Thematic hour children of war scenario. An extracurricular event in an elementary school is “dedicated to the children of war.” Scenarios "Children of War"

E Grieg "The Last Spring"
Presenter 1:
Thirteen million children died on Earth during World War II! What do we have more valuable than our children? What does any nation have that is more valuable? Any mother? Any father? The best people on earth are children. How can we preserve it in the troubled 21st century? How to save his soul and his life? And with it our past and our future?
Presenter 2:
The war became the common biography of an entire generation of military children. Even if they were in the rear, they were still military children. Their stories are also the length of an entire war. Today they are the last witnesses of those tragic days. There is no one else behind them!
Scene 1.
(A boy is sitting on the seashore. His clothes and hair are fluttering in the wind. The sound of the sea surf is heard.)
E Moricone.
Presenter 1: He loved to draw. Sitting on a rocky beach, he waited for a wave, a big one, and tried to remember it, and then sketched it in a notebook with curled corners. And the sea wind kept turning the pages of the notebook, and the boy annoyedly pressed the corner with a pebble. He loved to paint the blue and green Crimean mountains, where he and the boys played “extraordinary adventures.” Maybe he would become an artist. Or maybe a sailor. Or an engineer. He was a fast, smart, smart boy. No one yet knew that he would become a courageous, brave, resourceful intelligence officer.
(The teenager changes into a military uniform, the children come out and approach the teenager)
The light is flashing. The sound of a bomb.
Without music.
Teenager:
We are children of war.
We got it from the cradle
Experience the chaos of adversity.
There was hunger. It was cold. I couldn't sleep at night.
The sky was blackened by the burning.
The earth shook from explosions and crying.
We didn't know children's fun.
And the chronicle of the terrible years was written into memory.
The pain found a response in Echo.
Reader:
And we didn’t contradict the memory
And let us remember the distant days when
fell on our weak shoulders
Huge, not a child's game.
Years go by, but these days and nights
They will come to you and me more than once in your dreams.
And even though we were very small,
We also won that war.
Reader
The ground was both hard and snowy,
All people had the same destiny.
We didn’t even have a separate childhood,
And we were together – childhood and war.
Reader
And the big Motherland protected us,
And the Fatherland was our mother.
She shielded the children from death,
She saved her children for life.
Reader:
In the war days We never learned:
Between youth and childhood Where is the line.
In 1943 we were given medals.
And only in 1945 - Passports.
Reader:
We are talking to you amid the whistling of shells.
“We’ve had bitter days.”
But fighting with adults nearby -
We were marching towards victory.

Presenter 2:
In the harsh days of forty-one, children stood next to adults. Schoolchildren earned money for the defense fund:
collected warm clothes for front-line soldiers and children;
performed concerts in front of wounded soldiers in hospitals. A difficult year of war. Hospital…

Scene 2. Hospital.
Reader:
The corridors are dry and dirty.
The old nanny whispers:
God! How small are the artists...
Reader:
We walked in long chambers.
We almost disappeared into them.
With balalaikas, with mandolins
And with large stacks of books...
“What's on the program?
The program includes reading,
A couple of Military songs, correct...
We are in the ward of the seriously wounded
We enter with trepidation and respect...
We entered
We stand in silence... suddenly
Breaking falsetto
Abrikosov Grishka desperately:
“I announce the start of the concert!”
"Ditties"
1. We will sing you Unusual ditties. Hey, girlfriends, start up, As always, the military!
2. I am sitting on a barrel, and under the barrel is a mouse. There is not long to wait - the Germans will be finished.
3. Hitler walks and rattles - I’m still walking around alive. If they unscrew the head, I will tie a log.
4. Don’t hang yourself, black raven, above the prison tower! The partisans will not allow us to be driven away to Germany.
5. I don’t want to drink tea, I don’t want to brew it - I’ll beat the Germans with a bullet, scald them with boiling water.
6. Give me, give me a rifle - I’ll go to fight. To the partisan detachments, to help the partisans.
Together: Everyone would sing, everyone would sing and be happy. If only the war would end - Nothing is needed!
“Samuel Marshak.” Military mail"
“The son wrote a letter to his father
And he put an end to it.
Daughter also to the letter
I added a line.
It takes many days to write a letter,
To reach the goal.
There will be mountains on the way.
Noisy tunnels.
The wind will blow the sand
Behind the glass of the carriage.
And then the forest flashes by
Station kindergarten.
And then the fields will come
And the forests are thick,
Tilled black earth -
Central Russia.
They will pass through the whole country
Two sheets of paper in an envelope
And they will come to war,
To the land of fire and death.
Will bring a carriage to the front
This cargo is postal.
The postman will receive it there
Your own canvas bag.
It's a long way from the town
At the borders of China
To the infantry regiment
At the forefront..."

And then
Not quite perfect
But I sang along with all my might, listening
We sing about the people,
About sacred
So, as we understand it.
"Holy war".
“Get up, huge country,
Stand up for mortal combat
With fascist dark power,
With the damned horde!
May the rage be noble
Boils like a wave!
There is a people's war going on,
Holy war!"

We sing…
Only the pilot's voice
It is heard
And there is a reproach in it:
“Wait,
Wait, guys...
Wait...
The major has died..."
The balalaika cried sadly,
Hastily
As if delirious...
That's all
About the concert in the hospital
That year.

The song “Holy War” sounds loudly.

Presenter 1
Thousands of boys and girls during the war worked in the rear along with adults, cared for the wounded, and helped the Red Army soldiers.
Presenter 2
The names of not all young heroes have been preserved by history, but many of them have had poems written and stories written about them.
Scene 3 “Baby”.
Without music. A girl in an overcoat comes out.
“... We came untrained, we didn’t understand who was in what rank, and the foreman taught us all the time that we are now real soldiers, we must greet anyone higher in rank than us, walk smart, overcoat fastened. But the soldiers, seeing that we were such young girls, loved to make fun of us. One day they sent me from the medical platoon to get tea. I come to the cook. He looks at me and: “What did you come for?” I say: - For tea... - The tea is not ready yet. - Why? - Cooks wash themselves in cauldrons. Now we’ll wash ourselves, we’ll boil the tea... I took it quite seriously, took my buckets, and went back. I’m meeting a doctor._ Why are you coming empty? I answer: Yes, cooks wash themselves in cauldrons. The tea is not ready yet. He grabbed his head. “What kind of cooks wash themselves in cauldrons?” He brought me back, gave me a good one to this cook, they found me two buckets of tea. I bring the tea, and the head of the political department and the brigade commander are coming towards me. I immediately remembered. As we were taught to greet everyone, because we are ordinary soldiers. And the two of them are walking. How can I greet two people? I go and think. We caught up, I put the buckets, both hands to the visor and bow to one and the other. They walked along without noticing me, and then they were dumbfounded with amazement: “Who taught you to salute like that?” The foreman taught me, he says that everyone should be greeted. And you two and together...
Everything was difficult for us girls in the army. It was very difficult for us to receive insignia. When we arrived in the army there were still diamonds, cubes, sleepers, and now figure out who was there by rank. They will say - take the package to the captain. How to distinguish it? While you’re walking, even the word “captain” will pop out of your head.
I come:
- Uncle, uncle, uncle told me to give you this... - What kind of uncle? - In blue trousers and a green tunic.
Of course, when I saw the burnt faces, I understood what war was. Tankers were pulled out of burning vehicles, everything was burning on them, and besides this, their arms or legs were often broken. They were very seriously wounded.
He lies and asks: “When I die, write to my mother, write to my wife...
We already had something more than just fear.”
Presenter 1
“Leningrad children”... Until a certain moment, they were like all children, funny, cheerful, inventive. They played with shell fragments, collected them (as before the war they collected stamps and candy wrappers), ran to the front, because the front line was very close. And then they became the quietest children on earth. They have forgotten how to play pranks, even smile and laugh, even cry.
Presenter 2
Throughout their lives, people who survived the blockade carried a reverent attitude towards every crumb of bread, trying to ensure that their children and grandchildren never experienced hunger and deprivation. This attitude turns out to be more eloquent than words.
Scene 4. Picture of besieged Leningrad.
Leningrad burned our souls with its poor children. Blockade. Hunger. Cold. Everywhere - death, death!
The metronome turns on, a portrait of Tanya Savicheva appears on the screen, the diary is shown and read.
Girl-storyteller This girl's name was Tanya Savicheva. She was a Leningrad schoolgirl, our same age. For 900 days and nights, the city on the Neva was torn off from the mainland - it was under blockade. A severe famine hit the residents. The only food item was bread. Black, half made from bran, sometimes even mixed with sawdust, but that wasn’t enough either. The daily norm in December 1941 was 250 grams for workers, and 125 grams for everyone else. That is, the child received this piece of bread (shows a piece of black bread weighing 125 grams) - this was the daily norm.
Tanya Savicheva sits on a chair and reads her diary:
“Zhenya died on December 28 at 12.30 am. 1941." Zhenya is Tanya's sister. “Grandmother died on January 25 at 3 o’clock. 1942."
“Leka died on March 17 at 5 am. 1942." Leka is Tanya's brother.
“Uncle Vasya died on April 13 at 2 am. 1942."
“Uncle Lyosha, May 10 at 4 pm. 1942."
“Mom, May 13 at 7.30 am, 1942.”
"Everyone died"
“Tanya is the only one left” (Show slides from Tanya’s diary)
Girl - narrator: After the death of her relatives, Tanya ended up in an orphanage, from where she was taken to the mainland. They fought for Tanya's life for two years, but they could not save her.
Tanya Savicheva:
I've never been a hero.
She did not crave fame or reward.
Breathing the same breath as Leningrad,
I didn’t act like a hero, I lived.
Reader: The eyes of a seven-year-old girl, Like two faded lights.
A large, heavy melancholy is more noticeable on a child’s face.
She is silent, no matter what you ask,
You joke with her, she’s silent in response,
It's like she's not seven, not eight,
And many, many bitter years.
Suddenly, like a fresh wind, will pass over a child’s face,
And, animated by hope,
She will rush towards the fighter. Seeks protection from him:
– Kill them all, every single one! (Read by Tanya)
Presenter.1
Wartime children can still tell how they died of hunger and fear. How we missed it when the first of September 1941 arrived and we didn’t have to go to school. Like at the age of 10-12, as soon as they stood on a box, they reached out to the machines and worked 12 hours a day. The children helped the front with everything they could. They came to depopulated factory workshops and empty collective farm fields, replacing adults. At the age of 11-15 they became machine operators, assemblers, produced ammunition, harvested crops, and were on duty in hospitals. They received their work books earlier than their passports. The war gave them away.
Scene 5 Fragment of military life (dialogue between boys returning home after a work shift):
Zhenya:
- The shift is over. Now I'm going to collapse from fatigue. Bear, let's go and have some hot tea. Today we were released early, which means we’ll get more sleep. Yes, stay with me. Mom won’t come back from her factory shift until midnight, and the road to the factory is shorter from us.
Bear:
– And you, Zhenya, are great. The first of the guys received a discharge. Became a real sewing machine mechanic.
Zhenya:
- Okay, Mishka, don’t be jealous. And you will receive it. Imagine, tomorrow we will receive real military clothing, quilted jackets.
Bear:
- That's great! We will immediately feel like real adults.
Zhenya:
- Of course, I’ll run to the front too.
Presenter 2:
Zhenya Lobanov kept his word. In 1944 he was drafted into the army, into the 33rd reserve rifle regiment. In the meantime, these guys had their own real labor front. According to 1944 data, among the working class of the Soviet Union there were 2.5 million people under the age of 18, including 700 thousand teenagers. It is known that 14-year-old Alexei Boychenko, who daily exceeded the established minimum workdays by 6-7 times, was awarded the title of Hero of Socialist Labor.
Presenter 1.
“...We saw the children. They looked like a flock of beaten birds. The outsized sleeves of striped, worn, dirty camp jackets hung from thin shoulders and looked like shot wings. There is fear in the eyes. No smiles, not even a calm look. Little old people."
Presenter 2
They were forced to work for 15–20 hours, using straps to carry carts loaded with various cargoes. Often we had to transport corpses. And when they were exhausted, they were stripped naked, doused with cold water, and beaten with sticks. It has been proven that in Auschwitz alone, about a million little prisoners died in gas chambers. Many children also died from starvation, torture, medical experiments and infectious diseases.
Show video. Fragment of the feature film “Shield and Sword”: Children in a concentration camp.
Scene 6
The poem by Musa Jalil “Barbarism” is heard.
They drove the mothers with their children
And they forced me to dig a hole, but they themselves
They stood there, a bunch of savages,
And they laughed in hoarse voices.
Lined up at the edge of the abyss
Powerless women, skinny guys.
A drunken major came with copper eyes
Surrounded the doomed... muddy rain
Hummed through the foliage of neighboring groves
And on the fields, clothed in darkness,
And the clouds fell over the ground,
Chasing each other furiously...
No, I won't forget this day,
I will never forget, forever!
I saw rivers crying like children,
And Mother Earth wept in rage.
I saw with my own eyes,
Like the mournful sun, washed with tears,
Through the cloud it came out into the fields,
The children were kissed for the last time,
Last time…
The autumn forest rustled. It seemed that now
He went crazy. raged angrily
Its foliage. The darkness was thickening all around.
I heard: a powerful oak suddenly fell,
He fell, letting out a heavy sigh.
The children were suddenly seized with fear -

