Short stories for 3 graders

5 Short Stories For Summer Reading Grades 3-6

How do you motivate kids to read during the summer? With engaging stories they simply can’t resist! These 5 thrilling texts from Scholastic Magazines+ are written just for your students, with kid-friendly topics and just-right reading levels. Plus, they’re flexible enough to share however you choose!

- Search for Pirate’s Gold (Grade 3)

In 1717, a pirate ship laden with stolen gold sunk in a violent storm off the coast of Cape Cod. That’s just the start of this captivating nonfiction story from Storyworks 3 More than 250 years later, a local history buff made a childhood dream come true by finding the ship’s treasure. This amazing true tale is available at four reading levels to give every student access

- Roll with a Skateboard Star (Grade 4)

Sky won a medal at the World Skateboarding Championships—and she’s just 11 years old! Scholastic News tells her remarkable story. Sky trains every day, balancing school and friendships with perfecting tricks like the frontside 540. She hopes to become one of the youngest summer Olympians ever.

- Discover Far-out Flavors (Grades 3–5)

Care for a scoop of geranium ice cream? Kids will get a kick out of this sweet story from DynaMath about crazy flavors from the nation’s ice cream shops. It comes with math skills activities that focus on using bills and coins, along with a fun video tour of an ice cream factory in Brooklyn, New York.

- Hop on the Frog Patrol (Grades 3–6)

Even a kid can be a citizen scientist! In this inspiring article from SuperScience, students learn about Frogwatch USA, whose volunteers observe amphibians to help conservation efforts. We’ve also included a how-to on animal spotting, an interactive game featuring real frog calls and more.

- Have a Sea Turtle Summer (Grades 4–6)

Many children will identify with the feeling of having a friend move away. When that happens to Marco in this heartwarming play from Storyworks, he ends up taking part in a sea turtle rescue that teaches him healing life lessons. After reading, kids can show what they learned with eight skill-builder activity sheets!

We hope these stories help you encourage students to read for pleasure this summer. To inspire reading all next year, choose from Scholastic Magazines+ for every grade and subject. Start with a 30-day free trial!

- Search for Pirate’s Gold (Grade 3)

- Roll with a Skateboard Star (Grade 4)

- Discover Far-out Flavors (Grades 3–5)

- Hop on the Frog Patrol (Grades 3–6)

- Have a Sea Turtle Summer (Grades 4–6)

- Search for Pirate’s Gold (Grade 3)

- Roll with a Skateboard Star (Grade 4)

- Discover Far-out Flavors (Grades 3–5)

- Hop on the Frog Patrol (Grades 3–6)

- Have a Sea Turtle Summer (Grades 4–6)

Grade 3 - Short Stories Comprehension

Grade 3 – Short Stories Comprehension.

Easy short stories with comprehension for Third graders. Free activities, booklets and PDFs

Grade 3 – Short Stories Comprehension

Grade 3 – Short Stories Comprehension

Macmillan/McGraw-Hill’s Treasures online resources are specifically designed to help teachers teach by providing engaging activities for students at all levels. These Online Teacher Resources offer content designed to help teachers save time and keep students motivated and focused.

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The story of Barbos and Zhulka, Alexander Kuprin

Barbos was short in stature, but squat and broad-chested. Thanks to his long, slightly curly coat, there was a distant resemblance to a white poodle in him, but only with a poodle that was never touched by soap, comb, or scissors. In summer, he was constantly covered from head to tail with prickly "burdocks", while in autumn, tufts of wool on his legs, stomach, wallowing in mud and then drying up, turned into hundreds of brown, dangling stalactites. Barbos's ears always bore traces of "combat fights", and in especially hot periods of dog flirting, they turned into bizarre scallops. Dogs like him are called Barbos from time immemorial and everywhere. Occasionally only, and then as an exception, they are called Druzhki. These dogs, if I am not mistaken, come from simple mongrels and shepherd dogs. They are distinguished by fidelity, independent character and subtle hearing.

