Moment in time

This term we have been writing recounts in as vivid detail as possible, inspired from our class book this term; Boy.

 Planning 
 Gray school day 
Bored 
Went to play with two girls 
First girl had a ‘vampire ball’ 
Second girl pretended to be a vampire and bit me 
Year 3

 Success Criteria: 
 Hook 
Important information 
Include details 


                                                            Vampire bite
 It was a grey school day. Dull, bored clouds dominated the sky, tired of looking down their noses at tiny ant-people and miniature ant houses and huts. Down in Clive School, students sat in never-ending piles of work. Including me. My pencil drooled and dribbled over the page, then eventually clattered to the floor as the lunch bell saved 235 students from hard labour.


 Lunchtime wasn’t any better; everything was covered in thick grey sludge. I wandered around the field, feeling lost in the school that I had been in for 3 years already. “Hey Sophie!” someone shouted from the side of the field. It was my friend. She was with another girl and they were playing a game called ‘Vampires’. When I joined them, they explained all about the second girl’s ‘vampire ball’. We were gathered around a little patch of twigs and the girl put her ‘vampire ball’ in the middle. “ Right,” she said, “Let’s call the vampires!” So we sat in a circle with our legs crossed, eyes closed, and arms in praying position. At some stage I opened my eyes, which I was not supposed to, and said, “The ball’s not doing anything….” The second girl was not happy with me saying that, so she ushered my friend over and whispered something in her ear. I sat there, smiling, thinking something good was going to happen.


 But no. Suddenly my friend lunged at me and sunk her teeth into my arm. Her mouth felt wet with saliva and gooey, but her teeth felt hard and cold, like nails pinching into my skin. The searing pain spread through my body and paralysed me. I looked down at the mark on my arm, shocked so much I could only stare. When I came to and screamed, the two girls scampered, leaving no evidence of our little game.

My digital Mihi

Place Poem

WALT: Use our senses to write a poem about a special place.

Mahia

See the sun melting slowly like a giant ball of cheese on the horizon.

Hear the silent wind pulling your hair, telling you its secrets.

Feel the sand crunching softly under your feet.

Smell the salt.

Taste it on your tongue.

Mahia is like that.

See the octopus, looking up at you from the rockpool.

Hear the waves sloshing lazily in the channel, knowing in the back of your mind that the tide is coming in.

Gasp as the cold water from the deepest pool envelopes you.

Smell the sweet scent of pohutukawa as your tall uncle gives you a flower.

Mahia is like that.

See the old wisened faces of your tipuna, smiling at you.

Hear them laughing at your silly jokes, young again.

Feel the tiredness creep in, like the mosquitoes, through the open door.

Smell the thick aroma of cheese and bread.

Curl your lips around the glass and sip at the vermilion wine.                                             

Mahia is like that.

See the barefoot people milling around, careless of what they wear.

Hear the low, tired murmurs of a hot day.

Feel sweat trickling slowly down your forehead.

Sniff the air for the brilliant smell of orange and chocolate chip.

Lick your ice-cream and melt in bliss.

Mahia is like that.

See the sun waking up and climbing over the hill.

Hear the quiet clink of sad knives cutting up toast.

Feel the instant, almost strange, change in atmosphere.

Smell the last smells and climb into the car.

Taste the lump in your throat.

Feel the never-boredom become boredom once more.

Leaving Mahia is like that.

Quirky Quick Writes

WALT: Use our imaginations to write on a variety of topics for 5 to 10 minutes.

12th Feb 2016

Stella-Rosa was a sandwhich. She was caring, soft and had a heart as red as a tomato. She had meaty brains in her bread, and was covered in a thick skin of mayonaise (so she didn’t get bullied). I was always hungry after her lettuce-green dress, which trailed around her pale, bready legs. She was a beautiful sandwhich. Until she got eaten.

18th Feb

“Aw, mum, why do we have to go to Pizza hut?” I whined, “you know I hate their pizza! Why can’t we go somewhere cool, like Poopie’s Pizza where we get a free chocolate bar?”

25th Feb               50 words

Twisting gracefully in that plasticy orange dress,

Her round body looking light, beautiful for once.

I look down at her and smile at that almost vermilion lipstick,

And think: my, what a pretty one you are.

Then slowly, slowly, I peel off that beautiful coat and bite into -

My orange!

Hope you enjoyed the Quick Writes!

Apocalypse Short Film- Setting Descriptions

WALT: Use detail in our writing to describe a setting.

Apocalypse

Cold, windswept and lifeless. The old city lay in a thick layer of dust, so lonely you could even feel its sadness. No air in that barren landscape. Nobody there. The tired dead trees creaked in their forever sleep. Fear had just spread itself across the land, the buildings, the school playground. No hope, just a grey, sandy canvas.

Apocalypse 2

A musty smell hung in the air. The whole place was a very light, sad green colour. A colour mourning of the bright life it had once lived. White fragments of a teacup lay dissipated on the floor. An old four poster bed sat moaning and groaning of age. Next to it were the remnants of a torn, tatty sleeping bag. That was the only evidence that two inhabitants had once lived there.

Portrait Poem

Cyclone Yassy

My sister the cyclone………...

She streaks through the house

a path of debris wherever she goes.

When she walks past

she leaves a breeze that ruffles the paper she has just drawn on.

I fly into the beanbag when she shoves past me

a whirlwind of fists and feet.

She is too big for our house.

Tearing the pillows up,

hurling the cat around.

Whenever anyone comes to our house

it’s really hard to clean up because she keeps destroying things.

We are scared for surprise visitors because

they might get shocked and run away.

It does not matter what time, which place;

my sister is always messy like a cyclone.

This is my portrait poem. I had to include at least one simile and a metaphor.

Term One 2016 goals

Room 4 did a tagul on our goals this term. We had to keep, stop and start something. My goal that I am most working on at the moment is keeping my homework up to a very high standard. So far I am succeeding.