A red ribbon writhing along the neck,
Two lives fall to the ground, merging,
Two lives and one love!
I'll thunder. The wind whistled through the clouds.
The earth began to cry in deaf anguish.
Oh, how many tears, hot and combustible!
My land, tell me, what's wrong with you?
You have often seen human grief,
You have bloomed for us for millions of years,
They huddled close to their mothers, clinging to their hems.
And there was a sharp sound of a shot,
Breaking the curse
What came out of the woman alone.
Child, sick little boy,
He hid his head in the folds of his dress
Not an old woman yet. She
I looked, full of horror.
How can she not lose her mind?
I understand everything, little one understands everything.
“Hide me, mommy! Do not die!" –
He cries and, like a leaf, cannot stop trembling.
The child that is dearest to her,
Bending down, she lifted her mother with both hands,
She pressed it to her heart, directly against the muzzle...
“I, mother, want to live. No need, mom!
Let me go, let me go! What are you waiting for?"
And the child wants to escape from his arms,
And the crying is terrible, and the voice is thin,
And it pierces your heart like a knife.
“Don't be afraid, my boy.
Now you can breathe freely.
Close your eyes, but don't hide your head,
So that the executioner doesn't bury you alive.
Be patient, son, be patient. It won’t hurt now.”
And he closed his eyes. And the blood ran red,
But have you experienced it at least once?
Such a shame and such barbarity?
My country, your enemies threaten you,
But raise the banner of great truth higher.
Wash its lands with bloody tears,
And let its rays pierce
Let them destroy mercilessly
Those barbarians, those savages,
That the blood of children is swallowed greedily,
The blood of our mothers...
Presenter1. 2.5 million children were killed in concentration camps.
Show an excerpt from the film “Remember Your Name”
Reader:
Autumn gives way to summer, which year in a row...
Let us remember the children of Auschwitz, Birkenau, Buchenwald -
They didn't want to die.
Reader:
The girl has her pigtail twisted tightly,
It will not unravel forever.
The eyes are large, blue-blue...
Death awaits her ahead...
Reader:
There's a boy nearby
With a duffel bag on his back.
The eyes look stern.
Each is marked with a serial number...
Life in a concentration camp is hard.
Reader:
God forbid they return to these days
Without a drop of sun and without a crumb of bread,
When the sky is sad above them
The rain was crying with blood in half...
Performing the song "Buchenwald Alarm".
Presenter2.
Remember! Years later
remember through the centuries!
About those who will never come again,
I implore you, remember!
Don't cry, hold back your groans,
bitter moans.
In memory of those killed in concentration camps,
be worthy!
Eternally worthy!
Let candles burn in memory of those killed in the war.
A minute of silence. Pendulum.
Presenter1:
There is a saying: “There are no children outside.” Those who found themselves in the war had to part with childhood in the usual peaceful sense of the word.
Who will return childhood to a child who has gone through the horror of war? What does he remember? What can it tell? One might ask: what is heroic about going through a war at five, ten or twelve years old? What could children understand, see, remember?
Much! What do they remember about their mother? About your father? Listen to the memories of children of war.
Kuzmicheva Valentina Sergeevna: Mom worked and left me in the nursery around the clock. I remember the hunger strike, how I ate quinoa and rolls.
Ryabova Adelfina Petrovna. Planes bombed our town every day. We were hiding in a trench near the house that my father and a neighbor dug for our safety.
Babenko Pyotr Erofeevich. I remember how we, civilians, were first gathered in a collective farm yard, and then driven barefoot and ragged along a dusty road for tens of kilometers, how we were kept locked in stables and barns
Valeeva Lidiya Fedorovna. Long lines for bread, bombings, explosions. I was afraid to sleep at home.
Borisova Valentina Alekseevna. In the village, too, people lived hard: they were hungry, they ate chaff, nettles, and horse meat. There, in the village, I first saw new refugees, swollen from hunger.
Trushakova Margarita Arkadyevna. On this day, the Germans first took out the Jews with their belongings, and then 72 more people. All those taken out were shot at the ninth kilometer. A very difficult time: they collected potato peelings, fried them and ate them.
Melnikova Maria Ivanovna. The towers, the shepherd dogs, were forced to work. I remember the taste of rutabaga with earth and 200 gr. bread with bran.

Scene 7 “About the Father.” Light, dark. The girl in black reads:
From a happy childhood I stepped into death... The war began. My father stayed in the occupied territory on instructions from the party, but he did not live at home; everyone in our town knew him. If we heard a knock on the door at night - not the careful one that we had agreed upon with my father, but another, my heart began to tremble: these were the fascists or the police, they would again ask about my father. I climbed into the darkest corner of our large stove, hugged my grandmother, and was afraid to fall asleep. One day my father came late at night. I was the first to hear him and called my grandmother. My father was cold, and I was burning with fever, I had typhoid fever. He was tired, old, but so familiar, so dear. He sits next to me and cannot leave. A few hours after he arrived there was a knock on the door. My father didn’t even have time to put on the cover before the punitive forces broke into the house. They pushed him out onto the street. He extended his hands to me, but he was hit and pushed away. Barefoot, I ran after him all the way to the river and shouted: “Daddy, daddy!..” At home my grandmother wailed: “Where is God, where is he hiding?” Grandmother could not survive such grief. She cried more and more quietly and two weeks later she died at night on the stove, and I slept next to her and hugged her dead. There is no one else left in the house."
A group of children comes out. They say in turn:
Child 1
“There is only one button left from my mother’s jacket. And there are two loaves of warm bread in the oven..."
Child 2
“The father was torn apart by German shepherds, and he shouted: “Take your son away! Take your son away so he doesn’t look...”
Child3
“Mom didn’t die right away. She lay on the grass for a long time, opened her eyes:
- Ira, I need to tell you...
- Mom, I don’t want...
It seemed to me that if she said what she wanted, she would die.”
Child 4
“Don’t hide my mom in a hole, she’ll wake up and we’ll go home!”
Presenter 2:
Wartime children can still tell how they died of hunger and fear. How we missed it when the first of September of 1941 arrived and we didn’t have to go to school. Like when you were ten or twelve years old, as soon as you stood on a box, you could reach the machines and work twelve hours a day. How they received funerals for their dead fathers. How strangers adopted them. How even now the question about their mother hurts them. How, after seeing the first loaf of bread after the war, they didn’t know whether it was safe to eat, because in four years they had forgotten what white bread was. But they also remember the victory!

Scene8. Screen - Victory Parade. The children come out.
Reader:
Yes, at ten years old we were children,
But... A hard mouth with bitter folds:
We lived in Russia. In forty-three
They fled not from the front, but to the front.
We skillfully hid our grief,
We saw a mournful country...
And only in May, in forty-five,
We cried for the whole war.
1st child reader
So that again on the earthly planet
That winter never happened again
We need our children
They remembered this, just like us!
2nd child reader
I have no reason to worry,
So that that war is not forgotten:
After all, this memory is our conscience.
We need it like strength...

“Song of the Lonely Shepherd” by E. Moricone is playing.
Wind, solar stage lighting.
Presenter1:
He likes to draw. Sitting on a rocky beach, he waits for a wave, a big one, and tries to remember it, and then sketch it in a notebook with curled corners. And the sea wind keeps turning the pages of the notebook, and the boy annoyedly presses the corner with a pebble. He loves to paint the blue and green Crimean mountains, where they play “extraordinary adventures” with the boys. Maybe he will become an artist. Or maybe a sailor. Or an engineer. He will become courageous, brave, resourceful... But let his dream come true, let the clear sun shine above his head and let only the endless laughter of children be heard from everywhere.
The music intensifies. A curtain.

Scenario

extracurricular activity

"Children and war"
developed by Petrova A.V.

Opening speech by class teacher A.V. Petrova
In high school, the boys and I fought for a healthy lifestyle, cleared the river of garbage, collected waste paper, participated in various sporting events, competitions, and olympiads. But special attention was paid to patriotic education.
Report – presentation:

1. 
   Twice participated in the regional military-patriotic competition "Victoria".
2. 
   Twice participated in regional competitions of search teams.
3. 
   We have been to exhibitions at the local museum several times.
4. 
   Participated in the celebration of "Defender of the Fatherland Day" in a military unit.
5. 
   Every year we take part in cleaning the graves of fallen soldiers.
6. 
   Together with the library, we prepared a congratulation concert for WWII veterans.
7. 
   They took part in rallies on February 2 and May 9.
8. 
   We took part in the opening of a museum for Afghan wars and in a poetry competition dedicated to Afghan wars.
9. 
   They hung leaflets - congratulations to WWII veterans.
10. 
    We interviewed local residents who were children in 1941–1945.

So we dedicate today’s event to people whose childhood was stolen by war.

Look trustingly at me.

Draw a lilac cat

Warming my paw by the fire.

And let's not tell anyone

And we will go to distant lands.

Childhood, childhood, am I not the same?

Is your little girl?

Aren't I with the same eyes

Do I see the world, a colored kaleidoscope?

Why did it suddenly suddenly freeze?

Reader 1:

Wars start suddenly.

There is silence along the border.

And then the collapse. And immediately spots.

Reds. And here it is - war.
Reader 2:
Here she is - explosive, crazy,

All in patches of smoke and fire,

Raising the earth under the iron,

Aims at you or me.

That the world of childhood is empty forever,

That joy will never return

To cities where houses have no walls.

