Tim SimmonsEnglish 311SectionWinter 2012

Teaching the Horror Genre

Introduction

This unit will teach the horror genre to 8th grade students. The lesson will be taught

towards the end of October, which will create student interest because it is perfect for the

Halloween season. I have chosen to teach the horror genre because it has such a wide variety of

pieces (Ranging from paranormal horror to horror comedies). The horror genre will generate a

great deal of enthusiasm from students due to its exciting nature. Also, this lesson will be taught

to an all-male classroom. Male students normally appreciate horror due to its action and graphic

images.The horror genre is often forgotten about in English courses, even though strong works

have been produced in this genre (Edgar Allen Poe, Stephen King, Vampire stories, etc.), and

this genre is quite popular amongst students, especially male students. Students need a change of

pace and variety, and this will be a nice change from the typical English lesson. Students should

be exposed to all genres, not just the ones that are typically taught.

Inventory

This lesson will be taught at an urban high school and academy. This school is located in

Detroit, Michigan. The school is diverse, although still primarily white. 30% of the school is

black, 1% is Hispanic, less than 1% is Asian/Pacific Islander, and 68% is white. The school

contains a wide variety of students in terms of socioeconomic status. The school consists of

students from upper class, middle class, and lower class families, however the majority of

students fall in the middle-class category. This school is an all-male, Catholic , private school.

The school is a combination of a high school (grades 9-12), and an academy (grades 7-8).

This lesson will be taught to an 8th grade English class. Last year, the class I will be

teaching received 100% at or above the reading proficiency on the MEAP as well as 68% for

writing. These figures tell me that these students are very capable and intelligent. The writing

abilities might not be perfect, but at least the ability is there.

Theoretical Approach

I plan on teaching this unit using both a New Criticism and Reader Response approach.

Some of the pieces I use are more classic, such as Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Tell Tale Heart”,

while other pieces are more contemporary, such as Stephen King’s “The Reaper’s Image”. For a

few lessons, I focus on the author of the text, such as Poe or King, because they are important

leaders of the horror genre and the students should be familiar with their previous works. This

would fall into the New Criticism approach. I will encourage close reading to discover elements

of horror and suspense, but I will also allow my students to create their own ideas and

impressions of the readings, which would fall into the Reader Response approach. I will ask

them, through discussion topics and questions, to examine their own personal experiences and

fears. These personal experiences can connect to the final project because students can use their

own fears to create their own horror movie scene. I will lead the class through questions

occasionally, but I will truly focus on allowing students to come to their own conclusions about

the material.

Objectives

Students will be introduced to the horror genre by reading works from leaders of the

horror genre such as Stephen King and Edgar Allen Poe.

Students will learn and become aware of the elements of horror. These elements include creating

an eerie atmosphere and inducing feelings of fear within the reader.

Students will demonstrate their ability to create an effective horror piece by creating a horror

screenplay and movie to be uploaded to YouTube or edited onto a DVD disc/video tape.

Students will demonstrate their knowledge of technology by editing a horror movie scene and

presenting this creation to the class.

Texts

“A Ghost Story” by Mark Twaino This story will illustrate the wide variety of horror. This horror story ends with a

comedic ending which reveals the freedom of the horror genre, yet it still contains

elements of fear and suspense, which places the story in the horror genre.

Students will see that not all horror stories have to be completely serious or

terrifying.

“The Tell Tale Heart” by Edgar Allen Poeo This story contains a number of horror elements, including a creepy atmosphere

and the creation of suspense. Students will use this story to understand the

classifications of the horror genre.

“The Reaper’s Image” by Stephen Kingo This tale uses horrifying imagery and creates powerful suspense. This story will

be used to demonstrate the creation of suspense in a horror story. Also, Stephen

King is a modern day leader of the horror genre which makes him an important

figure to learn about in a unit on horror.

“The Vampiress” by Lord Lyttono This is an important piece to teach because it reveals that horror, just like every

genre, includes poetry. Poetry is often viewed as romantic and airy, so this poem

will reveal the darker, more gothic side of poetry. Students will use this piece as

an example while creating their own horror-themed poem.

Activities and Assessment

A major aspect of my class will be classroom discussions. This will allow me to assess

the knowledge and understanding of my students. Throughout the unit, students will read pieces

of horror literature and will respond to the piece in a personal journal. During most classes,

students will share their journal responses as a class which will lead to class discussions. For

Mark Twain’s “A Ghost Story”, students will highlight elements of horror and suspense as they

are reading the story to themselves. Students will identify the power of atmosphere by watching

a scene from John Carpenter’s Halloween as well as through the reading of each horror piece,

especially Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Tell Tale Heart” and Stephen King’s “The Reaper’s Image”.

Students will participate in a “Scary Starters” activity in which they are given the opening line to

a horror story and they must create the rest of the story based on that scary opening. I will assess

the ability of my students to create horror stories using atmosphere and inducing fear. I will

assess the ability of the students to write a horror poem by having them create one with “The

Vampiress” as their example. This will allow me to understand whether my students are

understanding the genre. I also will give a homework assignment for Stephen King’s “The

Reaper’s Image” to make sure my students are not only reading the material, but identifying key

elements as well as understanding the reading. The final project is the screenplay/movie activity.

Students, in small groups, will write a horror screenplay. Students will film their scene using

elaborate costumes, creepy music, and an eerie atmosphere to create fear of the audience (the

class). This project will be edited and uploaded to YouTube or transfered to a DVD or video tape

to be shown to the class. I will assess the scene using the attached rubric.

LESSON PLAN (Day 1)

TITLE: Introduction to Horror

OVERVIEW:

In this lesson, students will explore the concept of fear using all of their senses (sight, sound, touch, smell, taste). Students create their own list of fears in their journals, and then share these fears with the class. Students will write their fears on the white board, which will be followed by a classroom discussion on the elements and classification of fears (physical, social, paranormal, etc.). Following this classroom discussion, students will be introduced to the horror genre in literature. The students will be asked what they know about the horror genre, including popular horror writings or authors.

GOALS/OBJECTIVES:

Students will explore the concepts of fear using all of their senses Students will create a classroom community through class discussion and participation Students will be introduced to the horror genre and will be given a chance to express

what they already know about the genre

MATERIALS/RESOURCES:

Individual writing journals

ACTIVITIES/PROCEDURES:

After taking attendance and welcoming the students to class, I will ask my students to make a list in their journals of things that scare them. I will encourage my students to use all of their senses when considering fears (sight, sound, smell, touch, taste).

