#625Lab. Corrected and marked by experienced SEC examiners. This page contains non-H1 essays full of feedback that you can learn from. Learn now, in the safety of 625Lab, and avoid mistakes in the real deal. You may also like: Complete Guide to Leaving Cert English (€)

Write a personal essay about your clothes, what they mean to you and what they say about you.

LC English 2011 P1 HL SEC 2 Composing No.5. Corrected by Ms Shannon Boyle, who corrects for SEC and mock providers.

I find it funny how clothing, something that is so simple to some people, can be of such significance to me personally. My clothes are to me, what they are to no one else. To others they may serve as a judge of character, wealth or style. However, I believe that clothes stand for something much more important. Memories. (Use a comma here instead of a full stop) Personal memories that I will never forget, good and bad. Memories of sports games or people; people who have passed, and people who are still present in my life today. (okay introduction but could benefit from a hook)

I think that my clothes say very little about me. I mean, I’m not one to wear the latest designer sweater or a pair of bright pink chinos, I really don’t stand out from the crowd. What could my predictable combination of warm, soft coloured plain t-shirts and slim fit denim jeans possibly say about me? Well, I could say my clothes say that I’m a friendly person. A person who you could’ve never met before, yet have a conversation with in the street. Actually, now that I think of it, I always seem to be asked for directions. It was only last weekend, when a team came down down (repetition) from Offaly to play a game in the local GAA pitch. As I walked home from work, a never ending stream of Mothers and Fathers stopped to ask me how to get there. I suppose, you couldn’t blame them. The plain white t-shirt look is quite a harmless one. My clothes could also reflect my mild OCD. (Write in full) I could never handle a mess. I am and always have been extremely, and at times possibly too neat which is definitely reflected in my clothes. From my best shirt to my oldest pair of jeans, I could never allow them to have a crease. I often find myself picking my clothes for the day out of the ironing basket as the majority of them never leave it. I am sure that as I walk down the street people stare at my perfectly straight shirt and my iron burned chinos, and can picture the image of my military organised bedroom. (Good detail here. Add more descriptive passages to engage the reader)

I Believe (capital?) there is a limit to what a person can perceive about who I am from my clothing, which is the difference to me between what my clothes say about me, and what they mean to me. (Sentence could be clearer) My clothes arrive in my wardrobe sewn together with needle and thread, and leave my wardrobe with unforgettable memories attached, like a time capsule as such. (I would omit ‘as such’ as it kills the effectiveness of the simile).It’s seldom that I can come to bin a piece of clothing of mine, as each piece means something different to me. My clothes mean memories to me. Memories of happiness, triumph and jubilation to memories of sadness, frustration and defeat. In particular my sport clothing. (Fragment. Use a comma to connect these sentences) Whether I find an old pair of socks that I wore in my first ever game, to my jersey from my last ever game. Jerseys I wore in triumph and defeat, ingrained with sweat, tears and memories of playing a sport i (capital I) love. One particular piece of clothing I’ll never forget was one I was given as a gift. A Christchurch Crusaders rugby jersey. Brand new. I was ecstatic to wear it to training to show it off to all of my teammates. Little did I know that the only thing I would remember is waking up in a hospital bed, seeing scissors, which at the time resembled two blades of hell, cutting straight through the seams of it. Devastation. I didn’t care for any sort of concussion, but my precious piece of clothing. It was one long year until Santa visited again with a new one, but it wasn’t the same. That piece of war torn clothing remains in my room today, reminding me of day I’ll never forget, well, the parts of the day that I was conscious for anyway (full stop) (Some good evidence of description and reflection here)

My clothes also mean memories of people to me. (represent would be better than mean here) People that have come and gone in my life. Some I’m more thankful to have gone than others. Ironically, one of my favourite t-shirts was given to me as a birthday present by an old girlfriend of mine. Every time I pull that black t-shirt over my head I think of her. It’s a bit annoying really, I would prefer if I didn’t have to think of her, but this t-shirt is worth the thought. I think of the memory of her gifting me the t-shirt and the places I’ve been to while wearing it, the feelings I have felt and the sights I have seen. The fact that a piece of clothing has brought me to write about an ex girlfriend in this essay really shows the effect that my clothes have on me. How they mean so much more to me than just something to wear everyday. I also often wear a vintage grey sweatshirt, gifted to me by my grandmother who has passed away. Every time that I put it on I will not only be wearing the sweatshirt but I will be wearing the memories I have of my grandmother and the times we have experienced together as a family. Memories of beach days, barbecues and family holidays all experienced in this grey sweatshirt. I feel strongly about this as I also wore it on the last day that i saw my grandmother, so, for as long as I live, this grey sweatshirt that looks the same as so many other grey sweatshirts that i own will forever remind me of her. (clunky sentence but good personal reflection) It’s unique. I will never own a piece of clothing that has the same story as this grey sweatshirt. This to me personally is exactly what clothing means. I cherish the fact that with every piece of clothing I own lies a story. (tells or offers rather than lies?)

