Rally Photos

Here’s a collection of photos from last Wednesday’s Rally for Adult Literacy at City Hall:


To learn more, click here.


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Still Barking Up the Wrong Tree

Here are some images and quotes from the web using our latest Idiom of the Week. Enjoy!

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Idiom of the Week: Barking Up the Wrong Tree

Image result for dog barking tree

Meaning: To be looking in the wrong place for an answer; to be thinking incorrectly about a problem.


The man told the police that they were barking up the wrong tree and that he had nothing to do with the bank robbery.

You’ll be barking up the wrong tree if you ask him about English grammar because he doesn’t know anything about it.

Am I right or am I barking up the wrong tree?


Pop Quiz:

If you’re barking up the wrong tree, you…

A.  hit the nail on the head.

B.  got up on the wrong side of the bed.

C.  are on the wrong track.

To see the correct answer, click on “Continue reading”:

Continue reading

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Reading Kid’s Books

Every year, our Level 1 classes and higher learn to read kid’s books in an interactive way using researched-based literacy strategies used by teachers throughout NYC. You can see weekend students in action above. Here are some of the strategies they used:


Talking about the pictures on the cover

Identifying the author and illustrator

Making predictions about what the story is going to be about

During Reading:

Changing your voice

Using body language

Discussing important vocabulary

Asking questions to check comprehension

Asking for opinions and making more predictions


Reviewing important vocabulary

Re-telling/summarizing the story

Connecting the story to readers’ real lives

Try it at home today!

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Tearjerkers Revisited

Like tearjerkers? Looking for some summer movie recommendations? Click on the picture above or here to go to Oprah.com for the 9 Best Tearjerkers.


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Student Writers at Symphony Space

Recently Class 3P took a trip to Symphony Space, where professional actors read a couple of their stories as part of the the All Write! program. Here are the two stories that were read:

The Rainy Day

Jian Wen Li 

“Tick and Tick,” this rhythm is like a wonderful melody to wake me from my dream. I rub my eyes and focus on listening.

Wow, this is rain, this is my favorite, a rainy day. I jump out of bed, run to the window and look out.

The leaves are scrubbed with bright green color, the rain drips little by little from the tips of the leaves, like a beaded curtain. The flowers open their arms and embrace the rain, satisfied sucking.

The house and the street are washed by the rain, so clean. The rain is dripping on the road, splashing down like beautiful blossoms. The cars drive so fast and spatter a white wave. People on the street are holding colorful umbrellas, like beautiful blooming flowers.

A breeze blows, I breathe greedily. The air is so fresh, accompanied by the smell of grass, which is the taste of spring.

I change my clothes and rush out the door. I like to be in the rain and let the rain fall on my face, the rain gently touch me.

You will never understand a Pluvophile*, how to love the rain.

*Pluvophile : a lover of rain; someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days.



Happy Things In My Childhood 

Winnie Chen

I love my hometown and my childhood. My hometown is a small and beautiful place. The name is Chang Le. It was a city, now it is a zone. There are so many mountains and rivers, and also a lot of seafood. The weather is very good, it never snows in winter. In the morning, occasionally we saw a couple of icicles on the eaves of the roof, and the children all felt excited.

I miss my childhood very much. It was not as advanced as it is today, but everyday I feel and think we enjoyed a colorful life. There were no computers or mobile phones. If in the whole village one family had a TV, we thought they were rich. I remember when I was little, sometimes in the village there would be movies and we watched ancient singing dramas. I sat down on my father’s lap and fell asleep, then my father carried me home.

My father was a migrant worker. When he went to the farm, I would help bring rice and a snack to give my father to eat. My father was a hard worker. He had watermelon, sugarcane, and sweet potato. Also, he planted different kinds of vegetables and had a fish farm. Although we were not rich, we were never hungry with starving tummies.

I still remember one thing. When I was seven years old, my parents just sent me to kindergarten, but the teacher said I was too late and too old. I couldn’t study in kindergarten, I needed to study in first grade. I thought she didn’t like me. I cried.

There are still a lot of happy memories. I remember them all. I’ll leave it there for now.

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