Reader 4:
There was a silver laughter of girls,

But the war drowned him out.

And the gray hair of the boyish bangs...

Is there a price for this?!

You remain young forever,

In front of your suddenly revived formation

We stand without raising our eyelids.

Eternal gratitude to you all,

Little tough men

Girls worthy of poems.

We were ten years old then.

We remember the night of the war.

There is not a light in the windows,

They are darkened.
Reader 2:

Who lived only ten years,

Will remember forever

How, after extinguishing the trembling light,

There were trains.
Reader 3:

In the darkness the troops were transported to the front,

Children - to the distant rear.

And the train at night without a whistle

I left the stations.
Reader 4:
He will never forget

Even though he was very small,

Like the road there was water,

And there wasn't always food

And how was his father then?

Fought for happiness!

Presenter 1 Before the war, these were the most ordinary boys and girls. We studied, helped our elders, played, ran and jumped, breaking our noses and knees. Only their relatives, classmates and friends knew their names.

Presenter 2. The hour has come - they showed how huge a small child’s heart can become when a sacred love for the Motherland and hatred for its enemies flares up in it.

Presenter1 . Little heroes of the big war. They fought alongside their elders - fathers, brothers, alongside communists and Komsomol members.

Presenter 2. They fought everywhere. AT the sea, in the sky, in a partisan detachment, in the Brest Fortress, in the Kerch catacombs, in the underground, and young hearts did not waver for a moment!

Presenter1 . Their matured childhood was filled with such trials that, even if a very talented writer had invented them, it would have been difficult to believe. But it was. It was in the history of our great country, it was in the destinies of its little children - ordinary boys and girls.

Reader: (2)

Why did you, war, steal their childhood from the boys?

And the blue sky and the smell of a simple flower?

They came to the factories to work

Boys from the Urals. They set up boxes to reach the machine.

And now, in the incorruptible winter of the war year,

When I was working on Kama

Cold dawn

Gathered the best workers

Factory director, A was a worker -

A total of fourteen years.

(V. Radkevich)

Presenter2. Boys. Girls. The weight of adversity, disaster, and grief of the war years fell on their fragile shoulders. And they did not bend under this weight. With a waist, you are stronger in spirit, more courageous, more resilient. And what helped them survive was the confidence that all the brightest and most joyful things were ahead of them, and they would still dance their waltz.

Song "Oh, these clouds in blue"

Presenter1. As a fourteen-year-old girl, Maria Rolnikaite found herself in Nazi-occupied territory and was a prisoner of the Vilnius ghetto and two concentration camps. Her notes from that time - the book “I Must Tell” - have been translated into 18 languages.

They were shot at dawn

When the darkness around was thinning.

There were women and children there

And this girl was...

First they were told to undress

And then stand with your back to the ditch.

Naive, pure and lively:

Should I take off my stockings too, uncle?

In confusion, the SS man went limp for a moment,

Hand by itself with excitement

Suddenly the machine gun lowers.

He seems to be shackled with a blue gaze,

And it seems that he has grown into the ground:

Eyes like my Neminja's -

It flashed vaguely through the darkness.

He is overcome with involuntary trembling,

My soul woke up in horror,

No! He can't kill her...

And he gave his turn in a hurry.

A girl in stockings fell

I didn’t have time to take it off, I couldn’t.

Soldier, soldier, what if daughter

Would yours lie here like this?

This little heart

Pierced by your bullet.

You are a man, not only a German,

Or are you a beast among people?

The SS man walked sullenly,

Without raising wolf eyes,

For the first time, maybe this thought

Did it light up in your poisoned brain?

And everywhere her gaze shone,

And everywhere it seemed again,

And will not be forgotten from now on:

Stocking too, uncle, take it off?...

Presenter 2 . Little heroes of a big war. They fought alongside their elders - fathers, brothers. Fought everywhere . At sea, like Sasha Kovalev.

Presenter1. In the sky like Arkasha Kamanin.

Presenter2 . In a partisan detachment, like Lenya Golikov.

Presenter1 . In the underground, like Zina Portnova.

Reader (4)

Someone comes from DTW...

I am from the war

From the siege,

From her depths

I was in love with the sky, but the sky was me

Deceived in broad daylight.

Bombs fell from the sky, houses were destroyed

I rose from the rubble, I don’t know how.

But my friends didn’t have time. I feel sorry for my friends.

They sang well in my first company.

All my friends were from childhood,

I can’t warm myself by the fire without them.

Song: "At an unnamed height."

Presenter2. Tens of thousands of children were awarded orders and medals for their military services.

Presenter1 Four were awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union: Lenya Golikov, Marat Kazei, Valya Kotik, Zina Portnova.

Presenter2. Who will return childhood to a child who has gone through the horror of war? What does he remember? What can it tell? I must tell you! Because now shells are exploding somewhere, bullets are whistling, houses are crumbling into crumbs and dust from the shells, and children’s cribs are burning.

Presenter1 . One may ask: what is heroic about being five, ten or twelve years old? Go through the war? What could children understand, see, remember?

Presenter2. Thirteen million children died on Earth during World War II. What do we have more valuable than our children? What does any nation have that is more valuable? Any mother? Any father? Children are the best people on earth. How can we preserve it in the troubled 21st century? How to save his soul and his life? And what about our past and our future? The war became the common biography of an entire generation of military children. Even if they were in the rear, they were still military children. Their stories are as long as a whole war.

1. From a happy childhood I stepped into death... The war began. My father stayed in the occupied territory on instructions from the party, but he did not live at home; everyone in our town knew him. One day my father came late at night. He was cold, and I was burning with heat, I had typhoid fever. He was tired, old, but so at home, so happy. He sits next to me and cannot leave. A few hours later, when he arrived, there was a knock on the door. The father didn’t even have time to put on the cover, the punitive forces broke into the house. They pushed him out onto the street. He extended his hand to me, but he was hit and pushed away. Barefoot, I ran after him all the way to the river and shouted: “Daddy, daddy!...”

2. “There is only one button left from my mother’s jacket. And there are two buns in the oven

warm bread..."

3. “Father was torn apart by German shepherds, and he shouted: “Take your son away! son

take him away so he doesn’t look...”

4. “Mom didn’t die right away. She lay on the grass for a long time, opened her eyes: -Ira, I need to tell you...

Mom, I don't want to. “It seemed to me that if she said that, she would die.”

5. -Don’t hide my mother in a hole, she will wake up and we will go home.

As of January 1, 2012, about 30 people live in our village, whose childhood was during the terrible war years. Meeting with some of them, we learned what they had to experience and how they survived. Slydar Eleonora Kharitonovna was a very little girl during the war. Today she is visiting us. The floor is given to Eleonora Kharitonovna.

Presenter 1 . Khatyn... March 22, 1943. 149 people suffered martyrdom in the fire, among them 75 children.

Presenter 2. A monument was erected to the children of Siege Leningrad. A monument to their courage, their perseverance.

Presenter 1 . Children of wartime Stalingrad...Their childhood was scorched by the war. They experienced the horrors of enemy bombing, famine, and concentration camps.

I dream about the terrible truth -

Children on fire in Stalingrad,

Our poor family

Kolenka, Misha and me.

Childhood that became harsh

In August forty-two.

Little Misha is afraid

Bombs, fire and Krauts.

Mom doesn't cook or heat

In our cold trench:

Once upon a time in the roar of battle

It covers us.

Presenter 2 : And the growing sons covered the embrasures of enemy bunkers.

Poem: “Kolya Serdyukov” - Kristina Karpenko.

There lived one boy in the world,

Kolya was a good, kind son,

Sometimes he also liked to fight.

He lived like all the yard boys:

I played in war, played rounders, went on hikes,

His mother's very favorite son was

Kolenka loved his mother too.

And so the years flew by unnoticed,

And he grew up, and the guy was like this:

He saw everything - both joy and adversity,

That dear Kolya Serdyukov.

And now there is a war, and the enemy has offended the country.

He was only eighteen years old.

What did he endure and what did he see at the front?

You won't wish it on anyone else.

He died in January near Stalingrad,

I closed the bunker with my chest,

I remained lying quietly next to the house,

After all, Kolya used to live in Stalingrad.

This great feat was immortalized:

People named the school after him,

In the village the street was named after them forever,

And a monument was erected for him.

Presentation: “Children of War.”

Children of war, and the air is cold.

Children of war, and it smells of hunger.

Children of war,

And my hair stands on end.

There are gray stripes on children's bangs.

The earth is washed with children's tears

Soviet and non-Soviet children.

What difference does it make where you were under the Germans?

In Dachau, Lidice or Auschwitz.

Their blood turns red on the parade ground like poppies.

The grass drooped where the children cried.

The children are out, the pain of despair,

And how many minutes of silence do they need?

Presenter 1: In memory of the children who died in the Second World War, a minute of silence is declared.

Song "Light the Candles"

1. 
   . I want that on our planet... - Yana Goncharova.

Children have never been sad

So that no one cries, no one gets sick,

If only our childish choir could ring.

So that our hearts become related forever,

So that everyone can learn kindness

So that planet Earth forgets,

What is enmity and war?

1. 
   The planet is now restless... -Karpenko Kristina.

But we believe in the blossoming of spring.

We don't need Star Wars

May we have starry dreams!

1. 
   We need peace on the blue planet... -together.

And I want, waking up at dawn,

Don't remember, don't think about the war.

Song "Let there always be sunshine."

The script “Dedicated to the children of war...”

Goal and tasks:

To expand the knowledge of schoolchildren about the war, about how difficult it was for children to survive the hard times;

To convey to students the idea of ​​​​the incompatibility of the concepts of “childhood” and “war”;

Teach expressive reading;

To promote education in the spirit of kindness and mercy, compassion and respect for the human person.

01_Children of war

Dramatization of the poem R. Rozhdestvensky “Overheard Conversation.”

Reader 1 (mother):

– Were you fighting in the yard again?..

Reader 2 (girl):

- Yeah!
Mother,
But I didn't cry!..
I'll grow up -
I'll train to be a sailor.
I'm already in the bath
Swim!..

Reader 1 (mother):

- God,
Not a girl, but a disaster!
I have no more strength...

Reader 2 (girl):

- Mother,
When will I grow up?..

Reader 1 (mother):

- You will grow up!
Eat a cutlet...

Reader 3 (boy):

- Mother,
Shall we buy a live horse?..

Reader 1 (mother):

- Horse?!
Why is this being done!..

Reader 3 (boy):

- Mother,
Will they accept me as a pilot?..

Reader 1 (mother):

- They will accept.
Where will they go?!
You are one of everyone, Satan,
Soul
Can you shake it out!..

Reader 3 (boy):

- Mother,
Is it true that there will be a war?
And I won't have time to grow up?

02_Yu.Levitan. "From the message about Germany's treacherous attack on the USSR."

The terrible word WAR: it destroys and kills what is called life, peace, childhood... How many children's lives it took in the first, second and all subsequent terrible days of this truly terrible catastrophe... Many of these children were still in a small cradle, others in their arms their mothers, others sat at school desks. No one knew how long it would last, how many lives it would take with it, and when these days and years that they had to endure would end...

Reader 4:Elena Tashcheva"On the Minsk Highway"

Little legs are tired of walking,

But he obediently continues on his way.

Just yesterday I wanted to be near the road

He can fall asleep in the field daisies.