To some, it may seem comical. After all, clothes are just something we wear to keep us warm right? Yes, but warm in so many more ways than just physically. I feel warm when I think of happy memories in my old clothes. I feel warm when i buy new clothes that i (capital I) really like, even if it is the same white t-shirt from Penneys that i bought two weeks previous. Why? Because to me, my white t-shirts are like a blank canvas, ready to be painted with the finest of memories of laughter and love. I can’t contain my smile as i pull another fresh white t-shirt out from my wardrobe, no creases or bad memories attached. It’s a beautiful thing to me. Often if I’m having a bad day, week or month I buy a new piece of clothing. It means a new beginning to me, a clean slate and a fresh start. It clears my mind of all of those terrible creases that desperately need ironing. (Capital I!)

Memories, friends and family past and present. This is what my clothes mean to me. On the surface, my clothes may say very little about me but that really is the beauty of my clothes. No one, not even my closest friend, mother, father, brother nor sister will ever know what I have experienced in my clothes and how much they mean to me on a personal level. (Could benefit from a more impactful, reflective conclusion)

This essay does have evidence of good descriptive language and personal reflection. However, a few more descriptive, insightful passages would boost the grade of this piece. There are some anecdotes but they do not always quite come to life.

P 19/30

C 19/30

L 18/30

M 8/10      64% H4

Write a short story where the main character has an important connection that influences his or her behaviour. 

2019 Mock paper one – Section 2 – Composing. Credit: Prathamesh Sai

“You’re late, You’re late!” yelled my mother (Watch capitalisation “You’re late, you’re late!” yelled my mother.”). My crusty eyes opened to read eight forty on my alarm clock in my bedroom. It was Saturday; Time for my weekly 5k run in the town park (Capitalisation). There were twenty minutes until it started, and my feet jumped from the mattress. In the bathroom mirror, I looked at myself and wished that the bristles on my toothbrush would also clean the laziness inside me. The front entrance of my house flung open. “My inhaler…?”, I whispered to myself, followed by “It must be in my pocket” (Capitalisation). My jacket hugged my depressed soul as I smelt the unappealing cold fresh air gliding across my face (It is a good choice stylistically to describe one noun with two or three adjectives as you have done, but when creating your list of adjectives, a comma must appear in between until you reach the noun – “unappealing, cold, fresh air”); My asthma usually gets worse in this chilly weather. The wet grass that dampened my socks didn’t help either. (Well done on crafting a descriptive opening paragraph. You were able to create an introduction that had description rooted in the senses as you referred to sound, touch, sight and smell.)

As I arrived, my breath got tighter than usual, but I shook it off as if I had experienced it many times before. The raindrops on the trees stood stationary on each leaf, as each branch waded with the freezing wind. My friends were already there, as the words “You’re late, You’re late!” (Capitalisation) from my mother’s mouth echoed inside me. I stood beside them as their wired earphones were neatly tucked into their overpriced Nike thermal tops. My Filipino friend Keith looked at me in disbelief. “You actually made it?”, he proclaimed as his black straight hair in a bowl cut fashion moved with the freezing wind. My headphones were neatly tucked in just like them, as I tried to look at what everybody else was doing. But as I evaluated this, I heard the organiser shout “Three, two, one, go!” (Capitalisation).

As usual, I started from the back-end of the crowd, but not at the very back; That’s (Capitalisation) where all the retired grandparents were. It wasn’t cool to be with them. I could smell the scents of my friends as they rubbed their shoulders off mine while overtaking me. “At least my asthma isn’t bad right now”, I reassured myself. I was oblivious to the sound of the continuous bashing of feet with the wet ground as my deafening earphones blasted out Taylor Swift’s newest album. I smirked as I overtook all the children, but this wasn’t to last. I knew that the cold air was like eating ice-cream on a diet; It (Capitalisation) feels good in the moment, but it will ruin your goal in the long-run. (This is quite a fun description – good job!)

Three painful laps of this damp park was (were – agreement: the subject of this sentence is pluralised and therefore the verb must match and be in its plural form) in front of me. The children overtook me as I wheezed uncontrollably. I checked my watch, only fifteen minutes had gone by. “I’ve dealt with much worse” I told myself promisingly. Behind me, I could sense Keith’s loose grey shorts and expensive cologne; He (Capitalisation) was on his second lap as he was about to overtake me. The words “You’re late, You’re late!” (Capitalisation) resonated with me again. “I’ll see you at the end, bro” he shouted apathetically. But this was blocked out due to Taylor Swift’s song ‘So it goes’ (‘So It Goes’ – Capitalisation). Looking back, the song was quite fitting. I questioned myself whether I needed my inhaler at this point, but the song kept me distracted as the lyrics “cause we all break down a little” played in the background.