Zhulka also belonged to a very common breed of small dogs, those thin-legged dogs with smooth black hair and yellow marks above the eyebrows and on the chest, which are so fond of retired officials. Her main feature was a delicate, almost shy politeness. This does not mean that she immediately rolled over on her back, began to smile, or humiliatedly crawled on her stomach as soon as a person spoke to her (this is what all hypocritical, flattering and cowardly dogs do). No, she approached a kind man with her characteristic bold gullibility, leaned on his knee with her front paws and gently extended her muzzle, demanding affection. Her delicacy was expressed chiefly in her manner of eating. She never begged, on the contrary, she always had to beg her to take a bone. If, however, another dog or people approached her while eating, Zhulka modestly stepped aside with a look that seemed to say: “Eat, eat, please ... I’m already completely full ...” Really, in her at these moments there was much less canine than in other respectable human faces during a good dinner.
Of course, Zhulka was unanimously recognized as a lap dog. As for Barbos, we, the children, very often had to defend him from the just wrath of the elders and life exile in the yard. Firstly, he had a very vague idea of ownership (especially when it came to food), and secondly, he was not very neat in the toilet. It cost nothing for this robber to crack a good half of a roasted Easter turkey in one sitting, brought up with special love and fattened only by nuts, or lie down, having just jumped out of a deep and dirty puddle, on the festive, white as snow, cover of his mother's bed.
In the summer, he was treated condescendingly, and he usually lay on the windowsill of an open window in the pose of a sleeping lion, with his muzzle buried between his outstretched front paws. However, he did not sleep: this was noticeable by his eyebrows, which did not stop moving all the time. The watchdog was waiting ... As soon as a dog figure appeared on the street opposite our house. The watchdog swiftly rolled down from the window, slipped on its belly into the doorway and rushed at the impudent violator of territorial laws with a full career. He firmly remembered the great law of all martial arts and battles: hit first if you don’t want to be beaten, and therefore flatly refused any diplomatic tricks accepted in the dog world, such as preliminary mutual sniffing, threatening growl, curling the tail with a ring, and so on. Watchdog, like lightning, overtook the opponent, knocked him down with his chest and started squabbling. For several minutes, among the thick column of brown dust, two canine bodies floundered, intertwined in a ball. Finally Barbos won. While the enemy took to flight, tucking his tail between his legs, squealing and cowardly looking back. The watchdog proudly returned to his post on the windowsill. It is true that sometimes during this triumphal procession he limped heavily, and his ears were decorated with superfluous scallops, but, probably, the victorious laurels seemed all the sweeter to him.
A rare agreement and the most tender love reigned between him and Zhulka. Maybe Zhulka secretly condemned her friend for his violent temper and bad manners, but in any case, she never explicitly expressed this. Even then she restrained her displeasure when Barbos, having swallowed his breakfast in several doses, impudently licking his lips, approached Zhulka's bowl and thrust his wet, furry muzzle into it. In the evening, when the sun did not burn so strongly, both dogs liked to play and tinker in the yard. They either ran from one another, then set up ambushes, then with a mock-angry growl they pretended to fiercely squabble among themselves.
Once a rabid dog ran into our yard. Watchdog saw her from his window sill, but instead of, as usual, rushing into battle, he only trembled all over and squealed plaintively. The dog rushed around the yard from corner to corner, catching up panic horror both on people and on animals with its very appearance. People hid behind the doors and timidly looked out from behind them. Everyone shouted, ordered, gave stupid advice and provoked each other. The mad dog, meanwhile, had already bitten two pigs and torn apart several ducks.
Suddenly everyone gasped in fright and surprise. From somewhere behind the barn, little Zhulka jumped out and, with all the speed of her thin legs, rushed across the path of a rabid dog. The distance between them decreased with amazing speed. Then they collided... It all happened so quickly that no one even had time to call Zhulka back. From a strong push, she fell and rolled on the ground, and the mad dog immediately turned towards the gate and jumped out into the street.
When Zhulka was examined, not a single trace of teeth was found on her. Probably, the dog did not even have time to bite her. But the tension of the heroic impulse and the horror of the moments experienced were not in vain for poor Zhulka ... Something strange, inexplicable happened to her. If dogs had the ability to go crazy, I'd say she's crazy. One day she lost weight beyond recognition; sometimes she would lie for whole hours in some dark corner; then she ran around the yard, spinning and bouncing. She refused food and did not turn around when her name was called.
On the third day she became so weak that she could not rise from the ground. Her eyes, as bright and intelligent as before, expressed deep inner anguish. On her father's orders, she was taken to an empty woodshed so that she could die in peace there. (After all, it is known that only a person arranges his death so solemnly. But all animals, sensing the approach of this disgusting act, seek solitude.)
An hour after Zhulka was locked up, Barbos ran to the barn. He was very excited and began to squeal first, and then howl, raising his head up. Sometimes he would stop for a moment to sniff the crack in the shed door with an anxious look and alert ears, and then again howl long and pitifully.
They tried to recall him from the barn, but this did not help. He was chased and even hit several times with a rope; he ran away, but immediately stubbornly returned to his place and continued to howl.
Since children generally stand much closer to animals than adults think, we were the first to guess what Barbos wants.
- Dad, let Barbos into the barn. He wants to say goodbye to Zhulka. Let me, please, dad, - we stuck to the father.
He first said: "Nonsense!" But we so climbed to him and whimpered so much that he had to give in.
And we were right. As soon as the barn door was opened, Barbos rushed headlong to Zhulka, who was lying helplessly on the ground, sniffed her and with a quiet squeal began to lick her in the eyes, in the muzzle, in the ears. Zhulka weakly wagged her tail and tried to raise her head - she did not succeed. There was something touching in the farewell of the dogs. Even the servants who stared at this scene seemed moved.
When Barbos was called, he obeyed and, leaving the barn, lay down near the door on the ground. He was no longer agitated and howling, but only occasionally raised his head and seemed to be listening to what was happening in the shed. About two hours later he howled again, but so loudly and so expressively that the driver had to get the keys and open the doors. Zhulka lay motionless on her side. She died...