And his mother carried him, losing strength,

On the way, the minutes lasted like days.

All the time it was not clear to my son,

Why did they leave their home?

What do the explosions, the crying, this road mean?

And why is he worse than the other guys?

What's on the green grass by the ditch,

Do they sleep with their arms outstretched next to their mother?

How hard it is to listen to questions...

Could the mother answer the baby?

What do these children, sleeping by the birch tree,

That these mothers will never get up?

But the son stubbornly asked questions,

And someone explained to him on the way,

That it was the undead mothers who were sleeping,

Those who did not have time to escape the bomb.

And he thought to the clang of iron machines,

As if I suddenly understood the grief of adults, -

In his eyes, recently serene,

Conscious fear was already creeping in.

And so childhood ended. He was no longer the same.

He walked and walked. And to save my mother,

I jealously watched the June sky

A little boy, gray with dust, about six years old.

Reader 5:Alexey Bragin“Father was taken to war...”

My father was taken to war.

....The boy is a latch,

But she immediately added to him

The war has been going on for so many years.

“So what, mother?

So, mother?

Am I the head of the house?

You start washing the clothes,

And I'm chopping wood!

You say:

Drovets is a bit

Left.

So be it

Sell ​​the elephant

Sell ​​your whistle!

You can live without them!

Sell ​​the sailor suit, I say!

Now there's no time for rags,

Only you, mom,

Do not be sad!

I won’t leave you!”

Reader 6:Victor Yaganov"Children of war"

Pot with steamed wheat
On the very edge of the table.
Three children's thin hands -
Like three fragile wings.
And outside the window is the February wind
Reminds me of spring.
And it seems there is no one in the world
Steamed wheat tastes better.

And the oldest is only eight -
For the younger ones, a nanny is available every day.
And if they come into the house and ask -
He will answer simply, not for the first time:
- And our mother is at the factory,
There is a folder on the front (third year),
It's like I'm at work too:
Finish his shift and come.

03_Dedicated to the children of war

Is a child who went through the horror of war a child? Who will give him back his childhood? What does he remember? What can it tell? Much…

Reader 7:Victor Pakhomov“We all have scores to settle with the war...”

We all have scores to settle with the war.

It was the forty-first bitter year...

In the midst of harvesting work

A plane was circling above us.

We, falling into exhaustion,

They shouted “Mom!” every time.

And mother from the winged shadow

She covered us with herself.

He didn't shoot, he was having fun, -

The cartridges are apparently on the shore.

But suddenly it broke out of the clouds

Our red star hawk.

How my mother cried with happiness,

Hugging my sister and me,

When, falling apart,

A vulture flashed among the grasses.

We ran up and looked dumbly,

And my legs filled with lead:

From under a torn helmet

The woman's face turned white.

Open mouth, false teeth,

And a trickle of sweat is not a tear.

And brightly painted lips,

And eyeliner.

The grass whispered in fear

In the shadow of a broken wing...

I couldn’t believe that this Frau

She was someone's mother.

Reader 8:Sergey Mikhalkov"Ten Year Man"

Criss-cross blue stripes

On the windows of shrunken huts.

Native thin birch trees

They look anxiously at the sunset.

And the dog on the warm ashes,

Smeared in ash up to the eyes,

He's been looking for someone all day

And he doesn’t find it in the village...

Throwing on an old zip coat,

Through the gardens, without roads,

The boy is in a hurry, in a hurry

In the sun - directly east.

No one on a long journey

Didn't dress him warmer

Nobody hugged me at the door

And he didn’t look after him.

In an unheated, broken bathhouse

Passing the night like an animal,

How long has he been breathing

I couldn’t warm my cold hands!

But never on his cheek

No tears paved the way.

Must be too much at once

His eyes saw it.

Having seen everything, ready for anything,

Falling chest-deep into the snow,

He ran to his fair-haired

Ten year old man.

He knew that somewhere nearby,

Perhaps behind that mountain,

Him as a friend on a dark evening

The Russian sentry will call out.

Reader 9:Ivan Poltavtsev"Postman"

In a village scorched by war,

I plowed the land, mowed the rye...

He was also a young postman:

He spread sadness to people.

It was as if they were waiting for me,

Shouldn't I go into their gate?

But they saw us off with relief,

If I pass by the house.

Two or more funerals

I brought each one to the family

And I saw horrors and groans...

But the demand for letters increased.

I dreamed about him... And not in vain... -

The “soldier” is fiddling with the leaf...

Although it happened very often:

The letter is on the way, and he is killed.

Reader 10:E. Vinokurov.

Yesterday we wrote dictations,
They drew circles on the boards,
And in the morning the quartermasters are already
We were given boots.

In a wide army overcoat
We seemed small in stature
We sang songs passionately,
They scraped the floors in a guilty manner.

When, going to training,
We got our feet wrong sometimes:
- Twenty-fifth year
birthday!
They nodded at us with a grin.

But the front has arrived!
We've grown up
in battles day by day,
Making friends with a neighbor before the battle,
Friends are buried after battles.

Guns, tanks, carts
Thundered through the cities,
And they sang in Czech and Polish
Cheerful girls for us.

And at the hour when the stars are cold,
Over the numb river
German accordions
Wept with Ryazan melancholy...

04_Children and war (everyone reads with music in the background)

Children of war... They grew up early and quickly... They learned to read from Sovinformburo reports and gray funeral sheets. Everything is nearby: an explosion, a school, a funeral. School life, regular, boring, according to a schedule, turns out to be so necessary. Truly, something must be lost to be truly appreciated.

Reader 11:Vladimir Portnov"The Ballad of the Notebook"

Paper bags, cut into notebooks,

the father linted with a wounded hand.

And at first I ironed them,

and only then solved problems in them.

But it was impossible to smooth them out:

dents, like potholes in roads.

And no matter how carefully I moved the pen,

Unfortunately, I couldn’t do without the blot.

They carried mail in bags on a three-ton truck,

in the dreams of the saints the whole city was waiting for letters,

but more often funerals came.

The father handed them out with a wounded hand.

He became darker every day

and finally, on a gray autumn day, he said:

“I have no strength... Write more densely...

I’ll go back to the front... Save your notebooks.”

And I have been without a father for many years now.

And for many years I have been saving the notebook,

keeping the bag in a tight fold,

not completely lined.

Reader 12. Anatoly PEREDREEV. "I LEARNED TO WRITE"

I learned to write...
Past the school - columns, columns
Rippled by the river
And they fell into an invisible front...
I learned to write
Slowly, with pressure, with an inclination.
And the steel creaked
Khaki feather.
I learned to write...
Anti-aircraft guns fired feverishly,
Conquering from the war
Islands of silence.
And I carried it in my pockets
Heavy torn ingots,
Like hot meteorites of war.
I learned to write...
Somewhere tanks were melting,
Somewhere people were screaming
Dying in fire and smoke...
I learned to write
Expositions about Kashtanka,
I learned to suffer
Over the fate of Gerasim and Mumu.
I learned to write
And crispy bread cards
Took me away from myself
By cell
Mother.
So that I don't feel sick
So that I don't wander around at my desk...
I learned to write!..

05_For children, home front workers

During the war, there was an acute shortage of labor. After all, those who previously stood behind the machine, sowed and harvested grain, drove trains and cars, now defended their Motherland. And the children of soldiers understood this and took the jobs of their fathers. They, like adults, stood for 12-14 hours, maintaining their strength with meager rations...

Reader 13:Victor Radkevich"The Ballad of a Jar of Jam"

Why did you, war, steal their childhood from the boys?

And the blue sky and the smell of a simple flower?

The boys of the Urals came to work in the factories,

They positioned the boxes to reach the machine.

And now, in the incorruptible winter of the war year,

When the cold dawn broke over the Kama,

The director of the plant gathered the best workers,

And he was a worker - only fourteen years old.

Harsh time looked into tired faces,

But everyone found a pre-war childhood in themselves,

As soon as the work bonus - a jar of jam -

In front of us, the boys, someone put it on the table.

And here, above the factory, above the forest, dozing off in the snow,

Among the silence that suddenly came to the hearts

There was a whiff of something long forgotten, homely,

It was as if there were no more wars in the world.

...Ah, a jar of jam, a simple and sure remedy

To remind you that no matter how bitter life is for people,

But the boys will still have sun and childhood,

And the blue sky and the smell of a simple flower!

Children sewed pouches for soldiers at the front, knitted mittens, wrote letters dictated by wounded soldiers, performed concerts in hospitals...

Reader 14:Robert Rozhdestvensky"Concert"

Forty difficult years.
Omsk Hospital:
The corridors are dry and dirty.
The old nanny whispers:
"God!..
How small the artists are:"
We walk in long chambers.
We almost disappear into them
With balalaikas, with mandolins
And large stacks of books:
What's in the program?
The program includes reading,
A couple of songs
Military, correct:
We are in the ward of the seriously wounded
We enter with trepidation and respect:
Two are here.
Artillery Major
With an amputated leg,
In a crazy battle near Yelnya
Taking fire upon himself.
He looks at the aliens cheerfully:
And the other one -
Bandaged up to the eyebrows, - captain,
Ramming the Messer
Three weeks ago over Rostov:
We entered.

(A group of guys comes out)

We stand in silence:
Suddenly breaking falsetto
Abrikosov Mishka desperately
Announces the start of the concert.

And behind him, not quite completely,
But I sang with all my might, listening
We sing about the folk, about the sacred,
How we understand it:
Someone else's iron melts in it,
In it, death must recede.
To be honest,
We like it
This kind of war:
We sing:

06_Ah, those blue clouds

We sing:
Only the pilot's voice can be heard.
And there is a reproach in it:
"Wait:
Wait a minute, guys:
Wait:
The major died: "
Balalaika cried sadly.
Hastily, as if delirious...
That's all about the concert in the hospital that year...

07_They were only 13

There are legends about the courageous defenders of Leningrad. Being in a blockade ring, in hunger and cold, the inhabitants died, but did not give up. Pages from the diary of 11-year-old Tanya Savicheva tell about the terrible tragedy of those days.

Reader 15.

It's only nine pages long. Six of them have dates on them. Behind every date there is death. Six pages - six deaths. Concise, laconic notes: “December 28, 1941. Zhenya died... Grandmother died on January 25, 1942. March 17 – Leka died. Uncle Vasya died on April 13. May 10 – Uncle Lesha. Mom – May 15th.” And then, without a date: “The Savichevs died. Everyone died. There is only Tanya left.”

Tanya, who had lost consciousness from hunger, was discovered by orderlies visiting Leningrad houses. Life barely glimmered in her. Together with 140 other Leningrad children exhausted by hunger, the girl was evacuated to the Gorky (now Nizhny Novgorod) region, to the village of Shatki. Residents brought whatever they could to the children, fed and warmed the orphan souls. Many of the children got stronger and got back on their feet. But Tanya never got up. Doctors fought for the life of the young Leningrader for 2 years, but the disastrous processes in her body turned out to be irreversible. Tanya's arms and legs were shaking and she was tormented by terrible headaches.

