Mrs Thresh’s literacy group are writing non chronological reports. We have started with blue tits & for homework the children were asked to do some research. Emma took this a step further and created this amazing drawing.
Posts Tagged ‘literacy’
Year 6 have been writing stories based on this video, here is George’s story…
My Grandad was a hero not batman nor superman but he saved the day non the less, let me tell you the full story…
It was a dark and stormy night in a hidden village in Paris called Proncee where as it was a Friday there were lots of parties going on in the local pub. It was Barry’s first day on the job in the lighthouse, he was an old man about 74 (I’m not sure about his actual age, mum won’t tell me). Barry however being important had no friends in day or night therefore he was awfully grumpy.
To also get him even more grumpy he couldn’t hear himself think “Come on shut up some people have a flipin job”! He screamed out the window as he closed it. The response for this however is because he was writing his daily report letter to the creator of the lighthouse. He got bored after a long while so he walked out to the party but suddenly the light stopped!
He took his toolbox running as his life depended on it, he looked inside, he needed to take the light off but…
He fell over his small red tool box! He also heard a horn of a boat he seemed to be frozen in time. Suddenly the music stopped “ oopps are they coming to make fun of me. If they are I will show them”! he shouted determinedly.
About this time you’re thinking he’s doomed. You may be correct, there’s a chance I’m telling you this story because I feel like it too, have a guess!
He opened the door looking defeated but suddenly they all said at once “how can we help”. Barry asked “do you all have your lanterns?” the answer was a yes. Although they only had two minutes and about 2000 people, in two minutes they had them in the lighthouse and the boat was safe. He had more to put it all in that letter imagined. So did you enjoy my story? It was epic, he is the best lighthouse keeper in the world.
Radio advertisements fo a new toy written and produced by Year 6, links take you to You Tube.
Year 6 literacy homework, please submit before Tuesday morning literacy.
This week we looked at commas in lists and within speech (to separate the speech from the speaker). In your description use commas in a list form.
Then write a short discussion, imagine Mr Sainter telling Mrs Holgate that he had just seen it in the car park! Remember use a comma when necessary.
As time went by Lexis mum said she had to deliver a card to somebody’s house because it’s their birthday. So late at night lexi went outside and she had to cross a wet damp bridge but when Lexi remembered that a few years ago a 10yr old girl died on this bridge… also she remembered that her grammar died years ago too. Lexi was so petrified to cross it.
The bridge looks like a mostly old bridge but smells like Rosses. But when you walk on the bridge it always creeks. Also it feels like you’re going to fall into the water. But I don’t like it because there are always big spiders.
I have reached my destination and I don’t want to go through the grave yard because it’s really terrifying. Also once I’ve gone through the grave yard I’ve got to go through a forest (petrified). Also I don’t want to cross it because my grammar got birred here. But there’s always a black bird that makes scary noises and bushes move in the wind.
When lexi came back home off the bridge Lexi faces her fears. And she always wants to cross the bridge. But she still scared because someone did die on the bridge. But she said to herself “I would not be scared if I don’t think of anything sad or scary”…
Nearly a decade had passed since, I touched that bridge. Once I touched it all the memories came flooding back. I saw my brother getting attacked but then I saw, him get thrown over the side. He got rushed down, with the tidal waves. But that was then and now all, these years later I still felt alone.
As I came out of the flashback I stumbled back. I saw wasAlex fallen. The water was just the, same as I left it. The water was, gushing down the same way. I heard a noise it sounded like Alex voice.
As I ran I could see a picture of Alex. I felt as though an, icecold, ghost went through me. I thought he got a hammer. I said I’m coming home.
I hope once I go there I get my brother back. Just then I heard a voice. The voice. It sounded familiar. Could it be him, I turned and saw, my brother. But it was just an image. Then my mum and dad came to pick me up, as I looked out of my window, I saw a boy, witch looked exactly like me but he, looked like he was disappearing , I said stop the car I sprinted over to get him some help but It was too late.
“You had better run!” I remembered him shout. The memory of his huge feet, stamping through the forest flooded my body with fear. The feeling of sticky damp wood (from the wooden pillar) returned to my wrinkly old hands. My shoulders were aching now like they did when he grabbed them in his firm hands and tried to push me off the bridge.
The click of my walking stick brought me back to reality. It had been nearly seventy-five years since I’d been to Elton Pass, time had aged me and I grow weaker and older every day, however, I imagine the bridge still looks the same. I was evacuated in the war when I was only nine and that house had been my home for many years. Even though I spent a lot of days hiding from the other children I had made one friend, Eliza the house keeper, she had brought me back here…
It was her funeral; after all she was ninety-eight and had lived a long happy life. Unlike me, who had lived in terror of what might be waiting around the corner. The thought flooded me with fear and so I decided I had to go say goodbye (even if I couldn’t see her). Slowly I took my first step onto the bridge and tried to control my uneven breathing. Clutching the wooden railing (and my walking stick) I walked further. Suddenly I started to feel dizzy, and once again I hung onto the sticky damp wooden pillar.