10 minutes

Students will share their list of fears with the class. Students will volunteer to write their fears on the white board which will result in a complete compilation of common fears.

10 minutes

Next, I will lead students in a group discussion on fears. I will ask students to categorize the fears on the board. (Example: The fear or rejection is a social fear. The fear of ghosts is a paranormal fear.)

15 minutes

I will end the class by introducing the horror genre. I will ask students about their knowledge of the genre- what works of horror have you read? Can you name an author of

15 minutes

horror? What are the essential elements of a horror story?

ACCOMODATION:

This lesson will be great for a student with ADHD because it will allow them to openly communicate with their classmates, as well as move freely around the classroom to write on the white board. However, during quiet journal reflection I will observe the ADHD students to make sure that they are concentrating on their work. Journal reflection is only 10 minutes of classroom time, therefore this should not be a problem for students with ADHD.

ASSESSMENT:

Students will be assessed through group discussions in which I will observe the participation and knowledge of the students. I will attempt to involve as many students as possible in the classroom discussions and white board activity. The general knowledge of the students in terms of the horror genre will be assessed through a group discussion in which I ask them what they know about the genre. This will allow me to get a feel of what my students already know and what they need to learn.

LESSON PLAN (Day 2)

TITLE: The Variety of Horror

OVERVIEW:

In this lesson, students will read “A Ghost Story” by Mark Twain and highlight elements of horror/suspense within the story as they read. Students will share their findings with their peers in a classroom discussion. Students will understand the variety and freedom of the horror genre.

GOALS/OBJECTIVES:

Students will learn about the variety of the horror genre. Students will identify elements of horror and suspense in a short story. Students will analyze a piece of horror literature and discuss their findings with their

peers.

MATERIALS/RESOURCES:

“A Ghost Story” by Mark Twain (Handout)

Individual writing journals

ACTIVITIES/PROCEDURES:

After taking attendance and welcoming the students to class, I will ask my students to journal about the most terrifying/suspenseful movie they have ever seen. What made the movie scary? What elements stuck out to you? How did the movie use different senses (sight, sound) to create fear within you?

10 minutes

Students will share their journal entries with the class in a classroom discussion. I will point out the variety of answers and elements used to create fear. Horror can be a variety of elements.

10 minutes

Next, I will hand out copies of Mark Twain’s “A Ghost Story”. Students will highlight elements of horror/suspense within the story as they read.

20 minutes

For the final minutes of class, students will share elements of horror/suspense that they found in the story with the class in a classroom discussion. I will point out the humorous ending of the story as an example that horror

10 minutes

stories come in many different varieties.

ACCOMODATION:

Having students highlight important elements of the short story as they read will keep students with ADHD focused on the reading. I will monitor these students throughout group discussions and individual journal work to make sure that they are not distracted.

ASSESSMENT:

Students will be assessed through group discussions in which I will observe the participation and knowledge of the students. Students will also be assessed through their individual work (journaling and highlighting the short story), which I will monitor as they work.

A GHOST STORY by MARK TWAIN

From "Sketches New and Old", Copyright 1903, Samuel Clemens.

A Ghost Story

I TOOK a large room, far up Broadway, in a huge old building whose upper stories had been wholly unoccupied for years, until I came. The place had long been given up to dust and cobwebs, to solitude and silence. I seemed groping among the tombs and invading the privacy of the dead, that first night I climbed up to my quarters. For the first time in my life a superstitious dread came over me; and as I turned a dark angle of the stairway and an invisible cobweb swung its slazy woof in my face and clung there, I shuddered as one who had encountered a phantom.

I was glad enough when I reached my room and locked out the mould and the darkness. A cheery fire was burning in the grate, and I sat down before it with a comforting sense of relief. For two hours I sat there, thinking of bygone times; recalling old scenes, and summoning half-forgotten faces out of the mists of the past; listening, in fancy, to voices that long ago grew silent for all time, and to once familiar songs that nobody sings now. And as my reverie softened down to a sadder and sadder pathos, the shrieking of the winds outside softened to a wail, the angry beating of the rain against the panes diminished to a tranquil patter, and one by one the noises in the street subsided, until the hurrying foot-steps of the last belated straggler died away in the distance and left no sound behind.

The fire had burned low. A sense of loneliness crept over me. I arose and undressed, moving on tiptoe about the room, doing stealthily what I had to do, as if I were environed by sleeping enemies whose slumbers it would be fatal to break. I covered up in bed, and lay listening to the rain and wind and the faint creaking of distant shutters, till they lulled me to sleep.

I slept profoundly, but how long I do not know. All at once I found myself awake, and filled with a shuddering expectancy. All was still. All but my own heart -- I could hear it beat. Presently the bed- clothes began to slip away slowly toward the foot of the bed, as if some one were pulling them! I could not stir; I could not speak. Still the blankets slipped deliberately away, till my breast was un- covered. Then with a great effort I seized them and drew them over my head. I waited, listened, waited.

Once more that steady pull began, and once more I lay torpid a century of dragging seconds till my breast was naked again. At last I roused my energies and snatched the covers back to their place and held them with a strong grip. I waited. By and by I felt a faint tug, and took a fresh grip. The tug strengthened to a steady strain -- it grew stronger and stronger. My hold parted, and for the third time the blankets slid away. I groaned.

An answering groan came from the foot of the bed! Beaded drops of sweat stood upon my forehead. I was more dead than alive. Presently I heard a heavy footstep in my room -- the step of an elephant, it seemed to me -- it was not like anything human. But it was moving FROM me -- there was relief in that. I heard it approach the door -- pass out without moving bolt or lock -- and wander away among the dismal corridors, straining the floors and joists till they creaked again as it passed -- and then silence reigned once more.

When my excitement had calmed, I said to myself, "This is a dream -- simply a hideous dream." And so I lay thinking it over until I convinced myself that it WAS a dream, and then a comforting laugh relaxed my lips and I was happy again. I got up and struck a light; and when I found that the locks and bolts were just as I had left them, another soothing laugh welled in my heart and rippled from my lips. I took my pipe and lit it, and was just sitting down before the fire, when -- down went the pipe out of my nerveless fingers, the blood forsook my cheeks, and my placid breathing was cut short with a gasp! In the ashes on the hearth, side by side with my own bare footprint, was another, so vast that in comparison mine was but an infant's'! Then I had HAD a visitor, and the elephant tread was explained.

