<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345</id><updated>2011-08-27T14:39:49.791+02:00</updated><category term='Leituras de sempre'/><category term='Educação para a cidadania: saber ser'/><category term='Dia Sagrado'/><category term='LER AJUDA A CRESCER'/><category term='recebido recentemente'/><category term='de Luísa Ducla Soares'/><category term='A IMPORTÂNCIA DO PROFESSOR.'/><category term='Páscoa Feliz'/><category term='Até parece mentira'/><category term='O Natal de 2009'/><category term='seu mal espanta'/><category term='Vejo melhor com os óculos que construí'/><category term='Atães'/><category term='tolerância'/><category term='LER MAIS na Biblioteca Escolar'/><category term='Concorre e ganha prémios'/><category term='Ler para crescer; escrever para Ser'/><category term='O filme que nos renova a capacidade de SONHAR'/><category term='Os motivos da escrita'/><category term='tradução de Vergílio Alberto Vieira'/><category term='Trabalho de articulação curricular com a BE CRE'/><category term='Excerto de um poema de Miguel Anxo Fernán'/><category term='in Uma Abada de Histórias'/><category term='A mulher é a própria poesia'/><category term='Os Livros são amigos de papel'/><category term='Eu adoro LER'/><category term='Gostamos de escrever...'/><category term='UM LIVRO UM AMIGO'/><category term='Halloween'/><category term='São Rosas Senhor'/><category term='Alunos da Profª Fátima Pimenta'/><category term='pode não acreditar'/><category term='Bela Páscoa'/><category term='Educadores de Infância'/><category term='No âmbito do PLN'/><category term='Para ler e ilustrar'/><category term='S. Cristóvão'/><category term='Educação para a cidadania'/><category term='Natureza Renascida'/><category term='provavelmente em Maio'/><category term='A Matemática da Língua'/><category term='Castanhas quentinhas nas mãos frias'/><category term='Valores: aceitação e solidariedade'/><category term='Os pequenos poetas'/><category term='as literacias'/><category term='Visão Júnior retratou'/><category term='VIVA PORTUGAL'/><category term='Rimos com o Circo do Riso'/><category term='em Maio'/><category term='O Papel do Professor - Bibliotecário'/><category term='Prémio Peter Pan'/><category term='Quem te viu e quem te vê'/><category term='sabe que nem tudo o que reluz...'/><category term='Um conceito de Natal'/><category term='A Leitura prolonga a vida'/><category term='Escrever é divertido'/><category term='LER dá saúde e faz CRESCER'/><category term='Projecto em forma de livro'/><category term='31 de Outubro'/><category term='A escritora dos mais jovens.  Sandra Pinto'/><category term='LER para SER'/><category term='Desenho e pintura de Eliana'/><category term='Leio porque gosto'/><category term='Quem canta'/><category term='saber estar.'/><category term='BE CRE Pico'/><category term='A poesia é a música da literatura.'/><category term='Na Biblioteca Escolar'/><category term='Poesia para crianças'/><category term='A profª bibliotecária Teresa Soares'/><category term='Na sala de aula.'/><category term='BE CRE - Atães'/><category term='A leitura abre caminhos'/><category term='BE CRE JI 1 CEB'/><category term='As Zebras inglesas andam na rua'/><category term='Era uma vez...'/><category term='Revisitem a Exposição dos Pinheiros de Natal'/><category term='1º ano'/><category term='pela IBBY'/><category term='in Oficina da Escrita'/><category term='a vida de Miley Cyrus'/><category term='Sá de Miranda morreu em 1558'/><category term='criando uma BD'/><title type='text'>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</title><subtitle type='html'>"Fruto da cultura é o livro e, como o fruto da árvore, também semente vem a ser." Enrique Banchs</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>82</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-7574577285263353635</id><published>2010-09-16T19:11:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T19:12:04.336+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='O Papel do Professor - Bibliotecário'/><title type='text'>ARTICULAR COM A BE</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="380" height="310"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gHsln1diNM8?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x006699&amp;amp;color2=0x54abd6"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed 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href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/7574577285263353635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/09/articular-com-be.html' title='ARTICULAR COM A BE'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-4560927315041276083</id><published>2010-09-16T19:07:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T19:08:46.967+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='A Leitura prolonga a vida'/><title type='text'>INCENTIVO À LEITURA</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="380" height="310"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" 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href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/09/incentivo-leitura_16.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4560927315041276083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4560927315041276083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/09/incentivo-leitura_16.html' title='INCENTIVO À LEITURA'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-1942010736029480522</id><published>2010-09-16T19:05:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T19:06:11.910+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='UM LIVRO UM AMIGO'/><title type='text'>VOU CONTINUAR A LER</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="380" height="238"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/x6D9jiEYxzs?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x006699&amp;amp;color2=0x54abd6"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/x6D9jiEYxzs?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x006699&amp;amp;color2=0x54abd6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="380" 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CONTINUAR A LER'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-2887397801061216841</id><published>2010-09-16T19:03:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T19:03:50.470+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A MAIOR FLOR DO MUNDO</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="380" height="238"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-KTL94Rl7CI?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0xe1600f&amp;amp;color2=0xfebd01"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-KTL94Rl7CI?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0xe1600f&amp;amp;color2=0xfebd01" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="380" height="238"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-2887397801061216841?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/2887397801061216841/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/09/maior-flor-do-mundo_16.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2887397801061216841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2887397801061216841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/09/maior-flor-do-mundo_16.html' title='A MAIOR FLOR DO MUNDO'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-8042298165773255632</id><published>2010-06-22T01:25:00.009+02:00</published><updated>2010-06-24T01:24:18.984+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='VIVA PORTUGAL'/><title type='text'>FORÇA, PORTUGAL!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TB_6cF-c1eI/AAAAAAAAAUY/M8G5w5BbQlE/s1600/100_2536.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485378231707948514" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TB_6cF-c1eI/AAAAAAAAAUY/M8G5w5BbQlE/s400/100_2536.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;OS MELHORES LEITORES da Biblioteca da Escola EB1 de Atães&lt;/span&gt;, exibindo os Diplomas e a Bola da Selecção Nacional, autografada por Eduardo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TB_51yj8hrI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/h69d_d0-8GM/s1600/x435%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 280px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485377573661476530" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TB_51yj8hrI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/h69d_d0-8GM/s400/x435%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Será o futebol&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;uma nova forma de arte?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TB_1IJaCJzI/AAAAAAAAAUI/gZiOVdf9_ZQ/s1600/100_2520.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485372391473424178" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TB_1IJaCJzI/AAAAAAAAAUI/gZiOVdf9_ZQ/s400/100_2520.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Os Melhores Leitores da Biblioteca da Escola JI/ 1CEB do Pico, S. Cristóvão&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; receberam, além de um Diploma, a bola da Selecção Nacional, autografada pelo número UM, o Eduardo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-8042298165773255632?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/8042298165773255632/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/06/forca-portugal.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8042298165773255632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8042298165773255632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/06/forca-portugal.html' title='FORÇA, PORTUGAL!'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TB_6cF-c1eI/AAAAAAAAAUY/M8G5w5BbQlE/s72-c/100_2536.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-5301511792010456968</id><published>2010-06-20T15:44:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2010-06-23T01:25:12.905+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BE CRE Pico'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='S. Cristóvão'/><title type='text'>ALICE NO PAÍS DAS MARAVILHAS, de LEWIS CARROLL</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HORA DO CONTO&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;EXPOSIÇÃO&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;RECONTO&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TB4csw0_hsI/AAAAAAAAAUA/nsCnJEGUDdE/s1600/100_2507.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484852951530833602" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TB4csw0_hsI/AAAAAAAAAUA/nsCnJEGUDdE/s400/100_2507.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TB4csbTGgcI/AAAAAAAAAT4/iQTy2r0CzJ8/s1600/100_2504.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484852945751540162" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TB4csbTGgcI/AAAAAAAAAT4/iQTy2r0CzJ8/s400/100_2504.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TB4crkmnSuI/AAAAAAAAATw/RKqBwVwsCoA/s1600/100_2506.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484852931069430498" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TB4crkmnSuI/AAAAAAAAATw/RKqBwVwsCoA/s400/100_2506.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TB4crIj9HGI/AAAAAAAAATo/coQB-kgnkKE/s1600/100_2511.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484852923542084706" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TB4crIj9HGI/AAAAAAAAATo/coQB-kgnkKE/s400/100_2511.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;HORA DO CONTO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“ Estiveste a escutar às portas…e por trás das árvores…e nas chaminés…senão não podias saber isto!”&lt;br /&gt;“Mas não fiz nada disso! – disse Alice muito delicadamente – Está num livro.” &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In Alice do Outro lado do Espelho, cap.VI&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Quem CONTA UM CONTO corta-lhe um ponto”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;À porta da biblioteca esperava pelas crianças o coelhinho branco do país da “Alice”, como podem ver na imagem. Este convidava as crianças a entrarem, a visitarem a exposição de vinte e quatro cartazes de D. Munoz, sobre o livro de Lewis Carroll, o matemático.&lt;br /&gt;No passo seguinte, as crianças sentavam-se para ouvirem contar, recontar e recontarem, de igual forma, através das ilustrações de um livro, a história mágica da “Alice no País das Maravilhas”.&lt;br /&gt;Para terminar, não com uma chave de ouro, mas com a terceira chave de ouro, se mo permitirem, nesta hora do conto que encerrou as actividades na BE CRE do Pico, S. Cristóvão, as crianças puderam assistir, em tamanho real, ao filme da “Alice (…)”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BE CRE JI e 1CEB, por Teresa Soares&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-5301511792010456968?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/5301511792010456968/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/06/alice-no-pais-das-maravilhas-de-lewis.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/5301511792010456968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/5301511792010456968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/06/alice-no-pais-das-maravilhas-de-lewis.html' title='ALICE NO PAÍS DAS MARAVILHAS, de LEWIS CARROLL'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TB4csw0_hsI/AAAAAAAAAUA/nsCnJEGUDdE/s72-c/100_2507.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-6413518821592538185</id><published>2010-06-18T01:44:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T01:48:06.193+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Leituras de sempre'/><title type='text'>A LEITURA LEVA-NO MAIS LONGE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TBqz7w16t7I/AAAAAAAAATg/BjZdH-tyWQI/s1600/100_2343.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483893335581702066" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TBqz7w16t7I/AAAAAAAAATg/BjZdH-tyWQI/s400/100_2343.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Enquanto lês, viajas!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-6413518821592538185?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/6413518821592538185/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/06/leitura-leva-no-mais-longe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6413518821592538185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6413518821592538185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/06/leitura-leva-no-mais-longe.html' title='A LEITURA LEVA-NO MAIS LONGE'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TBqz7w16t7I/AAAAAAAAATg/BjZdH-tyWQI/s72-c/100_2343.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-95934099521552725</id><published>2010-06-14T16:20:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T16:46:34.737+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu adoro LER'/><title type='text'>OS SEGREDOS DO MAR</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TBY9an2wODI/AAAAAAAAATY/fFufHaER7GI/s1600/250px-Spirit_43_-_Scrooge_-_Oncle_Picsou_-_Garrepa%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 185px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482637123954686002" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TBY9an2wODI/AAAAAAAAATY/fFufHaER7GI/s400/250px-Spirit_43_-_Scrooge_-_Oncle_Picsou_-_Garrepa%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;OS SEGREDOS DO MAR, com Walt Disney&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;Eu gostei muito de ler esta história. Aqui, o avô e os três patinhos foram ao fundo do mar. Lá, viram muitos e muitos peixes de diferentes espécies. Quando se sentiram cansados, ficaram em cima da água do mar. Também se divertiram muito a brincar no mar.Foram pescar, mas os peixes fugiam e escondiam-se nas ondas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Alexandre Gomes (2º ano) EB1 do Barral (7 anos) BE CRE&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-95934099521552725?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/95934099521552725/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/06/os-segredos-do-mar.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/95934099521552725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/95934099521552725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/06/os-segredos-do-mar.html' title='OS SEGREDOS DO MAR'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TBY9an2wODI/AAAAAAAAATY/fFufHaER7GI/s72-c/250px-Spirit_43_-_Scrooge_-_Oncle_Picsou_-_Garrepa%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-4097576977976155071</id><published>2010-06-10T13:11:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T13:26:22.633+02:00</updated><title type='text'>MUDAM-SE OS TEMPOS, MUDAM-SE AS VONTADES</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TBDJw5THkjI/AAAAAAAAASs/RUT7k30ueWo/s1600/images%5B1%5D+(2).jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 97px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 132px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481102588361806386" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TBDJw5THkjI/AAAAAAAAASs/RUT7k30ueWo/s400/images%5B1%5D+(2).jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Mudam-se os tempos, mudam-se as vontades,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Muda-se o ser, muda-se a confiança;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Todo o mundo é composto de mudança,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Tomando sempre novas qualidades.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Continuamente vemos novidades,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Diferentes em tudo da esperança;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Do mal ficam as mágoas na lembrança,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E do bem, se algum houve, as saudades.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O tempo cobre o chão de verde manto,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Que já coberto foi de neve fria,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E em mim converte em choro o doce canto.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E, afora este mudar-se cada dia,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Outra mudança faz de mor espanto:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Que não se muda já como soía. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Luís Vaz de Camões&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-4097576977976155071?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/4097576977976155071/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/06/mudam-se-os-tempos-mudam-se-as-vontades.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4097576977976155071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4097576977976155071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/06/mudam-se-os-tempos-mudam-se-as-vontades.html' title='MUDAM-SE OS TEMPOS, MUDAM-SE AS VONTADES'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TBDJw5THkjI/AAAAAAAAASs/RUT7k30ueWo/s72-c/images%5B1%5D+(2).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-3980079347810791413</id><published>2010-06-10T12:51:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T13:06:04.237+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='in Oficina da Escrita'/><title type='text'>DIA DE CAMÕES e DAS COMUNIDADES</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TBDG4YPii2I/AAAAAAAAASc/RsG68Ba-ppY/s1600/images%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 130px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 80px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481099418392496994" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TBDG4YPii2I/AAAAAAAAASc/RsG68Ba-ppY/s400/images%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DIA 10 DE JUNHO&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Portugal&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;meu país!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Portugal, meu país!&lt;br /&gt;País onde quero ser feliz!&lt;br /&gt;Portugal dos portugueses,&lt;br /&gt;Portugal dos nobres e dos burgueses.&lt;br /&gt;Portugal dos Pequeninos!&lt;br /&gt;Portugal dos Amores,&lt;br /&gt;De Pedro e Inês:&lt;br /&gt;Na Quinta das Lágrimas e das Flores!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Portugal em Coimbra,&lt;br /&gt;Coimbra dos doutores,&lt;br /&gt;Capas Pretas e Fados!&lt;br /&gt;Portugal dos Sabores…&lt;br /&gt;Ao sabor do Vento!&lt;br /&gt;Portugal do Sol – Poente:&lt;br /&gt;Portugal de muita Gente&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Portugal, é urgente,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Um país à beira-mar,&lt;br /&gt;Nós queremos flutuar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poema a quatro mãos (Anabela Afonseca, aluna do 4º ano, e profª Teresa Soares)&lt;br /&gt;BE/ CRE do Pico S. Cristóvão &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-3980079347810791413?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/3980079347810791413/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/06/dia-de-camoes-e-das-comunidades.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/3980079347810791413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/3980079347810791413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/06/dia-de-camoes-e-das-comunidades.html' title='DIA DE CAMÕES e DAS COMUNIDADES'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TBDG4YPii2I/AAAAAAAAASc/RsG68Ba-ppY/s72-c/images%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-6820868956552185009</id><published>2010-06-03T00:31:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T00:49:16.377+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Visão Júnior retratou'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='a vida de Miley Cyrus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='em Maio'/><title type='text'>Miley Cyrus  &amp; Hannah Montana!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ROCK IN RIO TROUXE &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;HANNAH MONTANA &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TAbcoyIzLcI/AAAAAAAAASU/NkubE9kyE8E/s1600/6491391_J3zzV%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478308589954346434" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TAbcoyIzLcI/AAAAAAAAASU/NkubE9kyE8E/s400/6491391_J3zzV%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;O tapete da Fama!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TAbconaM0WI/AAAAAAAAASM/uHl9vTy8pfY/s1600/6491399_mgo3O%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478308587074539874" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TAbconaM0WI/AAAAAAAAASM/uHl9vTy8pfY/s400/6491399_mgo3O%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TAbcoAzxGzI/AAAAAAAAASE/IW3-UrK7xEY/s1600/6491396_O44LC%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478308576712792882" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TAbcoAzxGzI/AAAAAAAAASE/IW3-UrK7xEY/s400/6491396_O44LC%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;O aventureiro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TAbcnymcxhI/AAAAAAAAAR8/PuRiWXw8nr0/s1600/6491393_VkyZz%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478308572898838034" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TAbcnymcxhI/AAAAAAAAAR8/PuRiWXw8nr0/s400/6491393_VkyZz%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#003300;"&gt;Miley Cyrus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Esteve numa sessão de autógrafos no Colombo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O encontro com os fãs foi um momento mágico. As músicas desta jovem artista compõem os sonhos dos mais novos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-6820868956552185009?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/6820868956552185009/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/06/miley-cyrus-hannah-montana.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6820868956552185009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6820868956552185009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/06/miley-cyrus-hannah-montana.html' title='Miley Cyrus  &amp; Hannah Montana!'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TAbcoyIzLcI/AAAAAAAAASU/NkubE9kyE8E/s72-c/6491391_J3zzV%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-4753896474645117166</id><published>2010-06-01T14:49:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T14:56:15.531+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Direitos da Criança,  Direitos Universais</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TAUDJ0rOaWI/AAAAAAAAAR0/rdXL-oHe7WQ/s1600/472905%5B1%5D%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477787989059725666" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TAUDJ0rOaWI/AAAAAAAAAR0/rdXL-oHe7WQ/s400/472905%5B1%5D%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DIA UM DE JUNHO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Este artigo é um esboço sobre direito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Em 20 de Novembro de 1959, a ONU fez a &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Declaração dos Direitos da Criança&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, com 10 artigos:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;1- A criança deve ter condições para se desenvolver física, mental, moral, espiritual e socialmente, com liberdade e dignidade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;2- Toda criança tem direito a um nome e a uma nacionalidade e, tanto quanto possível, o direito de conhecer os pais e de ser educada por eles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;3- A criança tem direito à alimentação,&lt;br /&gt;lazer, moradia e serviços médicos adequados.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;4- A criança deve crescer amparada pelos pais e sob sua responsabilidade, num ambiente de afecto e de segurança.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;5- A criança prejudicada física ou mentalmente deve receber tratamento, educação e cuidados especiais.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;6- A criança tem direito a educação gratuita e obrigatória, ao menos nas etapas elementares.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;7- A criança, em todas as circunstâncias, deve estar entre os primeiros a receber protecção e socorro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;8- A criança deve ser protegida contra toda forma de abandono e exploração. Não deverá trabalhar antes de uma idade adequada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;9- As crianças devem ser protegidas contra prática de discriminação racial,religiosa, ou de qualquer índole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;10- A criança deve ser educada num espírito de compreensão, tolerância, amizade, fraternidade e paz entre os povos. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Obtido em "http://pt.wikipedia.org&lt;br /&gt;Categorias: Direito internacional público Direitos da criança &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-4753896474645117166?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/4753896474645117166/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/06/direitos-da-crianca-um-direito.