My glasses started to slip down my nose.
“Elaine!” I heard someone shout, it was Tom (my only other friend in the house) I would recognise his voice anywhere. He grabbed my arm and guided me along the bridge, towards the garden and into the house! If only I could see, see if it had changed, see Eliza. If only I wasn’t blind!
Nearly 10 years have passed since I last stood on this bridge, but Holgate Pass has hardly changed a bit! It is almost exactly the same as it had been that fateful day when my parents died. Despite the fact I knew it wasn’t real, I couldn’t help feel terrified as the memories of my childhood came floodingback. The loss, the loneliness. Oh how I had been left by my parents, an only child, to live with her lovely Aunt Sarah.
A shiver in my bones made me snap out of my daydream, ready and prepared to make my first journey in a decade over that bridge ready to return to my parent’s graves. Graves. How that seems so odd to be going to a graveyard I haven’tbeen to in a decade.
It’s the beginning of the year and I’m already stood here with flowers for my parents like I do every year. I began to walk across what seemed like a massive walk to the other end of the bridge, but as I walked I saw them my parents I stopped! I hesitated some more to go any further than the beginning of the bridge suddenly I fell I couldn’t feel my legs I realized I had fainted! WAKE UP my head said so I did as I was told and got up I was in the middle of the bridge above the river.
Memories of my parent’s childhood came flooding back for they told me story’s about it and showed me photos. They once told me a story where somebody was going to the graveyard and got pushed through one of the wooden windows and plummeted to the bottom of the river and drowned. Instantly I looked around me and no one was there I heard their voices my parents I ran this time I ran towards them!
I reached the end of the bridge and set off at a slow pace to find my parents graves. I never remembered where their graves where so I searched, on the 319th grave I had seen I found it their graves. No one had visited since last year so I did what I always did, `i gave them their flowers. I rid their gravestones of the moss and dead flowers and saw their names it set me off then I found my Aunt Sarah stood calming me down as we set of home.
Almost 11 years had passed since I last saw this bridge, but Ellen pass had hardly changed at all. It was almost exactly like the ghastly night my kind, loving mother (the last of my family) sadly expired. Lucy rose (my mum) had lung cancer but she hid that terrible fact from me to keep me from being scared. Scared… how strange that sounds.
The bridge similarly had hardly changed at all its blue roof glistened in the sunlight and its old wooden floor creakedunderneath my polished shoes. The sunlight that made it through the trees came through the stain glass windows and caused blue red and green to transform the room into a maze of light. As I walked through this eerie scene I managed to shake myself from the past and continue on my journey… but will it help me?
When I reached the grave yard thick grey mist shrouded my view and licked the air with lashing tendrils, creating an uneasy feeling which woke a nameless fear in my heart. The ground crumbled beneath my feet and many times I stumbled in the darkness sometimes falling on the ground other times onto stone. After 20 minutes I fell onto a grave itself I quickly scrambled up and read the headstone. “Here lies Lucy rose age 47 died 9th April 2002” I couldn’t hold it any longer I suddenly burst into tears not caring if anyone heard or saw me , not anymore . After I had stopped crying and my eyes were as red as Rudolph’s nose my eyes scrolled down the headstone “you cannot undo the past just go to the future this is my last request son”.
At that time I made up my mind … I would respect he last request. I set home that night without trouble or memories, I had accomplished the goal that sent me on this journey. Now I can finally rest.
“Mum!” she screamed as her mum fell to the bottom of the dirty old river Ella was left alone at the age of 8 with her mum dead in front of her. The boys started to run as people gathered to see what had happened. Ella layed terrified, crying she had to phone her Aunt to come and get her, (Ella really didn’t like her Aunt but she was the only person to call.) I find myself to realise that it was just a memory… but I still feel the same pain as before.
I walk closer to the rotting old bridge to lay some flowers at my mother’s grave. I sprint across the bridge and lay the flowers just below her head and then sit and wait for while “I can’t go back,” I thought to myself. I hear my Aunt Shoutof me as she gets closer and closer “what can I do,” I thought and then it came to me. Splash! I dive off the bridge to find myself gazing into the light to catch my last breath before I go down the same way my mother did.
A large man with bright blue eyes walked up to the edge of the river. He slowly dragged me out; I just got a glimpse of his face before I was taken into a dark dank room… I was in a car being taken somewhere as we reach our destination. I get taken in when I realise to my surprise it was a hospital I get taken into a room where I get helped into a bed.
I wake up to find the large man that helped me gazed upon me whilst I’m layed in this tiny hospital bed. “Thank you for helping me” “it’s nothing but I need to call your parents” “no! My mother is dead and I lost my father at a very young age “is your name by any chance Ella” he asked curiously “yes why how did you know” I asked peculiarly “because I am your father”…