As I passed the starting point again, the sign beside it displayed “2nd lap”. The mucus in my airways gave rise to an uncontrollable cough. “I can do without my inhaler for another lap”, I reassured myself. But just to be sure, I tapped my left pocket to see if my inhaler was there. I felt nothing but the rugged surface of my cheap shorts. I assumed it was in the right pocket and continued running as the song in the background was overwhelmed by the unneglectable wheezing sound from my mouth. The sound, much like an accordion, blended into the song nicely as I profusely said “One more lap..only one more lap” in the effort to motivate myself. The only problem was that one lap seemed like a thousand to me.

The number three was proudly exhibited on the board beside the starting point. My friends stood at the finishing line, however, they seemed like they had no interest and wanted to go home. I heard the words “You’re late, You’re late!” (Capitalisation) inside me once more. I couldn’t take it anymore; I needed my inhaler. I turned my head around and saw the retired folks catching up to me. The sheer embarrassment of getting overtaken by a group of seventy-year-olds was unbearable. Their distinct smell of a retirement home was getting stronger and stronger. Luckily, this sense of fear forced me to continue, at the expense of the level of oxygen in my lungs. I tapped my right pocket, expecting a blue inhaler in my hand. My hand waved up from my pocket, empty-handed. I looked at my hand and saw nothing, much like my will to live at this point. (This sentence is dramatic and youthful – full of personality and humour which will stand to you. It is fun for you to write and enjoyable for the examiner to read.)

I frantically pulled my pockets inside out. The group of retired folks caught up to me. But at that moment, all I could think about was avoiding the embarrassment. One kind old lady wearing what seemed like trainers from the early two thousands asked if I had lost something, but I hectically refused. I felt as if I was still in bed, dreaming of everything that happened. The anxiety caused me to be disturbed by the smell of my own sweat, and probably the old lady beside me as well. Other people in the park stared at me in confusion. But all of a sudden my vision went blurry, which was a realistic impression of my interpretation of that entire day. A complete mess (A complete mess cannot work by itself as a sentence as there is no verb present. Consider revising to “… day – a complete mess!”). My glasses fell off as my head smacked the moist, and hard ground.

The old lady tried to catch my fall, but her helpless arms were too wide apart to grab hold of my body. In what seemed like five seconds, my eyelids opened once again. I was flat on the ground as my tears of sweat permeated into the wet ground. I recall myself thinking “This (Capitalisation) is it, the end. Am I really going to be on the Donegal Daily for being the first person to die in a 5k in Donegal?”. I suppose this perplexing thought made me get up from the soggy ground. A circle of people stood around me in the shape of what seemed like an atom. I, the nucleus, was trying to stay positive, while the people, the electrons, were orbiting around me, conveying negative energy that would eventually strike me as embarrassment. My blushing red cheeks displayed this to the outer world. (I really enjoyed the comparison to the atom. Originality is rewarded and desired in all composition questions.)

As I tried to escape this peculiar situation, something fell out of my jacket. I saw Keith wearing his branded sportswear as he bent down close to his pristine running shoes to pick up what I dropped. In his hand was a blue object, which was indiscernible because of the fact that my vision was blurry from passing out, and my glasses fell off when I hit the ground. Upon clearer observation, I made out that it was my inhaler. I grabbed it quickly from the palm of his hand and took two mighty puffs as if I were a severe cocaine addict. It felt like ice was rubbed against my burning trachea; I finally felt relief. I realized that asthma was a part of me, the only thing that changed that day was my behaviour towards it. But most importantly, I remembered to always use my inhaler once I hear “You’re late, You’re late!”.

Your writing is very descriptive and full of personality. It is original and has a nice flow to it that will be rewarded. Be mindful of your use of capitalisations. Capitialisations are under the remit of the ‘Mechanics’ of PCLM. All errors in mechanics and spelling are noted, and a small handful can be made without penality to the candidate. However this essay displays a misunderstanding of the use of capitalisation.

Capitals are used at the start of a sentence. Sometimes, you would use the punctuation “;” and then follow with a capital. A semi-colon does not start a new sentence, it is an extension of the previous clause and can be used when both statements are rooted in the same subject.

Capitalisations only occur at the start of dialogue if the dialogue is the start of the sentence.

Capitalisations also occur in names. You mentioned a Taylor Swift song which should have capitals in all words of the title, not just the first one.

Grading

P 24/30

C 23/30

L 23/30

M 7/10

Total 77/100

Write a short story in which a character of characters survive a devastating event.