I put out the light and returned to bed, palsied with fear. I lay a long time, peering into the darkness, and listening. Then I heard a grating noise overhead, like the dragging of a heavy body across the floor; then the throwing down of the body, and the shaking of my windows in response to the concussion. In distant parts of the building I heard the muffled slamming of doors. I heard, at intervals, stealthy footsteps creeping in and out among the corridors, and up and down the stairs. Sometimes these noises approached my door, hesitated, and went away again. I heard the clanking of chains faintly, in remote passages, and listened while the clanking grew nearer -- while it wearily climbed the stairways, marking each move by the loose surplus of chain that fell with an accented rattle upon each succeeding step as the goblin that bore it advanced. I heard muttered sentences; half-uttered screams that seemed smothered violently; and the swish of invisible garments, the rush of invisible wings. Then I became conscious that my chamber was invaded -- that I was not alone. I heard sighs and breathings about my bed, and mysterious whisperings. Three little spheres of soft phosphorescent light appeared on the ceiling directly over my head, clung and glowed there a moment, and then dropped -- two of them upon my face and one upon the pillow. They spattered, liquidly, and felt warm.

Intuition told me they had turned to gouts of blood as they fell -- I needed no light to satisfy myself ofthat. Then I saw pallid faces, dimly luminous, and white uplifted hands, floating bodiless in the air -- floating a moment and then disappearing. The whispering ceased, and the voices and the sounds, and a solemn stillness followed. I waited and listened. I felt that I must have light or die. I was weak with fear. I slowly raised myself toward a sitting posture, and my face came in contact with a clammy hand! All strength went from me apparently, and I fell back like a stricken invalid. Then I heard the rustle of a garment -- it seemed to pass to the door and go out.

When everything was still once more, I crept out of bed, sick and feeble, and lit the gas with a hand that trembled as if it were aged with a hundred years. The light brought some little cheer to my spirits. I sat down and fell into a dreamy contemplation of that great footprint in the ashes. By and by its outlines began to waver and grow dim. I glanced up and the broad gas flame was slowly wilting away. In the same moment I heard that elephantine tread again. I noted its approach, nearer and nearer, along the musty halls, and dimmer and dimmer the light waned. The tread reached my very door and paused -- the light had dwindled to a sickly blue, and all things about me lay in a spectral twilight. The door did not open, and yet I felt a faint gust of air fan my cheek, and presently was conscious of a huge, cloudy presence before me. I watched it with fascinated eyes. A pale glow stole over the Thing; gradually its cloudy folds took shape -- an arm appeared, then legs, then a body, and last a great sad face looked out of the vapor. Stripped of its filmy housings, naked, muscular and comely, the majestic Cardiff Giant loomed above me!

All my misery vanished -- for a child might know that no harm could come with that benignant countenance. My cheerful spirits returned at once, and in sympathy with them the gas flamed up brightly again. Never a lonely outcast was so glad to welcome company as I was to greet the friendly giant. I said:

"Why, is it nobody but you? Do you know, I have been scared to death for the last two or three hours? I am most honestly glad to see you. I wish I had a chair -- Here, here, don't try to sit down in that thing!

But it was too late. He was in it before I could stop him, and down he went -- I never saw a chair shivered so in my life. "Stop, stop, You'll ruin ev--"

Too late again. There was another crash, and another chair was resolved into its original elements.

"Confound it, haven't you got any judgment at all? Do you want to ruin all the furniture on the place? Here, here, you petrified fool--"

But it was no use. Before I could arrest him he had sat down on the bed, and it was a melancholy ruin.

"Now what sort of a way is that to do? First you come lumbering about the place bringing a legion of vagabond goblins along with you to worry me to death, and then when I overlook an indelicacy of costume which would not be tolerated anywhere by cultivated people except in a respectable theater, and not even there if the nudity were of YOUR sex, you repay me by wrecking all the furniture you can find to sit down on. And why will you? You damage yourself as much as you do me. You have broken off the end of your spinal column, and littered up the floor with chips of your hams till the place looks like a marble yard. You ought to be ashamed of yourself -- you are big enough to know better."

"Well, I will not break any more furniture. But what am I to do? I have not had a chance to sit down for a century." And the tears came into his eyes.

"Poor devil," I said, "I should not have been so harsh with you. And you are an orphan, too, no doubt. But sit down on the floor here -- nothing else can stand your weight -- and besides, we cannot be sociable with you away up there above me; I want you down where I can perch on this high counting-house stool and gossip with you face to face."

So he sat down on the floor, and lit a pipe which I gave him, threw one of my red blankets over his shoulders, inverted my sitz-bath on his head, helmet fashion, and made himself picturesque and comfortable. Then he crossed his ankles, while I renewed the fire, and exposed the flat, honey-combed bottoms of his prodigious feet to the grateful warmth.

"What is the matter with the bottom of your feet and the back of your legs, that they are gouged up so?"

"Infernal chillblains -- I caught them clear up to the back of my head, roosting out there under Newell's farm. But I love the place; I love it as one loves his old home. There is no peace for me like the peace I feel when I am there."

We talked along for half an hour, and then I noticed that he looked tired, and spoke of it. "Tired?" he said. "Well, I should think so. And now I will tell you all about it, since you have treated me so well. I am the spirit of the Petrified Man that lies across the street there in the Museum. I am the ghost of the Cardiff Giant. I can have no rest, no peace, till they have given that poor body burial  again. Now what was the most natural thing for me to do, to make men satisfy this wish? Terrify them into it! -- haunt the place where the body lay! So I haunted the museum night after night. I even got other spirits to help me. But it did no good, for nobody ever came to the museum at midnight. Then it occurred to me to come over the way and haunt this place a little. I felt that if I ever got a hearing I must succeed, for I had the most efficient company that perdition could furnish. Night after night we have shivered around through these mildewed halls, dragging chains, groaning, whispering, tramping up and down stairs, till, to tell you the truth, I am almost worn out. But when I saw a light in your room to-night I roused my energies again and went at it with a deal of the old freshness. But I am tired out -- entirely fagged out. Give me, I beseech you, give me some hope!"