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4753896474645117166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4753896474645117166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/06/direitos-da-crianca-um-direito.html' title='Direitos da Criança,  Direitos Universais'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/TAUDJ0rOaWI/AAAAAAAAAR0/rdXL-oHe7WQ/s72-c/472905%5B1%5D%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-4899911657923684359</id><published>2010-05-27T23:16:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-05-28T00:07:55.491+02:00</updated><title type='text'>À PROCURA DE UM FUTURO PERDIDO...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S_7sOZar8-I/AAAAAAAAARM/Ij8lxdwJYw0/s1600/images%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 132px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 100px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476073929014244322" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S_7sOZar8-I/AAAAAAAAARM/Ij8lxdwJYw0/s400/images%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;CONCURSO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;CORRENTES D´ ESCRITA&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Há muitos, muitos anos atrás, num país distante, viviam três amigos: a Dona Agulha, o Senhor Tintas e o Senhor Notas.&lt;br /&gt;A dona Agulha, costureira distraída, picava-se frequentemente, nunca acertava nas medidas, o que fazia com que as senhoras lhe batessem à porta, diariamente. Ela não necessitava de colares valiosos, pois tinha sempre uma fita métrica ao pescoço (mas não a sabia utilizar!!). A sua roupa estava recheada de remendos porque, quando cortava as bainhas dos vestidos das clientes, sem querer, estragava a sua roupa. Para a escolha dos tecidos pedia os conselhos ao seu amigo pintor…&lt;br /&gt;O Senhor Tintas andava sempre de boina e de bata. Os seus bolsos estavam cheios de pincéis. Ele era tão desarrumado que quando pintava, tropeçava nos baldes de tinta, sujando as telas e deixando um rasto por toda a casa e por onde passava.&lt;br /&gt;O maestro, o Senhor Notas, vestia um fraque preto, uma gravata vermelha e usava óculos na ponta do nariz. Já tinha dirigido várias orquestras, mas foi sempre despedido porque adormecia a meio do espectáculo. Como ele era dorminhoco, o bombo estava sempre a seu lado para o acordar.&lt;br /&gt;Os defeitos dos três amigos eram tão graves que impediam que eles arranjassem emprego. Por essas razões, as senhoras recusavam os serviços da costureira; a nobreza não aceitava os retratos do pintor; todos os músicos se opunham à direcção do maestro.&lt;br /&gt;Um dia, os três companheiros reuniram-se, lamentando os seus problemas. Decidiram viajar pelo mundo fora para descobrir pessoas que os aceitassem com as suas imperfeições.&lt;br /&gt;Pelo caminho, pararam num território muito distante, chamado País das Meias Rotas. Este intitula-se assim, porque houve uma época em que sempre que as pessoas colocavam a sua roupa a secar, um animal desconhecido ia roer as meias, mas só as meias! Tal aconteceu durante algum tempo e como o país ainda não tinha nome, passou a chamar-se assim.&lt;br /&gt;Nesse país havia muitas florestas, algumas montanhas, rios e riachos. A sua principal riqueza era a madeira, devido à grande densidade de florestas. As pessoas eram simpáticas e calmas, mas tinham um ar triste e aborrecido, pois não encontravam solução para impedir que as suas meias fossem estragadas.&lt;br /&gt;Um dia, a Dona Agulha ouviu um dos habitantes a comentar o sucedido e procurou mais informações. Assim, dirigiu-se ao Rei dessa nação para lhe propor os seus serviços, pois considerava que poderia ser uma grande ajuda. Mas este, sabendo da sua fama, mostrou-se inquieto e pouco convencido. No entanto, o maestro e o pintor prometeram apoiar a colega realizando alguns trabalhos para o reino: o maestro entretinha o rei com uma música e o pintor aproveitou para pintar toda a fachada do palácio com meias coloridas para lhe provar que o seu problema não era assim tão grave.&lt;br /&gt;Sabendo do seu pouco jeito na costura, a Dona Agulha lembrou-se de ir directamente à questão do problema: descobrir esse animal desconhecido para não permitir que ele continuasse a roer as meias. Como o rei estava entretido com os seus amigos, ela teria algum tempo para resolver o assunto.&lt;br /&gt;Assim, a costureira encaminhou-se para a floresta e quando já estava a desistir, reparou na toca de um castor, junto ao rio com um monte de meias à entrada. Radiante, por ter descoberto o malandro, explicou-lhe a razão da sua vinda e pediu-lhe para deixar de fazer tantos estragos; em troca prometeu-lhe a oferta de todas as meias que os habitantes já não utilizavam. O castor, depois de reflectir durante algum tempo, considerou que era uma boa proposta, pois assim deixaria de ter de se esconder.&lt;br /&gt;Quando regressou ao palácio, a dona Agulha informou que o problema já estava resolvido e que estaria à disposição dos habitantes para coser todas a meias rotas. A população já estava tão cansada de coser, que passou a entregar todas as suas meias à então célebre costureira. Apesar de continuar a ser muito distraída, os habitantes não se chateavam, pois ela tinha conseguido afastar o castor.&lt;br /&gt;O Rei do País da Meias Rotas estava felicíssimo, pois a população estava alegre e o seu palácio nunca tinha sido tão belo. Assim, relatou as dificuldades que um país vizinho estava a passar e aconselhou os três amigos a conhecê-lo: era o País sem Cor.&lt;br /&gt;Na verdade, este país só tinha como cores: o branco e o preto, até as roupas das pessoas ou a natureza, não tinham cores. Os habitantes relataram aos três amigos, que uma tempestade, com trovões e muita chuva, tinha tirado toda a cor do país.&lt;br /&gt;O Senhor Tintas achou que poderia ajudar este reino que tinha um aspecto tão melancólico e que seria uma grande oportunidade para ele, desta vez, provar a todos que teria também qualidades.&lt;br /&gt;A primeira dificuldade do pintor foi arranjar tintas, pois não existiam naquele país. No entanto, tinha reparado num arco-íris que não deixava o horizonte do País Sem cor, desde a terrível tempestade. Assim, solicitou ao rei o uso de um balão quente que era utilizado em dias de festa, na altura em que todos eram felizes.&lt;br /&gt;Subiu até ao arco-íris e encheu todos os baldes possíveis, com as diversas cores. Aproveitando que estava nas alturas, despejou os baldes de tinta pelo céu e estas foram caindo sobre todo o território. Apesar do seu jeito tão desastrado, o pintor conseguiu devolver alegria a toda a população, enchendo o país de cor e de luz. Com isso, a natureza despertou, as flores voltaram a nascer e a encher o ambiente de vida.&lt;br /&gt;O rei ficou muito admirado e agradecido pelo Senhor Tintas ter conseguido fazer tal proeza. Como recompensa, ofereceu-lhe o cargo de ministro do novo reino que acabava de nascer: O País da Cor.&lt;br /&gt;Depois de tantos feitos realizados pela Dona Agulha e pelo Senhor Tintas, o maestro sentiu-se angustiado e começava a acreditar que realmente não tinha qualidades.&lt;br /&gt;Foi então, que o pintor que se tinha tornado famoso, numa viagem, teve conhecimento que o Rei do País da Música estava em risco de perder o seu poder, pois a os seus habitantes tocavam e cantavam de forma desordenada, provocando grandes discórdias.&lt;br /&gt;Quando o Senhor Notas soube desta história, resolveu logo viajar para esse país, para demonstrar a todos que também conseguiria vencer.&lt;br /&gt;Era um país muito animado, pois todas as pessoas falavam a cantar. Toda a população tocava diversos instrumentos. No entanto, como não tinham ninguém para os dirigir, o que deveria ser melodioso, tornava-se num ruído desafinado e insuportável que impedia qualquer um de adormecer. Até o nosso querido maestro, ao chegar, teve de dispensar o bombo pois já não corria o risco de dormir.&lt;br /&gt;Com tanto barulho, pegou na sua batuta e começou a orientar a população de forma a não tocarem ou cantarem todos ao mesmo tempo.&lt;br /&gt;De repente, os seus gestos fizeram o que ninguém já não acreditava: transformaram o barulho em melodias encantadoras.&lt;br /&gt;A partir desse dia, o Senhor Notas deixou de ter tempo para dormir, pois tinha de realizar concertos de hora em hora e por vezes até viajava para outros países.&lt;br /&gt;Apesar de todos os seus defeitos, os três companheiros conseguiram provar que tinham capacidades para auxiliar as pessoas.&lt;br /&gt;Por essa razão, explicavam a todos os povos que encontravam nas suas aventuras, que em vez de apontar os defeitos dos nossos próximos, devemos dar-lhes oportunidades de provar as suas capacidades, aproveitando todas as suas imperfeições.&lt;br /&gt;Os três amigos uniram as suas forças em busca de um futuro perdido…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Texto escrito pelos alunos do 4º Ano, de Oriz S. Miguel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-4899911657923684359?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/4899911657923684359/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/05/procura-de-um-futuro-perdido.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4899911657923684359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4899911657923684359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/05/procura-de-um-futuro-perdido.html' title='À PROCURA DE UM FUTURO PERDIDO...'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S_7sOZar8-I/AAAAAAAAARM/Ij8lxdwJYw0/s72-c/images%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-6527361729701710202</id><published>2010-05-18T02:35:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T00:45:55.870+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='provavelmente em Maio'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sá de Miranda morreu em 1558'/><title type='text'>Francisco de Sá de Miranda, o poeta cidadão!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S_HjVzVzk2I/AAAAAAAAARE/kuYkvJKCQ4I/s1600/mostra_imagem_anonima%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 267px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 350px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472404985930290018" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S_HjVzVzk2I/AAAAAAAAARE/kuYkvJKCQ4I/s400/mostra_imagem_anonima%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Teatro&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A Vida de Sá de Miranda&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a name="toneca1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt; - As Lições do Tonecas (Imitação)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor &lt;/strong&gt;– Silêncio!... Hoje vamos falar de um grande homem!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; – Sei, sim senhor. Quanto tem de altura?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; – Está a mangar comigo, Tonecas? Vamos falar de Francisco de Sá de Miranda. Ora preste atenção: este homem nasceu em Coimbra! Filho do cónego Gonçalo Mendes de Sá e de Dª Inês de Melo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas &lt;/strong&gt;– Perdão, perdão!... cónego deve estar mal pronunciado. Lá em casa, a minha mãe diz para o meu pai que o co-né-go da Sé podia ter sido meu padrinho!, para me ensinar Latim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor &lt;/strong&gt;– Mas o Tonecas estará a mangar comigo outra vez?! Menino, ouça, porque o professor, aqui, sou eu! Eu disse cónego, CÓNEGO!, que é uma espécie de sacerdote, um padre, entendeu, seu desalmado?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; – (Chora). Posso não ser bom aluno, mas sou bom católico, vou à missa ao domingo e ao sábado. E vou à catequese à hora de almoço.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; – (Irónico) À hora de almoço!... com que então é por isso que chega atrasado às aulas da tarde!...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; – É por isso mesmo, sr. professor. Acertou em cheio.&lt;br /&gt;(A parte ) Que bela desculpa que arranjei!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; – Prossigamos. Sá de Miranda, licenciou-se em Direito, pela Universidade de Lisboa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; – Muito obrigado, senhor professor, mas direito ando eu a frequentar todos os dias na catequese. A minha mãezinha até diz para o meu pai: "Ó Silvestre, o nosso Tonecas anda tão direito, que nem parece o mesmo!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor &lt;/strong&gt;– Não é isso! Não é nada disso! Sá de Miranda escolheu direito para exercer a profissão de advogado, ouviu, menino Tonecas?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas &lt;/strong&gt;– Esse Sá de Miranda… não tinha mais que fazer?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor &lt;/strong&gt;– Sim. Efectivamente tinha. Logo após a morte de seu pai, foi para Itália, onde conviveu com os mestres de uma nova corrente: a renascentista.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; – Ai, que bom! Eu gosto tanto de histórias! Mas essa é muito estranha. Há correntes de ar frio, há as correntes do Norte!... Eu nunca tinha ouvido falar na corrente renascentista!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor &lt;/strong&gt;– Ora preste atenção: a corrente renascentista quer dizer que se fez renascer, voltar a viver, aquilo que tinha sido tão importante para a humanidade: a valorização do homem e da natureza, numa visão empírica e científica!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas &lt;/strong&gt;– Apoiado, muito bem!... Boa resposta, sim, senhor!...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; – E agora prossigamos com a nossa lição!…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; – Ó senhor professor, não poderíamos ficar por aqui?...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; – Claro que não! Amanhã vamos realizar uma ficha de avaliação com este assunto. (Pequena pausa) Sá de Miranda regressou a Portugal em 1526 e trouxe consigo as novas técnicas de escrita, introduzindo em Portugal a corrente renascentista.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; – Outra vez “a corrente renascentista”! Senhor professor, não me fale mais em correntes que eu não sou nenhum cão!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; – Toneeecas!, não me ponha a rosnar!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; – Senhor professor, prossigamos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; – Das formas poéticas que trouxe e que mais sucesso fez foi o soneto: um poema de 14 versos, duas quadras e dois tercetos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; – (De braço no ar, a pedir a palavra, desata a falar sem autorização) Uma das quadras conheço: é a quadra natalícia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; – Não se trata dessa quadra, meu paralelepípedo!... AAAAh! Desculpe, Tonecas, mil perdões! Uma quadra é um conjunto de versos!...&lt;br /&gt;Eu hoje vou consigo à catequese e peço à catequista para me deixar explicar melhor este assunto das quadras.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; – Não é necessário, eu já percebi tudo! (A parte) Este quer desmascarar-me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; – O rei apreciava os escritos do poeta, pagava-lhe para animar os saraus poéticos da corte, mas Sá de Miranda, homem culto e íntegro, afastou-se para as terras do Minho, Vila Verde e, por fim, Amares, para se proteger da hipocrisia que reinava na corte, à volta do rei. Preferiu o amanho da terra, a música, a poesia e defender o povo desprotegido! Grande Homem, como o admiro! (Vagueia).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; – Eu acho que o senhor professor se enganou quando disse Minho: não seria Milho? Com esta crise, é mais importante o milho!...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor &lt;/strong&gt;– Nem só do pão vive o homem, menino Tonecas. A alma também precisa de alimento e esse há muito que está em crise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; – Senhor professor, que alimento é esse que me quer dar para a alma? (muito curioso!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; – A leitura, é a leitura que nos alimenta a alma, o nosso espírito…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; – AAAAAH! Agora percebo! (Chora) (E, por fim, lamenta-se:)“eu sou um desalmado". (volta a chorar)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; – Pronto, menino Tonecas, é tão novo… ainda está a tempo de a salvar!... De salvar a sua alma…&lt;br /&gt;(Faz-se um silêncio momentâneo)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; – (Alegrando-se) A esperança é a última a morrer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; – Este poeta, conhecido pelo poeta do Neiva, por ter vivido numa quinta oferecida pelo Rei, uma comenda, portanto, em Duas Igrejas, junto ao rio Neiva, em Vila Verde, foi muito admirado por todos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas &lt;/strong&gt;– Por mim, não foi! Exclua-me, senhor professor! Exclua-me dessa lista!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; – Tonecas, qual lista? Falta pouco para acabar a aula, esforce-se por estar finalmente atento. Sá de Miranda nasceu a 28 de Agosto de 1481.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; – Senhor professor, ele era casado? Tinha alguma filha?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; – Casou com Dª Briolanja de Azevedo, com quem teve dois filhos: Gonçalo e Jerónimo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; - Casou com Dª Laranja?! Senhor professor, essa senhora não seria de Amares, terra da boa laranja?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; – Tonecas, estou farto de si! A aula acaba por hoje! Desapareça!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; - Desculpe, senhor professor! Eu prometo que amanhã, durante a ficha de avaliação, se vier para a minha beira, vou-lhe dar ouvidos!&lt;br /&gt;Senhor professor, sabe o que me contaram à hora de almoço?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; - O que foi, Tonecas!...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas&lt;/strong&gt; - Contaram-me, na barbearia do Zé da Pipa, que Sá de Miranda depois da morte do seu filho Gonçalo, em Ceuta, nunca mais cortou a barba, nem o cabelo, nem as unhas! Será verdade?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; - Não acredite em tudo o que ouve, menino Tonecas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonecas &lt;/strong&gt;– Bem faço eu em não o ouvir a si, não acha?!&lt;br /&gt;(O Tonecas sai disparado da sala de aula e o professor, que o ameaça, fica a rir das palhaçadas do aluno).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Professor&lt;/strong&gt; – (Em forma de desabafo) Ai, Tonecas! Vou morrer santo só de o aturar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Escrito por Teresa Soares&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;(17 de Maio de 2010)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esta peça de teatro vai a palco a 19 de Maio de 2010, como trabalho de articulação entre a BE CRE e a sala de aula, neste caso, com o 4º ano da professora Ilda Neto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-6527361729701710202?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/6527361729701710202/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/05/francisco-de-sa-de-miranda.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6527361729701710202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6527361729701710202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/05/francisco-de-sa-de-miranda.html' title='Francisco de Sá de Miranda, o poeta cidadão!'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S_HjVzVzk2I/AAAAAAAAARE/kuYkvJKCQ4I/s72-c/mostra_imagem_anonima%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-2608955534078032532</id><published>2010-05-10T02:08:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T02:18:56.848+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BE CRE JI 1 CEB'/><title type='text'>O que é a Literacia?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S-dQq8SWQPI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/syqIQU7kghc/s1600/thefutureofbooks%255B1%255D%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 263px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469428971132567794" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S-dQq8SWQPI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/syqIQU7kghc/s400/thefutureofbooks%255B1%255D%5B2%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O que é a literacia!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Por literacia entendemos uma combinação de competências e de conhecimentos que torna o indivíduo capaz de dominar todo o tipo de mensagens, independentemente do suporte. "(…) ser capaz de ler não define a literacia no complexo mundo de hoje. O conceito de literacia inclui a literacia informática, a literacia do consumidor, a literacia da informação e a literacia visual… Por outras palavras, os adultos letrados devem ser capazes de obter e perceber a informação em diferentes suportes. Além do mais, compreender é a chave. Literacia significa ser capaz de perceber bem ideias novas para as usar quando necessárias. Literacia significa saber como aprender”.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;STRIPLING, Barbara K., ERIC,1992, in CTAP Information Literacy Guidelines K-12 &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-2608955534078032532?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/2608955534078032532/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/05/o-que-e-literacia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2608955534078032532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2608955534078032532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/05/o-que-e-literacia.html' title='O que é a Literacia?'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S-dQq8SWQPI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/syqIQU7kghc/s72-c/thefutureofbooks%255B1%255D%5B2%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-8708123824159207849</id><published>2010-05-01T23:11:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2010-05-01T23:20:08.669+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A TODAS AS MÃES!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.gifsrecados.com.br/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Gifs - Flash - Fotos e Videos Para seu Orkut" src="http://i241.photobucket.com/albums/ff103/videogospel/maes/mae_15.gif" width="350" height="231" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.gifsrecados.com.br/" target="_blank"&gt;Gifs, Flash e vídeos para seu Orkut = &lt;b&gt;www.GifsRecados.com.br&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-8708123824159207849?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/8708123824159207849/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/05/todas-as-maes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8708123824159207849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8708123824159207849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/05/todas-as-maes.html' title='A TODAS AS MÃES!'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i241.photobucket.com/albums/ff103/videogospel/maes/th_mae_15.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-7280608360519569652</id><published>2010-05-01T22:41:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2010-05-01T23:01:33.362+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='A poesia é a música da literatura.'/><title type='text'>Poema à Mãe!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.gifsrecados.com.br/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Gifs - Flash - Fotos e Videos Para seu Orkut" src="http://i47.photobucket.com/albums/f183/alexdale/portuguese/flor/22.gif" width="295" height="346" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.gifsrecados.com.br/" target="_blank"&gt;Gifs, Flash e vídeos para seu Orkut = &lt;b&gt;www.GifsRecados.com.br&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No mais fundo de ti,&lt;br /&gt;eu sei que traí, mãe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tudo porque já não sou&lt;br /&gt;o retrato adormecido&lt;br /&gt;no fundo dos teus olhos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tudo porque tu ignoras&lt;br /&gt;que há leitos onde o frio não se demora&lt;br /&gt;e noites rumorosas de águas matinais!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por isso, às vezes, as palavras que te digo&lt;br /&gt;são duras, mãe,&lt;br /&gt;e o nosso amor é infeliz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tudo porque perdi as rosas brancas&lt;br /&gt;que apertava junto ao coração&lt;br /&gt;no retrato da moldura!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se soubesses como ainda amo as rosas,&lt;br /&gt;talvez não enchesses as horas de pesadelos...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas tu esqueceste muita coisa!&lt;br /&gt;Esqueceste que as minhas pernas cresceram,&lt;br /&gt;que todo o meu corpo cresceu,&lt;br /&gt;e até o meu coração&lt;br /&gt;ficou enorme, mãe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olha - queres ouvir-me? -&lt;br /&gt;às vezes ainda sou o menino&lt;br /&gt;que adormeceu nos teus olhos;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ainda aperto contra o coração&lt;br /&gt;rosas tão brancas&lt;br /&gt;como as que tens na moldura;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ainda oiço a tua voz:&lt;br /&gt;"Era uma vez uma princesa&lt;br /&gt;no meio de um laranjal..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas - tu sabes! - a noite é enorme&lt;br /&gt;e todo o meu corpo cresceu...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu saí da moldura,&lt;br /&gt;dei às aves os meus olhos a beber.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não me esqueci de nada, mãe.&lt;br /&gt;Guardo a tua voz dentro de mim.&lt;br /&gt;E deixo-te as rosas...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eugénio de Andrade&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-7280608360519569652?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/7280608360519569652/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/05/poema-mae-de-eugenio-de-andrade.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/7280608360519569652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/7280608360519569652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/05/poema-mae-de-eugenio-de-andrade.html' title='Poema à Mãe!'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-6012145110763819221</id><published>2010-04-26T02:28:00.007+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T01:28:36.729+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sabe que nem tudo o que reluz...'