It was another boring Monday morning in the town of Devult.

The sky was clear, not a cloud was in sight. Sigrid was in maths class, doodling in her textbook, complaining about algebra, the usual. She then began to think:  (Sentence a little too long winded. Watch formatting for dialogue)

“God, I’m so bored. Why do I even have to take this class? It’s absolute agony.”

All of a sudden, she heard her teacher say

“Can somebody tell me the answer to question four? Sigrid, how about you”, the teacher asked. Sigrid started panicking, she wasn’t paying attention at all.

“No, sorry miss, I-”

The teacher cut her off, “Not good enough Sigrid, stay back after class, I’d like to have a word with you.”

Smiling, while simultaneously biting the inside of her cheek, she nodded.

She then returned to her copy doodling, digging the pen into the page until she was cutting it when suddenly a colossal asteroid crashed into the vicinity. (Nice imagery)

It was so fast, so deafening, so overwhelming, that everything went black.

Moments later, Sigrid tried opening her eyes and all she saw was the sky outside- a horrifying mixture of ominous red and black clouds.

She stumbled around the classroom trying to take in what has just happened. There were broken tables, students unconscious on the floor, along with fragments of windows scattered across the room. Her vision was blurry due to head trauma. She didn’t know why the sky looked the way it did so she limped over to the window to investigate.

She couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw it – a crater that appeared bottomless was now neighbouring their school. Anxiety jolted through her body and she fainted.

“Sigrid, can you hear me? It’s Kieran,” her friend said while shaking her weary body.

“Yeah, I hear you”, she responded lethargically.

“Did you see what just happened? How did we survive?”, asked Kieran hysterically.

“I’m as perplexed as you are. Hey, why don’t we turn on the news and see if they’re saying anything?”, suggested Sigrid.

Hectically, Sigrid turned on the news channel, there was nothing.

Before deciding their next course of action, another classmate regained consciousness.

“Max! I’m so glad you’re ok!” said Sigrid. Come on! Let’s get out of here and call for h-” A noise appeared from an unknown source, growing exponentially louder by the second; accompanied by tremors that got more ferocious the longer it went on.

“It can’t be… Not again.” Sigrid cogitated.

“Shit! Get under a table or something!” Kieran commanded.

Another asteroid has struck, this time the school.

The trio was blasted far away, luckily into a lake.      (Again, watch the formatting/spacing of the paragraph)

“Gross, what is this? Water?”, Sigrid uttered. (Use commas for dialogue)

“It’s green, it can’t be. It’s like sewage if anything.

“EW” , both of them screamed and convulsed with a cringe as they waded out of the thick body of liquid.

Meanwhile, Max was afloat; not budging an inch it seemed.

Kieran and Sigrid dragged him to shore.

“Step aside, he’ll be fine once I perform CPR on him!” Kieran exclaimed.

Max groaned, exhausted after all the water he spat up.

“I’m so glad you’re ok, you had me worried for a sec. Speaking of which, let’s head down this desolate road that seems endless, seeing as we have nowhere else to go.” Sigrid chipped in.

Their world was forever changed since the asteroid hit.

Between the horrifying black and red sky, the green lake, and the desolate road, the thought sunk in that this could be the apocalypse.

Whether it was a blessing or a curse that they survived, they had to forge their own path. Their wandering continued, they were desperate to find refuge, but most importantly, an answer.

It’s been an hour since the asteroid launched Sigrid and Co. into that mysterious looking lake. Considering the surreal events that have recently transpired, the contents of the lake came as no surprise.

Kieran and Sigrid were strategising their next task, while that was underway, Max dropped back. (unclear sentence)

“You guys walk ahead, I need to tie my shoelace.” He insisted. (Use comma between quote and he insisted)

“Agh shit, what is this fucking thing it’s been on my leg ever since that green lake. It’s like a birthmark; except it’s as green as grass and it’s oozing.”

Max started screeching inhumane noises, almost as if he was speaking in another language. Max was no longer Max.

That night, Kieran, Sigrid, and Max reached what was once a forest.

“I think we should set up camp here tonight, despite having literally nothing but the clothes on our back, we need to rest.”

“Good idea,” Max said; Sigrid nodded.

After several minutes, everyone fell asleep on the cold damp earth.

“I was only in maths class several hours ago, annoyed because I didn’t know a question in class. You’re so stupid Sigrid!” Sigrid began scraping her legs repeatedly until she felt her warm blood come through her cold blue jeans.

After which she silently cried, biting her inner cheek, and eventually fell asleep.

The next morning, Sigrid woke up to the noises of what seemed to be an animal gnawing on flesh. A monster, no Max was brutally devouring Kieran. (informal)

His body laid there, helpless, she couldn’t do anything.