08_Requiem

Reader 16 (reads against background music): Ilya Malyshev.Poem about Tanya

9 pages. Scary lines.
No commas, just black dots.
Empty and quiet in the frozen apartment.
It seems there is no more joy in the world.
If only everyone could have a piece of bread,
Maybe the diary was just a line short.
“Hunger took away my mother and grandmother.
No more strength and no more tears.
Uncle, sister and brother died
Death by starvation...” Leningrad was empty.
Everyone died. What to do. Blockade.
Hunger is taking away the people of Leningrad.
Quiet in the apartment. Only Tanya is alive.
There is so much suffering in a small heart!
Everyone died! There is no one else.
The girl Tanya is 11 years old.
I'll tell you what happened next:
Evacuation, bread and orphanage
Where after hunger, all the trials
Everyone survived, only Tanya died.
The girl is gone, but the diary remains -
A child's heart, tears and screams.
Children dreamed of a crust of bread...
Children were afraid of the military sky.
This diary from the Nuremberg trials
It was a terrible and weighty document.
People cried while reading the lines.
People cried, cursing fascism.
Tanya's diary is the pain of Leningrad,
But everyone needs to read it.
It’s as if the page behind the page is screaming:
“This shouldn’t happen again!..”

09_We remember

The most disadvantaged children of the war are young prisoners of fascist concentration camps. Their home, their mother's affection was taken away from them, their homeland, freedom, life was taken away from them... SALASPILS, BUCHENWALD, AUSCHEWZIM... - these are the names of those death camps where human, and especially children's life did not mean anything, was a bargaining chip. From memories: “I was sent to the Baltic camp when I was 12 years old. They settled us at the hospital and made us donors. Many had their blood drained to the last drop by direct transfusion. When I was completely exhausted, I was infected with tuberculosis and sent to another camp for extermination. She survived miraculously...” Almost no one remembers these children anymore. In the concentration camp museums, all that remained from them were piles of selected dolls and small shoes and shoes...

Reader 17:Oleg Maslov"In Auschwitz"

And I raised my eyes to the sky,

Looking at him, it seems, -

It was awkward in front of people

So that tears flow from them.

Here behind the barrier in front of me -

Booties, shoes... Really?

All their owners here burned,

Saved by bitter smoke and ash?!

Here is a photo: child

He looks at the guard, not believing,

That this uncle is worse than a beast

And he throws it into the oven jokingly.

I'm leaving. Hurry, hurry!

Oh, these white paths -

Scattered bones crumbs

The current museum was paved.

And that tear - let it be for me

Will not let you live peacefully in the world,

So that our children don’t find out

What does captivity, fascism, war mean?

Reader 18:Sergey Mikhalkov"Children's Shoe"

Listed in the column

With pure German precision,

It was in the warehouse

Among adult and children's shoes.

His book number:

"Three thousand two hundred and nine."

"Children footwear. Worn.

Right shoe. With a patch..."

Who repaired it? Where?

In Melitopol? In Krakow? In Vienna?

Who wore it? Vladek?

Or the Russian girl Zhenya?..

How did he get here, into this warehouse?

Damn on this list

Under serial number

"Three thousand two hundred and nine"?

Wasn't there another one?

There are roads in the whole world,

Except the one by which

These baby feet have arrived

To this terrible place

Where they hung, burned and tortured,

And then in cold blood

Were the clothes of the dead counted?

Here in all languages

They tried to pray for salvation:

Czechs, Greeks, Jews,

French, Austrians, Belgians.

The earth has absorbed here

The smell of decay and spilled blood

Hundreds of thousands of people

Different nations and different classes...

The hour of reckoning has come!

Executioners and murderers - on your knees!

The judgment of nations is coming

Following the bloody trail of crimes.

Among hundreds of clues -

This children's boot has a patch.

Taken from the victim by Hitler

Three thousand two hundred and nine.

The memory of generations is inextinguishable
And the memory of those whom we sacredly honor.
Come on people, let's stand for a moment.
And in grief we will stand and be silent...

10_Minute of silence. Metronome.

Yes, the war brought a lot of grief to the Russian people. There probably wasn’t a family in the country that wasn’t affected by the war...

Reader 19:Igor Eremin"Return from War"

I was waiting for my father to come as a hero,

Delighting with the glow of awards

And in that solemn mood,

With whom at least immediately to the parade.

So childhood amuses itself with an idea,

And reality is like snow on your head

Entered the gate with a skinny bag

Semi-familiar person.

No way to make him like this

I didn’t wait after the send-off.

There was a hand in a sling

And there is only one order.

And the sparkle in his sad eyes

It only highlighted the traces of the ordeal.

And the smell of hospitals was thick

Medicines ingrained into clothes.

And what in that moment: love, or pity,

Or both of these feelings at once

I felt it?.. But somehow I shrank

Soul that tears suddenly come from your eyes!

Reader 20: Well, well, son! - And, I’m ready

About to shed a tear, father

He pulled me towards him with his good hand:

“Don’t cry,” he said. - The war is over!

And he handed over the bag, distracting

From sad feelings... Like, look,

God knows what kind of handbag,

But there is something inside her.

I took a gift for a gift,

And each: a flask on a belt,

Or an electric flashlight -

A living delight was born in me.

And so he knew, he caught my eye,

What, looking from the outside,

The father himself began to smile,

Looking younger than before the war.

Reader 19: As if someone had opened the curtains

And a ray of sun fell on him.

And he shone on his tunic

Order with victorious splendor.

Then, really, as if at a parade,

We walked with him along the village street.

And so much in every oncoming glance

I saw light and warmth!

Neighbors approached my father.

Well, he’s alive, but there are others

How they spent it in '41,

So at least hear from them.

And hugged while talking,

Like your brother

And they congratulated someone on the victory,

Who welcomes him back.

Reader 21:Valery Cherkesov

I won’t come to my father’s grave,

Because I don't know from birth,

Where and in what year did he die?

Fatherless generation.

Dad! - I called at night. Alas,

Didn't respond, didn't show up,

Didn't stroke my head -

As if he had never returned from the front.

Oh war, you came back like that

In our destinies and souls!

Unwittingly

I clench my hot fist...

It hurts, it hurts, father!

How it hurts us.

Reader 22:Victor Yaganov"Present"

This is history. I didn't remember that.
I was still very young then.
I was only three years old then.
The 24th was June.
Everything is behind us: losses and troubles.
Everything is ahead: deeds and accomplishments.
Year 45, Victory Parade
On my birthday.
Mom, what was the weather like?
Mainly cloudy,
Did the rain fall on the succulent grasses?
Only I willingly believe in my heart:
Everyone's heart was clear
And sunny.
The swastika of death is no more evil symbol,
The swastika of death is like a sign of conquest,
Fell to the foot of the Mausoleum,
To the children's feet of my generation.
Motherland, accept this message:
Thank you for saving us
Like shoots
Thank you for
What are you doing on your birthday?
She gave us the Victory Parade.

Reader 23: Grandfather. Unknown author.

Once upon a time my grandfather
I was a boy like me.
Only his childhood was difficult,
Because there was a war.
I know about her from books,
I saw her in the movies -
And grandfather was a boy:
True, that was a long time ago.
He told me how it used to be
Throwing away the toys
Worked with old and young,
To help the soldiers at the front.
And he also remembered how mom
To save your children,
Added bran to the dough
And she baked this bread in the oven.
And my grandfather also told me,
What's made from potato peels?
The soup was cooked, and everyone was very happy,
This holiday was for children.
Of course, I'm not a stupid guy,
I can understand everything, but I can’t
I can't imagine
For children to live like this:
I want you, grandpa, honey,
Give sweets and chocolate.
At least now you can eat to your heart's content,
And let childhood come back!

11_Great-grandfather (children give chocolate to veterans and ALL go on stage)

Reader 24:

Not burned by the forties,
With hearts rooted in silence, -
Of course, we look with different eyes
For our big war.
We know from confused, difficult stories
About the bitter victorious path,
Therefore, at least our mind should
Go through the road of suffering!

12_And all about that war

Every year on May 9, in all corners of our country, near the Eternal Flame, the descendants of those who, having accomplished their feat of arms, bequeathed us to live in peace and harmony, giving their lives for it, stand guard of honor. And may the flame of the Eternal Flame, lit as a symbol of memory of the victims of fascism, as a symbol of grief for the dead and the greatest pride for the unparalleled courage shown in battles, illuminate our path to peace, awaken our conscience, so that we do not forget the lessons of history and prevent a repetition tragedy. Let the sun always shine, the birds sing, the fields turn green, but never, instead of dew, drops of someone’s innocent blood sparkle on the emerald grass!

Reader 25:

I'll draw a bright sun!
I'll paint a blue sky!
I'll draw a light in the window!
I'll draw ears of bread!
We will draw autumn leaves,
School, stream, restless friends.
And cross it out with our common brush
Shots, explosions, fire and war!
Raise the pictures above
So that everyone can see them,
So that everyone can hear today
The voice of young citizens of the Earth!

13_Let there always be sun (children hold up drawings that depict a bright sun, blue sky, ears of bread, etc., sing)

Children leave the stage

14_maybe there was no war?

Scenario for Victory Day for junior schoolchildren

"Children of war"

Progress of the event

Showing a video clip for the song “Children of War”.

Ved. . Almost 65 years have passed since the Great Patriotic War ended. A war that lasted 4 years; a war that claimed the lives of 27 million Soviet people. There is not a single family in our country that has not been affected by the war. It was our grandfathers and great-grandfathers who fought to the death on the fronts of the Great Patriotic War, defending our Motherland. It was our grandmothers and great-grandmothers who helped the front, working in the rear in factories, hospitals, and collective farms. The entire people, young and old, rose up to defend their Motherland. During the harsh days of the war, children stood next to adults. We must always remember this.

1 - y. My great-grandfather died at the age of 18 near Berlin. And my grandmother’s sister went missing in 1944.
2nd. My family still has a funeral memorial for my great-grandfather.
3rd. And my great-grandmother worked as a nurse in a hospital during the war.
And I have... And I have... And I have...
4th. We did not know this war, but it passed through our families. Do you remember how many people died then?

1st. More than 20 million.
2nd. Just think about this number. After all, many of them were the same as us or a little older than us..

3rd. How scary!
4th. Yes, it's scary. But we must not forget the terrible pages of our history. Because to forget is to betray. Betray those who did not return from the war.

Our performance today is dedicated to the eternal memory of those who fell on the battlefields, their courage, perseverance and great love for their Motherland.

They left school for the war.

How few of them returned!

The boys covered the country with themselves,

Without thinking about titles and awards.

Even if the war ended long ago,

But in memory and gold on the slabs

Boys' names written down

Gone from us, but not forgotten.

Boys I. Karpov

The boys left with greatcoats on their shoulders,
The boys left - they sang songs bravely,
The boys retreated through the dusty steppes,
The boys died, they didn’t know where...
The boys ended up in terrible barracks,
Fierce dogs were chasing the boys.
They killed boys for running away on the spot,
The boys did not sell their conscience and honor...
The boys did not want to give in to fear,
The boys rose to attack at the sound of the whistle.
In the black smoke of battles, on sloping armor
The boys were leaving, clutching their guns.
The boys have seen - brave soldiers -
Volga - in forty-first,
Spree - in forty-five,
The boys showed for four years,
Who are the boys of our people?

Song by B. Okudzhava “The guys respected Lyonka Korolev very much...”

Where are you, classmates, girls?

Through the years I still look after you -

Washed old skirts

The wind of the pre-war years is blowing.

Blouses shiny from ironing

Slippers repaired a hundred times...

With full styling basis

They would consider us stuffed animals!

Do you remember Lyuska, Lyuska - the ringleader -

The nose is like potatoes, and the eyelashes are flax?!