I lit off my perch in a burst of excitement, and exclaimed:

"This transcends everything -- everything that ever did occur! Why you poor blundering old fossil, you have had all your trouble for nothing -- you have been haunting a PLASTER CAST of your- self -- the real Cardiff Giant is in Albany!

[Footnote by Twain: A fact. The original fraud was ingeniously and fraudfully duplicated,  and exhibited in New York as the "only genuine" Cardiff Giant (to the unspeakable disgust of the owners of the real colossus) at the very same time that the latter was drawing crowds at a  museum in Albany.]

Confound it, don't you know your own remains?"

I never saw such an eloquent look of shame, of pitiable humiliation, overspread a countenance before.

The Petrified Man rose slowly to his feet, and said:

"Honestly, IS that true?"

"As true as I am sitting here."

He took the pipe from his mouth and laid it on the mantel, then stood irresolute a moment (unconsciously, from old habit, thrusting his hands where his pantaloons pockets should have been, and meditatively dropping his chin on his breast), and finally said:

"Well -- I NEVER felt so absurd before. The Petrified Man has sold everybody else, and now the mean fraud has ended by selling its own ghost! My son, if there is any charity left in your heart for a poor friendless phantom like me, don't let this get out. Think how YOU would feel if you had made such an ass of yourself."

I heard his, stately tramp die away, step by step down the stairs and out into the deserted street, andfelt sorry that he was gone, poor fellow -- and sorrier still that he had carried off my red blanket and my bath tub.

LESSON PLAN (Day 3)

TITLE: The Atmosphere of Horror

OVERVIEW:

In this lesson, students will analyze the creation of an effective horror atmosphere in a scene from the film Halloween. Students will create their own horror stories with an emphasis on atmosphere within small groups. These stories will be shared with the class.

GOALS/OBJECTIVES:

Students will learn about the element of atmosphere in the horror genre Students will identify elements of horror and suspense in a scene from a film Students will demonstrate their ability to work with small groups

MATERIALS/RESOURCES:

John Carpenter’s Halloween (DVD or YouTube clip)

Individual writing journals

ACTIVITIES/PROCEDURES:

After taking attendance and welcoming the students to class, I will play a scene from the film Halloween for the class. Students will take notes in their journals on the atmosphere of the scene. What made it scary? How did Carpenter create an effective atmosphere? Was it effective?

10 minutes

Students will share their journal entries with the class in a classroom discussion. I will point out the importance of creating atmosphere in the horror genre.

10 minutes

Next, students will be split into small groups. With their small groups, students will create their own horror stories with an emphasis on creating an effective atmosphere.

20 minutes

For the final minutes of class, students will share their short stories with the class. The class will discuss and review each story providing constructive feedback.

10 minutes

ACCOMODATION:

This lesson will be acceptable for students with ADHD because of the variety of activities taking place in the class. Rather than focusing on one activity or lecture throughout the class, students will be given a variety of activities that range from watching a film to creating a short story. I will observe the students with ADHD to make sure they are focusing on the activity.

ASSESSMENT:

Students will be assessed through group discussions in which I will observe the participation and knowledge of the students. Students will also be assessed through their work within small groups, as well as the creation of their short stories which will be read aloud in front of the class.

LESSON PLAN (Day 4)

TITLE: Classifying Horror: The Tell Tale Heart

OVERVIEW:

In this lesson, students will be introduced to Edgar Allen Poe. Students will analyze “The Tell Tale Heart” by Edgar Allen Poe and will explain why this short story is considered a part of the horror genre. This lesson is designed to ensure that students know how to classify stories as part of the horror genre.

GOALS/OBJECTIVES:

Students will be introduced to Edgar Allen Poe Students will analyze a short story and determine the genre of the story Students will form a classroom community through group discussion

MATERIALS/RESOURCES:

“The Tell Tale Heart” by Edgar Allen Poe (Handout)

ACTIVITIES/PROCEDURES:

After taking attendance and welcoming the students to class, I will discuss Edgar Allen Poe and his work with the class. I will ask the students what they already know about the author.

15 minutes

Next, I will hand out copies of Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Tell Tale Heart”. Different students will read the story aloud to the class.

15 minutes

Finally, I will conduct a classroom discussion on the story. Discussion questions will include: What makes this story a horror story? What elements are used to create fear within the reader? Was this story effective?

20 minutes

ACCOMODATION:

I will include students with ADHD in the reading of the short story to help them stay focused and attentive. I will observe these students throughout classroom discussions to make sure they are focusing on the material.

ASSESSMENT:

Students will be assessed through classroom discussion and observation. This lesson includes a great deal of discussion which will allow me to assess the knowledge and understanding of my students.

THE TELL-TALE HEART

by Edgar Allan Poe 1843

TRUE! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses --not destroyed --not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily --how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture --a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees --very gradually --I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded --with what caution --with what foresight --with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it --oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly --very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this, And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously-oh, so cautiously --cautiously (for the hinges creaked) --I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights --every night just at midnight --but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he has passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.

Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers --of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back --but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.

I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed, crying out --"Who's there?"

I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening; --just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.

Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief --oh, no! --it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself --"It is nothing but the wind in the chimney --it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel --although he neither saw nor heard --to feel the presence of my head within the room.

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little --a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it --you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily --until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.

It was open --wide, wide open --and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness --all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.

And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense? --now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! --do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me --the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped

into the room. He shrieked once --once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eve would trouble me no more.

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.

I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye --not even his --could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out --no stain of any kind --no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all --ha! ha!

When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o'clock --still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, --for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.

I smiled, --for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search --search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.

The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct: --It continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness --until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.

No doubt I now grew very pale; --but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased --and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound --much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath --and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly --more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men --but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed --I raved --I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and

grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder --louder --louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! --no, no! They heard! --they suspected! --they knew! --they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now --again! --hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!

"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! --tear up the planks! here, here! --It is the beating of his hideous heart!"

-THE END-

LESSON PLAN (Day 5)

TITLE: The Reaper’s Image: Creating Suspense

OVERVIEW:

In this lesson, students will be introduced Stephen King. Students will read a short story and respond to the story in a classroom discussion. Students will be introduced to the screenplay project and will create their screenplay groups.