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='São Rosas Senhor'/><title type='text'>A Aldeia das Flores, de António Mota</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9TmYXju1uI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/FESxbQNAcnI/s1600/images%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 116px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 102px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464245554222388962" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9TmYXju1uI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/FESxbQNAcnI/s400/images%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Um grupo de alunos do 4º ano de escolaridade da EB1 de Atães escreveu, após a leitura da obra supracitada, o primeira a ser publicada por Mota, uma carta ao Sr. Presidente da Câmara da Aldeia das Flores. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Uma carta cheia de indignação, mas, simultaneamente, cheia de esperança. Vejamos o que dizia:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Exmo. Sr. Presidente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;da Câmara da Aldeia das Flores&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Assunto: Rio da Aldeia das Flores Poluído!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Nós, um grupo de alunos do 4º ano de escolaridade da Escola EB1 de Atães, vimos, por este meio, solicitar, a Vª Exª, alguns minutos da vossa atenção para um problema que se arrasta desde algum tempo sem saída à vista.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Julgamos que o futuro da Aldeia das Flores está comprometido com a ameaça da nova fábrica que lança todo o tipo de esgotos, sem tratamento, para o leito do rio da Aldeia Florida, da nossa Aldeia tão amada. Como deve imaginar, no próximo Verão, não poderemos frequentar a praia fluvial, os pássaros vão abandonar esta terra, as árvores deixarão de florir, os frutos, que não deram flor, não regressarão às árvores de caules enfraquecidos, menos verdes, mais escuros, quase castanhos. O ar contaminado, pelos fumos dessa frábrica, farão com que se respire menos bem e com que crianças e idosos, sobretudo, adoeçam gravemente.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sr. Presidente, pelas razões que apontamos, estará o Sr. impressionado a ponto de fazer desde já alguma coisa capaz de desacelerar este processo?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Um presidente é um presidente e se não for capaz de nos ajudar, sozinhos, pouco ou nada faremos. Precisamos da sua ajuda!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sem outro assunto de momento, subscrevemo-nos com elevada estima e consideração.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Atães, 15 de Abril de 2010&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Os alunos,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Emanuel e Sara&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-6012145110763819221?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/6012145110763819221/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/aldeia-das-flores-de-antonio-mota.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6012145110763819221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6012145110763819221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/aldeia-das-flores-de-antonio-mota.html' title='A Aldeia das Flores, de António Mota'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9TmYXju1uI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/FESxbQNAcnI/s72-c/images%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-7459157603133471688</id><published>2010-04-25T13:11:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T22:55:08.410+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Na sala de aula.'/><title type='text'>LIBERDADE</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 147px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 127px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464181412526830402" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9SsC1H0M0I/AAAAAAAAAQs/USYV8cDwYus/s400/images%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;POEMA DA LIBERDADE&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Liberdade,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Que palavra gloriosa!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;É uma palavra respeitada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;e muito valiosa!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ser livre é algo bom;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;é algo inexplicável.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;É uma coisa única,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;e muito agradával.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Acordar e dizer:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Bom - dia" aos pássaros &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;a voar.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;É um sentimento &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que dá para impressionar.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O Cravo!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;é o seu símbolo.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Um cravo encarnado!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando o admiramos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ficamos enamorados!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sara Pereira, aluna do 4º ano de escolaridade, da profª Ilda Neto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-7459157603133471688?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/7459157603133471688/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/liberdade.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/7459157603133471688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/7459157603133471688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/liberdade.html' title='LIBERDADE'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9SsC1H0M0I/AAAAAAAAAQs/USYV8cDwYus/s72-c/images%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-5963533343744912184</id><published>2010-04-25T13:09:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T13:10:46.410+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='A IMPORTÂNCIA DO PROFESSOR.'/><title type='text'>O MENINO E O 25 DE ABRIL</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9QjJuD2WsI/AAAAAAAAAQc/bvlgzzOdWfY/s1600/Omeninoeo25deAbril%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 289px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464030897797225154" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9QjJuD2WsI/AAAAAAAAAQc/bvlgzzOdWfY/s400/Omeninoeo25deAbril%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-5963533343744912184?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/5963533343744912184/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/o-menino-e-o-25-de-abril_25.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/5963533343744912184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/5963533343744912184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/o-menino-e-o-25-de-abril_25.html' title='O MENINO E O 25 DE ABRIL'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9QjJuD2WsI/AAAAAAAAAQc/bvlgzzOdWfY/s72-c/Omeninoeo25deAbril%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-4823775102144722756</id><published>2010-04-25T13:04:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T13:06:20.447+02:00</updated><title type='text'>TODA A REVOLUÇÃO DEIXA UM RASTO VERMELHO</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9QiIcu-ZVI/AAAAAAAAAQM/uYBKytSGBqQ/s1600/25%2520de%2520Abril%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 293px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464029776454772050" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9QiIcu-ZVI/AAAAAAAAAQM/uYBKytSGBqQ/s400/25%2520de%2520Abril%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-4823775102144722756?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/4823775102144722756/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/toda-revolucao-deixa-um-rasto-vermelho.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4823775102144722756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4823775102144722756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/toda-revolucao-deixa-um-rasto-vermelho.html' title='TODA A REVOLUÇÃO DEIXA UM RASTO VERMELHO'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9QiIcu-ZVI/AAAAAAAAAQM/uYBKytSGBqQ/s72-c/25%2520de%2520Abril%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-2705921142158999670</id><published>2010-04-25T01:31:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T22:50:53.223+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Educação para a cidadania: saber ser'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='saber estar.'/><title type='text'>DIA 25 DE ABRIL, DIA  da LIBERDADE</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9Sq_r1w-TI/AAAAAAAAAQk/6hj6OGspNBs/s1600/25abril1974%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 284px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464180258983967026" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9Sq_r1w-TI/AAAAAAAAAQk/6hj6OGspNBs/s400/25abril1974%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jrcE-9qhbs8&amp;amp;feature=player_embedded"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jrcE-9qhbs8&amp;amp;feature=player_embedded&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Luís Cília canta a sua canção de 1964 e hino de resistência, «Canção Final, Canção de Sempre», com poema de Manuel Alegre. A gravação foi feita num restaurante de Paris, onde o autor, exilado, ganhava a vida cantando. Devido à proibição dos seus discos em Portugal, esta música foi editada no nosso país com a voz de Adriano Correia de Oliveira.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UM TESOURO...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Nos dias que teimam, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;florescem outras raivas,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Outras Birras,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Outras Falhas!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Fraquezas Humanas,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ódios antigos!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;-Removam os medos, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;soltem os demónios.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;-Coragem, amigos!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Salazar Morreu.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Qual D. sebastião,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;ou Jesus Cristo!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Salazar morreu!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Está enterrado &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;em campa rasa:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;deixem-no estar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a expiar seus erros,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;nesse degredo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;sem nome...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Conquistemos de novo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;liberdade&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;palavra tão cara,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;palavra saudade!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Teresa Soares)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-2705921142158999670?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/2705921142158999670/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/o-dia-25-de-abril-dia-liberdade.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2705921142158999670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2705921142158999670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/o-dia-25-de-abril-dia-liberdade.html' title='DIA 25 DE ABRIL, DIA  da LIBERDADE'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9Sq_r1w-TI/AAAAAAAAAQk/6hj6OGspNBs/s72-c/25abril1974%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-1770648800670253144</id><published>2010-04-25T01:16:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T01:30:51.414+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='No âmbito do PLN'/><title type='text'>OS PRIMOS E A BRUXA CARTUXA, de Isabel Alçada e Ana Mª Magalhães</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9N8DvaEH4I/AAAAAAAAAQE/KqMLXji9HTM/s1600/100_2256.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463847176637783938" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9N8DvaEH4I/AAAAAAAAAQE/KqMLXji9HTM/s400/100_2256.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Quando Os Primos, a Bruxa Cartuxa e a Águia socorreram a baleia amiga, presa no &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;iceberg. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Os alunos do 3º ano de escolaridade da profª Fátima Cação alteraram o final da história, substituindo a águia por um helicóptero, para removerem mais facilmente a baleia em perigo. Escreveram um texto que descrevia esta ilustração. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Este trabalho é de um menino de nome Joel Sebastião.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-1770648800670253144?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/1770648800670253144/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/os-primos-e-bruxa-cartuxa-de-isabel.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/1770648800670253144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/1770648800670253144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/os-primos-e-bruxa-cartuxa-de-isabel.html' title='OS PRIMOS E A BRUXA CARTUXA, de Isabel Alçada e Ana Mª Magalhães'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9N8DvaEH4I/AAAAAAAAAQE/KqMLXji9HTM/s72-c/100_2256.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-2708421881961785296</id><published>2010-04-21T14:54:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T01:31:31.937+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='A leitura abre caminhos'/><title type='text'>DIA 23 DE ABRIL - DIA MUNDIAL DO LIVRO E DO AUTOR</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9DnR0GWKII/AAAAAAAAAP8/WOZNhW6PIfI/s1600/PAA122000022%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 139px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 131px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463120641229465730" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9DnR0GWKII/AAAAAAAAAP8/WOZNhW6PIfI/s400/PAA122000022%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Nesta data celebra-se também o direito de autor. Um direito que é reconhecido pela Declaração Universal dos Direitos do Homem (artigo 27º) e pela Constituição da República Portuguesa (artigo 42º). O direito de autor funciona simultaneamente como garantia de defesa do património e dos valores culturais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O dia mundial do livro e do direito de autor é celebrado a 23 de Abril em 100 países. A data foi instituída pela Conferência Geral da &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.unesco.org/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;UNESCO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"&gt; para prestar tributo aos grandes autores da literatura mundial que nasceram ou morreram neste dia. É o caso de Cervantes, Shakespeare, Inca Garcilaso de la Vega e Vladimir Nabokov.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"&gt;A celebração procura também encorajar as pessoas, especialmente os mais jovens, &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;“a descobrir o prazer da leitura e a respeitar a obra insubstituível daqueles que contribuíram para o progresso social e cultural da Humanidade” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;(UNESCO).&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A ideia de celebrar este dia surgiu na Catalunha, onde é oferecida uma rosa a cada pessoa que compra um livro. Desde então o dia 23 de Abril tem sido comemorado de diversas formas um pouco por todo o mundo. Todos os anos o Comité da UNESCO nomeia a Capital Mundial do Livro.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-2708421881961785296?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/2708421881961785296/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/dia-23-de-abril-dia-mundial-do-livro-e.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2708421881961785296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2708421881961785296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/dia-23-de-abril-dia-mundial-do-livro-e.html' title='DIA 23 DE ABRIL - DIA MUNDIAL DO LIVRO E DO AUTOR'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S9DnR0GWKII/AAAAAAAAAP8/WOZNhW6PIfI/s72-c/PAA122000022%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-8815831848266738542</id><published>2010-04-21T14:35:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T02:21:20.673+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LER AJUDA A CRESCER'/><title type='text'>OS PARDAIS DAS ÁRVORES</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S87x2LGw-yI/AAAAAAAAAP0/PMOq7n_kGLY/s1600/h-82%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 179px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 100px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462569311043386146" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S87x2LGw-yI/AAAAAAAAAP0/PMOq7n_kGLY/s400/h-82%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Era uma vez uma fonte à beira da estrada. Os pardais das árvores vizinhas tinham ali o seu ponto de encontro. Matavam a sede, tomavam banho, chilreavam uns com os outros. De semana a semana, vinha um homem, sempre de automóvel, buscar água à fonte. Enchia uma quantidade de garrafões de plástico e, depois, abalava. Nessas alturas, a pardalada fugia para o poiso das árvores e ficava a observar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;— O que é que ele vai fazer com tanta água? — intrigava-se um pardalito novo. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;— Deve ir regar as couves — sugeria um pardal. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;— Para regar as couves é pouca — replicava uma velha pardoca, muito conhecedora da vida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;— Então é para ele beber — propunha outro pardal. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;— Para ele beber é muita — replicava a velha pardoca.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;— Para o que será? — perguntava o pardalito, sem que ninguém soubesse responder-lhe. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Decidiu investigar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Voou atrás do automóvel, mas como ainda tinha as asas com pouca força e a estrada era às curvas e contra-curvas, perdeu-lhe o rasto. E perdeu-se. Esvoaçou ao calhas, até descer sobre um telheiro, junto à estrada. No telheiro havia melões à venda e cebolas e batatas e garrafões de vinho. Alto lá! E também havia garrafões de água, tal e qual os que o homem do automóvel enchia, na fonte dos pardais. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Se o pardal soubesse ler, leria no rótulo dos garrafões: "ÁGUA DA FONTE DA SAÚDE – Graças a ela, os novos crescem e os velhos não encolhem". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Aos saltinhos, diante dos garrafões, o pardalito admirava a fotografia do rótulo. Lá estava a fonte, centro da sua vida, e uns passarinhos a beber água no rebordo do tanque. Vendo bem, aquele mais pequeno, à direita, podia ser ele, o pardalito aventureiro. Muito orgulhoso da sua descoberta, o pardal voou muito alto, tão alto que, lá de cima, viu o telheiro dos garrafões, a estrada às curvas e a fonte da Saúde ou dos pardais, donde ele viera. Disparou em direcção ao ponto de partida e muito excitado piou para os companheiros:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;— Já sei o segredo dos garrafões. O homem anda a vender o nosso retrato mais o retrato da nossa fonte. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;— E a água para que serve? — perguntou um companheiro. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;— Para segurar o nosso retrato — respondeu, prontamente, o pardalito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;António Torrado&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;www.historiadodia.pt &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-8815831848266738542?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/8815831848266738542/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/era-uma-vez-uma-fonte-beira-da-estrada.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8815831848266738542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8815831848266738542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/era-uma-vez-uma-fonte-beira-da-estrada.html' title='OS PARDAIS DAS ÁRVORES'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S87x2LGw-yI/AAAAAAAAAP0/PMOq7n_kGLY/s72-c/h-82%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-5760317205041183549</id><published>2010-04-20T02:35:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-20T02:44:14.295+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LER para SER'/><title type='text'>O Pão dos Outros</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Clube Contadores de Histórias &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;                                                         O pão dos outros &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 83px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 88px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462013700208136258" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8z4hXc5EEI/AAAAAAAAAPs/Yn3QaF2ht6E/s400/1209804402w59g47%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remi está a conversar com a avó.&lt;br /&gt;Gosta de a ouvir falar dos seus tempos de menina.&lt;br /&gt;– Na minha aldeia, na Provença, pelo Ano Novo, no primeiro dia de Janeiro, toda a gente oferecia uma prenda a toda a gente. Vê lá se és capaz de adivinhar o que seria.&lt;br /&gt;Remi lança palpites:&lt;br /&gt;– Comprar prendas para a aldeia inteira… É preciso muito dinheiro. Quer dizer que as pessoas eram ricas?&lt;br /&gt;A avó riu-se:&lt;br /&gt;– Oh, não! Naquele tempo, tinha-se muito pouco dinheiro e ninguém na aldeia comprava prendas. Nem sequer havia lojas como há hoje.&lt;br /&gt;– Então faziam as prendas?&lt;br /&gt;– Não propriamente!&lt;br /&gt;– Então como é que faziam?&lt;br /&gt;– Era muito simples. Ora ouve…&lt;br /&gt;Antigamente, cada família fazia o seu pão. Não havia água corrente nas casas. Então íamos buscá-la à fonte, no largo da aldeia.&lt;br /&gt;E, no dia um de Janeiro, de manhã muito cedo, a primeira pessoa que saía de casa, colocava um pão fresco no bordo da fonte, enquanto enchia a bilha de água. Quem chegava a seguir pegava no pão e punha outro no mesmo lugar para a pessoa seguinte, e assim por diante…&lt;br /&gt;Desta forma, em todas as casas, se comia um pão fresco oferecido por outra pessoa. Nem sempre se sabia por quem, mas garanto-te que o pão nos parecia muito bom porque era como se fosse um presente de amizade.&lt;br /&gt;As pessoas que estavam zangadas pensavam que talvez estivessem a comer o pão do seu inimigo e isso era uma espécie de reconciliação…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Durante alguns dias, esta história andou a martelar na cabeça de Remi.&lt;br /&gt;Uma manhã, teve uma ideia.&lt;br /&gt;Meteu no bolso uma fatia de pão de lavrador. É o pão que se come na casa de Remi.&lt;br /&gt;E na escola, um pouco antes do recreio, Remi pousou o pão bem à vista, em cima da carteira de Filipe, o seu vizinho.&lt;br /&gt;Filipe está sempre com fome e repete sem cessar a Remi:&lt;br /&gt;– Oh! Que fome, que fome eu tenho! Bem comia agora qualquer coisa!&lt;br /&gt;Quando Filipe viu a fatia de pão, que rica surpresa! Sabia muito bem quem lha tinha dado, mas fingiu que não sabia.&lt;br /&gt;No recreio, todo contente, comeu o pão sem dizer nada a Remi, mas…&lt;br /&gt;No dia seguinte, sabem o que é que Remi encontrou em cima da carteira, mesmo antes do recreio? … Um pedaço de cacete!&lt;br /&gt;Um grande pedaço bem estaladiço! Um verdadeiro regalo!&lt;br /&gt;Filipe ria-se.&lt;br /&gt;E assim continuaram a dar um ao outro presentes de pão.&lt;br /&gt;Na aula, a Carlota e a Sílvia estão sentadas logo atrás de Filipe e de Remi. Rapidamente souberam da história do pão e quiseram também participar nas surpresas.&lt;br /&gt;No dia seguinte, Sílvia levou uma fatia de cacetinhoe Carlota uma fatia de pão centeio.&lt;br /&gt;Outras crianças quiseram participar nas prendas de pão.&lt;br /&gt;Apareceu pão grosseiro, pão de noz, pão de sêmea, pão sem côdea, pão caseiro, pão fino, pão russo, negro e um pouco ácido, que Vladimir levou, pedaços de pão árabe, que a mãe de Ahmed cozera no forno, e ainda muitos outros tipos de pão.&lt;br /&gt;Desta forma, quase toda a turma se pôs a trocar pedaços de pão durante o recreio.&lt;br /&gt;A professora apercebeu-se das trocas e perguntou:&lt;br /&gt;– Mas o que é que vocês estão aí a fazer?&lt;br /&gt;Carlota e Remi contaram-lhe toda a história do pão dos outros.&lt;br /&gt;E logo após o recreio, o que é que estava em cima da secretária da professora? …um pedaço de pão!&lt;br /&gt;Toda a classe tinha os olhos postos na professora. Ela sorriu e comeu o pão.&lt;br /&gt;E, no domingo seguinte, quando Remi viu a avó, era ele que tinha uma história para lhe contar:&lt;br /&gt;– Sabes, avó? Olha, na minha turma…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Michèle Lochak&lt;br /&gt;Le pain des autres&lt;br /&gt;Paris, Flammarion, 1980 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-5760317205041183549?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/5760317205041183549/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/o-pao-dos-outros.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/5760317205041183549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/5760317205041183549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/o-pao-dos-outros.html' title='O Pão dos Outros'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8z4hXc5EEI/AAAAAAAAAPs/Yn3QaF2ht6E/s72-c/1209804402w59g47%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-4859402905640809996</id><published>2010-04-17T00:12:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-17T00:18:31.317+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Educação para a cidadania'/><title type='text'>Prenda-se à Vida!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZyjIM3-AeMc&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZyjIM3-AeMc&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;hl=en_US&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-4859402905640809996?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/4859402905640809996/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/prenda-se-vida.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4859402905640809996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4859402905640809996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/prenda-se-vida.html' title='Prenda-se à Vida!'