Max was now 4 metres tall and resembled what seemed to be a fat green blob with human limbs.

Half of Kieran’s face was mauled but with his last breath he whimpered: “Run.” (Run should be part of the sentence)

Sigrid stood there paralysed with fear. She didn’t know what to do.

“How has this happened?” she thought to herself.

A lump formed in her throat before she burst into tears and hesitantly sprinted away from the crime scene.

She ran clutching onto her precious life, she fled the dim scary forest and didn’t look back – her tears being the only thing she left behind.

Hours have passed since Sigrid witnessed the most traumatic event of her life.

Her own friend, mauled, by none other than another friend?

Unforgivable. But how could forgiveness be in question when Max has a new identity as a post-apocalyptic slime monster?

It was now evening time, the golden sunset rested over what was the remains of Devult. Sigrid came across a neighbourhood (full stop)

“Huh, so these houses are still standing? I might as well scavenge for food. I’m starving!”, Sigrid quickly ransacked one of the houses and found some cereal.

She sat there in somebody’s kitchen frantically eating food.

She then looked out into the horizon through the glass door leading out to the backyard.

“So this is Armageddon? I should finish up before I encounter any more unexpected obstacles.”

While rinsing her bowl in the sink, an epiphany occurred.

“Wait, I recognise this kitchen, I recognise this backyard…. This is Ms Sullivan’s house!”

Knowing Sigrid’s house was a 15-minute walk away, she sprinted to her home with her heart beating faster than speed itself.

“Mam, are you home? Dad, hello? Steven? Anyone”

Sigrid crept into the kitchen, unaware of her fate.

Her eyes will never forget the graphic image of what she saw.

Her Brother, Mother, and Father, devouring an identifiable human being.

They too have become green slime monsters.

Crying, Sigrid utters the words “I’m… home.”

The three monsters slowly turned their heads around to the source of the noise.

Sigrid fell to her knees in despair and devastation.

One of the slobs launched at her, eyes filled with bloodlust.

“How is this happening? My whole life is ruined. Everyone is either dying or living long enough to become one of those monsters.”

“No, I need to stay hopeful. There have to be other survivors.

“Get off me! You’re not my Mother!” Sigrid screamed while eagerly trying to kick the monster off of her.

When the opening was there, Sigrid fled her former home and continued her tragic search for help.

Sigrid’s survival was a curse but she as determined to make it a blessing.

She had to cultivate her own hope when there was nothing in her life but despair.

And so, her search for others like her continued.S ? (Final line could be stronger)

Overall feedback

• The plot structure is well planned in many ways – you have not cramped in too many characters or too elaborate of a plot to resolve. Keep this approach for your exam as it is manageable.
• The plot is easy to follow and it has a clear beginning, middle and end. The final line could be a little stronger – remember this is the final line an examiner will read before they award your mark!
• The paragraphing, spacing is a little messy but this could just be as a result of the computer formatting. Be careful that paragraphs are clear in the exam.
• Be careful with dialogue. You need to use commas. “Don’t look down”, exclaimed John.
• Use clear sentences.
• Some good uses of descriptive language – continue that throughout the essay.

P   19/30    C 18/30  L 15/30  M 7/10

59/100

“…the life history of our own family”

Write an article for a popular magazine or a journal in which you explore the aspects of your own family that are special to you. You may if you wish to write to your composition in a diary format. (2002)

[N.B you should use your family name]

Oh yes, family life. Its(L) both a blessing and a curse, were mothers and fathers stress out over their children and kids just being kids.(L) But family to me(L) is such a weird concept. Why do we have families? Why do we need to even be part of one? Why did I spend nine months in someones insides to be part of a “squad”? These were very condescending (Word choice?)and intricate questions I had growing up in Cork city and(L) in my tight knit South African family, the Lindemann’s.

I’d be foolish enough to say that my life is easy because it wasn’t. (M-grammar)Growing up as with the surname Botha was a macabre and dark experience for me especially in a family of 3(L) sisters with the surname Lindemann. I looked darker and taller than all them, two of my sisters Maggie had perfect blonde hair and blue eyes and my twin sisters Stella and Lennon had lucious black hair and brown eyes .(L)While poor me was light-skinned black with a very bad hairline that looked like the golden McDonald’s arch and had brown eyes. My sisters played soccer while we lived in South Africa and would receive awards left,right and centre, while I played rugby and would get my teeth ripped in by girls who were 40 kilograms bigger than me. I really did feel like the elephant not just in the room but in my neighborhood and rugby team too that I was the only black kid in the place(L-syntax). It got worse when I was 10(L) when we moved to Ireland to an area in Cork were (L-syntax)just like Cape Town, I was the only black kid in the area. I really did begin to question my parents (L-syntax)why I am I black but my sisters are white? My mother answered my question with water coming from her lacteal glands.