GOALS/OBJECTIVES:

Students will be introduced to Stephen King Students will analyze a short story and explain the examples of suspense created in the

story Students will be introduced to the screenplay project and will create screenplay groups

MATERIALS/RESOURCES:

“The Reaper’s Image” by Stephen King (Handout)

“The Reaper’s Image” homework assignment (Handout)

ACTIVITIES/PROCEDURES:

After taking attendance and welcoming the students to class, I will discuss Stephen King and his work with the class. I will ask the students what they already know about the author.

15 minutes

Next, I will hand out copies of Stephen King’s “The Reaper’s Image”. Different students will read the story aloud to the class.

15 minutes

I will then pass out a homework assignment to my students which will be due next class. After passing out the homework assignment, I will discuss the screenplay assignment due next week. I will pass out the assignment sheet for the project.

15 minutes

Finally, students will be told to form their groups for the screenplay project.

5 minutes

ACCOMODATION:

I will include students with ADHD in the reading of the short story to help them stay focused and attentive. I will observe these students throughout classroom discussions to make sure they are focusing on the material. I will try to place ADHD students with responsible students for the screenplay project to help them stay focused.

ASSESSMENT:

Students will be given a homework assignment which will assess their understanding of Stephen King’s “The Reaper’s Image”. I will observe students throughout group discussion to assess their knowledge and understanding of the lecture material.

Screenplay Assignment

General Overview:

For this assignment, you will create your own movie scene with a small group. As a group, you will write your own screenplay for a horror movie scene. You will then film this scene and present the clip to the class. The assignment is worth 40 points!

Things to Consider:

*The scene must fit into the horror genre (This includes creating an atmosphere of fear). Different genres can be blended into the horror genre (such as comedic elements), however the scene must demonstrate your knowledge of the horror genre.

*The scene must be at least 10 minutes in length, but no longer than 20 minutes.

*Use this project as an opportunity to be creative! Use elaborate costumes; add music to your scene; Write an effective script; Have fun!

*Remember: This scene will be viewed in front of the class. Please make sure the scene is appropriate (Language, images, music, etc.).

*The scene may be uploaded to YouTube, or you can create a physical copy such as a DVD or tape.

Rubric

You Have Survived! (10 points)

So close! (5 points) First victim! (1 point)

Creativity The scene incorporates a great deal of creativity and imagery that caught the attention of the audience

The scene incorporated creative elements, yet lost the attention of the audience

The scene was very bland and did not demonstrate the creativity of the creators

Script The script is effective and well-written

The script is decent, but does not fully make sense

The writing is poor and does not make sense

Length The scene is 10-15 minutes in length

The scene is a little too long (20 minutes) or a little too short (7-9 minutes)

The scene is far too short (Below 5 minutes), or far too long (Above 20 minutes)

Genre Requirements The scene is a clear work of horror, creating fear through atmosphere and the senses

The scene uses some horror elements, but is not fully effective

The scene would not be considered horror

The Reaper's Imageby Stephen King

"We moved it last year, and quite an operation it was, too," Mr. Carlin said as theymounted the stairs. "Had to move it by hand, of course. No other way. We insured it againstaccident with Lloyd's before we even took it out of the case in the drawing room. Only firm thatwould insure for the sum we had in mind.''Spangler said nothing. The man was a fool. Johnson Spangler had learned a long timeago that the only way to talk to a fool was to ignore him."Insured it for a quarter of a million dollars," Mr. Carlin resumed when they reached thesecond-floor landing. His mouth quirked in a half-bitter, half-humorous line. "And a prettypenny it cost, too." He was a little man, not quite fat, with rimless glasses and a tanned baldheadthat shone like a varnished volleyball. A suit of armor, guarding the mahogany shadows of thesecond-floor corridor, stared at them impassively.It was a long corridor, and Spangler eyed the walls and hangings with a cool professionaleye. Samuel Claggert had bought in copious quantities, but he had not bought well. Like somany of the self-made industry emperors of the late 1800's, he had been little more than apawnshop rooter masquerading in collector's clothing, a connoisseur of canvas monstrosities,trashy novels and poetry collections in expensive cowhide bindings, and atrocious pieces ofsculpture, all of which he considered Art.Up here the walls were hung -- festooned was perhaps a better word -- with imitationMoroccan drapes, numberless (and, no doubt, anonymous) madonnas holding numberless haloedbabes while numberless angels flitted hither and thither in the background, grotesque scrolledcandelabra, and one monstrous and obscenely ornate chandelier surmounted by a salaciouslygrinning nymphet.Of course the old pirate had come up with a few interesting items; the law of averagesdemanded it. And if the Samuel Claggert Memorial Private Museum (Guided Tours on the Hour-- Admission $1.00 Adults, $.50 Children -- nauseating) was 98 percent blatant junk, there wasalways that other two percent, things like the Coombs long rifle over the hearth in the kitchen,the strange little camera obscure in the parlor, and of course the --"The Delver looking-glass was removed from downstairs after a rather unfortunate...incident," Mr. Carlin said abruptly, motivated apparently by a ghastly glaring portrait of no onein particular at the base of the next staircase. "There had been others -- harsh words, wildstatements -- but this was an attempt to actually destroy the mirror. The woman, a Miss SandraBates, came in with a rock in her pocket. Fortunately her aim was bad and she only cracked acorner of the case. The mirror was unharmed. The Bates girl had a brother -- ""No need to give me the dollar tour," Spangler said quietly. "I'm conversant with thehistory of the Delver glass.""Fascinating, isn't it?" Carlin cast him an odd, oblique look. "There was that Englishduchess in 1709... and the Pennsylvania rug merchant in 1746... not to mention -- ""I'm conversant with the history," Spangler repeated quietly. "It's the workmanship I'minterested in. And then, of course, there's the question of authenticity -- ""Authenticity!" Mr. Carlin chuckled, a dry sound, as if bones had stirred in a cupboardbelow the stairs. "It's been examined by experts, Mr. Spangler." "So was the Lemlier