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-755944090426335797</id><published>2010-04-12T12:18:00.007+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-15T22:51:55.541+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='A profª bibliotecária Teresa Soares'/><title type='text'>Conta-me uma História</title><content type='html'>A Fábula "O Leão e o Rato" a cargo do Tiago, Emanuel e Pedro; alunos de 4º ano, da profª Ilda Neto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8L96lPRfDI/AAAAAAAAAPk/vhn9Q-6AHa8/s1600/100_2260.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459204881196874802" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8L96lPRfDI/AAAAAAAAAPk/vhn9Q-6AHa8/s400/100_2260.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;A Fábula "O Rato do Campo e o Rato da Cidade"&lt;/em&gt;, a cargo destas três alunas: Andreia, Mariana e Raquel, do 3º ano, da profª Fátima Cação.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8L0UM6EB2I/AAAAAAAAAPc/ga-mBEmUKSI/s1600/100_2259.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459194326225782626" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8L0UM6EB2I/AAAAAAAAAPc/ga-mBEmUKSI/s400/100_2259.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Os alunos do 3º e 4º anos da EB1 de Atães, na Rádio Escola da Sede do Agrupamento, prepararam, em definitivo, as duas fábulas para o Concurso Nacional &lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Conta-me uma História".&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Este trabalho de articulação entre a BE CRE e a sala de aula teve o seu culminar na rádio escola, onde contámos com a colaboração do prof. Avelino de Educação Musical.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-755944090426335797?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/755944090426335797/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/conta-me-uma-historia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/755944090426335797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/755944090426335797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/conta-me-uma-historia.html' title='Conta-me uma História'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8L96lPRfDI/AAAAAAAAAPk/vhn9Q-6AHa8/s72-c/100_2260.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-7801770345333842893</id><published>2010-04-12T11:58:00.007+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-15T22:53:36.612+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trabalho de articulação curricular com a BE CRE'/><title type='text'>O Pinheirinho Aventureiro, de Renata Gil</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O Pinheirinho Aventureiro&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, inspirou um trabalho de dobragens: os alunos aprenderam a construir um pinheirinho e um passarinho de papel. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8Lwuf-QyII/AAAAAAAAAPM/iLbHipVaJx0/s1600/100_2245.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459190379973757058" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8Lwuf-QyII/AAAAAAAAAPM/iLbHipVaJx0/s400/100_2245.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt; Os alunos do 1º ano mostram os trabalhos que realizaram na fase final do estudo desta obra, que despertou neles um grande entusiasmo pela leitura, interpretação do texto linguístico e icónico.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8LwuEhxUmI/AAAAAAAAAPE/jFxYnAjgLUI/s1600/100_2244.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459190372606497378" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8LwuEhxUmI/AAAAAAAAAPE/jFxYnAjgLUI/s400/100_2244.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt; O Pinheirinho, modelo de imitação.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8Lwt6woNMI/AAAAAAAAAO8/6_rs501_4_0/s1600/100_2243.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459190369984459970" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8Lwt6woNMI/AAAAAAAAAO8/6_rs501_4_0/s400/100_2243.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt; O Pinheirinho da dobragem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;O Pinheirinho Aventureiro&lt;/em&gt;,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;de Renata Gil&lt;br /&gt;A história que as imagens sugeriram&lt;br /&gt;O Pinheirinho Voador (título atribuído pelos alunos)&lt;br /&gt;1º ano da Escola EB1 de Atães (PNL), alunos da &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;profª Patrícia Cunha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Era uma vez um pinheirinho muito pequenino que viajava para conhecer novos amigos e conhecer o planeta terra.&lt;br /&gt;Um passarinho, certo dia, foi conversar com o pinheirinho, seu amigo:&lt;br /&gt;- Pinheirinho, tu tens de conhecer o planeta terra!&lt;br /&gt;- Mas eu estou preso à terra!&lt;br /&gt;Entretanto, veio um vento forte e arrancou o pinheirinho. O passarinho foi, com ele, indicar-lhe os sítios mais belos da terra.&lt;br /&gt;Os peixinhos, quando viram o pinheirinho, pensaram: “Como é que aquele pinheirinho consegue voar?!”.&lt;br /&gt;Mais adiante, uma menina tenta apanhá-lo; corre, corre…mas, como não tem folhas, não consegue apanhá-lo!&lt;br /&gt;O passarinho e o pinheirinho, ao anoitecer, deitaram-se num telhado para descansar. O telhado era vermelhinho e quentinho.&lt;br /&gt;Durante a noite, o pinheirinho ouviu um barulho estranho, abriu os olhos e decidiu ir ver o que se passava num túnel perto daquele telhado onde estava. Do túnel saiu um comboio escuro.&lt;br /&gt;Continuaram viagem. Viram duas senhoras a tricotar cada uma o seu cachecol. Estas, ao verem o pinheirinho voar, acharam-no muito estranho!&lt;br /&gt;Eles, o pinheirinho e o passarinho, algum tempo depois, passaram por uma cidade bonita. Nessa cidade, havia um chafariz muito grande: eles foram lá matar a sede! À noite, houve uma festa numa aldeia e as pessoas começaram a olhar para o céu por causa do pinheirinho voador. Um pouco mais à frente, encontraram um campo de girassóis, onde se divertiram muito. Cansados, um foi para Norte e outro foi para Sul! O passarinho despediu-se do pinheirinho, pois tinha de ir alimentar os seus filhotes.&lt;br /&gt;O pinheirinho estava muito triste, tinha saudades da sua casa! Queria, finalmente, ficar preso à terra, onde nascera.&lt;br /&gt;O pinheirinho e o passarinho voltaram a encontrar-se e sentaram-se num telhado por baixo da lua grande e brilhante.&lt;br /&gt;Os meninos de uma escola colocaram-no no jardim dessa escola e, no Natal, decoraram-no com bolas, fitas e uma estrela.&lt;br /&gt;O passarinho ia sempre visitá-lo e contar-lhe, nessa altura, as histórias que conhecia quando viajava. &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Ensaio de criatividade) Março/ 2010&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-7801770345333842893?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/7801770345333842893/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/o-pinheirinho-aventureiro-de-renata-gil.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/7801770345333842893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/7801770345333842893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/o-pinheirinho-aventureiro-de-renata-gil.html' title='O Pinheirinho Aventureiro, de Renata Gil'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8Lwuf-QyII/AAAAAAAAAPM/iLbHipVaJx0/s72-c/100_2245.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-8728039718625961445</id><published>2010-04-12T11:09:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T11:57:16.107+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='A profª bibliotecária Teresa Soares'/><title type='text'>Entrega de prémios aos nossos melhores Contadores de Histórias</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Durante a &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;IX Feira do Livro e Semana da Leitura&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;/em&gt; decorreu o concurso "Pequenos Contadores de Histórias", cujos resultados ultrapassaram as expectativas. Apresentamos, aqui, aqueles que venceram o concurso, que muito agradou a toda a comunidade escolar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8Llb8y6QYI/AAAAAAAAAO0/BOCmgfTJrMA/s1600/2%C2%BAPer%C3%ADodo+09+10+272.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459177966665351554" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8Llb8y6QYI/AAAAAAAAAO0/BOCmgfTJrMA/s400/2%C2%BAPer%C3%ADodo+09+10+272.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; "Tenho em casa um gatinho", por Lucas Gonçalo de 5 anos (o menino que exibe os livros). Na sala de Emília Ribeiro, em Aboim da Nóbrega. Foi o único representante do Ensino Pré- escolar, contudo encantou o público e o júri. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;O Lucas ganha um diploma e uns livros e os meninos da sua sala também recebem um livro, para que sintam que é um prémio colectivo, com proveito para todos: &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;a partilha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; ( de um livro, de um prémio, de um amigo...). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8LlbVs7-3I/AAAAAAAAAOs/mMKIiZngY0E/s1600/100_2240.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459177956171316082" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8LlbVs7-3I/AAAAAAAAAOs/mMKIiZngY0E/s400/100_2240.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; "A Velha e o Garrafão", foi a história contada po Catarina Cação (aluna do 2º ano, da EB1 de Atães; aluna da profª Inês Veloso), que mereceu 0 1º lugar &lt;em&gt;exaequo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8LlbB8KbaI/AAAAAAAAAOk/XEO5RlgvSvg/s1600/100_2238.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459177950866468258" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8LlbB8KbaI/AAAAAAAAAOk/XEO5RlgvSvg/s400/100_2238.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"O Coelhinho Branco", foi a história contada por João Cardoso (aluno do 4º ano, da profª Adelaide Torres, da EB1 de Dossãos), que mereceu o 1º lugar &lt;em&gt;exaequo&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8Lla72x1hI/AAAAAAAAAOc/wjcfVRn5bLA/s1600/100_2239.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459177949233272338" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8Lla72x1hI/AAAAAAAAAOc/wjcfVRn5bLA/s400/100_2239.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"O Pedro e o Lobo", foi a história contada por Sara Pereira (aluna do 4º ano da Profª Ilda Neto, na EB1 de Atães), que mereceu 0 1º lugar &lt;em&gt;exaequo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-8728039718625961445?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/8728039718625961445/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/entrega-de-premios-aos-nossos-melhores.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8728039718625961445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8728039718625961445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/04/entrega-de-premios-aos-nossos-melhores.html' title='Entrega de prémios aos nossos melhores Contadores de Histórias'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S8Llb8y6QYI/AAAAAAAAAO0/BOCmgfTJrMA/s72-c/2%C2%BAPer%C3%ADodo+09+10+272.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-3571822920661904833</id><published>2010-03-23T00:55:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2010-03-23T01:11:30.999+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LER para SER'/><title type='text'>Os Livros</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 187px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 249px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451614005721335442" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S6gGDeeQhpI/AAAAAAAAAOU/H2U3T2pn-ZU/s400/arvoregrande2%5B1%5D.gif" /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;Fruto da cultura é o livro e, como o fruto da árvore, também semente vem a ser.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;Henrique Banchs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#330000;"&gt;Para mim, a felicidade está em grande parte ligada aos livros. Os livros lidos, os livros a reler, os livros que releio, os livros que descubro...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Leonardo Sciascia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-3571822920661904833?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/3571822920661904833/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/os-livros.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/3571822920661904833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/3571822920661904833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/os-livros.html' title='Os Livros'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S6gGDeeQhpI/AAAAAAAAAOU/H2U3T2pn-ZU/s72-c/arvoregrande2%5B1%5D.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-2291400123414972285</id><published>2010-03-21T13:04:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T13:05:54.107+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Natureza Renascida'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bela Páscoa'/><title type='text'>A Canção dos Coelhinhos Trabalhadores</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7wzJ8KycHb4&amp;color1=0x6699&amp;color2=0x54abd6&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7wzJ8KycHb4&amp;color1=0x6699&amp;color2=0x54abd6&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" 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href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/cancao-dos-coelhinhos-trabalhadores.html' title='A Canção dos Coelhinhos Trabalhadores'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-1827967981217057889</id><published>2010-03-21T13:02:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T13:03:06.568+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Páscoa Feliz'/><title type='text'>Os Coelhinhos de Páscoa</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wsqhFAxC1Dk&amp;color1=0x6699&amp;color2=0x54abd6&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wsqhFAxC1Dk&amp;color1=0x6699&amp;color2=0x54abd6&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="425" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-1827967981217057889?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/1827967981217057889/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/os-coelhinhos-de-pascoa.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/1827967981217057889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/1827967981217057889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/os-coelhinhos-de-pascoa.html' title='Os Coelhinhos de Páscoa'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-5169877057201281599</id><published>2010-03-21T12:57:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T13:00:14.204+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Educadores de Infância'/><title type='text'>Filmes Infantis de Páscoa</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/9h8iXM5H6I0&amp;color1=0xe1600f&amp;color2=0xfebd01&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/9h8iXM5H6I0&amp;color1=0xe1600f&amp;color2=0xfebd01&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="425" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-5169877057201281599?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/5169877057201281599/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/filmes-infantis-de-pascoa.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/5169877057201281599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/5169877057201281599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/filmes-infantis-de-pascoa.html' title='Filmes Infantis de Páscoa'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-4286216215527379020</id><published>2010-03-21T02:19:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T02:30:04.350+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tradução de Vergílio Alberto Vieira'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Excerto de um poema de Miguel Anxo Fernán'/><title type='text'>Dia Mundial da Árvore e da Poesia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S6V2CBGihlI/AAAAAAAAAOM/ujWcNDqff_s/s1600-h/soldati%5B1%5D%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 263px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450892701029533266" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S6V2CBGihlI/AAAAAAAAAOM/ujWcNDqff_s/s400/soldati%5B1%5D%5B2%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Ma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;rç&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;o Pr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;im&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;av&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;er&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;il&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Março ameno, fulgor verde,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lábio de fonte &lt;strong&gt;arvorecida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;pela força do ar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como um rio de espelhos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;irrompe o fluxo do dia,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a raiz oculta do tempo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Março, sabor a seiva,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;deleite de estrela fria!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nos lugarejos do norte,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;de sal é o vento e de argila.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aí a primeira fulguração&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;culpa o alvorecido pão,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o corpo &lt;strong&gt;arvorescente&lt;/strong&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;essa fragrância nova no sangue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;com que o sol macera o fruto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e estremece o coração.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Miguel Anxo Fernán &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#003300;"&gt;Completa o provérbio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#330033;"&gt;Março quente traz o ... no ventre.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-4286216215527379020?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/4286216215527379020/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/dia-mundial-da-arvore-e-da-poesia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4286216215527379020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4286216215527379020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/dia-mundial-da-arvore-e-da-poesia.html' title='Dia Mundial da Árvore e da Poesia'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S6V2CBGihlI/AAAAAAAAAOM/ujWcNDqff_s/s72-c/soldati%5B1%5D%5B2%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-191195019251880919</id><published>2010-03-19T02:45:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T02:53:00.943+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LER MAIS na Biblioteca Escolar'/><title type='text'>LER MAIS em CASA, em Família.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S6LYsuCw2YI/AAAAAAAAAOE/BE9rkQeLgPs/s1600-h/apaixonada-por-leitura-_-knbk-incubadora-fapesp-br1%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 301px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 384px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450156761857186178" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S6LYsuCw2YI/AAAAAAAAAOE/BE9rkQeLgPs/s400/apaixonada-por-leitura-_-knbk-incubadora-fapesp-br1%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;SETE &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;EXCELENTES &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;RAZÕES&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;PARA &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;LER &lt;/span&gt;ÀS &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;CRIANÇAS &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;1-Ouvir ler em voz alta, ler em conjunto, conversar sobre livros, desenvolve a inteligência e a imaginação.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2-Os livros enriquecem o vocabulário e a linguagem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3-As imagens, informações e ideias dos livros alargam o conhecimento do mundo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4-Quem tem o hábito de ler conhece-se melhor a si próprio e compreende melhor os outros.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5-Ler em conjunto é divertido, reforça o prazer do convívio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6-Os laços afectivos entre as crianças e os adultos que lhes lêem tornam-se mais fortes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7-A leitura torna as crianças mais calmas, ajuda-as a ganhar autoconfiança e poder de decisão. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-191195019251880919?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/191195019251880919/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/ler-mais-em-casa-em-familia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/191195019251880919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/191195019251880919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/ler-mais-em-casa-em-familia.html' title='LER MAIS em CASA, em Família.'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S6LYsuCw2YI/AAAAAAAAAOE/BE9rkQeLgPs/s72-c/apaixonada-por-leitura-_-knbk-incubadora-fapesp-br1%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-8570294473172750378</id><published>2010-03-17T21:59:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T22:14:21.466+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='As Zebras inglesas andam na rua'/><title type='text'>Como Nasceram as Zebras?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S6FEZbD1yCI/AAAAAAAAAN8/SELoRNIOceU/s1600-h/As+Zebras+de+Ant%C2%BA+Mota.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449712227646294050" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S6FEZbD1yCI/AAAAAAAAAN8/SELoRNIOceU/s400/As+Zebras+de+Ant%C2%BA+Mota.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;FOMOS NOTÍCIA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; EB1 de Dossãos&lt;/span&gt; foi notícia no passado Domingo, dia 14 de Março, na Revista &lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;TERRA DO NUNCA, do JORNAL DE NOTÍCIAS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Estamos todos de parabéns, pois fomos os vencedores desta semana do passatempo «O Pequeno Escritor», com a história &lt;em&gt;Como nasceram as zebras?&lt;/em&gt;, de António Mota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aplausos para todos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cecília Araújo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;www.escolinhadamalta.blogspot.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-8570294473172750378?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/8570294473172750378/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/como-nasceram-as-zebras.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8570294473172750378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8570294473172750378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/como-nasceram-as-zebras.html' title='Como Nasceram as Zebras?'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S6FEZbD1yCI/AAAAAAAAAN8/SELoRNIOceU/s72-c/As+Zebras+de+Ant%C2%BA+Mota.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-6511980595551567401</id><published>2010-03-07T20:54:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T01:52:24.777+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='A mulher é a própria poesia'/><title type='text'>Dia Internacional da Mulher</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S5QEsiENS8I/AAAAAAAAAN0/x28lp5wy7N0/s1600-h/Rosto+de+Mulher%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 226px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445983012502981570" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S5QEsiENS8I/AAAAAAAAAN0/x28lp5wy7N0/s400/Rosto+de+Mulher%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dia 8 de Março - Dia Internacional da Mulher &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.paixaoeromance.com/90decada/mulheres/h_mulheres1.htm"&gt;http://www.paixaoeromance.com/90decada/mulheres/h_mulheres1.htm&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-6511980595551567401?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/6511980595551567401/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/dia-internacional-da-mulher.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6511980595551567401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6511980595551567401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/dia-internacional-da-mulher.html' title='Dia Internacional da Mulher'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S5QEsiENS8I/AAAAAAAAAN0/x28lp5wy7N0/s72-c/Rosto+de+Mulher%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-4358296620403825843</id><published>2010-03-02T01:24:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T01:31:22.440+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='1º ano'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Atães'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Desenho e pintura de Eliana'/><title type='text'>Álvaro Magalhães</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S4xbMrwiSSI/AAAAAAAAANs/C6R4eVuHBEc/s1600-h/Eliana.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 366px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443826323046943010" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S4xbMrwiSSI/AAAAAAAAANs/C6R4eVuHBEc/s400/Eliana.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;O Bicho-carpinteiro que queria ser Bicho-enfermeiro!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A importância do ser, do querer ser, da aptidão pessoal.&lt;br /&gt;A 2ª parte da história permitiu explorar a importância da liberdade de escolha, o respeito pela personalidade de cada um de nós…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-4358296620403825843?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/4358296620403825843/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/alvaro-magalhaes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4358296620403825843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4358296620403825843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/alvaro-magalhaes.html' title='Álvaro Magalhães'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S4xbMrwiSSI/AAAAAAAAANs/C6R4eVuHBEc/s72-c/Eliana.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-3810188962660666207</id><published>2010-03-02T00:49:00.008+01:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T01:08:42.288+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Até parece mentira'/><title type='text'>Anedotário "Educativo"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;CROMO Nº 1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Num teste de Matemática)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Professora, como quer que eu lhe diga o perímetro deste quadrado se só me dá o valor de um dos lados? - perguntou o Tó.