“Sweetheart, your real mother loved you and all but she was going through tough times so we decided to adopt you” she said nonchantantly (M)as she wiped the tears from her face.(L-syntax) This all made sense now and this is an aspect of my life and in my family I forever treasure. The fact that my mother and father actually sacrificed themselves to have me into their family with open arms (L–syntax)is truly humbling and amazing and this is an aspect in my family I will always embrace especially since there is a huge stigma in South Africa with interracial adoption.(Control the sentence) Being different is what makes my family special but that doesn’t still explain why my sisters are milk chocolate and why I look like a malteaser. That was until I was 12 when I heard a stunning reveleation.(M)

It was a “normal” Christmas Day in the Lindemann household and just like in the movies……. I mean horror movies, it was miserable and cold. Me and my sisters(L-syntax) were opening presents under the Christmas tree and I was really excited, all I wanted that year was the new Call of Duty game that was released 3 months prior. But instead of a picture of a soldier holding a sub machine gun, I got a letter and a picture from my biological mother. I remember my sisters laughing like Kardashians and me running away to my room in tears. My father came in 20 minutes later and told me something I should have known all my years earlier. He said firmly “J…, I know you have always felt like the elephant in the room but let me tell you something. You know that me, Stella and Lennon are also adopted right?.” I was shocked and surprised the little innocent twins and my dad were adopted?

I turns out my dad and the twins had similar stories to my mother. My dad (whose real parents were immigrants from Holland) was adopted due to his mother’s drug addiction, while Lennon and Stella’s mother who was Indian just didn’t want them. It gave me a sense of appreciation of the hardships of life and the uniqueness of my family in general. The fact that me and my 3 siblings(L) were raised by hard working white parents even though our biological mothers come from different parts of the world really gives me a sense of pride not just to be a Botha but also a Lindemann. And whoever knew that 7 years after that incident the I would have a little brother from China and it shows the diversity in my family and how it really proves that there is and there will always be strength in diversity.

And I love and am super proud of my family, Im(L) proud of the diversity (Repetitive)and different cultures that make my family great especially growing up in a culture(L-syntax) which there is a social stigma about adoption. And I know some people reading this article can relate to my situation right now. Feeling lonely and anxious about not looking like your family. But the whole point of these anecdotes weren’t for me to be concedeed (?)or me loving my family. These anecdotes shows (L)the uniqueness in every family and how every person in a family is born to be successful and great even in tough times ahead because at the end of the day we live in a cruel world. (Is this a new point? Have you dealt with this issue already?)But in a cruel world there will always be rainbows and just like the wise words of Sylvia Plath in her headstone “amongs (M)fierce flames, the golden lotus can be planted.”

The genre is key in a composition. The register and sense of audience need to be consistent and central throughout the piece. They are only apparent in the final paragraph. Clearer introduction and structure needed. The different aspects need to be teased out and presented to the audience, the readers of the article. Which aspects do you want to discuss- diversity, tolerance, love, sacrifice…How do you want to portray these to the audience? This piece has the feel of a personal essay. All sentences must be proof read to ensure read correctly.

30-P-17

30-C-15

30-L-15

10-M-9

56/100

You are participating in a public speaking competition for second-level students. Write a speech, that can be serious or amusing or both, in which you describe what you see as the essential elements of the Irish character.

Examiner’s edits are in brackets.

Plan

• Introduction
• Culture
• War and Peace
• Creativity
• Defiance of fact
• Creatures of habit
• Conclusion.

(Pick greeting to suit peer group eg fellow classmates, girls etc)

Ladies and gentlemen, two weeks ago I was posed (with) the question, ‘what do( I) you think are the essential elements of the Irish character? With an English teacher breathing down my throat and the competition due date( leering) looming over me like a black cloud, I believe I have found my answer. It comes in the form of a quote by Edna O’Brien. “When anyone asks me about the Irish character, I say look at the trees. Maimed, stark and misshapen, but ferociously tenacious.” To my fellow contestants and my adjudicators, I must stress the fact that when I said I found my answer, I offer only my individual interpretation. I do not believe the elements of an entire nation can be boiled down to ‘the top ten’. I believe we are a nation full of individuality. A nation full of history. A nation full of culture and stories. We have marched to hell and back. We wear our battle scars with pride and together we strive for the greatest achievement our great nation will ever see. Peace. Together we have fought the wars of others, the war of our own and wars against our own and I believe this is what has (melded) moulded the Irish character. As a nation we have been discriminated against and stereotyped. but (But) we never changed. We never gave in, never (lied) lay down defeated. We are a people whose (thick) rich culture inspires us and allows us to not change but develop with the times. Over the next forty minutes I will be telling you what I think are the essential elements of the Irish character.

