web. You won't find a more beautiful picture than this.

Tatiana Gusarova

Autumn

The leaves in the field have turned yellow, and are spinning and flying; Only in the forest do drooping spruce trees preserve the gloomy greenery. Under the overhanging rock, among the flowers, the Plowman sometimes does not like to rest from his midday labors. The brave beast, involuntarily, is in a hurry to hide somewhere. At night the moon is dim, and the field through the fog only shines silver.

M.Yu. Lermontov

Autumn

A golden leaf is already covering the wet ground in the forest... I boldly trample with my foot the beauty of the spring forest.

Cheeks burn from the cold; I love to run in the forest, hear the branches crack, rake the leaves with my feet!

I don’t have the same joys here! The forest has stripped itself of its secret: The last nut has been plucked, The last flower has been tied;

The moss is not raised, not blown up by a pile of curly milk mushrooms; There are no purple lingonberry clusters hanging near the stump;

For a long time on the leaves, the frost of the night lies, and through the forest the clarity of the transparent skies somehow looks coldly...

The leaves rustle underfoot; Death spreads its harvest... Only I am cheerful in soul And, like a madman, I sing!

I know, it was not for nothing that I picked early snowdrops among the mosses; Right down to the autumn flowers. Every flower I have seen.

What the soul told them, What they told it - I will remember, breathing with happiness, On winter nights and days!

The leaves rustle underfoot... Death lays down its harvest! Only I am cheerful at heart - And I sing like crazy!

Apollo Maykov

In the forest

Leaves swirl over the path. The forest is transparent and crimson... It’s good to wander with a basket along the edges and clearings!

We walk, and a golden rustle is heard under our feet. It smells like wet mushrooms, smells like forest freshness.

And behind the foggy haze, the river shines in the distance. Autumn spread yellow silks in the clearings.

Through the needles a cheerful ray penetrated into the thicket of the spruce forest. Good for wet trees Remove the elastic boletus!

On the hillocks, the beautiful Scarlet maples burst into flames... How many saffron milk caps, honey fungus We can collect in the grove in a day!

Autumn is walking through the forests. There is no more beautiful time than this... And in baskets we carry away generous gifts from the forest.

A. Balonsky

The golden foliage began to swirl. The golden foliage began to swirl in the pinkish water of the pond, like a light flock of butterflies. It flies breathlessly towards a star.

Today I am in love with this evening, The yellowing valley is close to my heart. The boy-wind, up to his shoulders, stripped his hem on the birch tree.

There is coolness both in the soul and in the valley, The blue twilight is like a flock of sheep, Behind the gate of a silent garden the bell will ring and die.

I have never before listened so thriftily to rational flesh, It would be nice, like willow branches, to capsize into the pink waters.

It would be nice, smiling at the haystack, to chew hay with the muzzle of the moon... Where are you, where are you, my quiet joy, loving everything, wishing for nothing?

S. Yesenin

Glorious Autumn

Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous Air invigorates tired forces; The fragile ice lies on the chilly river, like melting sugar;

Near the forest, as if in a soft bed, you can sleep well - peace and space! The leaves have not yet had time to fade; they lie yellow and fresh, like a carpet.

Glorious autumn! Frosty nights, Clear, quiet days... There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi, and moss swamps, and stumps -

Everything is fine under the moonlight, I recognize my native Rus' everywhere... I quickly fly along cast-iron rails, I think my thoughts...

N. Nekrasov

Quiet, warm, gentle autumn. Beautiful poems about autumn for a reading competition