Our Lyuska to a mass grave

Conducted by a rifle battalion...

And Natasha? Rare gait

The first quiet one of the quiet ones -

I rushed to the damaged self-propelled gun,

She threw herself into the fire with her comrades...

Children and war. It’s hard to imagine a more terrible phrase than this. The war swept through the destinies of thousands, millions of boys and girls like a merciless skating rink, robbing them of their fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, their father’s home, depriving them of their childhood.

War - there is no crueler word.

War - there is no sadder word.

War - there is no holier word.

In the melancholy and glory of these years,

And on our lips there is something else

It can't be yet and no.

Every year on these May days, our people remember the terrible years of war, honor the memory of the fallen, and bow to the living. Although 70 years have passed since Victory Day, time has no power over the memory of people of different generations.

If a minute's silence was devoted to each person who died in this war, the population of the Earth would be silent for 30 years.

Song “In the fields beyond the sleepy Vistula...”

Leading. The year is 1941. Summer. The clock chimed the last minutes of the country's peaceful life. June twenty-second... Four o'clock... The peaceful work of the Soviet people was disrupted. The Great Patriotic War began.

The entire people, young and old, rose up to defend their Motherland. During the harsh days of the war, children stood next to adults. Schoolchildren earned money for the defense fund, collected warm clothes for front-line soldiers, worked in military factories, were on duty on the roofs of houses during air raids, and gave concerts to wounded soldiers in hospitals.

( The phonogram of the song “Holy War” sounds)

Student 1.

Childhood passed, the strawberries ripened...

The day promised us silence.

And he was absurd and wild,

That they suddenly declared war.

Student 2.

We were expecting guests. Our mother,

Starting to bustle around the table,

I looked so intently straight

And I couldn’t hold back my tears.

Student 3.

And the pain of enormous growth

The alarm rose like a cry.

And it wasn’t easy for us children

Understand the language of this grief.

Student 6.

The winter was harsh and blizzardy,

All people had the same destiny.

We didn’t even have a separate childhood,

And we were together - childhood and war.

Student 7.

There was a lot of grief during the war years.

And no one will ever consider

How many times on our roads

The war left orphans. S. Marshak

Boy from the village of Popovki

Retreating from the village of Popovki, the Germans burned it to the ground. They took the working population away with them, and shot the elderly and children. The only resident of Popovka who survived after the Germans left was three-year-old Petya.

(The photo was delivered to the editor

from the Central Front)

Among the snowdrifts and funnels

In a village destroyed to the ground,

The child stands with his eyes closed -

The last citizen of the village.

Scared white kitten

Fragments of the stove and pipe -

And that's all that's left

From my former life and hut.

White-headed Petya is standing

And he cries like an old man, without tears,

He lived in the world for three years,

And what I learned and endured!

In his presence they burned down his hut,

They drove mom away from the yard,

And in a hastily dug grave

The murdered sister lies.

Don't let go of your rifle, soldier,

Until you take revenge on the enemy

For the blood shed in Popovka,

And for the child in the snow.

(On the screen slide “War and Children”)

Leading.

Young beardless heroes!

You remain young forever,

In front of your suddenly revived formation

We stand without raising our eyelids.

Pain and anger are the reason now

Eternal gratitude to you all,

Little tough men

Girls worthy of poems.

Student 8.

How many of you? Try to list -

You won’t, but it doesn’t matter,

You are with us today, in our thoughts,

In every song, light noise of leaves,

Quietly knocking on the window.

(bell ringing)

None of them thought about fame,

Should I think about her in a terrible hour,

When the native land is trampled and desecrated

Damn German horde?

(The sound of a metronome. On the screen there is a slide: besieged Leningrad)

VERONICA'S PROJECT

In this huge, crazy world there is a tiny point - us!
We are the generation that calls itself the future!
We are the generation that witnessed the birth of the 21st century!
We are the generation in whose name millions of our grandfathers and great-grandfathers gave their lives!
We are the future defenders of the Fatherland, we remember the price of the Great Victory!

Thank you for everything, fathers and grandfathers!
To those who took the enemy with a bayonet and a bullet!
And to those who, approaching Victory Day,
He didn’t leave the workshop for weeks.
Thanks to the women who worked in the fields
Orphaned villages and hamlets.
Thank you for our happy holiday,
Here's to this difficult and wonderful day!

Presenter 1
For the sake of happiness and life in the world,
For the sake of the soldiers who fell then,
Let there be no war on the planet

(in unison).
Never!
Never!
Never!

Presenter 2
Let the sun drown the whole earth in its rays!
(in unison).
Let be!

Presenter 3
Let the peaceful stars shine above her!
(in unison).
Let be!

Presenter 4
Let you breathe deeper, calmer, freer!
Guys (in unison).
Let be! Let be! Let be!
May there always be sunshine!
May there always be heaven!
May there always be a mother!
May there always be peace!

Lyrics of the song “King” (B. Okudzhava)

In the courtyard, where every evening the radio tape played,
Where couples danced, gathering dust,
the guys respected Lenka Koroleva very much,
And they awarded him the title of King.

There was a King - like a king, omnipotent, and if a friend
It will become bad, or you will have no luck at all,
He will extend his royal hand to him,
He will save his faithful hand.

But one day, when the Meserschmitts, like crows,
They broke the silence at dawn,
Our King is like a king - he wears a cap like a crown -
He leaned on his side and went to war.

The radio is playing again, the sun is at its zenith again,
But there is no one to mourn his life.
Because that king was alone, excuse me,
I didn’t have time to get a queen.

But wherever I go, no matter what worries
On business, or just for a walk,
It seems to me that it’s just around the next corner
I will meet the king again.

Because in war, even though they really shoot,
The damp earth is not for Lenka,
Because, it’s my fault, but I can’t imagine Moscow,
Without a King like him.

Song "Muscovites"

In the fields beyond the sleepy Vistula
They lie in the damp ground
Earring with Malaya Bronnaya
And Vitka and Mokhovaya,
And somewhere in a crowded world
Which year in a row
Alone in an empty apartment
Their mothers don't sleep.

The light of an inflamed lamp
Burning over Moscow
In the window on Malaya Bronnaya,
In the window on Mokhovaya.
Friends can't stand in the area,
The movie goes on without them
Girls, their friends,
Everyone has been married for a long time.

But the saved world remembers,
Eternal world, living world
Earring with Malaya Bronnaya
And Vitka and Mokhovaya,
Earring with Malaya Bronnaya
And Vitka and Mokhova.

Song "Do Russians want war"

Do Russians want war?
You ask the silence
Over the expanse of arable land and fields,
And among birches and poplars.
You ask those soldiers
What lies under the birches,
And their sons will answer you -
Do the Russians want
Do the Russians want
Do the Russians want war?

Not only for your country
Soldiers died in that war
And so that the people of the whole earth
We could sleep peacefully at night.
Ask those who fought
Who hugged us on the Elbe, -
We are faithful to this memory.
Do the Russians want
Do the Russians want
Do the Russians want war?

Yes, we know how to fight,
But we don't want it to happen again
Soldiers fell in battle
To your bitter land.
You ask mothers
Ask my sister
And then you should understand -
Do the Russians want
Do the Russians want
Do the Russians want war?

The activities of the library are inextricably linked with spiritual, moral, aesthetic and patriotic education. Whatever the library does, its main goal is to introduce people to reading, to the native word, to the history and modern life of Russia. Patriotism cannot be taught; it must be nurtured from childhood. The role of books and libraries in this educational process is extremely important.

Download:

Preview:

Municipal educational institution "Marisolinskaya secondary school"

"LITTLE HEROES

GREAT WAR."

Developed by:

teacher-librarian

Maksimova I.V.

v. Marisola

2014

The activities of the library are inextricably linked with spiritual, moral, aesthetic and patriotic education. Whatever the library does, its main goal is to introduce people to reading, to the native word, to the history and modern life of Russia. Patriotism cannot be taught; it must be nurtured from childhood. The role of books and libraries in this educational process is extremely important.

Goals of this event:

Introduce works about the life of children and adolescents during the war;

Promote the development of coherent speech, emotional and sensory sphere;

To foster a sense of pride in children who took part in the defense of the Motherland.

Equipment: computer, multimedia projector,exhibition of literature about children during the Great Patriotic War.

Brief description: Literary and library event on books dedicated to children in the war.

Target audience: students in grades 1-4.

The event is led by fifth grade students.

Preliminary preparation: individual students are given the task of preparing a story about the wartime childhood of a relative or friend.

Audio design: lark singing, song “Sunny Circle”.

Progress of the event

Organizing time.

Slide number 1. Librarian . Good afternoon, dear guys. Very soon our country will celebrate the 70th anniversary of the Great Victory, but it has not become a past that does not excite us and does not cause us anxiety,in order not to end up in fascist slavery, for the sake of saving the Motherland, the people entered into a mortal battle with a cruel, insidious and merciless enemy. This victory was not easy for us. The Nazis destroyed and burned hundreds of cities, tens of thousands of villages and hamlets. It is difficult to find a home in our country where grief would not come - some have lost a son, some have lost a father or mother, some have lost a sister or brother, some have lost a friend.

Librarian : - How can you find out about the war? (you can learn about the war today from archival documents, films and books).

Slide number 2. We took the words of N. Starshinov (reading) as the epigraph for our event

War! Your terrible trail

Lives in dusty archives,

In the banners of victories

And in sensational films.

War! Your bitter trail -

And in the books that are on the shelves.

N. Starshinov

Librarian. The road was long and difficult to victory .

- How did the Soviet people bring Victory closer?

Children's answers.

Slide number 3. Children and teenagers, your peers or a little older, helped bring Victory closer. Today we invite you to look through the pages of our literary magazine called “Little Heroes of the Big War.” I present to you the first page entitled“I don’t come from childhood, from war...”

Slide number 4. 1 page. “I don’t come from childhood, from war...”

Librarian (to music). You are now 10 or a little older. You were born and raised in a peaceful land. You know well how spring thunderstorms make noise, but you have never heard the thunder of a gun. You see how new houses are being built, but you have no idea how easily houses are destroyed under a hail of bombs and shells. You know how dreams end, but it’s hard for you to believe that ending a human life is as easy as a cheerful morning dream.

Slide number 5. Reader 1. (sounds of a lark singing)

It seemed cold to the flowers

And they faded slightly from the dew.

The dawn that walked through the grass and bushes,

We searched through German binoculars.

A flower, covered in dewdrops, clung to the flower,

And the border guard extended his hands to them.

Reader 2. (music fades out). And the Germans, having finished drinking coffee, at that moment

They climbed into the tanks and closed the hatches.

Everything breathed such silence,

It seemed that the whole earth was still asleep.

Who knew that between peace and war

Just five minutes left! (S. Shchipachev)

Slide number 6. “...And the war happened” video

Librarian. Guys, what can you and I, people who know about the war from books and films, say about the war?

Guys' answers.

I invite you to express your understanding of the word “war”. (Cinquain)

Slide number 7. War: terrible, cruel, shoot, kill, suffer, on the verge of death, grief.

Reader . The war took a terrible toll on children’s destinies,

It was difficult for everyone, difficult for the country,

But childhood is seriously mutilated:

Children suffered greatly from the war...

They were called CHILDREN OF WAR.

What do we know about them?