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;CROMO Nº 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;(No Dia Mundial da SIDA, durante uma sessão de esclarecimento)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Eu conheço, professora, uma palavra com SIDA! - afirmou o Chico.&lt;br /&gt;- Então qual é? - quis saber a professora.&lt;br /&gt;- É &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Cida&lt;/span&gt;dania!! - respondeu de imediato o Chico antes que alguém se lembrasse da mesma!&lt;br /&gt;Pobre Chico! Houve gargalhada geral! E eu estava lá, eu ouvi!...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-3810188962660666207?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/3810188962660666207/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/anedotario-educativo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/3810188962660666207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/3810188962660666207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/03/anedotario-educativo.html' title='Anedotário &quot;Educativo&quot;'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-7340349563903359926</id><published>2010-02-23T01:39:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T01:49:21.832+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Vejo melhor com os óculos que construí'/><title type='text'>UNS ÓCULOS PARA A RITA de Luísa Ducla Soares</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S4MlJWuvR2I/AAAAAAAAANc/s7XdIcLT1jY/s1600-h/08022010(003).jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441233617444357986" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S4MlJWuvR2I/AAAAAAAAANc/s7XdIcLT1jY/s400/08022010(003).jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S4MlJCfWd3I/AAAAAAAAANU/w2dW1Znh6ug/s1600-h/08022010(005).jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441233612011108210" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S4MlJCfWd3I/AAAAAAAAANU/w2dW1Znh6ug/s400/08022010(005).jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                    Coloridos e divertidos...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S4MlIoS_n-I/AAAAAAAAANM/RqdCwTOwNXw/s1600-h/08022010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441233604979957730" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S4MlIoS_n-I/AAAAAAAAANM/RqdCwTOwNXw/s400/08022010.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Lemos mais uma história da autora &lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Luísa Ducla Soares. "Uns óculos para a Rita"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; e outros para nós foi o resultado final da exploração desta linda história, que nos mostra que às vezes os nossos olhos precisam de uma ajuda para verem melhor as coisas. Construímos os nossos próprios óculos, tão coloridos, pareciam mesmo caixilhos para os nossos lindos olhos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Cecília Araújo&lt;br /&gt;www.escolinhadamalta.blogspot.com &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-7340349563903359926?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/7340349563903359926/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/uns-oculos-para-rita-de-luisa-ducla.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/7340349563903359926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/7340349563903359926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/uns-oculos-para-rita-de-luisa-ducla.html' title='UNS ÓCULOS PARA A RITA de Luísa Ducla Soares'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S4MlJWuvR2I/AAAAAAAAANc/s7XdIcLT1jY/s72-c/08022010(003).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-655722845290104165</id><published>2010-02-19T00:44:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T00:55:06.958+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Os Livros são amigos de papel'/><title type='text'>ROSA, MINHA IRMÃ ROSA, de ALICE VIEIRA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S33RgdgmVYI/AAAAAAAAANE/6L2RhJLhVsk/s1600-h/000432_RosaRosab%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 189px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439734280540804482" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S33RgdgmVYI/AAAAAAAAANE/6L2RhJLhVsk/s400/000432_RosaRosab%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;POR QUE RAZÃO DEVES LER ESTA HISTÓRIA?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rosa, minha irmã Rosa!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A obra “Rosa, minha irmã Rosa” narra a história de uma rapariga de dez anos, Mariana, e a sua irmã Rosa, que está prestes a nascer.&lt;br /&gt;Rosa nasce e a vida de Mariana muda, pois ela não está habituada à falta de atenção e carinho sobretudo por parte dos pais. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mariana tem ciúmes de Rosa, porque a atenção recai toda sobre esta.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mariana ainda pensa muito na avó Lídia, que morrera, pois era ela quem a ajudava a compreender a vida. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Achas que a vida de Mariana pode mudar? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Queres saber, não queres? Então lê o livro, pois vais gostar, tal como eu gostei.&lt;br /&gt;Alice Vieira é uma escritora muito actual. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Lê, com atenção, esta obra para perceberes o quanto vale a pena ser lida!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-655722845290104165?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/655722845290104165/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/rosa-minha-irma-rosa-de-alice-vieira.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/655722845290104165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/655722845290104165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/rosa-minha-irma-rosa-de-alice-vieira.html' title='ROSA, MINHA IRMÃ ROSA, de ALICE VIEIRA'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S33RgdgmVYI/AAAAAAAAANE/6L2RhJLhVsk/s72-c/000432_RosaRosab%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-7274175566370346326</id><published>2010-02-17T02:19:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T00:37:15.482+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Leio porque gosto'/><title type='text'>FEIRA DO LIVRO E SEMANA DA LEITURA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3tIycF3KYI/AAAAAAAAAM8/O4m-FB1DXrk/s1600-h/100_2132.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439021006351444354" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3tIycF3KYI/AAAAAAAAAM8/O4m-FB1DXrk/s400/100_2132.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; O Lucas, de 5 anos, encantou quando contou a sua história em verso!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3tIx0-ZoII/AAAAAAAAAM0/pT_AO8C2cBM/s1600-h/100_2082.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439020995851165826" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3tIx0-ZoII/AAAAAAAAAM0/pT_AO8C2cBM/s400/100_2082.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3tIxm1uPTI/AAAAAAAAAMs/wQ6V6l6RHW0/s1600-h/100_2089.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439020992056671538" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3tIxm1uPTI/AAAAAAAAAMs/wQ6V6l6RHW0/s400/100_2089.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;De 8 a 13 de Fevereiro, na Biblioteca da escola sede, a &lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Feira do Livro e Semana da Leitura&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; trouxeram os alunos dos Jardins de Infância e 1º Ciclo a mais uma visita à roda do livro e da leitura.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Não faltaram actividades: as dos contadores de histórias, o teatro, a poesia e as exposições.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Esta &lt;em&gt;Feira do Livro e Semana da Leitura &lt;/em&gt;contaram, ainda, com as &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ondas de Leitura&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;/em&gt; que sensibilizou a comunidade educativa para a importância de Ler. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Aqui, fica um dos textos lidos no 1º ciclo:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(pp.74,75) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"-A benção, Mamãe - Beijei a mão dela.&lt;br /&gt;Até na rua, mal iluminada, eu via que o rosto dela estava cansado.&lt;br /&gt;-Trabalhou muito hoje, Mamãe?&lt;br /&gt;-Muito, meu filho. Fazia um calor dentro do tear que ninguém aguentava.&lt;br /&gt;-Me dê a sacola; a senhora está cansada.&lt;br /&gt;(...)&lt;br /&gt;-Por que você me veio esperar?&lt;br /&gt;Ela estava adivinhando.&lt;br /&gt;-Mamãe, a senhora gosta pelo menos um bocadinho de mim?&lt;br /&gt;-Gosto de você como gosto dos outros. Porquê?&lt;br /&gt;-Mamãe, a senhora conhece o Nardinho? Aquele que é sobrinho da Pata Choca?&lt;br /&gt;Ela riu.&lt;br /&gt;-Me lembro.&lt;br /&gt;-Sabe, Mamãe. A mãe dele fez um terninho para ele, lindo. É verde com risquinha branca. Tem um coletinho que abotoa no pescoço. Mas ficou pequeno para ele. E ele não tem irmão pequeno para aproveitar. E ele disse que queria vender... A senhora compra?&lt;br /&gt;-Ih!meu filho! As coisas estão tão difíceis!&lt;br /&gt;-Mas ele vende de duas vezes. E não é caro. Não paga nem o feitio.&lt;br /&gt;(...)&lt;br /&gt;Ela guardava silêncio, fazendo contas.&lt;br /&gt;-Mamãe, eu estou sendo o aluno mais estudioso da minha aula. A professora diz que vou ganhar distinção... Compre, Mamãe. Eu não tenho uma roupinha nova faz muito tempo...&lt;br /&gt;Mas o silêncio dela chegava a angustiar.&lt;br /&gt;-Olhe, Mamãe, se não for esse, nunca vou ter minha roupa de poeta."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(Género: romance juvenil; extracto com pequenas adaptações)&lt;br /&gt;Obra de José Mauro de Vasconcelos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-7274175566370346326?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/7274175566370346326/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/feira-do-livro-e-semana-da-leitura.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/7274175566370346326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/7274175566370346326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/feira-do-livro-e-semana-da-leitura.html' title='FEIRA DO LIVRO E SEMANA DA LEITURA'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3tIycF3KYI/AAAAAAAAAM8/O4m-FB1DXrk/s72-c/100_2132.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-8687834360816031463</id><published>2010-02-17T01:59:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-02-17T02:16:27.782+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BE CRE - Atães'/><title type='text'>POEMAS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3tDRGasZuI/AAAAAAAAAMk/h1LUwHlHirI/s1600-h/images%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 113px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439014936039417570" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3tDRGasZuI/AAAAAAAAAMk/h1LUwHlHirI/s400/images%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mas porquê, Inverno?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Ó Inverno, por que és o sentimento&lt;br /&gt;em que a natureza se sente triste?&lt;br /&gt;Parece que foi atingida no coração, sem piedade!…&lt;br /&gt;Mas por que choras assim tanto e tanto… sem parar!&lt;br /&gt;Mas porquê?&lt;br /&gt;Será que tens uma chama que arde lá dentro?&lt;br /&gt;No coração que a faz sofrer!&lt;br /&gt;A Natureza, às vezes, tem tanta dor que as suas lágrimas congelam&lt;br /&gt;e transformam-se em neve branca&lt;br /&gt;como uma folha de papel ainda por pintar!&lt;br /&gt;Mas porquê?&lt;br /&gt;Por vezes até esconde&lt;br /&gt;as suas maravilhas debaixo da terra!&lt;br /&gt;Mas para quê tanta tristeza&lt;br /&gt;e o que fazer com ela?&lt;br /&gt;Pois até a mais bela das folhas&lt;br /&gt;Ela esconde, por ter medo que lhas estraguem!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sara Inês Martins Costa Pereira, 4º ano&lt;br /&gt;Escola EB1 de Portela do Vade – Atães&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Inverno&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Ó querido Inverno,&lt;br /&gt;dás-nos ventania.&lt;br /&gt;A chuva cai&lt;br /&gt;e a neve caía.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Querido Inverno,&lt;br /&gt;Sabes o que eu queria?&lt;br /&gt;Que caísse neve&lt;br /&gt;sem ventania.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ó querido Inverno,&lt;br /&gt;Sabes o que eu sentia?&lt;br /&gt;Que a neve&lt;br /&gt;mal caía.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ó Inverno, só nos fazes ventania.&lt;br /&gt;Isso é que eu não queria!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Daniela Filipa da Rocha Pais, 4º ano&lt;br /&gt;Escola EB1 de Portela do Vade – Atães&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A estação do Inverno!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inverno, és uma estação!&lt;br /&gt;E eu conheço-te&lt;br /&gt;como se estivesses&lt;br /&gt;na palma da minha mão.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inverno, não enchas de neve&lt;br /&gt;a minha região!&lt;br /&gt;Porque senão dou um trambolhão!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julieta e Romeu&lt;br /&gt;São como o vento&lt;br /&gt;e eu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inverno a nevar!&lt;br /&gt;Inverno a chuviscar!&lt;br /&gt;Inverno descansa em paz&lt;br /&gt;e, quando acordares,&lt;br /&gt;vais ter tudo o que sonhares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Luís Pedro Cação de Sousa, 4º ano&lt;br /&gt;Escola EB1 de Portela do Vade – Atães&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-8687834360816031463?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/8687834360816031463/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/poemas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8687834360816031463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8687834360816031463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/poemas.html' title='POEMAS'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3tDRGasZuI/AAAAAAAAAMk/h1LUwHlHirI/s72-c/images%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-2217696231170922314</id><published>2010-02-17T01:31:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2010-02-17T01:58:07.885+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='as literacias'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Na Biblioteca Escolar'/><title type='text'>CORAÇÕES E DECORAÇÕES</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;No Pico, S. Cristóvão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3s8E0uHa8I/AAAAAAAAAMc/GF2R71KhVAw/s1600-h/100_2068.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439007028549217218" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3s8E0uHa8I/AAAAAAAAAMc/GF2R71KhVAw/s400/100_2068.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Os alunos, na Oficina de Escrita, produziram textos alusivos ao &lt;em&gt;amor:&lt;/em&gt; amor aos livros, à escola, aos pais... motivos não faltaram para se pronunciarem por escrito. Foram corrigidos e transcritos para corações em cartolina vermelha, que dependurámos, decorando uma haste colocada num vaso com esse fim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;O objectivo foi único: aprenderem a escrever; o resultado, esse, ultrapassou as expectativas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-2217696231170922314?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/2217696231170922314/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/coracoes-e-decoracoes_17.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2217696231170922314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2217696231170922314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/coracoes-e-decoracoes_17.html' title='CORAÇÕES E DECORAÇÕES'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3s8E0uHa8I/AAAAAAAAAMc/GF2R71KhVAw/s72-c/100_2068.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-458457834403033684</id><published>2010-02-16T04:01:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T04:17:00.169+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quem te viu e quem te vê'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pode não acreditar'/><title type='text'>A BIBLIOTECA DA EB1 DE ATÃES</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oNDn8ZPOI/AAAAAAAAALs/tUW4HfG6cQg/s1600-h/100_2039.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438673855916358882" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oNDn8ZPOI/AAAAAAAAALs/tUW4HfG6cQg/s400/100_2039.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oNDWof0oI/AAAAAAAAALk/B26f0i7ZexM/s1600-h/100_2044.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438673851269501570" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oNDWof0oI/AAAAAAAAALk/B26f0i7ZexM/s400/100_2044.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oNDIWBphI/AAAAAAAAALc/gvOoLR6k6ic/s1600-h/100_2045.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438673847433930258" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oNDIWBphI/AAAAAAAAALc/gvOoLR6k6ic/s400/100_2045.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oNCvSBv6I/AAAAAAAAALU/7ArVGNgsuCw/s1600-h/100_2038.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438673840706273186" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oNCvSBv6I/AAAAAAAAALU/7ArVGNgsuCw/s400/100_2038.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Turma do 1º ano, no cantinho da leitura da sala de aula, com a profª Patrícia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-458457834403033684?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/458457834403033684/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/458457834403033684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/458457834403033684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post.html' title='A BIBLIOTECA DA EB1 DE ATÃES'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oNDn8ZPOI/AAAAAAAAALs/tUW4HfG6cQg/s72-c/100_2039.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-2382826866492814031</id><published>2010-02-16T03:34:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2010-02-17T00:59:08.677+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LER para SER'/><title type='text'>OS MELHORES LEITORES</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;QUANDO LER DÁ PRÉMIOS...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#660000;"&gt;em Atães&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oGZDUxgGI/AAAAAAAAALM/Of1xiYQHnQc/s1600-h/100_2055.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438666527462228066" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oGZDUxgGI/AAAAAAAAALM/Of1xiYQHnQc/s400/100_2055.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt; Emanuel&lt;/strong&gt;, 4º ano, e &lt;strong&gt;profª Ilda Neto.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oGYyPZO_I/AAAAAAAAALE/W6AwMHp9W60/s1600-h/100_2051.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438666522876263410" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oGYyPZO_I/AAAAAAAAALE/W6AwMHp9W60/s400/100_2051.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Profª Patrícia&lt;/strong&gt; e as alunas (1º ano) &lt;strong&gt;Eliana&lt;/strong&gt; (à sua esquerda, a melhor ilustradora de histórias) e &lt;strong&gt;Mariana Fernandes&lt;/strong&gt; (à sua direita, a melhor leitora).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oGYYsA3iI/AAAAAAAAAK8/-NyQg2xctw4/s1600-h/100_2053.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438666516016979490" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oGYYsA3iI/AAAAAAAAAK8/-NyQg2xctw4/s400/100_2053.jpg" /&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A profª Fátima Cação&lt;/strong&gt; e os seus alunos (3º ano); entre eles a melhor leitora, &lt;strong&gt;Andreia Rodrigues.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oGYHQefDI/AAAAAAAAAK0/7CKhq7-jUYk/s1600-h/100_2052.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438666511338077234" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oGYHQefDI/AAAAAAAAAK0/7CKhq7-jUYk/s400/100_2052.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; O melhor leitor do 2º ano, &lt;strong&gt;Daniel Cação&lt;/strong&gt;, aluno da profª &lt;strong&gt;Inês Veloso.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;color:#660000;"&gt;No Pico, S. Cristóvão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oGXpZOGXI/AAAAAAAAAKs/Wrea4jSoU44/s1600-h/100_2037.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438666503321688434" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oGXpZOGXI/AAAAAAAAAKs/Wrea4jSoU44/s400/100_2037.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; (Da esquerda para a direita)&lt;strong&gt;Francisco, Ricardo, Catarina e Joel&lt;/strong&gt; receberam um diploma e um livro na Biblioteca Escolar à semelhança dos seus colegas de Atães. &lt;p align="justify"&gt;A alegria vê-se nos rostos. A atribuição destes prémios visa &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;incentivar a leitura domiciliária e autónoma.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRÉMIOS ATRIBUÍDO NAS BEs DO 1º CICLO &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-2382826866492814031?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/2382826866492814031/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/os-melhores-leitores.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2382826866492814031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2382826866492814031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/os-melhores-leitores.html' title='OS MELHORES LEITORES'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3oGZDUxgGI/AAAAAAAAALM/Of1xiYQHnQc/s72-c/100_2055.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-8760406065718766884</id><published>2010-02-16T01:54:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T02:07:08.025+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poesia para crianças'/><title type='text'>AS FADAS DE ANTERO DE QUENTAL</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3nvpDxyNiI/AAAAAAAAAKk/iOYYWhFoXfU/s1600-h/displa11%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438641513694377506" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3nvpDxyNiI/AAAAAAAAAKk/iOYYWhFoXfU/s400/displa11%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;AS FADAS ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;São muito desconfiadas:&lt;br /&gt;Quem as vê não há-de rir&lt;br /&gt;Querem elas que as respeitem&lt;br /&gt;E não gostam que as espreitem&lt;br /&gt;Nem se lhes há-de mentir&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem as ofende... cautela!&lt;br /&gt;A mais risonha, a mais bela&lt;br /&gt;Torna-se logo tão má&lt;br /&gt;Tão cruel, tão vingativa&lt;br /&gt;É inimiga agressiva&lt;br /&gt;É serpente que ali está&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E têm vinganças terríveis&lt;br /&gt;Semeiam coisas horríveis&lt;br /&gt;Que nascem logo do chão&lt;br /&gt;Línguas de fogo, que estalam&lt;br /&gt;Sapos com asas, que falam...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quantas vezes já deitado&lt;br /&gt;Mas sem sono, inda acordado&lt;br /&gt;Me ponho a considerar&lt;br /&gt;Que condão eu pediria&lt;br /&gt;Se uma fada, um belo dia&lt;br /&gt;Me quisesse a mim fadar&lt;br /&gt;O que eu seria?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As fadas... creia nelas!&lt;br /&gt;Umas são moças e belas,&lt;br /&gt;Outras, velhas de pasmar...&lt;br /&gt;Umas vivem nos rochedos,&lt;br /&gt;Outras, pelos arvoredos...&lt;br /&gt;Riem e cantam à beira mar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Algumas em fonte fria&lt;br /&gt;Escondem-se enquanto é dia&lt;br /&gt;Saem só ao escurecer&lt;br /&gt;Outras, debaixo da terra&lt;br /&gt;Nas grutas verdes da serra&lt;br /&gt;É onde se vão esconder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O vestir... são tais riquezas&lt;br /&gt;Que rainhas nem princesas&lt;br /&gt;Nenhuma assim se vestiu&lt;br /&gt;Porque as riquezas das fadas&lt;br /&gt;São sabidas e celebradas&lt;br /&gt;Por toda a gente que as viu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando a noite é clara e amena&lt;br /&gt;E a lua vai mais serena&lt;br /&gt;Qualquer um... as pode espreitar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-8760406065718766884?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/8760406065718766884/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/as-fadas-de-antero-de-quental.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8760406065718766884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8760406065718766884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/as-fadas-de-antero-de-quental.html' title='AS FADAS DE ANTERO DE QUENTAL'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S3nvpDxyNiI/AAAAAAAAAKk/iOYYWhFoXfU/s72-c/displa11%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-4467993665340643450</id><published>2010-02-08T01:20:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T22:41:01.203+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Valores: aceitação e solidariedade'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tolerância'/><title type='text'>A PSICOLOGIA DA FÁBULA " A PRINCESA E O SAPO"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S29cMRJpxtI/AAAAAAAAAKc/umCCvbgExOI/s1600-h/aprincesaeosapo_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 223px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435664641091552978" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S29cMRJpxtI/AAAAAAAAAKc/umCCvbgExOI/s400/aprincesaeosapo_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt; mensagem que é transmitida salienta a necessidade de aceitarmos as várias formas com que as relações podem surgir nas nossas vidas. Pretende levar as crianças a aceitar as diferenças, a procurar a empatia e a valorizar os afectos, num crescimento harmonioso, coeso, com identidade sólida capaz de aceitar os outros, adequando expectativas e preparando-se para a vida adulta, que terá de ser mais responsável, com limites e regras.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-4467993665340643450?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/4467993665340643450/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/psicologia-da-fabula-princesa-e-o-sapo.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4467993665340643450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4467993665340643450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/psicologia-da-fabula-princesa-e-o-sapo.html' title='A PSICOLOGIA DA FÁBULA &quot; A PRINCESA E O SAPO&quot;'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S29cMRJpxtI/AAAAAAAAAKc/umCCvbgExOI/s72-c/aprincesaeosapo_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-5848834875356475342</id><published>2010-02-01T00:19:00.019+01:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T02:22:00.456+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Para ler e ilustrar'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='criando uma BD'/><title type='text'>A PRINCESA E O SAPO</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S2YZwjl5BAI/AAAAAAAAAKU/VddCaBcZxms/s1600-h/Liliana.