Today's posting begins a series on lessons I use to keep the idea for learning alive with the boys aged 6-9 that I find myself tutoring this school year. For those of you with kids, you know how hard it is to control the short attention spans kids have at that age, especially boys. So, I've come up with little lessons that keep them interested and anxious to learn. Here's one about the current title holder of the world's tallest man:
Leonid Ivanovyc Stadnyk was born in 1971 in central Ukraine in Russia. He is the world's tallest living man according to the 2008 Guinness World Records, measuring 8ft 5in. He is a certified veterinarian and animal surgeon. He lives with his mother.
His rapid growth began after brain surgery when he was 12. He developed a pituitary gland tumor which caused the gland to secrete large amounts of growth hormone, resulting in what is known as gigantism.
He is an only child who was born to parents who were 1.73m (5ft 8in) and 1.52m (5ft) tall and was not unusually large as a young boy.
By the time he begun his training to become a vet at a clinic an hour away from his home, he measured 2.03m (6ft 8in).
He soon outgrew his bike and began taking the bus. He later became too large for the bus and had to use the family's horse-drawn cart.
He now takes care of his mother's livestock and grows vegetables on their farm in the village of Podolyantsi.
But Mr Stadnyk still must grow 15cm (6in) if he wants to be the tallest man in history. That title goes to Robert Wadlow, who was 8ft 11in. He lived in the state of Illinois and he died in 1940 when he was only 22.
Find out more about current title holders in the strangest categories at: http://www.guinnessworldrecords.com/
Research info gathered at: http://www.wikipedia.org/
Now, here's one of my "tall" poems:
Ways to Become a Visionary Butterfly
No one knows exactly how it came to be this way.
I suppose irony can often be the richest dessert.
On the other hand, wallpaper has never been
my obsession. And like any artist, I crave
solitude, as long as no earthquakes
or wars intercede by sundown.
Anyway, I credit my short
attention-span on living
in L.A. where even a
typhoon would be
I also think it’s
because of too many
people wearing too many
tattoos. It could be because the
angel’s feet are on fire or simply because
of the bed of hot coals cleverly disguised in a
voluptuous body. All I know is that most wheat
fields were once drive-in movies and that the Pillsbury
dough boy has a thing for shepherds. What ever happens
to be left-over is an accordion-playing lesbian? O yeah,
and the black hairnet might even tangle in the tree.
Poem first published at: http://webdelsol.com/The_Pomotac
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Copyright 2008 by Maurice Oliver. All Rights Reserved.