Librarian. Children of war are all children born between September 1929 and 1945. Now they are veterans and have the status of “Children of the Great Patriotic War.” Our theme is: “Little heroes of the big war”,
and who are the heroes? Slide number 8. (Sinquain) Hero: feat, warrior, courage, bravery, valor, defender.

Slide number 9. Think about these numbers:

9,168 children were lost every day,

Every hour – 382 children,

Every minute – 6 children,

Every 10 seconds – 1 child.

As we have already said, war is grief, heaviness, loss, and those who survived all the trials and sorrows of war can be called heroes.

Reader.

And we will not contradict the memory,

And we often remember the days when

fell on their weak shoulders

A huge, childish problem,

Reader.

War!... War!

Explosions thundered in my ears.

The smoke of the fires covered half the sky.

And in full growth, strict and silent,

Everyone stood up to fight - both old and young.

Librarian . Many stories, novellas and poems have been written about difficult wartime childhoods, about children who became heroes. Today we will remember works, poems dedicated to your peers, guys who during the war were the same age as you, a little older or a little younger.

Scene. There are 3 students on stage.

1st . What are we going to do now? How to live?

2nd. I used to want to be a traveler, but now I decided to become a sailor. I’ll go to a naval school, learn and beat the Nazis.

1st . Of course, it’s good to be a sailor, but it’s better to be a tanker. I get into the tank, turn around - and there is no German regiment!

3rd . While we are still growing up! And I will be a turner, like my father. I will grind shells on his machine.

Librarian . During the harsh days of the war, children stood next to adults. Schoolchildren collected warm clothes for front-line soldiers, worked in military factories, and stood guard on the roofs of houses during air raids.Children participated in harvest Sundays, in which 75 thousand schoolchildren took part in the fall of 1941 alone. They also collected scrap metal, medicine, prepared fuel, sewed clothes, collected gifts for front-line soldiers, wrote letters to them, and performed concerts for the wounded.

Reader . Children of war - and it blows cold,

Children of war - and it smells of hunger,

Children of war - and their hair stands on end:

There are gray hairs on children's bangs

The earth is washed with children's tears,

Soviet and non-Soviet children.

Slide number 10. Video about children of war.

Slide number 11. Page 2. “We talk about war in poetry”. Books about children of war are different. But poetry holds a special place among them. They pierce the heart with a sharp pain of compassion and empathy. This is a cry for children who experienced war. Slide number 12. You all know the author of poems about “Uncle Styopa”, about “Vaccination”, the author of the anthem of the Russian Federation, Sergei Vladimirovich Mikhalkov. During the war he was a war correspondent. The theme of war is also reflected in his work.

Reading poems by S. Mikhalkov. (Read by a prepared student) Slide number 13.

ten year old man

Criss-cross blue stripes

On the windows of shrunken huts.

Native thin birch trees

They look anxiously at the sunset.

And the dog on the warm ashes,

Up to the eyes, stained in ash,

He's been looking for someone all day

And he doesn’t find it in the village...

Throwing on an old zip coat,

Through the gardens, without roads,

The boy is in a hurry, in a hurry

In the sun - due east.

No one on a long journey

Didn't dress him warmer

Nobody hugged me at the door

And he didn’t look after him.

In an unheated, broken bathhouse

Passing the night like an animal,

How long has he been breathing

I couldn’t warm my cold hands!

But never on his cheek

No tears paved the way.

Must be too much at once

His eyes saw it.

Having seen everything, ready for anything,

Chest-deep, falling into the snow,

He ran to his fair-haired

Ten year old man.

He knew that somewhere nearby,

Howl maybe behind that mountain,

Him as a friend on a dark evening

The Russian sentry will call out.

And he, clinging to his overcoat,

Will tell you everything you looked at

His childish eyes.

Librarian . Another poem about how children helped the front is called “Parcel" Slide number 14.

Student.

Two sweatshirts,

On foot wraps - a gray biker,

To keep your feet warm

On the snow and on the ground.

Fur mittens,

So that the frost is not terrible.

Ten packs of cigarettes.

So that the body is clean

After a long journey,

Two pieces of plain soap -

You won't find better soap!

Strawberry jam

Of your own preparation, -

We cooked it

As if they knew for whom!

Everything you need for shaving

If you have your own razor.

If only there was time and water -

You will always be shaven.

Thread, scissors, needle -

If you break something,

Sit somewhere under a tree

And you can sew everything up calmly.

Sharp penknife -

Cut the sausage and lard! -

A can of porridge with pork -

Open it and eat!

Everything is tied, sewn up,

The lid is nailed to the box -

The matter is nearing its end.

The parcel is being sent,

A very important message

Pioneer package

To an unknown fighter!

Librarian. And here is how Agnia Lvovna Barto wrote about children of war. Slide number 15.

During the days of war

The eyes of a seven year old girl

Like two dimmed lights.

More noticeable on a child's face

Great, heavy melancholy.

She is silent, no matter what you ask,

Make a joke with her,” he says silently in response.

It's like she's not seven, not eight,

And many, many bitter years.

Librarian . During the Great Patriotic War, A. Barto spoke a lot on the radio and went to the front as a newspaper correspondent. In the post-war years, Agnia Lvovna became the organizer of a movement to search for families separated during the war. She suggested searching for lost parents using childhood memories. Through the “Find a Person” program on Mayak radio, it was possible to connect 927 separated families. The writer’s first book of prose is called “Find a Person.”

(the poem is read by a trained student)

I won't forget

I came from afar,

I came back from the war...

Now I'm learning to become a turner,

We need turners.

Now I'm standing

At the machine

And I remember my mother,

She called me

Son

And warm,

Checkered scarf

She loved to cover.

I won't forget

How the mother was led

I heard her scream

In the distance...

Little brother was

Still alive

He fought

Called my father

Bayonet

Fascist sentry

Pushed him

From the porch.

I won't forget

How the mother was led

Her scarf flashed

In the distance.

Librarian. And this poem is dedicated to the partisan Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya, who was captured by the Nazis and tortured for a long time. In order not to give herself away, she called herself Tatyana.

Student (against the background of the music “Leningrad Boys”). Slide number 16.

"Partisan Tanya"

The Nazis beat and tortured

They drove us out into the cold barefoot.

My hands were tied with ropes,

The interrogation lasted for five hours.

There are scars and abrasions on your face,

But silence is the answer to the enemy...

Wooden platform with crossbar,

You are standing barefoot in the snow.

No, gray-haired collective farmers do not cry,

Wiping my eyes with my hands, -

It's just from the cold, in the air

The old people burst into tears.

Above the silence of a frosty day:

I'm not afraid to die, comrades,

My people will avenge me!

Librarian. Despite wartime, children continued to study. And how schoolchildren studied during the war, what they thought and dreamed about, we learn from S. Ya Marshak’s poem “NOT and NOR.” Slide number 17.

Student.

We passed through the particles

"Not" and "neither".

And in the village there were Krauts

During these days.

Our schools were robbed

And at home.

Our school has become naked,

Like a prison.

From the gate of the neighbor's hut

Angular

A German was looking through our window

Hourly.

And the teacher said: “The phrase

Let me,

To meet in it right away

"Neither" and "not."

We looked at the soldier

At the gate

And they said: "From retribution

NO damn fascist

WILL NOT leave!"

Slide number 18. Librarian . When the Great Patriotic War began, Samuil Yakovlevich was already 54 years old. He writes poetry, which is published in front-line newspapers, and composes slogans for military posters. He goes to the front and speaks to the soldiers. 1942 - Samuil Yakovlevich Marshak is awarded the Stalin Prize for poetry and poster slogans.

1944 - Samuil Marshak was awarded the Stalin Prize as a playwright.

1945 - awarded the Order of the Patriotic War, 1st degree.

Another poem that helps us imagine what the children experienced during that terrible war time.The boys dreamed of everything then, but their dreams were scorched by the war. They matured before their time: the war became a severe test for them, but they faced it with courage beyond their years.

Student.

« A boy from the village of Popovki.”

Slide number 19.

Among the snowdrifts and funnels

In a village destroyed to the ground,

The child stands with his eyes closed -

The last citizen of the village.

Scared white kitten

A fragment of a stove and pipe -

And that's all that survived

From my former life and hut.

White-headed Petya is standing

And cries like an old man without tears,

He lived in the world for three years,

And what I learned and endured.

In his presence they burned down his hut,

They drove mom away from the yard,

And in a hastily dug grave

The murdered sister lies.

Don't let go of your rifle, soldier,

Until you take revenge on the enemy

For the blood shed in Popovka,

And for the child in the snow.

Page 3. “Keep in your memory.” Slide number 20.

Librarian. Through the destinies of your grandparents, you become involved in the great history of your Motherland.

We move with you to the third page of our album“Keep in your memory.”Listen to the memories of your classmates' relatives.

Students read the memories.

Slide number 21. And I want to read the memoirs of Claudia Ionovna Emelyanova, who worked at the Marisolinskaya school during the war. She is already 93 years old and lives in the village of Sernur.

“I was born on August 18, 1921 in a stable, and grew up under a bench. Why? Yes, because my grandfather had five sons and at first they all lived together, although the house was large, but everyone needed somewhere to stay. She was born in Kozhlasol, and when she was four years old, the family moved to the Korisola farm.

In 1940, I graduated from the Sernur Pedagogical College and also dreamed of getting a higher education, but I was sent to the Zvenigovsky district. There, after working a little, I got married. We signed on May 30, 1941, and on June 22 the war began. I clearly remember the day when festively dressed people gathered to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the Mari Autonomous Region. My husband left early; he worked as chairman of the Mari Otar collective farm. I walked out the gate and saw sad, sad people walking, everyone was crying. "War!". In November, my husband was taken to the front, and I was left with a child under my heart.

She devoted 38 years to school. I taught elementary school because I really loved “brat” kids and felt sorry for them very much. And how did they study during the war years: they went to classes barefoot and almost naked, and we had to support them. I didn’t go hungry, we were given rations, I received something for workdays, because after school I still worked on the collective farm, and I received a good survivor’s allowance for my son.

During the war years, children also had work to do: especially in the fall, from the third grade they were sent to harvest potatoes. Back then, people entered first grade at the age of eight, and the children were big. I remember we started the day with the song “Holy War.”

I carefully prepared for each lesson so that I knew everything by heart. There was no light: I lit a kerosene lamp, made a lampshade and read until midnight. Then I read the works of Soviet writers, and when I came to school, before the start of the lesson I told the children about what I had read. In addition, it was necessary to speak to the population. At six o'clock she got up and ran three kilometers to the assigned village, raised the people and told them about all the news.

In those years, an orphanage was organized in Marisol. Children were brought from everywhere, some were evacuated and from their own republic. I was transferred to work there, they gave me a third class of 30 people, and in it all the children were of different ages, there were also overgrown fifteen-year-old boys. At first, they conflicted with each other, but they studied very hard, since their motto was the words of Lenin: “Study, study, study.” There were textbooks, but in small quantities, but there was nothing to write with and nothing to write on. They wrote in soot, beet juice, on torn pieces of newspaper, and sometimes they gave out church books. Textbooks were purchased by teachers at their own expense in Sernur.

I thought, how am I going to teach them? I decided to take them “in my hands” from the first lesson. I spent four lessons well, and the fifth was physical education. I spent two hours preparing for it at home. As soon as the lesson began, she commanded: “Come on, men, defenders of the Fatherland, line up!” Pay for the first or second! Step by step!” “Left, right” - they didn’t understand, they had to switch to the command “hay”, “straw”. The children obeyed immediately and the lesson went well. That's how we learned."