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 498px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433058322447664130" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S2YZwjl5BAI/AAAAAAAAAKU/VddCaBcZxms/s400/Liliana.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; Ilustração feita pela Eliana Pereira.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S2YYrGH0DjI/AAAAAAAAAKM/BIDPOXZvoyc/s1600-h/Marco.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 318px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433057129125908018" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S2YYrGH0DjI/AAAAAAAAAKM/BIDPOXZvoyc/s400/Marco.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; Ilustração feita pelo Marco Silva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 626px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 252px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433052489515608994" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S2YUdCOhK6I/AAAAAAAAAKE/0-j8tmHG4MQ/s400/%C3%89rica.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ilustração feita pela Érica Fernandes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Alunos da profª Patrícia (1º ano/ Atães)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A PRINCESA E O SAPO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Há muito tempo, quando os desejos funcionavam, vivia um rei que tinha filhas muito belas. A mais jovem era tão bela que o sol, que já viu muito, ficava atónito sempre que iluminava o seu rosto.&lt;br /&gt;Perto do castelo do rei, existia um bosque grande e escuro, no qual havia um lago sob uma velha árvore.&lt;br /&gt;Quando o dia era quente, a princesinha ia ao bosque e sentava-se junto à fonte. Quando se aborrecia, pegava na sua bola de ouro para jogar. Essa bola era o seu brinquedo favorito. Porém, aconteceu que, uma das vezes que a princesa jogou à bola, esta caiu directa na água.&lt;br /&gt;A princesa viu como ela ia desaparecendo no lago, que era profundo, tanto que não se via o fundo. Então começou a chorar cada vez mais e não se consolava; de tanto se lamentar alguém ouviu e disse-lhe:&lt;br /&gt;- Que te aflige, princesa? Choras tanto que até as pedras sentiriam pena!&lt;br /&gt;Olhou o lugar de onde vinha a voz e viu um sapo a colocar a sua enorme e feia cabeça fora da água.&lt;br /&gt;- Ah! és tu, sapo - disse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;- Estou a chorar porque a minha bola de ouro caiu no lago.&lt;br /&gt;- Calma, não chores - disse o sapo - posso ajudar-te; contudo, que me darás se te devolver a bola?&lt;br /&gt;- O que quiseres, querido sapo - disse ela - as minhas roupas, as minhas pérolas, as minhas jóias, a coroa de ouro que levo.&lt;br /&gt;O sapo retorquiu:&lt;br /&gt;- Não me interessam as tuas roupas, as tuas pérolas nem as tuas jóias, nem a tua coroa. Mas prometes deixar-me ser o teu companheiro e brincar contigo, sentar ao teu lado na mesa, comer em teu pratinho de ouro, beber de teu copinho de prata e dormir na tua cama? Se me prometeres isto, eu descerei e trarei a tua bola de ouro!&lt;br /&gt;- Oh! Sim- repondeu ela – prometo-te tudo o que quiseres se me devolveres a minha bola.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Entretanto pensou “Fala como um tolo. Tudo o que faz é sentar-se na água com outros sapos a coaxar. Não pode ser companheiro de um ser humano!”.&lt;br /&gt;O sapo, uma vez confirmada a promessa, meteu a cabeça na água e mergulhou. Pouco depois, voltou nadando com a bola na boca, lançando-a na grama. A princesinha estava encantada de ver o seu precioso brinquedo outra vez! Colheu-a e saiu a correr com a bola.&lt;br /&gt;- Espera, espera - disse o sapo - leva-me contigo. Não posso correr tanto como tu!&lt;br /&gt;De nada serviu coaxar atrás dela tão forte quanto pôde. Ela não o escutou e correu para casa, esquecendo o pobre sapo, que se viu obrigado a voltar ao lago outra vez.&lt;br /&gt;No dia seguinte, quando ela sentou à mesa com o rei e toda a corte, estava comendo no seu pratinho de ouro e algo veio se arrastando:&lt;br /&gt;“ splash, splish splash” - pela escada de mármore.&lt;br /&gt;Quando chegou ao alto, chamou à porta e gritou:&lt;br /&gt;- Princesa, jovem e bela princesa, abre a porta.&lt;br /&gt;Ela correu para ver quem estava lá fora. Quando abriu a porta, o sapo sentou-se diante dela e a princesa bateu a porta. Com pressa, tornou a sentar, mas estava muito assustada. O rei deu-se conta de que o seu coração batia violentamente e disse:&lt;br /&gt;- Minha filha, por que estás tão assustada? Há algum gigante aí fora que te quer levar?&lt;br /&gt;- Ah! Não - respondeu ela - não é um gigante, senão um sapo.&lt;br /&gt;- O que quer o sapo de ti?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Contos, fábulas e historinhas: O Príncipe Sapo&lt;br /&gt;- Ah! querido pai, estava a jogar no bosque, junto ao lago, quando a minha bola de ouro caiu na água. Como gritei muito, o sapo devolveu-ma e, porque insistiu muito, prometi-lhe que seria meu companheiro; porém nunca pensei que ele seria capaz de sair da água.&lt;br /&gt;Entretanto o sapo chamou à porta outra vez e gritou:&lt;br /&gt;- Princesa, jovem princesa, abre a porta. Não te lembras do que me disseste junto ao lago?&lt;br /&gt;Então o rei acrescentou:&lt;br /&gt;- Aquilo que prometeste, deves cumprir. Deixa-o entrar.&lt;br /&gt;Ela abriu a porta, o sapo saltou e seguiu-a até à sua cadeira. Sentou-se e gritou:&lt;br /&gt;- Sobe-me contigo.&lt;br /&gt;Ela ignorou-o, até que o rei lhe ordenou que o levasse. Uma vez que o sapo estava na cadeira, quis sentar na mesa. Quando subiu, disse:&lt;br /&gt;- Aproxima o teu pratinho de ouro, porque devemos comer juntos!&lt;br /&gt;Ela fê-lo, porém via-se que não era de boa vontade. O sapo aproveitou para comer, enquanto ela enjoava a cada bocado. Em seguida, disse o sapo:&lt;br /&gt;- Comi e estou satisfeito, mas estou cansado. Leva-me para o teu quarto, prepara tua caminha de seda para dormirmos juntos.&lt;br /&gt;A princesa começou a chorar porque não gostava da ideia de que o sapo ia dormir na sua preciosa e limpa caminha. O rei aborreceu-se e repreendeu a princesa, sua filha:&lt;br /&gt;- Não devias desprezar àquele que te ajudou quando tinhas problemas.&lt;br /&gt;Assim, ela pegou no sapo com dois dedos e levou-o para cima, mas deixou-o num canto. Quando estava na cama, o sapo arrastou-se até ela e informou-a:&lt;br /&gt;- Estou cansado, eu também quero dormir, sobe-me senão conto ao teu pai.&lt;br /&gt;A princesa ficou, então, muito aborrecida.&lt;br /&gt;- Cale-se, bicho odioso - vociferou ela.&lt;br /&gt;- Quero um beijo de boa noite – pediu-lhe o sapo.&lt;br /&gt;Ela beijou-o e ele transformou-se num príncipe de preciosos olhos. Por desejo de seu pai, ele passou a seu companheiro e marido. Ele contou como havia sido encantado por uma bruxa malvada e que ninguém poderia livrá-lo do feitiço excepto ela. Também disse que no dia seguinte iriam todos juntos ao seu reino. Foram dormir e, na manhã seguinte, quando o sol os despertou, chegou uma carruagem puxada por 8 cavalos brancos com plumas de avestruz na cabeça. Estavam enfeitados com correntes de ouro. Atrás estava o jovem escudeiro do rei, Henrique. Henrique havia sido tão desgraçado quando seu senhor foi convertido em sapo que colocou três faixas de ferro rodeando o seu coração, para se acaso estalasse de pesar e tristeza.&lt;br /&gt;A carruagem ia levar o jovem rei ao seu reino. Henrique ajudou-os a entrar e subiu atrás de novo, cheio de alegria pela libertação e, quando já chegavam a fazer uma parte do caminho, o filho do rei escutou um ruído atrás de si como se algo tivesse quebrado. Assim, deu a volta e gritou:&lt;br /&gt;- Henrique, o carro está a romper-se.&lt;br /&gt;- Não, meu amo, não é o carro. É uma faixa no meu coração; coloquei-a por causa da minha grande dor quando eras sapo e prisioneiro do feitiço.&lt;br /&gt;Duas vezes mais, enquanto estavam no caminho, algo fez ruído e cada vez mais o filho do rei pensou que o carro estava a romper. No entanto, eram apenas as faixas que estavam a desprender-se do coração de Henrique, porque o seu senhor estava livre e era feliz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(Fábula)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-5848834875356475342?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/5848834875356475342/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/em-ataes-ilustracoes-de-uma-fabula.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/5848834875356475342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/5848834875356475342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/02/em-ataes-ilustracoes-de-uma-fabula.html' title='A PRINCESA E O SAPO'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S2YZwjl5BAI/AAAAAAAAAKU/VddCaBcZxms/s72-c/Liliana.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-3586081019307976658</id><published>2010-01-21T01:44:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T01:52:04.076+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Os pequenos poetas'/><title type='text'>QUADRAS DE NATAL</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1elIkM3hMI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/d40QnhIV5T8/s1600-h/presepio%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 100px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 63px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428989442393605314" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1elIkM3hMI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/d40QnhIV5T8/s400/presepio%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Vêm aí as prendinhas.&lt;br /&gt;Alegram-se as crianças.&lt;br /&gt;Nasceu o Menino Jesus,&lt;br /&gt;Que nos enche de esperanças.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Diogo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;No Natal, juntamo-nos em família&lt;br /&gt;À volta de uma grande mesa.&lt;br /&gt;Brindamos com alegria&lt;br /&gt;Toda a noite, até ser dia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Flávio&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;O dia de Natal é tão lindo,&lt;br /&gt;Mas torna-se pequenino!&lt;br /&gt;Em todo o mundo, é celebrado&lt;br /&gt;O nascimento do Menino.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Catarina&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;É dia de Natal!&lt;br /&gt;A neve cai sem parar!&lt;br /&gt;Pois vem o Pai Natal&lt;br /&gt;Que tem presentes para dar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;João&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Numas palhinhas deitado,&lt;br /&gt;Abriu os olhos à luz:&lt;br /&gt;Loiro, gordinho e rosado&lt;br /&gt;Nasceu o Menino Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Jéssica&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E.B.1 de Atães 2º Ano&lt;br /&gt;Professora: Inês Costa &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-3586081019307976658?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/3586081019307976658/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/quadras-de-natal_21.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/3586081019307976658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/3586081019307976658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/quadras-de-natal_21.html' title='QUADRAS DE NATAL'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1elIkM3hMI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/d40QnhIV5T8/s72-c/presepio%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-408961351025166139</id><published>2010-01-19T01:28:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T01:34:06.812+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alunos da Profª Fátima Pimenta'/><title type='text'>O SONHO TORNOU-SE REALIDADE</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 326px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 574px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428241837295933234" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1T9MOLwFzI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/AKJqayfo7z8/s400/Conto+de+Natal+pag1+Sande+3%C2%BA+ano.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1T85flRwzI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fJPboUsCUsI/s1600-h/Conto+de+Natal+pag2+Sande.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 344px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 524px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428241515548885810" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1T85flRwzI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fJPboUsCUsI/s400/Conto+de+Natal+pag2+Sande.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-408961351025166139?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/408961351025166139/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/408961351025166139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/408961351025166139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post.html' title='O SONHO TORNOU-SE REALIDADE'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1T9MOLwFzI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/AKJqayfo7z8/s72-c/Conto+de+Natal+pag1+Sande+3%C2%BA+ano.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-6870785044709986725</id><published>2010-01-15T12:18:00.011+01:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T12:56:54.616+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='O Natal de 2009'/><title type='text'>A MAGIA DO NATAL... NO JARDIM DE INFÂNCIA DE CODECEDA!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1BWiwQcPgI/AAAAAAAAAJk/dnzCwjxQK94/s1600-h/Sem+t%C3%ADtulo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 304px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 173px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426932706050850306" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1BWiwQcPgI/AAAAAAAAAJk/dnzCwjxQK94/s400/Sem+t%C3%ADtulo.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Estrelas, muitas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;, muitas, muitas... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A sala estava &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;toda a brilhar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1BRV2HJaQI/AAAAAAAAAJc/u3EdHH36iUQ/s1600-h/DSCF0044.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426926986726041858" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1BRV2HJaQI/AAAAAAAAAJc/u3EdHH36iUQ/s400/DSCF0044.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt; Cantámos, jogámos, representámos e fizemos magia!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1BQ0ZRg0nI/AAAAAAAAAJU/OZzhLkPeYxA/s1600-h/DSCF0022.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426926412049207922" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1BQ0ZRg0nI/AAAAAAAAAJU/OZzhLkPeYxA/s400/DSCF0022.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt; O menino Jesus nasceu e nós também festejámos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1BQD4UjhnI/AAAAAAAAAJM/8w1wovVslQA/s1600-h/DSCF0042.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426925578569877106" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1BQD4UjhnI/AAAAAAAAAJM/8w1wovVslQA/s400/DSCF0042.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Os nossos pais também participaram! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1BPwU868PI/AAAAAAAAAJE/Q4R6M4U0TyQ/s1600-h/DSCF0012.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426925242657992946" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1BPwU868PI/AAAAAAAAAJE/Q4R6M4U0TyQ/s400/DSCF0012.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Muito bom foi o lanche que todos partilhámos, onde não faltaram as óptimas iguarias da época.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No final, chamamos o Pai Natal; ele chegou com o saco cheio de prendinhas. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Uma para a Maria, outra para a Isabel, uma para a Sofia e também para o Manuel...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O Pai Natal trouxe muita alegria ao distribuir brinquedos a todos.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-6870785044709986725?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/6870785044709986725/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/magia-do-natal-no-jardim-de-infancia-de.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6870785044709986725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6870785044709986725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/magia-do-natal-no-jardim-de-infancia-de.html' title='A MAGIA DO NATAL... NO JARDIM DE INFÂNCIA DE CODECEDA!'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S1BWiwQcPgI/AAAAAAAAAJk/dnzCwjxQK94/s72-c/Sem+t%C3%ADtulo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-6608493629883625572</id><published>2010-01-10T20:13:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T20:30:56.537+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Revisitem a Exposição dos Pinheiros de Natal'/><title type='text'>O PINHEIRO DOURADO - EM EXPOSIÇÃO NA EBI MEA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0opY27F7nI/AAAAAAAAAIg/0-PPvlHiics/s1600-h/Pinheiro+dourado.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425194208158150258" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0opY27F7nI/AAAAAAAAAIg/0-PPvlHiics/s400/Pinheiro+dourado.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O pinheiro dourado&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;No final de Novembro,&lt;br /&gt;Começámos a construir o nosso pinheiro.&lt;br /&gt;O Natal é já em Dezembro&lt;br /&gt;E não queríamos gastar dinheiro!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para proteger a Natureza,&lt;br /&gt;Utilizámos material que não precisávamos.&lt;br /&gt;A árvore ficou uma beleza!&lt;br /&gt;Todos a admirámos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rolos de papel higiénico tivemos que agrafar,&lt;br /&gt;Algumas camadas precisamos de colar,&lt;br /&gt;Bolas velhas necessitámos de forrar&lt;br /&gt;E as nossas fotografias lá colocar!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Com uma cor dourada ficou,&lt;br /&gt;O nosso pinheirinho de Natal.&lt;br /&gt;Um anjo no cimo se pendurou,&lt;br /&gt;Não haverá outra árvore igual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Turma da EB1 de Ponte S. Vicente &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-6608493629883625572?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/6608493629883625572/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/o-pinheiro-dourado-em-exposicao-na-ebi.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6608493629883625572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6608493629883625572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/o-pinheiro-dourado-em-exposicao-na-ebi.html' title='O PINHEIRO DOURADO - EM EXPOSIÇÃO NA EBI MEA'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0opY27F7nI/AAAAAAAAAIg/0-PPvlHiics/s72-c/Pinheiro+dourado.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-1671915989764410321</id><published>2010-01-10T20:01:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T20:13:08.233+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Escrever é divertido'/><title type='text'>UM CONTO DE NATAL...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0ol42FsbMI/AAAAAAAAAIY/JUv-BdUnnt4/s1600-h/images%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 167px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 140px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425190359643483330" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0ol42FsbMI/AAAAAAAAAIY/JUv-BdUnnt4/s400/images%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UM CONTO DE NATAL… &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Era uma vez uma família pobre que vivia numa casa antiga, sem condições, sem água, sem luz, com vidros partidos e muitos buracos. Nessa casa morava um menino que apenas tinha feito um único pedido ao Pai Natal: poder ter a sua família reunida em volta de um pinheiro de Natal cheio de luzinhas a piscar, bolas e sinos cintilantes.&lt;br /&gt;Muito, muito longe dali, o Pai Natal, como que por magia recebeu a carta deste menino. O Pai Natal ficou tão emocionado que pensou logo em fazer uma surpresa a esta criança. Para isso iria precisar da ajuda das suas fantásticas, mágicas e voadoras renas!&lt;br /&gt;Saiu disparado pelo meio da neve, falou com a rena principal, o Rodolfo, e preparou o seu trenó que já tinha alguns presentes.&lt;br /&gt;Sobrevoando a terra do menino várias pessoas viram o rasto do trenó no céu estrelado e ouviram os sinos das renas a tilintar…&lt;br /&gt;De repente, o Pai Natal escorregou pela chaminé da velha casa. Todos dormiam enquanto o Pai Natal colocava um lindo presépio e presentes debaixo de uma espectacular árvore de Natal. Deixou também uma mensagem de amizade e amor para toda a família.&lt;br /&gt;Na manhã seguinte, todos se reuniram à volta do pinheiro tal como o menino tinha desejado!&lt;br /&gt;Este Natal ficou na memória desta família, que viveu feliz para sempre!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Texto colectivo – Turma 20 – 2.º/3.º e 4.º anos, alunos da profª Cecília Araújo&lt;br /&gt;EB1 Ponte S. Vicente &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-1671915989764410321?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/1671915989764410321/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/um-conto-de-natal_10.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/1671915989764410321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/1671915989764410321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/um-conto-de-natal_10.html' title='UM CONTO DE NATAL...'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0ol42FsbMI/AAAAAAAAAIY/JUv-BdUnnt4/s72-c/images%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-1474443635137833525</id><published>2010-01-08T01:46:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T02:02:37.761+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Escrever é divertido'/><title type='text'>QUADRAS DE NATAL</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0aD-DDF3zI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/Q9i8cSkNqIE/s1600-h/%C3%81rvore+de+Natal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 131px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 95px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424167903207743282" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0aD-DDF3zI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/Q9i8cSkNqIE/s400/%C3%81rvore+de+Natal.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"&gt;No Natal há um pinheiro para enfeitar&lt;br /&gt;No Natal há muito azevinho&lt;br /&gt;No Natal vou brincar&lt;br /&gt;Ao pé do meu pinheirinho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sérgio Adelino – 2.º ano&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;O azevinho vou colocar&lt;br /&gt;Os meninos vão cantar&lt;br /&gt;Com os sinos a acompanhar&lt;br /&gt;E as bolas a brilhar!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Eduardo – 3.º ano&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Hoje vem o Pai Natal&lt;br /&gt;Com prendas no saquinho&lt;br /&gt;O pinheiro vem do pinhal&lt;br /&gt;Vou comprar um azevinho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;António – 2.º ano&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lá fora está a chover&lt;br /&gt;Cá dentro está quentinho&lt;br /&gt;Coitadinho do Pai Natal&lt;br /&gt;Está todo molhadinho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Raquel – 2.º ano&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;O pinheiro está igual&lt;br /&gt;Vou esperar as prendas&lt;br /&gt;Até vir o Natal&lt;br /&gt;Que noite tão especial!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Henrique – 3.º ano &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;As estrelas no céu&lt;br /&gt;Brilham sem parar&lt;br /&gt;Adoro ver o pinheiro&lt;br /&gt;Todo a piscar!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Inês – 4.º ano&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As luzes estão a piscar&lt;br /&gt;Os anjos lá no ar&lt;br /&gt;O azevinho vou colocar&lt;br /&gt;No pinheiro que estou a enfeitar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Maria João – 3.º ano&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu gosto dos presentes&lt;br /&gt;Dentro deles vêm sempre pentes&lt;br /&gt;Bicudinhos como o azevinho&lt;br /&gt;Muito verdinho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Luís – 3.º ano&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;A lareira a fumegar&lt;br /&gt;O Pai Natal a chegar&lt;br /&gt;As renas a andar no ar&lt;br /&gt;E o pinheiro a piscar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Rita – 3.º ano&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;O Natal está a chegar&lt;br /&gt;O pinheiro vou montar&lt;br /&gt;Hoje estou feliz, é Natal&lt;br /&gt;Uma altura especial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sérgio Manuel – 2.º ano&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;EB1 Ponte S. Vicente, alunos da profª Cecília Araújo&lt;br /&gt;Turma 20 – 2.º, 3.º e 4.ºanos de escolaridade &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-1474443635137833525?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/1474443635137833525/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/quadras-de-natal.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/1474443635137833525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/1474443635137833525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/quadras-de-natal.html' title='QUADRAS DE NATAL'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0aD-DDF3zI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/Q9i8cSkNqIE/s72-c/%C3%81rvore+de+Natal.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-8279038718888652875</id><published>2010-01-05T01:31:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T12:49:22.544+01:00</updated><title type='text'>OS TRÊS REIS MAGOS ENCONTRARAM...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0KKmOAiecI/AAAAAAAAAII/TpEKVcyUijs/s1600-h/12695_000gbff3%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 338px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423049290507516354" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0KKmOAiecI/AAAAAAAAAII/TpEKVcyUijs/s400/12695_000gbff3%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Os Três Reis do Oriente&lt;/strong&gt; encontraram José, Jesus e Maria. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Por que razão esperava Herodes o regresso destes Reis ao seu palácio?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A quem temia Herodes?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Onde nasceu Jesus? E porquê?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Visita a história dos Três Reis do Oriente, pesquisando. Sê curioso. Espreita o passado!