This term the students have been creating some beautiful artwork to accompany their writing and have also been exploring pastel and batik with the theme of wild birds and Matariki.

The students have been working on using word walls to increase their vocaubulary complexity when they write. Two stand out pieces of writing for ths class this term would have to be their Abandoned House writing and their Punctuation Super Heroes.

The students started this term exploring pastels and blending with a focus on wild birds and then most recently have been working on batik designs to reflect either Maori or Polynesian designs.

Two students Mary Thorp and Alex Rapley have also had the pieces below shared to Toi toi magazine which is published each year with students from around New Zealand, in the hopes they may be included.

Writing submitted to Toitoi:

Mary's Writing:

Abandoned HouseThe house is not welcoming, it is not beautiful, and yet its dry, viny hand is pulling me towards it. I don't like the unearthly feeling surrounding the house, sending a shiver down my spine. I cannot get away from the luring house, so I can do nothing but look inside.I look around, confused at the sight of the inside of the house. There is no laughter ringing in the ears of parents, no scent of flowers in a porcelain vase, voices shouting and talking in the halls cease to exist.

 There is no beeping from the microwave heating up leftovers, scents from the bath salts are now no more, and there is no fire crackling in winter warming the room.Instead, there is dust clumping in the corners and on surfaces, there is plaster falling off the walls and the roof. Unearthly feelings are surrounding the trash and debri left behind. The outside is screaming “Abandoned!” to any one in sight, and there are cobwebs clustered in the corners and doorways of rooms.I feel sorry for this house, saddened and alone, for the lack of people has taken its toll. Although, I can safely say that I am not sad to leave this damp, broken place.By Mary ThorpY

Alex's Writing:

This Abandoned HouseThis house is not welcoming nor new. But it ushers me in like a hospitable man with a large family, all of them gentle just as much as him. The stairs are not railed. Every step breaks a forgotten silence held for years. What should be lush, healthy grass is wilted in it’s ways. Pens do not click, they are shattered by ages past.

I do not see a painting hung for everyone to admire. Paint peels off almost every surface in the room. The shattered glass casts the impression of fear. Pillars crumble as they are being eaten by ferocious wood worms. I do not hear a whistling kettle. Or the quiet hum of the oven baking Apple Roly-Poly. The springs on the beds do not strain as children lurch up and down upon them. Children are not heard in the living room. The couch does not have glamorous cushions shining upon it. Nothing brews, no one brews. Nothing lurks behind the crippled corners. Cats do not prowl. The creaks stop, the leaks stop, everything goes silent. By Alex Rapley