Stradivarius." "So true," Mr. Carlin said with a sigh. "But no Stradivarius ever had quite the... theunsettling effect of the Delver glass.""Yes, quite," Spangler said in his softly contemptuous voice. He understood now thatthere would be no stopping Carlin; he had a mind, which was perfectly in tune with the age."Quite."They climbed the third and fourth flights in silence. As they drew closer to the roof of therambling structure, it became oppressively hot in the dark upper galleries. With the heat came acreeping stench that Spangler knew well, for he had spent all his adult life working in it -- asmell of long-dead flies in shadowy corners, of wet rot and creeping wood lice behind theplaster. The smell of age. It was a smell common only to museums and mausoleums. Heimagined much the same smell might arise from the grave of a virginal young girl, forty yearsdead.Up here the relics were piled helter-skelter in true junk-shop profusion; Mr. Carlin ledSpangler through a maze of statuary, frame-splintered portraits, pompous gold-plated birdcages,the dismembered skeleton of an ancient tandem bicycle. He led him to the far wall where astepladder had been set up beneath a trapdoor in the ceiling. A dusty padlock hung from the trap.Off to the left, an imitation Adonis stared at them pitilessly with blank pupilless eyes.One arm was outstretched, and a yellow sign hung on the wrist which- read: ABSOLUTELY NOADMITTANCE.Mr. Carlin produced a key ring from his jacket pocket, selected a key, and mounted thestepladder. He paused on the third rung, his bald head gleaming faintly in the shadows. "I don'tlike that mirror," he said. "I never did. I'm afraid to look into it. I'm afraid I might look into it oneday and see... what the rest of them saw.""They saw nothing but themselves," Spangler said.Mr. Carlin began to speak, stopped, shook his head, and fumbled above him, craning hisneck to fit the key properly into the lock. "Should be replaced," he muttered. "It's -- damn!" Thelock sprung suddenly and swung out of the hasp. Mr. Carlin made a fumbling grab for it andalmost fell off the ladder. Spangler caught it deftly and looked up at him. He was clingingshakily to the top of the stepladder, face white in the brown semidarkness."You are nervous about it, aren't you?" Spangler said in a mildly wondering tone.Mr. Carlin said nothing. He seemed paralyzed."Come down," Spangler said. "Please. Before you fall."Carlin descended the ladder slowly, clinging to each rung like a man tottering over abottomless chasm. When his feet touched the floor he began to babble, as if the floor containedsome current that had turned him on, like an electric light."A quarter of a million," he said. "A quarter of a million dollars' worth of insurance totake that... thing from down there to up here. That goddam thing. They had to rig a special blockand tackle to get it into the gable storeroom up there. And I was hoping -- almost praying -- thatsomeone's fingers would be slippery... that the rope would be the wrong test... that the thingwould fall and be shattered into a million pieces -- ""Facts," Spangler said. "Facts, Carlin. Not cheap paperback novels, not cheap tabloidstories or equally cheap horror movies. Facts. Number one: John Delver was an Englishcraftsman of Norman descent who made mirrors in what we call the Elizabethan period ofEngland's history. He lived and died uneventfully. No pentacles scrawled on the floor for thehousekeeper to rub out, no sulfur-smelling documents with a splotch of blood on the dotted line.Number two: His mirrors have become collector's items due principally to fine craftsmanship

and to the fact that a form of crystal was used that has a mildly magnifying and distorting effectupon the eye of the beholder -- a rather distinctive trademark. Number three: Only five Delversremain in existence to our present knowledge -- two of them in America. They are priceless.Number four: This Delver and one other that was destroyed in the London Blitz have gained arather spurious reputation due largely to falsehood, exaggeration, and coincidence -- ""Fact number five," Mr. Carlin said. "You're a supercilious bastard, aren't you?"Spangler looked with mild detestation at the blind-eyed Adonis."I was guiding the tour that Sandra Bates's brother was a part of when he got his look intoyour precious Delver mirror, Spangler. He was perhaps sixteen, part of a high-school group. Iwas going through the history of the glass and had just got to the part you would appreciate --extolling the flawless craftsmanship, the perfection of the glass itself -- when the boy raised hishand. 'But what about that black splotch in the upper left-hand corner?' he asked. 'That looks likea mistake.'"And one of his friends asked him what he meant, so the Bates boy started to tell him,then stopped. He looked at the mirror very closely, pushing right up to the red velvet guard-ropearound the case -- then he looked behind him as if what he had seen had been the reflection ofsomeone -- of someone in black -- standing at his shoulder. 'It looked like a man,' he said. 'But Icouldn't see the face. It's gone now.' And that was all.""Go on," Spangler said. "You're itching to tell me it was the Reaper -- I believe that is thecommon explanation, isn't it? That occasional chosen people see the Reaper's image in the glass?Get it out of your system, man. The National Enquirer would love it! Tell me about the horrificconsequences and defy me to explain it. Was he later hit by a car? Did he jump out of a window?What?"Mr. Carlin chuckled a forlorn little chuckle. "You should know better, Spangler. Haven'tyou told me twice that you are... ah... conversant with the history of the Delver glass. There wereno horrific consequences. There never have been. That's why the Delver glass isn't Sundaysupplementizedlike the Koh-i-noor Diamond or the curse on King Tut's tomb. It's mundanecompared to those. You think I'm a fool, don't you?""Yes," Spangler said. "Can we go up now?""Certainly," Mr. Carlin said passionately. He climbed the ladder and pushed the trapdoor.There was a clickety-clackety-bump as it was drawn up into the shadows by a counterweight,and then Mr. Carlin disappeared into the shadows. Spangler followed. The blind Adonis staredunknowingly after them.The gable room was explosively hot, lit only by one cobwebby, many-angled windowthat filtered the hard outside light into a dirty milky glow. The looking-glass was propped at anangle to the light, catching most of it and reflecting a pearly patch onto the far wall. It had beenbolted securely into a wooden frame. Mr. Carlin was not looking at it. Quite studiously notlooking at it."You haven't even put a dustcloth over it," Spangler said, visibly angered for the firsttime."I think of it as an eye," Mr. Carlin said. His voice was still drained, perfectly empty. "Ifit's left open, always open, perhaps it will go blind."Spangler paid no attention. He took off his jacket, folded the buttons carefully in, andwith infinite gentleness he wiped the dust from the convex surface of the glass itself. Then hestood back and looked at it.