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-8279038718888652875?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/8279038718888652875/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/os-tres-reis-magos-encontraram.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8279038718888652875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8279038718888652875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/os-tres-reis-magos-encontraram.html' title='OS TRÊS REIS MAGOS ENCONTRARAM...'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0KKmOAiecI/AAAAAAAAAII/TpEKVcyUijs/s72-c/12695_000gbff3%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-4677453003915365545</id><published>2010-01-05T01:15:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T01:28:00.722+01:00</updated><title type='text'>OS TRÊS REIS MAGOS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0KHOzCHlOI/AAAAAAAAAIA/4memZUdzSn0/s1600-h/images%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 162px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 158px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423045589594510562" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0KHOzCHlOI/AAAAAAAAAIA/4memZUdzSn0/s400/images%5B2%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Explora o significado da palavra &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"magos".&lt;/span&gt; Utiliza um bom dicionário. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;O Plano Nacional de Leitura&lt;/span&gt; recomenda o livro &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"Os Três Reis do Oriente",&lt;/span&gt; de &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sophia de Mello Breyner Andersen.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Editora Figueirinhas e Ilustrações do pintor Júlio Resende. (7, 50€)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-4677453003915365545?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/4677453003915365545/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/os-tres-reis-magos.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4677453003915365545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4677453003915365545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/os-tres-reis-magos.html' title='OS TRÊS REIS MAGOS'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0KHOzCHlOI/AAAAAAAAAIA/4memZUdzSn0/s72-c/images%5B2%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-7891605161796548302</id><published>2010-01-04T01:22:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T02:09:17.383+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Um conceito de Natal'/><title type='text'>UM CONTO DE NATAL</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 308px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 161px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422684400250222690" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0E-uz33eGI/AAAAAAAAAH4/VFLXTUWdD6w/s400/images%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0E9gSMDX3I/AAAAAAAAAHw/Vf0axlrLUWs/s1600-h/images%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 185px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 131px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422683051178286962" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0E9gSMDX3I/AAAAAAAAAHw/Vf0axlrLUWs/s400/images%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O avô &lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;e o neto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;(porque o amor de uma família é como uma rosa a desabrochar e que nunca murcha)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Havia um senhor de idade que se mudou para outra casa com o filho, a nora e o neto de quatro anos. O velho tinha já as mãos trémulas e a vista embaciada. Todos os dias o idoso deixava cair comida para o chão.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;-Não podemos deixar que ele coma todos os dias deste jeito, deitando comida para o chão! -diz o filho.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Então decidiram que o idoso comeria numa mesa à parte.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ainda se notavam as lágrimas nos seus olhos, mas mesmo assim as únicas palavras que deles saíam eram:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;-Cuidado, não deite nada para o chão!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;O neto apreciava a cena, com pena do avô.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Na ceia de Natal de 1990, o pai reparou que o filho brincava com pedaços de madeira. E diz-lhe:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;-Que fazes, meu filho?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;-A vossa prenda!-responde-lhe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;-Com pedaços de madeira?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;-São umas tigelas de madeira para quando forem idosos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Os pais compreenderam que erraram. Pegaram no avô e levaram-no para a mesa e comeram em família. O jantar foi bom, embora um pouco atribulado.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Graças ao neto de quatro anos, aquela família percebeu o verdadeiro significado do Natal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sara, aluna de 4º ano da profª Ilda Neto da Escola EB1 de Atães.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-7891605161796548302?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/7891605161796548302/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/um-conto-de-natal.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/7891605161796548302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/7891605161796548302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/um-conto-de-natal.html' title='UM CONTO DE NATAL'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0E-uz33eGI/AAAAAAAAAH4/VFLXTUWdD6w/s72-c/images%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-4137296586178607489</id><published>2010-01-04T01:03:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T01:34:35.081+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ler para crescer; escrever para Ser'/><title type='text'>QUERIDO PAI NATAL!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0E0AG0ekfI/AAAAAAAAAHo/P10SclJTMOI/s1600-h/painatal01%5B1%5D.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 309px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 229px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422672602766152178" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0E0AG0ekfI/AAAAAAAAAHo/P10SclJTMOI/s400/painatal01%5B1%5D.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Meu querido Pai Natal,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;eu queria ver...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;O que tens para mim?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Não sei que prenda vou ter!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Se puderes, diz-me já!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Eu não vou contar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;O segredo guardarei &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;até acordar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Meia-noite! Vais Chegar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;comigo a dormir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pela chaminé será&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;donde tu vais vir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Muitas meias lá vão estar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Vê e olha bem...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;A mais curta é para mim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;e para mais ninguém!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Quero um livro de canções.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;E tu? Um vestido!?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Um chapéu e uma babete,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;se for de azul garrido!?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;E o resto vou deixar,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;se quiseres ouvir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Escolhe tu, meu Pai Natal!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Tu vais decidir!...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sara, aluna da profª Ilda Neto (4º ano); EB1 de Atães.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-4137296586178607489?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/4137296586178607489/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/querido-pai-natal.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4137296586178607489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4137296586178607489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2010/01/querido-pai-natal.html' title='QUERIDO PAI NATAL!'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/S0E0AG0ekfI/AAAAAAAAAHo/P10SclJTMOI/s72-c/painatal01%5B1%5D.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-8941542818403418542</id><published>2009-12-31T01:49:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T01:55:29.535+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LER dá saúde e faz CRESCER'/><title type='text'>AS SETE EXCELENTES RAZÕES PARA LER ÀS CRIANÇAS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Szv2Yh3s23I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/Ilys0WbF7GE/s1600-h/books%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 254px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421197477739813746" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Szv2Yh3s23I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/Ilys0WbF7GE/s400/books%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ouvir ler em voz alta, ler em conjunto, conversar sobre livros, desenvolve a inteligência e a imaginação.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os livros enriquecem o vocabulário e a linguagem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As imagens, informações e ideias dos livros alargam o conhecimento do mundo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem tem o hábito de ler conhece-se melhor a si próprio e compreende melhor os outros.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ler em conjunto é divertido, reforça o prazer do convívio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os laços afectivos entre as crianças e os adultos que lhes lêem tornam-se mais fortes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A leitura torna as crianças mais calmas, ajuda-as a ganhar autoconfiança e poder de decisão.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-8941542818403418542?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/8941542818403418542/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/12/as-sete-excelentes-razoes-para-ler-as.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8941542818403418542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8941542818403418542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/12/as-sete-excelentes-razoes-para-ler-as.html' title='AS SETE EXCELENTES RAZÕES PARA LER ÀS CRIANÇAS'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Szv2Yh3s23I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/Ilys0WbF7GE/s72-c/books%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-4869921794839361948</id><published>2009-12-29T15:12:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T15:12:54.745+01:00</updated><title type='text'>BOM ANO DE 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.obuscar.com" title="Feliz Ano Novo"&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.paraorkut.com/img/pics/glitters/f/feliz_ano_novo_-1294.gif" border="0" alt="glitters" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;b&gt;[orange]***[/orange] Confira mais figuras para Te Adoro: [orange]***[/orange]&lt;BR&gt; &lt;a href="http://obuscar.com/images/feliz_ano_novo_-1294.htm"&gt;http://obuscar.com/images/feliz_ano_novo_-1294.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-4869921794839361948?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/4869921794839361948/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/12/bom-ano-de-2010.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4869921794839361948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4869921794839361948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/12/bom-ano-de-2010.html' title='BOM ANO DE 2010'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-6386062199930807723</id><published>2009-12-15T14:30:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T14:33:51.571+01:00</updated><title type='text'>CONTA-ME UM CONTO DE NATAL!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SyeP3qVN8XI/AAAAAAAAAHI/ev6bpoqcuA8/s1600-h/%C3%81rvore+de+Natal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 131px; height: 95px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SyeP3qVN8XI/AAAAAAAAAHI/ev6bpoqcuA8/s400/%C3%81rvore+de+Natal.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415455263355171186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-6386062199930807723?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/6386062199930807723/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/12/conta-me-um-conto-neste-natal.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6386062199930807723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6386062199930807723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/12/conta-me-um-conto-neste-natal.html' title='CONTA-ME UM CONTO DE NATAL!'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SyeP3qVN8XI/AAAAAAAAAHI/ev6bpoqcuA8/s72-c/%C3%81rvore+de+Natal.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-5314872039178396973</id><published>2009-12-10T13:24:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T13:26:38.189+01:00</updated><title type='text'>DIA INTERNACIONAL DOS DIREITOS DO HOMEM</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/cs5-rbwUGQQ&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/cs5-rbwUGQQ&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-5314872039178396973?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/5314872039178396973/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/12/dia-internacional-dos-direitos-do-homem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/5314872039178396973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/5314872039178396973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/12/dia-internacional-dos-direitos-do-homem.html' title='DIA INTERNACIONAL DOS DIREITOS DO HOMEM'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-3624286641128108629</id><published>2009-12-09T02:19:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T02:20:57.498+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='A Matemática da Língua'/><title type='text'>Um problema de Matemática ou de Português?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Sx77c8b1jPI/AAAAAAAAAHA/NsOKDpv9CTk/s1600-h/7c9df546%5B1%5D%5B1%5D.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Sx77c8b1jPI/AAAAAAAAAHA/NsOKDpv9CTk/s400/7c9df546%5B1%5D%5B1%5D.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413040276823706866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-3624286641128108629?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/3624286641128108629/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/12/um-problema-de-matematica-ou-de.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/3624286641128108629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/3624286641128108629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/12/um-problema-de-matematica-ou-de.html' title='Um problema de Matemática ou de Português?'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Sx77c8b1jPI/AAAAAAAAAHA/NsOKDpv9CTk/s72-c/7c9df546%5B1%5D%5B1%5D.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-4081952609774379936</id><published>2009-12-05T22:55:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T01:08:15.207+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='de Luísa Ducla Soares'/><title type='text'>OS OVOS MISTERIOSOS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Sx7pnuEEpRI/AAAAAAAAAG4/BsHhrzcsM8k/s1600-h/30112009(007)%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Sx7pnuEEpRI/AAAAAAAAAG4/BsHhrzcsM8k/s400/30112009(007)%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413020670735197458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Sx7pnZz1anI/AAAAAAAAAGw/6hkf-RK_MDc/s1600-h/img075%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Sx7pnZz1anI/AAAAAAAAAGw/6hkf-RK_MDc/s400/img075%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413020665298381426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Sx7pnGtVZOI/AAAAAAAAAGo/bwUuPtJpq18/s1600-h/img077%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 279px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Sx7pnGtVZOI/AAAAAAAAAGo/bwUuPtJpq18/s400/img077%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413020660170843362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Sx7pmyrnF7I/AAAAAAAAAGg/Sr8ED_o7vow/s1600-h/images%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 162px; height: 196px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Sx7pmyrnF7I/AAAAAAAAAGg/Sr8ED_o7vow/s400/images%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413020654794905522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O 1.º e o 2.º anos da EB1 de Dossãos leram, releram, contaram e recontaram a história "Os ovos misteriosos" da autora Luísa Ducla Soares. Todos adoraram a história e não se cansam de a ler.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Trata-se a aventura de uma galinha que desgostosa com a vida que tinha no galinheiro, resolve ser uma galinha livre.&lt;br /&gt;Esta corajosa galinha faz um belo ninho na mata e põe um ovo bem branquinho para finalmente poder formar uma família. Entretanto, vai à procura de alimento e quando regressa fica surpreendida com a ninhada de ovos que encontra no seu ninho. Mesmo assim, ela resolve chocá-los todos...&lt;br /&gt;Quando estes começam a estalar e a nascer, a surpresa é ainda maior, pois em vez de pintos sai uma serpente, um papagaio, um crocodilo, uma avestruz e apenas um pinto.&lt;br /&gt;A mãe galinha fica então com uma família grande e diferente das outras galinhas... E a sua vida passa a ser uma grande preocupação! Tomar conta de tantas espécies de animais não é tarefa fácil! Mas a verdade é que eles se sentiam verdadeiros irmãos como se fossem todos da mesma espécie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trabalho realizado pela professora Cecília Araújo com os seus alunos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-4081952609774379936?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/4081952609774379936/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/12/os-ovos-misteriosos_05.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4081952609774379936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' 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type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YRivpwvXK6w&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YRivpwvXK6w&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-1178948395526643179?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/1178948395526643179/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/12/devia-ser-proibido-ler.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/1178948395526643179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/1178948395526643179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/12/devia-ser-proibido-ler.html' title='DEVIA SER PROIBIDO LER'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-2066243804041405854</id><published>2009-12-05T22:19:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-12-03T22:54:22.698+01:00</updated><title type='text'>DIA INTERNACIONAL DA PESSOA COM DEFICIÊNCIA</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="380" height="310"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/LnLVRQCjh8c?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/LnLVRQCjh8c?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="380" height="310"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-2066243804041405854?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2066243804041405854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2066243804041405854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/12/dia-internacional-da-pessoa-com.html' title='DIA INTERNACIONAL DA PESSOA COM DEFICIÊNCIA'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-5470948562705481750</id><published>2009-11-20T19:17:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T19:24:50.857+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='O filme que nos renova a capacidade de SONHAR'/><title type='text'>UM FILME A NÃO PERDER</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Swbem-xa9hI/AAAAAAAAAEM/JkZHqLiZyB4/s1600/d6ac32b6cd4725c8250a656198c6032c%5B1%5D.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 428px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 84px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406253163971540498" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Swbem-xa9hI/AAAAAAAAAEM/JkZHqLiZyB4/s400/d6ac32b6cd4725c8250a656198c6032c%5B1%5D.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AGUARDE pelo DVD e ofereça-o neste NATAL...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;A Sereiazinha ou A Menina do Mar?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;Christian Andersen ou Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-5470948562705481750?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/5470948562705481750/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/11/um-filme-nao-perder.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/5470948562705481750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/5470948562705481750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/11/um-filme-nao-perder.html' title='UM FILME A NÃO PERDER'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Swbem-xa9hI/AAAAAAAAAEM/JkZHqLiZyB4/s72-c/d6ac32b6cd4725c8250a656198c6032c%5B1%5D.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-6494197865395676814</id><published>2009-11-18T11:50:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T14:41:04.520+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rimos com o Circo do Riso'/><title type='text'>O CIRCO VEIO À NOSSA ESCOLA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SwPgTdHNHDI/AAAAAAAAAEE/5pFasTJbL6I/s1600/HUMN_60C%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 120px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 91px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405410602611711026" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SwPgTdHNHDI/AAAAAAAAAEE/5pFasTJbL6I/s400/HUMN_60C%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O DIA ONZE DE NOVEMBRO ACORDOU CINZENTO...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Era um circo muito divertido: tinha magia e palhaço. Todos os meninos participaram no circo. O mágico sabia muitos truques de magia, todos eles muito bonitos! Alguns meninos fizeram magia com a ajuda do "JR", o Mágico. Houve o truque da aliança que estava dentro de um lenço e foi parar a um limão; houve o truque da pomba que estava dentro de um balão...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;O número do palhaço (número quer dizer espectáculo) também foi muito divertido; eram quatro meninas: uma dizia que cheirava mal, outra dizia que não era ela, outra apontou para outra que confessava que deu um &lt;em&gt;pu.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Houve também um desafio em que os candidatos tinham de vestir uma camisola rapidamente.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Foi tão divertido, choramos de riso! Ah! O circo tinha o nome de "Circo do Riso".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Os alunos do 4º ano de Portela do Vade - Atães (alunos da profª Ilda Neto)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-6494197865395676814?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/6494197865395676814/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/11/o-circo-veio-nossa-escola.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6494197865395676814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6494197865395676814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/11/o-circo-veio-nossa-escola.html' title='O CIRCO VEIO À NOSSA ESCOLA'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SwPgTdHNHDI/AAAAAAAAAEE/5pFasTJbL6I/s72-c/HUMN_60C%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-6006152491371468864</id><published>2009-11-10T16:20:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T16:37:24.927+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Castanhas quentinhas nas mãos frias'/><title type='text'>S. MARTINHO</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SvmInLSeFXI/AAAAAAAAADc/mqSe8lk44RA/s1600-h/3630%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 234px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 136px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402499434634155378" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SvmInLSeFXI/AAAAAAAAADc/mqSe8lk44RA/s400/3630%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;OUTONO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;(música - ó malhão, malhão!) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ó lindo Outono,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Que é que nos dás?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Uvas e &lt;strong&gt;Castanhas,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ó terim tim tim,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;E belas maçãs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ó lindo Outono,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dás também as chuvas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Vêm as desfolhadas,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ó terim tim tim,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Acabam-se as uvas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Contigo, Outono,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Vem o &lt;strong&gt;S. Martinho.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Fazem-se os Magustos,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ó terim tim tim,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;E prova-se o Vinho.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;                                                                                                                                                           Beatriz Vieira&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-6006152491371468864?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/6006152491371468864/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/11/s-martinho.