Learners will describe how hunger and malnutrition are related, but not the same problems. They will recognize hunger as a universal theme in literature and analyze the role of the four sectors of society in solving problems of hunger in the community.
Three Forty-Five Minute Class Periods
The learner will:
- describe the difference between hunger and malnutrition.
- compare experiences of hunger evidenced in literature.
- identify how the four sectors of society work together to diminish hunger in the local community.
Students will take a field trip to a food pantry and help to organize a Harvest for Hunger campaign at their school.
Anticipatory Set:
Ask the learners to list all the places in their community that provide food for the needy. Compile the list on the chalkboard.
Teacher Note: Although this is an Ohio web site it contains valuable ideas for conducting a food drive or raising money for hunger relief.
Let the learners decide on the best way to conduct a food drive or raise money to donate to a food bank. (Most needed food items include tuna fish, canned vegetables, canned or boxed baby food, peanut butter, boxed pasta and canned beef stew.) They should decide on the project, make a plan for its execution and carry it through.
Ask the learners to write a brief essay in their journals describing the difference between hunger and malnutrition. They should then include a description of the work of the organization they researched and categorize it as one of the four sectors of society. An alternate topic for inclusion in the journals could be: "What the word hunger means to me now."
Lesson Developed and Piloted by:
Linda WimsExcerpts from Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt. At this point in the autobiography Frank is about five years old and living in New York City.
Chapter 1
My mother tells me all the time, Never, never leave that playground except to come home. But what am I to do with the twins bawling with the hunger in the pram? I tell Malachy I’ll be back in a minute. I make sure no one is looking, grab a bunch of bananas outside the Italian grocery shop and run down Myrtle Avenue, away from the playground, around the block and back to the other end where there’s a hole in the fence. We push the pram to a dark corner and peel the bananas for the twins. There are five bananas in the bunch and we feast on them in the dark corner. The twins slobber and chew and spread banana over their faces, their hair, their clothes. I realize then that questions will be asked. Mam will want to know why the twins are smothered in bananas, where did you get them? I can’t tell her about the Italian shop on the corner. I will have to say. A man.
That’s what I’ll say. A man.
Then the strange thing happens. There’s a man at the gate of the playground. He’s calling me. Oh, God, it’s the Italian. Hey, sonny, come ‘ere. Hey, talkin’ to ya. Come ‘ere.
I go to him.
You the kid wid the little bruddas, right? Twins?
Yes, sir.
Heah. Gotta bag o’ fruit. I don’ give it to you I trow id out. Right? So, heah, take the bag. Ya got apples, oranges, bananas. Ya like bananas, right? I think ya like bananas, eh? Ha, ha. I know ya like the bananas. Heah, take the bag. Ya gotta nice mother there. Ya father? Well, ya know, he’s got the problem, the Irish thing. Give them twins a banana. Shud ‘em up. I hear ’em all the way cross the street.
Thank you, sir.
Jeez. Polite kid, eh? Where ja loin dat?
My father told me to say thanks, sir.
Your father? Oh, well.
McCourt, Frank. 1996. Angela’s Ashes. Scribner. New York, NY.
Excerpts from Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt. At this point in the autobiography Frank is about ten years old and living in Limerick, Ireland.
Chapter 10
Malachy has another powerful idea, that we could go around Limerick like tinkers pushing Alphie in his pram into pubs for the sweets and lemonade, but I don’t want Mam finding out and hitting me with her right cross. Malachy says I’m not a sport and runs off. I push the pram over to Henry Street and up by the Redemptorist church. It’s a gray day, the church is gray and the small crowd of people outside the door of the priests’ house is gray. They ‘re waiting to beg for any food left over from the priests’ dinner.
There in the middle of the crowd in her dirty gray coat is my mother.
This is my own mother, begging. This is worse than the dole, the St. Vincent de Paul Society, the Dispensary. It’s the worst kind of shame, almost as bad as begging on the streets where the tinkers hold up their scabby children, Give us a penny for the poor child, mister, the poor child is hungry, missus.
My mother is a beggar now and if anyone from the lane or my school sees her the family will be disgraced entirely. My pals will make up new names and torment me in the schoolyard and I know what they’ll say,
Frankie McCourt
beggar woman’s boy
scabby-eyed
dancing
blubber-gob
jap
The door of the priests’ house swings open and the people rush their hands out. I can here them, Brother, brother, here, brother, ah, for the love o’ God, brother. Five children at home, brother. I can see my own mother pushed along. I can see the tightness of her mouth when she snatches at a bag and turns from the door and I push the pram up the street before she can see me.
I don’t want to go home anymore. I push the pram down to the Dock Road, out to Corkanree where all the dust and garbage of Limerick is dumped and burned. I stand a while and look at boys chase rats. I don’t know why they have to torture rats that are not in their houses. I’d keep going on into the country forever if I didn’t have Alphie bawling with the hunger, kicking his chubby legs, waving his empty bottle.
McCourt, Frank. 1996. Angela’s Ashes. Scribner. New York, NY.
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