It was genuine. There was no doubt about it, never had been, really. It was a perfectexample of Delver's particular genius. The cluttered room behind him, his own reflection,Carlin's half-turned figure -- they were all clear, sharp, almost three-dimensional. The faintmagnifying effect of the glass gave everything a slightly curved effect that added an almostfourth-dimensional distortion. It was --His thought broke off, and he felt another wave of anger."Carlin."Carlin said nothing."Carlin, you damned fool, I thought you said that girl didn't harm the mirror!"No answer.Spangler stared at him icily in the glass. "There is a piece of friction tape in the upperleft-hand corner. Did she crack it? For God's sake, man, speak up!""You're seeing the Reaper," Carlin said. His voice was deadly and without passion."There's no friction tape on the mirror. Put your hand over it... dear God."Spangler wrapped the upper sleeve of his coat carefully around his hand, reached out, andpressed it gently against the mirror. "You see? Nothing supernatural. It's gone. My hand coversit.""Covers it? Can you feel the tape? Why don't you pull it off?"Spangler took his hand away carefully and looked into the glass. Everything in it seemeda little more distorted; the room's odd angles seemed to yaw crazily as if on the verge of slidingoff into some unseen eternity. There was no dark spot in the mirror. It was flawless. He felt asudden unhealthy dread rise in him and despised himself for feeling it."It looked like him, didn't it?" Mr. Carlin asked. Hi face was very pale, and he waslooking directly at the floor. A muscle twitched spasmodically in his neck. "Admit it, Spangler.It looked like a hooded figure standing behind you, didn't it?""It looked like friction tape masking a short crack," Spangler said very firmly. "Nothingmore, nothing less -- ""The Bates boy was very husky," Carlin said rapidly. His words seemed to drop into thehot, still atmosphere like stones into dark water. "Like a football player. He was wearing a lettersweater and dark green chinos. We were halfway to the upper-half exhibits when -- ''"The heat is making me feel ill," Spangler said a little unsteadily. He had taken out ahandkerchief and was wiping his neck. His eyes searched the convex surface of the mirror insmall, jerky movements."When he said he wanted a drink of water... a drink of water, for God's sake!"Carlin turned and stared wildly at Spangler. "How was I to know? How was I to know?""Is there a lavatory? I think I'm going to -""His sweater... I just caught a glimpse of his sweater going down the stairs... then..."" -- be sick."Carlin shook his head, as if to clear it, and looked at the floor again. "Of course. Thirddoor on your left, second floor, as you go toward the stairs." He looked up appealingly. "Howwas I to know!'But Spangler had already stepped down onto the ladder. It rocked under his weight andfor a moment Carlin thought -- hoped -- that he would fall. He didn't. Through the open square inthe floor Carlin watched him descend, holding his mouth lightly with one hand."Spangler -- ?"But he was gone.

Carlin listened to his footfalls fade to echoes, then die away. When they were gone, heshivered violently. He tried to move his own feet to the trapdoor, but they were frozen. Just thatlast, hurried glimpse of the boy's sweater... God!...It was as if huge invisible hands were pulling his head, forcing it up. Not wanting to look,Carlin stared into the glimmering depths of the Delver looking-glass.There was nothing there.The room was reflected back to him faithfully, its dusty confines transmuted intoglimmering infinity. A snatch of a half-remembered Tennyson poem occurred to him, and hemuttered it aloud: " 'I am half-sick of shadows," said the Lady of Shalott...' "And still he could not look away, and the breathing stillness held him. From around onecorner of the mirror a moth-eaten buffalo head peered at him with flat obsidian eyes.The boy had wanted a drink of water and the fountain was in the first-floor lobby. He hadgone downstairs and --And had never come back.Ever.Anywhere.Like the duchess who had paused after primping before her glass for a soiree and decidedto go back into the sitting room for her pearls. Like the rug-merchant who had gone for acarriage ride and had left behind him only an empty carriage and two closemouthed horses.And the Delver glass had been in New York from 1897 until 1920, had been there whenJudge Crater --Carlin stared as if hypnotized into the shallow depths of the mirror. Below, the blindeyedAdonis kept watch.He waited for Spangler much like the Bates family must have waited for their son, muchlike the duchess's husband must have waited for his wife to return from the sitting room. Hestared into the mirror and waited.And waited.And waited.

Name: ____________________The Reaper’s Image Study Guide

* (I found this homework assignment on: http://hsteachers.usd355.org/Home/english/rachel-sieker/english-iv-b1/the-reaper-s-image-1)

1. Who is the reaper in this story? Where is he seen?

2. What kind of place is the Samuel Claggert Memorial Private Museum?

3. Describe the characteristics of Mr. Carlin and Johnson Spangler. What kind of person is each one?

4. What does the author tell us about Delver Mirrors?

5. Do you like the ending? Give your reasons. Continue the story with an additional episode.

LESSON PLAN (Day 6)

TITLE: Screenplay Workshop

OVERVIEW:

In this lesson, students will workshop with their small groups on their screenplay. The entire class period will be given to students to create their script and discuss ideas for their horror scene.

GOALS/OBJECTIVES:

Students will demonstrate their abilities to work together as groups Students will work with their group to create a screenplay Students will create a classroom community by working together and offering

constructive feedback

MATERIALS/RESOURCES:

No additional materials/resources will be used today. Students will work together using their own materials.

ACTIVITIES/PROCEDURES:

After taking attendance and welcoming the students to class, I will answer questions relating to the screenplay assignment. I will also collect the assignment from yesterday.

10 minutes

Next, I will allow students to workshop with their small groups. Students will be able to create their scripts and come up with ideas for their project due at the end of the week.

40 minutes

ACCOMODATION:

I will monitor students with ADHD to make sure they are effectively working with their small group and focusing on the assignment. I will walk around the classroom and observe each group.

ASSESSMENT:

Students will be assessed through the homework assignment from last class. Students will also be working with their small groups. I will assess the work of each group by walking around the classroom monitoring and observing each group to make sure that they understand the assignment and are working together effectively.

LESSON PLAN (Day 7)

TITLE: Scary Starters

OVERVIEW:

In this lesson, students will create horror stories with small groups using “Scary Starters”.

GOALS/OBJECTIVES:

Students will demonstrate their abilities to work together as groups Students will work with their group to create a horror story Students will demonstrate their abilities to narrate a story to the class Students will develop experiences, events, and/or characters using narrative techniques

MATERIALS/RESOURCES:

“Scary Starters” activity sheet (Handout)

ACTIVITIES/PROCEDURES:

After taking attendance and welcoming the students to class, I will pass out the “Scary Starters” activity sheet. I will read the directions aloud to the class.