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6006152491371468864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6006152491371468864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/11/s-martinho.html' title='S. MARTINHO'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SvmInLSeFXI/AAAAAAAAADc/mqSe8lk44RA/s72-c/3630%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-4628083537296576572</id><published>2009-11-06T13:43:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T13:46:47.692+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Concorre e ganha prémios'/><title type='text'>CONCURSOS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="mailto:concursocarochinha@gailivro.leya.com"&gt;concursocarochinha@gailivro.leya.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;                 &lt;a href="http://www.uma-aventura.pt/"&gt;www.uma-aventura.pt&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-4628083537296576572?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/4628083537296576572/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/11/concursos_06.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4628083537296576572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4628083537296576572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/11/concursos_06.html' title='CONCURSOS'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-514648313232148902</id><published>2009-11-05T00:59:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T20:33:53.570+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quem canta'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='seu mal espanta'/><title type='text'>Gripe A</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SvIaas63SnI/AAAAAAAAADU/kuNrtuqDkf8/s1600-h/macaca%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 175px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 276px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400407949207620210" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SvIaas63SnI/AAAAAAAAADU/kuNrtuqDkf8/s400/macaca%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Aos saltinhos&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;no chão&lt;/span&gt;, cantarolando&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#003300;"&gt;(O jogo da macaca!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#003300;"&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;Não quero não!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;Nem beijinho, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;Nem aperto de mão!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;Eu só digo sim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;A um sorriso para mim!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;Aos saltinhos no chão,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;Um pé, dois pés:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;Ponho a mão no coração.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:78%;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Para todas as meninas que gostam de brincar como a mães e as avós brincaram na escola.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-514648313232148902?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/514648313232148902/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/11/gripe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/514648313232148902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/514648313232148902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/11/gripe.html' title='Gripe A'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SvIaas63SnI/AAAAAAAAADU/kuNrtuqDkf8/s72-c/macaca%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-6062813979489349199</id><published>2009-11-03T16:14:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T01:17:56.758+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='in Uma Abada de Histórias'/><title type='text'>ANTÓNIO MOTA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SvBNCa1-lcI/AAAAAAAAAC0/hYFo9KiQ9w8/s1600-h/janeiras%5B1%5D.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 160px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 241px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399900657178023362" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SvBNCa1-lcI/AAAAAAAAAC0/hYFo9KiQ9w8/s400/janeiras%5B1%5D.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Uma Abada de Histórias&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"&gt;A noite Diferente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"&gt;Nós gostámos da história "A noite diferente", porque o Trindade e as crianças iam às portas das casas cantar os Reis, na noite de Reis. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"&gt;Quando as pessoas os ouviam, ficavam contentes e davam-lhes maçãs, figos, nozes, rabanadas e moedas. Depois, os cantores agradeciam-lhes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"&gt;Por fim, cansados, corriam para a casa do Trindade, onde repartiam os bens adquiridos nessa noite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Adivinha:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt; Em que dia e em que mês do ano se cantam os Reis?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Alunas do 3º ano da Escola EB1 de Pico, S. Cristóvão&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-6062813979489349199?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/6062813979489349199/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/11/antonio-mota.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6062813979489349199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6062813979489349199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/11/antonio-mota.html' title='ANTÓNIO MOTA'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SvBNCa1-lcI/AAAAAAAAAC0/hYFo9KiQ9w8/s72-c/janeiras%5B1%5D.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-7231153689919420234</id><published>2009-11-02T02:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T02:17:55.264+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Projecto em forma de livro'/><title type='text'>FILOSOFIA PARA CRIANÇAS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Su4zLO_lJPI/AAAAAAAAACs/0yy1HVFpDNM/s1600-h/capa_filo_criancas%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 284px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399309271360152818" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Su4zLO_lJPI/AAAAAAAAACs/0yy1HVFpDNM/s400/capa_filo_criancas%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Su4yu1Bi2oI/AAAAAAAAACk/zG0xjOkZI5c/s1600-h/flyer_criancas%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 309px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 411px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399308783352732290" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Su4yu1Bi2oI/AAAAAAAAACk/zG0xjOkZI5c/s400/flyer_criancas%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;O projecto de Filosofia para crianças (do 1º ao 2º ciclo) da APEFP " A Filosofar Aprende-se a Pensar" está agora sistematizado em forma de livro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;As escolas e entidades interessadas em conhecer o projecto é favor contactar a APEFP: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:apefp@iol.pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;apefp@iol.pt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;12 sessões de Filosofia para crianças&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;Duração das sessões: 90 minutos &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-7231153689919420234?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/7231153689919420234/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/11/filosofia-para-criancas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/7231153689919420234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/7231153689919420234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/11/filosofia-para-criancas.html' title='FILOSOFIA PARA CRIANÇAS'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/Su4zLO_lJPI/AAAAAAAAACs/0yy1HVFpDNM/s72-c/capa_filo_criancas%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-8951329140636746327</id><published>2009-10-30T02:21:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-30T02:45:33.112+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Halloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='31 de Outubro'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dia Sagrado'/><title type='text'>ANÚNCIO</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SupD8KwJBLI/AAAAAAAAACc/0N0g2KpAq18/s1600-h/fqs8189_6531_4709%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 258px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398201804314444978" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SupD8KwJBLI/AAAAAAAAACc/0N0g2KpAq18/s400/fqs8189_6531_4709%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;PROCURO BRUXA&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Procuro bruxa capaz de desfazer um feitiço.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Se fores capaz de, num abrir e fechar de olhos, fazer com que todos os alunos passem a estudar mais, diariamente, a ler todos os dias, a estarem mais atentos nas aulas, telefona para o nº 111222333 ou apresenta-te, pessoalmente, à Srª Berta do 5º Esquerdo, porta nº 123, na rua das Sete Palmeiras, em Ossos do Ofício, 7400-321 Argolada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Se fores vestida a rigor, terás maior probabilidade de ser seleccionada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;1ª Candidata - Rainha da Branca de Neve (Perfil: má e invejosa).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-8951329140636746327?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/8951329140636746327/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/10/anuncio.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8951329140636746327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8951329140636746327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/10/anuncio.html' title='ANÚNCIO'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SupD8KwJBLI/AAAAAAAAACc/0N0g2KpAq18/s72-c/fqs8189_6531_4709%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-4282119634511199514</id><published>2009-10-26T01:57:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T02:00:20.772+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Os motivos da escrita'/><title type='text'>O DIÁLOGO SOBRE A GRIPE A</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SuT0DXaJQEI/AAAAAAAAACU/JF4qDSeTB5c/s1600-h/agpico.edu%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 238px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396706592157155394" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SuT0DXaJQEI/AAAAAAAAACU/JF4qDSeTB5c/s400/agpico.edu%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Trabalho da Carolina Dias, aluna da profª Raquel Mota.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Escola EB1/ JI de Oriz S. Miguel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-4282119634511199514?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/4282119634511199514/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/10/o-dialogo-sobre-gripe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4282119634511199514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/4282119634511199514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/10/o-dialogo-sobre-gripe.html' title='O DIÁLOGO SOBRE A GRIPE A'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SuT0DXaJQEI/AAAAAAAAACU/JF4qDSeTB5c/s72-c/agpico.edu%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-2938097926412730283</id><published>2009-10-14T03:06:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T01:48:29.702+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recebido recentemente'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pela IBBY'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Prémio Peter Pan'/><title type='text'>GOSTARIA DE LER...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/StesAYyCmcI/AAAAAAAAACM/ImaKZ9vtJdY/s1600-h/Alice%2520Vieira%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 164px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 219px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392968201451772354" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/StesAYyCmcI/AAAAAAAAACM/ImaKZ9vtJdY/s400/Alice%2520Vieira%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Flor de Mel&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;/span&gt; de Alice Vieira &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Alice Vieira&lt;/strong&gt; recebeu o &lt;strong&gt;Prémio Peter Pan&lt;/strong&gt;, instituído pela International Board on Books for youg People (IBBY) e a Feira do livro de Gotemburgo, na Suécia, em 2000.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Este é atribuído anualmente a um &lt;strong&gt;livro infantil ou juvenil&lt;/strong&gt; de autor estrangeiro com qualidade literária e temática.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Flor de Mel, romance, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;foi publicado em 2008 pela editora sueca Lusitana Boker com o título &lt;strong&gt;Honungsblomma.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-2938097926412730283?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/2938097926412730283/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/10/gostaria-de-ler.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2938097926412730283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2938097926412730283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/10/gostaria-de-ler.html' title='GOSTARIA DE LER...'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/StesAYyCmcI/AAAAAAAAACM/ImaKZ9vtJdY/s72-c/Alice%2520Vieira%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-9026079481148176749</id><published>2009-10-14T02:30:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T01:42:21.960+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gostamos de escrever...'/><title type='text'>QUADRAS DE OUTONO</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/StUgzvjkA2I/AAAAAAAAACE/2NJlV5G3H9k/s1600-h/outono2%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 210px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392252202157081442" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/StUgzvjkA2I/AAAAAAAAACE/2NJlV5G3H9k/s400/outono2%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;O Outono está a chegar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Os meninos querem brincar,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;mas não podem ir para o rio,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;porque se podem constipar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Catarina &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;O Outono vai começar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;As férias vão acabar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A escola vai começar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;E os meninos vão trabalhar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Jéssica&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;No Outono, vem o frio,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;as folhas começam a cair!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Para nós, é um desafio...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Fazemos poemas a rir!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Ana Filipa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;O Outono chega a cantarolar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;E depois começa a dançar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ele é muito brincalhão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;que até brinca com o ladrão!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Ricardo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;O Outono está a chegar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;E as folhas começam a ir pelo ar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Agora, não podemos nadar,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;portanto temos de aproveitar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Luís&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;O Outono está a chegar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Com ele não se pode brincar,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;porque os passarinhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;vão parar de cantarolar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Joel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;O Outono está a chegar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Nós vamos trabalhar:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Levamos os livros para a escola&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;E muita imaginação na sacola.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Joana&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;O Outono Está a chegar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Temos de nos aprumar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;O frio está aí e da Gripe A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Temos de fugir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Anabela&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;No Outono, vai-se o sol.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Chega o frio e vai-se o calor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;E até mesmo o caracol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Tem que usar aquecedor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Turma 21 do 3º e 4º anos de Pico, S. Cristóvão (alunos da Profª Elsa Polónio)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-9026079481148176749?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/9026079481148176749/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/10/quadras-de-outono.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/9026079481148176749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/9026079481148176749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/10/quadras-de-outono.html' title='QUADRAS DE OUTONO'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/StUgzvjkA2I/AAAAAAAAACE/2NJlV5G3H9k/s72-c/outono2%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-8304179442784582451</id><published>2009-10-05T16:47:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T17:13:47.186+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Era uma vez...'/><title type='text'>A CORDA MÁGICA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SsoMxGOq2yI/AAAAAAAAAB8/LXDx88H4JUo/s1600-h/WCAO73SG1CAP7YTZ4CA9VSRY8CAGKKH3BCAMR4HQICA2H4FN7CA8GAHORCAECLKZOCA1TSP7ACA7J406SCA33604QCAGFBQZOCAQ509BACA4C7294CAWR1G9KCATCSE7VCAOLO3USCAN79VBI%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 96px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 111px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389133941727484706" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SsoMxGOq2yI/AAAAAAAAAB8/LXDx88H4JUo/s400/WCAO73SG1CAP7YTZ4CA9VSRY8CAGKKH3BCAMR4HQICA2H4FN7CA8GAHORCAECLKZOCA1TSP7ACA7J406SCA33604QCAGFBQZOCAQ509BACA4C7294CAWR1G9KCATCSE7VCAOLO3USCAN79VBI%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A Cidade dos Resmungos &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000000;"&gt;Era uma vez um lugar chamado Cidade dos Resmungos, onde todos resmungavam, resmungavam, resmungavam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No Verão, resmungavam que estava muito quente. No Inverno, que estava muito frio. Quando chovia, as crianças choramingavam porque não podiam sair. Quando fazia sol, reclamavam que não tinham o que fazer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os vizinhos queixavam-se uns dos outros, os pais queixavam-se dos filhos, os irmãos das irmãs. Todos tinham um problema, e todos reclamavam que alguém deveria fazer alguma coisa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um dia chegou, à cidade, um vendedor ambulante carregando um enorme cesto às costas. Ao perceber toda aquela inquietação e choradeira, pôs o cesto no chão e gritou:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;— Ó cidadãos deste belo lugar, os campos estão abarrotados de trigo, os pomares carregados de frutas! As cordilheiras são cobertas de florestas espessas e os vales banhados por rios profundos. Jamais vi um lugar abençoado com tantos benefícios e tamanha abundância. Por que razão tanta insatisfação? Aproximem-se, e eu mostrar-lhes-ei o caminho para a felicidade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ora, a camisa do vendedor ambulante estava rasgada e puída. Havia remendos nas calças e buracos nos sapatos. As pessoas riram ao pensar que alguém como ele pudesse mostrar-lhes como ser feliz. Mas, enquanto riam, ele puxou uma corda comprida do cesto e esticou-a entre dois postes na praça da cidade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Então, segurando o cesto diante de si, gritou:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;— Povo desta cidade! Aqueles que estiverem insatisfeitos escrevam os seus problemas num pedaço de papel e ponham-no dentro deste cesto. Trocarei os vossos problemas por felicidade!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A multidão aglomerou-se ao seu redor. Ninguém hesitou diante da oportunidade de se livrar dos problemas. Todos os homens, mulheres e crianças da vila rabiscaram a sua queixa num pedaço de papel e lançaram-no no cesto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Observaram o vendedor que pegava em cada problema e o pendurava na corda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando terminou, havia problemas a tremularem em cada polegada da corda, de um extremo a outro. Disse então:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;— Agora cada um de vocês deve retirar desta linha mágica o menor problema que puder encontrar.Todos correram para examinar os problemas. Procuraram, manusearam os pedaços de papel e ponderaram, cada qual tentando escolher o menor problema. Ao fim de algum tempo, a corda estava vazia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eis que cada um segurava o mesmíssimo problema que tinha colocado no cesto. Cada pessoa havia escolhido o seu próprio problema, achando ser ele o menor de todos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daí por diante, o povo daquela cidade deixou de resmungar constantemente. E sempre que alguém sentia o desejo de resmungar ou de reclamar, pensava no vendedor e na sua corda mágica.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;William J. Bennett&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O Livro das Virtudes II&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Editora Nova Fronteira, 1996 (adaptação)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-8304179442784582451?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/8304179442784582451/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/10/corda-magica.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8304179442784582451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/8304179442784582451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/10/corda-magica.html' title='A CORDA MÁGICA'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SsoMxGOq2yI/AAAAAAAAAB8/LXDx88H4JUo/s72-c/WCAO73SG1CAP7YTZ4CA9VSRY8CAGKKH3BCAMR4HQICA2H4FN7CA8GAHORCAECLKZOCA1TSP7ACA7J406SCA33604QCAGFBQZOCAQ509BACA4C7294CAWR1G9KCATCSE7VCAOLO3USCAN79VBI%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-2621993672945394784</id><published>2009-09-29T22:27:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T01:46:35.746+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ler para crescer; escrever para Ser'/><title type='text'>UM FANTASMA E A GRIPE A</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SsJwiph_87I/AAAAAAAAABU/lYhGhLn9aCo/s1600-h/images%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 91px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 115px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386991844854854578" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SsJwiph_87I/AAAAAAAAABU/lYhGhLn9aCo/s400/images%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Hoje, sonhei &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;que um fantasma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;vestido de rei,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;tinha asma!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;E eu perguntei-lhe:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;- Ó fantasma rei, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Também tens tosse?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;- E porquê, menino do Pico?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;- Sabes, a gripe A anda por cá!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Mas eu que sou rico, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Em ideias, vou acabar-lhe com a tosse!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Alunos do 2º ano da Escola do 1º ciclo do Pico S. Cristóvão; alunos da profª Isabel Cerqueira)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-2621993672945394784?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/2621993672945394784/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/09/um-fantasma-e-gripe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2621993672945394784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/2621993672945394784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/09/um-fantasma-e-gripe.html' title='UM FANTASMA E A GRIPE A'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SsJwiph_87I/AAAAAAAAABU/lYhGhLn9aCo/s72-c/images%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2922001635591963345.post-6714398136209255481</id><published>2009-09-20T00:02:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T00:07:20.597+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='A escritora dos mais jovens.  Sandra Pinto'/><title type='text'>NÃO QUERO CRESCER MAIS!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SrVVc0-P1CI/AAAAAAAAAAY/dQUU-TpFPj4/s1600-h/sandra2%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 358px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383302883335722018" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SrVVc0-P1CI/AAAAAAAAAAY/dQUU-TpFPj4/s400/sandra2%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2922001635591963345-6714398136209255481?l=contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/feeds/6714398136209255481/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/09/nao-quero-crescer-mais.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6714398136209255481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2922001635591963345/posts/default/6714398136209255481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdefadaseoutros.blogspot.com/2009/09/nao-quero-crescer-mais.html' title='NÃO QUERO CRESCER MAIS!'/><author><name>HISTÓRIAS NO JARDIM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08869873648599771579</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JoE95YJplfQ/SrVVc0-P1CI/AAAAAAAAAAY/dQUU-TpFPj4/s72-c/sandra2%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