Firstly, I would like to discuss Irish culture. We, unlike many of  our fellow nations, are renowned for embracing our culture and heritage. Some may say it is to our detriment, but I do not agree. I believe that the Irish people’s undisputed love for our past is what makes us Irish. Don’t you have an old and relatively useless family heirloom that you just cannot part with? Do you not have an old family tale that is told at every occasion? I know I do. Our family favourite is about my great-granny Quinn who helped nurse some of the soldiers during the 1916 rising. That story has made the rounds at every birth, wedding and funeral I have ever been to. Not only do we embrace our history but also our folklore(s). We all know the story of Fionn and the (Fainne)  Fianna, (H)how the Giants Causeway came to be. (A)and the truth behind the Isle of Man. When we as a nation had empty pockets, we did not have empty heads and that is something to be proud of. That is one of the many reasons I am proud to be Irish and I hope you are too. We may have been ruled by many generations of monarchies(crowns) but we still have our Irishness. Our rich culture is something I believe to have seeped into our bones through the pouring rain. Our magical nature has been absorbed into our (skin) collective psyche through the mystical fog. Our faith in our culture is what I believe has got us through some of our darkest times. That is why I believe it to be one of our most essential elements. Because through it all we tenaciously held on to it, and will continue to, until the bitter end.

Unfortunately, our isle has seen more then its fair share of bloodshed but (But ) if one thing is for sure it’s that no-one does a war like the Irish. Whether it’s one year or one hundred we have been through it all. I believe it is this fighting spirit that is one of the quintessential elements of the Irish character. As Ms. O’Brien said no matter how “misshapen” we are we never give up. We may have been down, but we were never (not) out . E(e)ven when the tables turned, and we were fighting for peace (F)fighting so we could fight no more (we never gave up.) Could you imagine fearing for our (your)(life) lives every time you left the house? Or being terrified to go to school or get in your own car? Instead of hiding behind the fear we stood up and did something. We reached one of the most historic peace agreements ever made, through our perseverance and faith. We should be proud of that. We should relish in the fact that we can inspire other nations to attain the unattainable. We spread (ed )peace like a bird its feathers, flying against the odds. I believe that our faith, perseverance and fighting spirit are essential qualities of an Irish character.

Ireland is known for being the land of creativity. With our outstanding list of poets and musicians we are not short of talent. Even established professionals such as Michael Jackson( has)  have lived here for a time to soak up our creative juices. The peaceful and unintrusive nature of the Irish people make(s) us a very popular destination for those who just want to get away from it all. Do you not remember the time TMZ accused us of not knowing who Jay-Z was just because we didn’t bother him playing with his daughter? Our unintrusive nature is one of our best qualities. Don’t get me wrong, I’m well aware that we are a country of gossipers, but we would never dare say it to someone’s face. Ireland is a home to many creative individuals and I believe this is also an essential quality of the Irish character. If you can’t play a tune, do a jig or riddle off an old( folklore) Irish myth  are you really Irish? Our outstanding talent yet (oblivious) modesty lets us be adored by fans around the world. This is one of the few places I would have to disagree with my quote at the beginning. I do not believe the Irish are stark. We have so many talents just waiting to be shown. I believe Irelands creativity and hospitality are two of our most essential qualities.

(As) Irish people I believe lack an understanding of the word no. We will never bow down and roll over no matter how hard we are pressed. As Winston Churchill once said “We have always found the Irish a bit odd. They refuse to be English.” I believe this perfectly sums us up. No (mater ) matter how long we were oppressed we never gave up. We were told “ no” to (Home Rule) home rule. And we got it. We were told” no “to independence. And we got it. We were told” no “to our native tongue. Agus táimid anseo inniu. Our defiant nature as a (county) country has led us to be the people we are today. We are ‘ferociously tenacious’. We may be stuck in our ways, but as they say if it is not broken don’t fix it. With each new moon we evolve but do not change. This is something I love about the Irish. We are creatures of habit. I know( when ever me and my brothers) whenever my brothers and I  would stay at my granny’s( it ) the schedule would be like clockwork( .) ;(B)breakfast at 8, mass at 10, dinner at 1 and tea at 6. I know(F)from listening to my parents, it has always been that way. A predictability along with our refusal to change( in ) is one of the most fascinating (thigs)things about the Irish character, (H)how traditions have been changed not broken. I believe our defiance and our habits are my final two essential qualities of the Irish character.