Librarian . Memories of relatives, grandparents, their letters, photographs - they have no price. We wish you guys to sacredly honor family traditions, collect and carefully preserve family heirlooms. And we move on to the next page of our album.

Slide number 22 .4 page “Looking up to heroes.”

Librarian. Thousands of children fought in partisan detachments and in the active army. Together with adults, teenagers went on reconnaissance and helped partisans undermine enemy trains and set up ambushes. Some, repeating Susanin’s feat, led detachments of enemies into impenetrable forests, swamps, and minefields. 56 people were named pioneers - heroes. Among them, four were posthumously awarded the highest title of Hero of the Soviet Union:

Readers speak in the background of the presentation.

Slide number 23. Reader 1. Lenya Golikov.

He grew up in the village of Lukino, near the river that flows into the legendary Lake Ilmen. When his native village was captured by the enemy, the boy went to the partisans.

More than once he went on reconnaissance missions and brought important information to the partisan detachment. And enemy trains and cars flew downhill, bridges collapsed, enemy warehouses burned...

There was a battle in his life that Lenya fought one on one with a fascist general. A grenade thrown by a boy hit a car. A Nazi man got out of it with a briefcase in his hands and, firing back, began to run. Lenya is behind him. He pursued the enemy for almost a kilometer and finally killed him. The briefcase contained very important documents. The partisan headquarters immediately transported them by plane to Moscow. There were many more fights in his short life! And the young hero, who fought shoulder to shoulder with adults, never flinched. He died in the winter of 1943, when the enemy was especially fierce.

Pioneer partisan Lena Golikov was posthumously awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union.

Slide number 24. Reader 2. Valya Kotik

He studied at school, was the leader of the pioneers, his peers.

When the Nazis burst into his hometown, Valya Kotik and his friends decided to fight the enemy. The guys collected weapons at the battle site, which the partisans then transported to the detachment on a cart of hay.

Having taken a closer look at the boy, the communists entrusted Valya with being a liaison and intelligence officer. He learned the location of enemy posts and the order of changing the guard.

The Nazis planned a punitive operation against the partisans, and Valya, having tracked down the Nazi officer who led the punitive forces, killed him...

When arrests began in the city, Valya, along with his mother and brother Victor, went to join the partisans. The pioneer, who had just turned fourteen years old, fought shoulder to shoulder with adults, liberating his native land. Valya Kotik was awarded an order and a medal.

Valya Kotik died as a hero, and the Motherland posthumously awarded him the title of Hero of the Soviet Union. A monument to him was erected in front of the school where this brave pioneer studied. And today the pioneers salute the hero.

Slide number 25. Reader 3. Marat Kazei

War struck the Belarusian land. The Nazis burst into the village where Marat and his mother lived. In the fall, Marat no longer had to go to school in the fifth grade. The Nazis turned the school building into their barracks.

Marat’s mother was captured for her connection with the partisans, and the boy soon learned that his mother had been hanged in Minsk. The boy's heart was filled with anger and hatred for the enemy. Together with his sister, he went to the partisans. He became a scout at the headquarters of a partisan brigade. He penetrated enemy garrisons and delivered valuable information to the command. Using this data, the partisans developed an operation and defeated the Nazis in the city of Dzerzhinsk...

Marat took part in battles and showed courage and fearlessness; together with experienced demolition men, he mined the railway.

Marat died in battle. He fought to the last bullet, and when he had only one grenade left, he let his enemies get closer and blew them up... and himself.

For his courage and bravery, pioneer Marat Kazei was awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union. A monument to the young hero was erected in the city of Minsk.

Slide number 26. Reader 4. Zina Portnova

The war found the Leningrad pioneer Zina Portnova in the village where she came on vacation - in the Vitebsk region. An underground organization was created there and Zina was elected a member of its committee. She took part in daring operations against the enemy, distributed leaflets, and conducted reconnaissance on instructions from a partisan detachment.

It was December 1943. Zina was returning from a mission. In the village of Mostishche she was betrayed by a traitor. The Nazis captured the young partisan and tortured her. The answer to the enemy was Zina’s silence, her contempt and hatred, her determination to fight to the end. During one of the interrogations, choosing the moment, Zina grabbed a pistol from the table and fired at point-blank range at the Gestapo man. The officer who ran in to hear the shot was also killed on the spot. Zina tried to escape, but the Nazis overtook her...

The brave young pioneer was brutally tortured, but until the last minute she remained persistent, courageous, and unbending. And the Motherland posthumously celebrated her feat with its highest title - the title of Hero of the Soviet Union.

Librarian. You can learn about all these heroes and many other pioneers and their exploits by reading the book “Pioneer Heroes.” Many books have been written about the war. Looking into tomorrow, writers and poets were confident that the memory of the Great Patriotic War would always be sacred. This memory is eternal. For it contains the greatness of our history, the courage and kindness of the people who create it “for the sake of life on earth.”

Now I want to give you booklets where you will find books about wartime children, which you can find in our library. After reading these books, you will get acquainted with Yurka and Yashka, who saved the wounded pilot and ruined the German communication line, Petya Shepelev, who fought with the tankers, and the partisan Lara. After reading E. Ilyina’s book “The Fourth Height” you will learn about the feat of Guli Koroleva. You will not be indifferent to M. Sukhachev’s book “Children of the Siege” and other books that talk about the difficult lot of children who, risking their lives, brought Victory closer.

Reader. In memory of the 13 million children who died in World War II

Thirteen million children's lives

Burned in the hellish flames of war.

Their laughter will not spray fountains of joy

To the peaceful blossoming of spring.

Their dreams will not take off in a magical flock

Over serious adults

And in some ways humanity will lag behind,

And in some ways the whole world will become poorer.

Those who burn clay pots,

They grow grain and build cities,

Who take care of the land

For life, happiness, peace and work.

Without them, Europe immediately aged,

For many generations there is a lack of crops

And sadness with hope, like a forest burning:

When will the new undergrowth begin to grow?

A mournful monument was erected to them in Poland,

And in Leningrad - a stone Flower,

So that it stays in people's memories longer

The past wars have a tragic outcome.

Thirteen million children's lives -

Bloody trail of the brown plague.

Their dead eyes reproachfully

They look into our souls from the darkness of the grave,

From the ashes of Buchenwald and Khatyn,

From the glare of Piskarev's fire:

“Will the burning memory really cool down?

Will people really not save the world?

Their lips were parched in their last cry,

In the dying call of their dear mothers...

Oh, mothers of countries small and great!

Hear them and remember them!

(A. Molchanov)

Librarian.

Quiet guys

A minute of silence

Let's honor the memory of heroes

And in the morning they greeted the sun

Almost your peers.

Slide number 27 .(Minute of silence against the background of a slide and metronome)

Bottom line. Reflection.

Librarian. You read works about children in war, and you understand: this should not happen! Not in the past, not in the present, not in the future! Literature may not have the power to change the world. But still, books about children in war can touch someone’s heart and add at least a drop of kindness and attention to our lives. And the main thing is to convey not only the memory of the Great Patriotic War, but also an awareness of the value of peaceful life.

What is peace?

War is a common grief, but everyone has their own peace. This is how I imagine the world.

The hand itself wrote the word fragile, probably this is justified: even today the world is turbulent, armed conflicts, hot spots, local wars - they are called differently, but they bring terrible grief to people, destroy families, make children orphans, disabled people, cripple souls , make everyone unhappy, so the world must be protected.

Slide number 28 .Reader (1st grade student).

Let wars disappear forever,

So that the children of the whole earth

We could sleep peacefully at home,

We could dance and sing

So that the sun smiles

The bright windows reflected

And it shone above the ground

To all people

And you and I!

Slide number 20. Now I invite you to join hands and sing the song “Sunny Circle”.

List of sources used

1. Barto A.L. Poems for children. - M.: Children's literature, 1981. – 638 p.
2. Voronkova L.F. Girl from the city. - M.: Children's literature, 1972. – 77 p.
3. Marshak S.Ya. Fairy tales, songs, riddles. Poems. - M.: Children's literature, 1981. – 639s.
4. Mikhalkov S.V. For children: poems, fairy tales, stories, fables, plays. - M.: Children's literature, 1981. – 590s.
5. Website http://zanimatika.narod.ru/RF34_3.htm

Preview:

May 9, 2015 This year the whole country will celebrate 70 years since the Great Victory. War is not a child's business. It has always been this way. That's how it should be. But this war was special, that's why it was calledGreat Patriotic Warthat the whole country, from small to large, rose to defend.

You will learn about the military labor feats of boys and girls just like you, your peers, from the books that are included in the recommendation list"Little heroes of the big war."

We are waiting for you:

Monday Friday

From 8.00 to 15.00

Saturday

From 8.00 to 13.00

Day off is Sunday.

Municipal educational institution "Marisolinskaya secondary school"

v. Marisola

2014

Bibliography.

Bogdanov N.V. Immortal bugler.

The book contains two stories about the exploits of young heroes. You will undoubtedly fall in love with the boy Alyosha, who knocked out a fascist armored train. You will read with excitement about the fate of another boy, also Alyosha, who during the terrible days of the blockade survived hunger and cold, overcoming death itself.

Voronkova L. Girl from the city.

The work tells about the fate of a girl from besieged Leningrad. The main character Valya lost her parents during the war, and then found a new family.

Ilyina E.Ya. Fourth height.

About the hero of the Great Patriotic War, Gula Koroleva, about her childhood, about how she starred in films and tragically died at the front.

Kataev V.P. Son of the regiment.

Soviet intelligence officers discover an orphaned boy, Vanya Solntsev, and bring him to the regiment. The boy refuses to be sent to the front and remains on the front line. The boy becomes the son of the regiment, a scout

and an artilleryman. In a battle against German tanks, the entire battery crew dies, and Vanya Solntsev is sent to the Suvorov Military School.

Cassil L. My dear boys.

The story is dedicated to the memory of A.P. Gaidar and talks about the life of children of a small Volga town during the war.

Kosmodemyanskaya L.T. The story of Zoya and Shura.

Children of L.T. Kosmodemyanskaya died in the fight against fascism, defending the freedom and independence of their people. She talks about them in the story. Using the book, you can follow the lives of Zoya and Shura day after day, find out their interests, thoughts, dreams.

Mashuk B.A. Bitter shaneys.

A series of stories about children living in a small Far Eastern village during the war, about the early maturation of a child’s soul.

Panova V.F. Our children.

This book is about teenagers. The action takes place either in peacetime or during war, and the children have to make important decisions, be responsible for them, and fight.

Paustovsky K.G. The adventures of the rhinoceros beetle.

When Pyotr Terentyev left the village to go to war, his little son Styopa did not know what to give his father as a farewell gift, and finally gave him an old rhinoceros beetle.

Sukhachev M.P. Children of the siege.

A story about Leningrad children during the war. About life in a blockaded city, about courage and perseverance.The story begins in the summer of 1941. Signs of war are already everywhere, but there is no blockade yet, it will begin in September. In the meantime, the main character V. Stogov and his friend Valerka Spichkin live an ordinary child's life.

Tvardovsky A.T. A tankman's story.The book includes poems about the Motherland, about the war, as well as chapters from the poem "Vasily Terkin".