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Write assignment on benefits of outdoor play
Write assignment on benefits of outdoor play
1. Analyse the benefits of outdoor play on children’s health
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The Dawn Of A New Beginning Many mornings during my childhood, my father would take me to watch the sunrise over the water. The place he took me was discovered several years prior and was the ideal place to watch the sunrise. It was comprised of a hill that was surrounded with only the purity of nature. The hill was encompassed by trees, and it slowly sloped down until the foot of the hill waded into the water’s edge. At the top of the hill stood a massive Wye Oak tree, that to a child eyes seemed as though it was a skyscraper. This tree was as wide as a house and was full of green leaves. It was strategically placed in the center of the hill, which also happened to be the optimum point to see the sunrise. On one side of this hill was a field of swaying flowers. The flowers formed a rainbow of color, like the ones that were in the field by the Emerald City in Wizard of Oz. On another side was a crystal blue lake whose top seemed to be like a sheet of ice. This place was the “ideal place” for the sunrise because no matter what was wrong in life, this tranquil area, which was like the Garden of Eden, was a means of escape. No matter, where someone stood on the hill the sun and nature was always gorgeous. One of my first visits to this place I remember very vividly. We got up early and my father drove us to the hill. We laid down our blanket under the tree and leaned up against its massive trunk. After waiting for what seemed to be an eternity (which was really only a matter of minutes) the sun began to peer over the trees almost like a child looking over the sofa to see if anyone has discovered them in a game of hide and seek. As the sun slowly rose over the trees, and with it my excitement level. It seemed like I was almost in tune with nature. My eyes followed the sun from the point when it was a red-orange ball, and was not even over the trees, to when it became whitish yellow ball in the middle of the sky. As the sun rose and I began to awaken a little more and I headed closer to the water’s edge.
Fitzgerald, F. Scott, and Matthew J. Bruccoli. The Great Gatsby. New York, NY: Scribner,1996. Print.
The essay "A Conflict of Interest" by Zera Neale Hurston; a segregation writer. Is an essay written in the point of view of an African American woman. In Washington, DC during 1942. The essay is about a Negro man that goes into a whites only barber shop demanding for someone to cut his hair. The barber shop consists of all black employees. Mr. Banks;the owner refuse to cut the Negro's hair. He says "I don't know how to cut your hair…I was trained on straight hair. Nobody in here knows how." (Hurston 1293) Referring to the fact that the Negros hair is curly, but really insinuating that he does not want to cut a black man's hair. Instead the Negro remains persistent on getting his hair cut in that particular barber shop. Eventually everyone, weary of the scene he was making, all came together. Black and whites worked together to throw the Negro out of the barber shop. Houston; a black woman also wanted the Negro to leave the shop because his presence creates a threat to her business. " He was one of us. Perhaps it would have been a beautiful thing if Banks had turned to the shop crowded with customers and announced that this man was going to be served like everyone else." (Hurston 1294) Hurston admits that a rebellion against the Jim Crow Laws wo...
My life so far has been like a good hiking path. A path that is winding and twisting and encompassed with plenty of beauty. A path that is lined with trees like angels protecting you from the mysteries in the deep forest and that keep you rooted on the path you are destine to take. One that is filled with deep troughs and the most beautiful peaks you could ever image. Sometimes the path is rocky and hurts the soles of your feet until they crack and bleed, but other times it’s covered with a soft green moss that lifts your steps and revives your spirits. Through the last 17 years of my life, I have traveled that path and endured every step. I have gone into the dark abyss of the trough and have found in it the most precious grace of light. As I have gotten older I have come to recognize that the scary and shaky steps of my path have indeed been “fearsome blessings” (Buechner, 92).
An impulse of affection and guardianship drew Niel up the poplar-bordered road in the early light [. . .] and on to the marsh. The sky was burning with the soft pink and silver of a cloudless summer dawn. The heavy, bowed grasses splashed him to the knees. All over the marsh, snow-on-the-mountain, globed with dew, made cool sheets of silver, and the swamp milk-weed spread its flat, raspberry-coloured clusters. There was an almost religious purity about the fresh morning air, the tender sky, the grass and flowers with the sheen of early dew upon them. There was in all living things something limpid and joyous-like the wet morning call of the birds, flying up through the unstained atmosphere. Out of the saffron east a thin, yellow, wine-like sunshine began to gild the fragrant meadows and the glistening tops of the grove. Neil wondered why he did not often come over like this, to see the day before men and their activities had spoiled it, while the morning star was still unsullied, like a gift handed down from the heroic ages.