Story What Mishka loves, Victor Dragunsky

Once Mishka and I entered the hall where we have singing lessons. Boris Sergeevich was sitting at his piano and playing something quietly. Mishka and I sat on the windowsill and did not interfere with him, and he did not notice us at all, but continued to play for himself, and various sounds quickly jumped out from under his fingers.

They were splashed, and something very friendly and joyful came out. I really liked it, and I could have sat and listened like that for a long time, but Boris Sergeevich soon stopped playing. He closed the lid of the piano and saw us and cheerfully said:

— Oh! What people! Sitting like two sparrows on a branch! Well, so what do you say?

I asked:

— What were you playing, Boris Sergeevich? He replied:

- This is Chopin. I love him so much.

I said:

— Of course, since you are a singing teacher, you love different songs.

He said:

— This is not a song. Although I love songs, but this is not a song. What I played is called a much bigger word than just "song".

I said:

— How so? In a word?

He answered seriously and clearly:

— Mu-zy-ka. Chopin is a great composer. He composed wonderful music. And I love music more than anything.

Then he looked at me attentively and said:

— Well, what do you like? More than anything?

I answered:

— I like a lot of things.

And I told him what I love. And about the dog, and about planing, and about the baby elephant, and about the red cavalrymen, and about the little doe on pink hooves, and about the ancient warriors, and about the cool stars, and about the horse faces, everything, everything ...

He listened to me carefully, he had a thoughtful face when he listened, and then he said:

— Look! And I didn't know. Honestly, you're still small, don't be offended, but look - you love how much! The whole world.

Mishka interrupted the conversation. He pouted and said:

— And I love different things even more than Deniska! Think!!

Boris Sergeevich laughed:

— Very interesting! Come on, tell me the secret of your soul. Now it's your turn, take the baton! So get started! What do you love?

The bear fidgeted on the windowsill, then cleared his throat and said:

— I love rolls, buns, loaves and cake! I love bread, and cake, and cakes, and gingerbread, even Tula, even honey, even glazed. I love drying too, and donuts, bagels, pies with meat, jam, cabbage and rice.

I really love dumplings, and especially cheesecakes, if they are fresh, but stale is also okay. You can oatmeal cookies and vanilla crackers.

I also love sprats, saury, marinated pike-perch, bull-calves in tomato, some in their own juice, eggplant caviar, sliced zucchini and fried potatoes.

I love boiled sausage like crazy, if it's a doctor's sausage, I'll eat a whole kilo on a bet! And I love the dining room, and tea, and brawn, and smoked, and semi-smoked, and raw smoked! I love this one the most. I really like pasta with butter, noodles with butter, horns with butter, cheese with holes and without holes, with red or white crust - it doesn't matter.

I like dumplings with cottage cheese, salty, sweet, sour cottage cheese; I like apples grated with sugar, and then the apples alone, and if the apples are peeled, then I like to eat an apple first, and only then, for a snack - the peel!

I like liver, cutlets, herring, bean soup, green peas, boiled meat, toffee, sugar, tea, jam, borzhom, soda with syrup, soft-boiled, hard-boiled, bagged, mogu and raw eggs. I love sandwiches with just anything, especially if thickly spread with mashed potatoes or millet porridge. So... Well, I won't talk about halva - what fool doesn't like halva? I also love duck, goose and turkey. Oh yes! I love ice cream with all my heart. Seven, nine. Thirteen, fifteen, nineteen. Twenty-two and twenty-eight.

Mishka looked around the ceiling and caught his breath. Apparently, he was already very tired. But Boris Sergeevich looked at him intently, and Mishka drove on.

He muttered:

- Gooseberries, carrots, salmon, pink salmon, turnips, borscht, dumplings, although I already said dumplings, broth, bananas, persimmon, compote, sausages, sausage, although I also said sausage .

Short stories for 3 graders

5 Short Stories For Summer Reading Grades 3-6

Grade 3 - Short Stories Comprehension

DOWNLOAD THE PDF FOR FREE

The story of Barbos and Zhulka, Alexander Kuprin

Story What Mishka loves, Victor Dragunsky

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