10 minutes

Next, students will work in small groups to create their horror stories using the “Scary Starters”

20 minutes

Finally, students will share their horror stories with the class orally. Students will be asked to explain why their stories would fit into the horror genre, and what elements they used to create fear or suspense in their stories.

20 minutes

ACCOMODATION:

Students with ADHD will be able to move around the classroom working with their small groups to create a story. These students can stay focused by reading their story aloud to the class. I will monitor each group to make sure they are working effectively and staying focused on the assignment.

ASSESSMENT:

Students will be assessed through observation as I monitor each group as they create their stories. Further assessment will take place through the creation and presentation of their stories.

Writing Activity Ideas

Give each small group of three to four students one of the following Scary Starters with which to begin a short story. Have groups share their stories, and then compile them into a class book.

As an alternative, have groups use Scary Starters to begin an oral tale. After groups practice their story, they can present them to the class.

1. It was a cold Halloween night when I saw the...2. The mad scientist was creating a new monster that could...

3. The large cauldron of purple liquid started to boil when...4. I got an eerie feeling when I heard...

5. The mysterious object started floating in the air and...6. The Halloween pumpkin turned into a...

7. The black cat started to crouch and hiss when...8. Something in the closet was making a strange noise, so I opened the door and...

9. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw...10. As I carefully entered the haunted house, the door shut behind me and...

11. Make up your own Scary Starter.

*This activity is from Scholastic for Teachers and can be found at the following link:

http://teacher.scholastic.com/lessonrepro/lessonplans/profbooks/starters.htm

LESSON PLAN (Day 8)

TITLE: Horror Poetry: The Vampiress

OVERVIEW:

In this lesson, students will continue to learn about the horror genre by reading the poem “The Vampiress” by Lord Lytton. Students will read the poem and then create their own horror poem, which will be shared with the class.

GOALS/OBJECTIVES:

Students will create a piece of poetry Students will demonstrate their knowledge of the elements of the horror genre by creating

their own horror piece Students will demonstrate their abilities to recite poetry in front of the class

MATERIALS/RESOURCES:

“The Vampiress” by Lord Lytton (Handout)

ACTIVITIES/PROCEDURES:

After taking attendance and welcoming the students to class, I will pass out “The Vampiress”. I will read the poem aloud.

5 minutes

I will hold a classroom discussion on “The Vampiress”. We will analyze the poem, and determine the horror elements of the piece.

10 minutes

Next, students will create their own horror-themed poem.

10 minutes

Finally, students will share their horror poems with the class. The class will provide constructive feedback to the reader.

25 minutes

ACCOMODATION:

Students with ADHD will be observed during the class discussion. I will encourage them to participate in the classroom discussion to keep them attentive. I will monitor these students as they write their poems to make sure they are participating and focused on the assignment.

ASSESSMENT:

Students will be assessed through observation as I observe each student creating and reciting their piece of poetry. I will also assess my students through class discussion about the poem read aloud at the beginning of class.

The VampiressBy

Lord Lytton

1803-1873

Found a corpse, with glittering hair,Of a woman whose face, tho' dead,

The white death in it had left still fair,Too fair for an earthly bed!

So I loosened each fold of her bright curls roll'dFrom forehead to foot in a rush of red gold,

And kissed her lips till her lips were red,And warm and light on her eyelids white

I breath'd, and pressed unto mine her breast,Till the blue eyes ope'd and the breast grew warm,

And this woman, behold! arose up bold,And lifelike lifting a wilful arm,

With steady feet from the winding sheetStepp'd forth to a mutter'd charm.

And now beside me, whatever betide me,This woman is, night and day.

For she cleaves to me so, that, wherever I goShe is with me the whole of the way.

And her eyes are so bright in the dead of the night,That they keep me awake with dread;

While my life blood pales in my veins and fails,Because her red lips are so red

That I fear 'tis my heart she must eat for her food;And it makes my whole flesh creep

To think she is drinking and draining my blood,Unawares, if I chance to sleep.

It were better for me, ere I came nigh her, This corpse,--ere I looked upon her,

Had they burn'd my body with penal fireWith a sorcerer's dishonour.

For when the devil has made his lairIn the living eyes of a dear dead woman,

(To bind a man's strength by her golden hair,And break his heart, if his heart be human),

Is there any penance, or any prayer,That may save the sinner whose soul he tries

To catch in the curse of the constant stareOf those heartbreaking bewildering eyes,

Comfortless, cavernous glowworms that glareFrom the gaping grave where a dead hope lies?

It is more than the soul of a man may bear.For the misery worst of all miseriesIs Desire eternally feeding Despair

On the flesh, or the blood, that forever suppliesLife more than enough to keep fresh in repairThe death ever dying, which yet never dies.

-The End-

LESSON PLAN (Day 9)

TITLE: Horror Scenes Presentations: Part 1

OVERVIEW:

In this class, students will present their horror scenes to the class.

GOALS/OBJECTIVES:

Students will present their horror scenes to the class

MATERIALS/RESOURCES:

DVD player

Computer access (YouTube)

ACTIVITIES/PROCEDURES:

Attendance/Welcome; I will instruct students to be respectful while watching each group’s scene

5 minutes

Group 1 presents 15 minutesGroup 2 presents 15 minutesGroup 3 presents 15 minutes

ACCOMODATION:

Students with ADHD will be observed during the presentations. I will make sure they are paying attention to the videos and remaining quiet during the scene.

ASSESSMENT:

Students will be assessed through their horror movie scene which will be presented in front of the class.

LESSON PLAN (Day 10)

TITLE: Horror Scenes Presentations: Part 2

OVERVIEW:

In this class, students will present their horror scenes to the class.

GOALS/OBJECTIVES:

Students will present their horror scenes to the class

MATERIALS/RESOURCES:

DVD player

Computer access (YouTube)

ACTIVITIES/PROCEDURES:

Attendance/Welcome; I will instruct students to be respectful while watching each group’s scene

5 minutes

Group 4 presents 15 minutesGroup 5 presents 15 minutesGroup 6 presents 15 minutes

ACCOMODATION:

Students with ADHD will be observed during the presentations. I will make sure they are paying attention to the videos and remaining quiet during the scene.

ASSESSMENT:

Students will be assessed through their horror movie scene which will be presented in front of the class.