Ultimately, Nick is an unreliable narrator who overlooks Gatsby’s lies because of his biased judgment of him. Nick portrays Gatsby as a generous and charismatic figure while in reality, he is a duplicative and obsessed man entangled in illegal business who is determined on an unattainable goal. It is highly ironic that Nick judges others for their lack of morality and honesty; his own character is plagued by lies as he abets Gatsby in many of his schemes.
A familiar sound, yet somehow different. Blinding rays of sun pound on any bare skin that it can find. Out of breath, yet every time a breath is taken it tastes somehow more fresh than those that were taken just hours ago. Water has never tasted as good as it does now. Not a single tree blocks my sight of the vast landscape surrounding. As far as the human eye can register are planes and smaller mountains that seem like nothing compared to Humphrey’s peak; appearing almost as if they could be devoured in a single bite if wanting a light snack. The mountains dissipate into the far land; the decreased visibility makes the far land around me seem like a ghostly
...ed through one’s own experiences. He carefully notes that he also could not understand the purpose in the first event of tree gazing until he discovered the green female. Furthermore, he explained that not only could he not disclose much of the events in the initiation, a six week long process, but also most involved so much intensity that it would be impossible to manifest his feelings in words.
Fitzgerald, F. Scott, and Matthew J. Bruccoli. The Great Gatsby. New York, NY: Scribner, 1996. Print.
In the Oral Roberts University (ORU) Prayer Garden, guests are reminded that God is the creator of the heavens and earth. Walking the path of the garden, one can see a blanket of blue and gold pansies that fill the air with a fragrant scent. After strolling through the gardens in bloom, a visitor can set on the lush green grass under the shade of the tall trees with limbs spread wide. The majestic trees point guest to the bright blue sky where white fluffy clouds float. The vast sky reminds guests of the endless universe that our great Creator designed. Once a visitor begins to pray, the symphony of the robins and blue jays echoes the song of praise in one’s own heart. The peace in the ORU Prayer Garden gives one a great opportunity to reflect
I am surrounded by the splendor of the nature. On a moderately sunny morning, birds are peeping while sitting on the gigantic mature tree in the park. The stream of water rising from the fountain is crafting a magical melody. The mesmerizing winds have imprisoned everyone’s attention. The bright colorful flowers are depicting the charms of their juvenile. Different pleasant sounds in the environment are contributing to the concerto of nature. Leaves rustling in the cool breeze are an amazing part of the environment. A young couple sitting on the bench beside the fountain is relishing the pleasant sight.
Closer and closer to the calm water, I began sinking deeper in the sand. It was comforting, the silence, tranquility, and warmth of the faint sun. There is a slight breeze, warm, but cold and lonely. I could smell the scent of fish blowing through my hair and body. The sun was still fading, slowly but surely the day was almost over. About half of it is gone now. I could see shades of blue, red, purple, and pinkish-yellow. They were mixed with puffy clouds that lined the beginning of the sky and the end of the water. I noticed the darker shades on the bottom of the lower clouds.
Over the years the topic has gone through various changes in the public school system. The first generation taught sexual anatomy and the risk of pregnancy, but soon was criticized for not showing knowledge of reducing risky sexual behavior, which soon lead to the second generation (Rodriguez, 1). The second generation approached sexual communication, values, and making personal decisions in one’s life; although students made smarter decisions in the areas taught, it failed to introduce teens to all contraceptives, therefore risky behavior was still being shown. Following the failure of the second generation the program of “abstinence only” began. The problem with this was it not only made students aware of the contraception available to the children, therefore encouraging risky behavior. The most current generation, the practice being taught in schools today, is known as “comprehensive sexuality education”; it not only encourages young adult...
The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.
Fortunately, I wake every morning to the most beautiful sun lit house. I sit on my porch sipping coffee, while I drink in an atmosphere that steals my breath away. Rolling hills lay before me that undulate until they crash into golden purple mountains. Oh how they are covered in spectacular fauna, ever blooming foliage, and trees that are heavy with pungent fruit. Green it is always so green here at my house. Here where the air lays heavy and cool on my skin as does the striking rays of the sun upon my cheeks. I know in my soul why I choose to be here every day. Pocketed in all the nooks and crannies of these valleys and hills are stately homes, rich with architecture resplendent. Diversity is the palate here; ...
I used to go there to be alone or to dream with my eyes open admiring the blue sky or the clouds. I liked to go there to lay down on the grass, listen to the wind, kiss the flowers and watch the leaves moving. It was hard to go up the hill to get there, but I wanted to see everyday my seven trees, to see how the color of the leaves changed and to feel the softness of the grass.