You may have notice my strong and frequent references to our past, (T)the ‘Troubles’ (troubles) for example. As much as we do not like to talk about our hard times ,(. )(Or) or the events that ‘maimed’ us, I believe they (were)are  unavoidable when discussing the essential qualities of the Irish character. Our past cannot be forgotten. It is, without a doubt responsible for shaping and moulding our culture and characteristics today. Any qualities we have now, come from those that people had before us. That cannot be forgotten or ignored (to ) due  to the pain and heartache. Sure, it is easy to skip the hard parts in our rose-tinted glasses, but I do not believe you would get a real description of the Irish character without (it.) them. We are a complex group of people. Each individually unique but made of the same stuff like pancakes. Each different in look, different by toppings and different in tastes, (B)but (evidentially ) essentially the same. Thank you all for listening to my speech today and I now put (he) the question to you(.)  ‘What do you believe are the essential qualities of the Irish character?’

Thank you.

1. 1.  Good effort at a speech

1. 1. Question dictates speech is for a competition so acknowledge Adjudicators/ judging panel.

1. More references to popular culture /events would impress.

P= 20

C= 16

L= 14

M= 6

 56/100 H5

Write a discursive essay in which you discuss the joys and the despairs of modern life.

In modern life we experience joys and despairs every day, but what are joys and despairs? Joy is a feeling of great pleasure and happiness and despair is the complete loss and absence of hope. In life (Punctuate) we strive to maximise the joys we experience and minimise the despairs, however, without both of them, life would be unbalanced. Without highs to (Unnecessary) which we cherish and savour, the lows would feel unbearable and without lows the magnitude to which we gain enjoyment from the joys in life would feel non-existent.

One of the joys of modern life for me is music. As someone who plays music and relishes listening to a wide assortment of music (Punctuate,) I would say I have a good appreciation for it. When I was younger attending music lessons was not always something that enthused me. In fact, the sheer thought of practicing repulsed me. Many arguments erupted in my kitchen between my mother, who endeavoured to encourage me to practice and I, who saw practice as a mountain of effort I couldn’t even begin to climb. (A long sentence, punctuate to control it, reel it in) I’ll let you in on a little secret. This is the unspoken truth of children who attend music lessons. Generally, children are portrayed to thoroughly enjoy music and there was most definitely times when I thoroughly adored it, however behind every single child, who is competent in music, there is a parent insisting and pugnaciously encouraging them to practice. It is this antagonistic relationship which personally allowed me to excel in music. Now that I am more mature and there are other aspects of my life which are much more taxing than learning and playing music, the once dreaded music lesson is now a luxury to me. It is an hour where I completely immerse myself in music. Similarly, the time I spend practicing is now referred to as a “break”. Whenever I become stressed, overwhelmed or am just bored I sit at the piano and sing. The complete escapism I experience is magnificent. At some stage, we all release or inner Beyoncé whether it be in the car, sitting in traffic or in the shower! The liminal space created during music is one of the joys of modern life for me.

Another joy of modern life is merely just going for a walk, enjoying nature and the outdoor world. For me, this comprises of going for a walk in my local woods. The surges of wind whispering through the trees and the chatter of birds is all that can be heard. It is so serene and tranquil. I also find it quite funny how one encounters various people walking in the wood. I empty my mind by questioning what is going on in their lives. It’s quite amusing really. There are the serious joggers, those who are wearing headphones and are completely removed from the world around them, those who hesitantly say hello, those who say hello so genuinely it is as if you are old friends and then, there are those who don’t even glance up at you. Most weekends, weather dependent, my sister and I walk to what we like to call the “wishing well”. It is only a bridge with a small stream but we used to go there as children, throw in a coin, with eyes shut tight, fingers crossed and clenched, lips sealed firmly together, praying our biggest wishes would come true. Now, my sister and I walk there, and we just look into the water and at the blissful tranquillity of the wildlife around us. The sentimental nature of this place is what makes it so special to me and why I consider it a joy of modern life.

Television is one of the joys of modern life. It is a central element in most of our houses. Every day after I make it home from a long school day I look forward to that half an hour where I stretch out like a slug and immerse myself in the busy lives of those in summer bay. I am referring to “Home and Away” one of the many average soaps on the television today. Please refrain from cringing too much. I admit it is mostly unexciting and monotonous yet it is exactly that which appeals to me. This guilty pleasure lightly entertains me and is the perfect amount of time to spend watching T.V. while I eat my dinner. I have it recorded which allows me to skip the breaks! My mom often watches it with me. The unspoken bond we have over watching “Home and Away” is heart-warming for me. My mom is particularly good at predicting what will happen and that is usually the extent of the excitement we get from it. She also loves criticising how poor some of the actors are. Every day it is an assortment of relationship troubles to Alf Stewart throwing a “Shrimp on the barbie” however I never get sick of the “’g’day mate” with which the programme script never fails to greet me with.

Irish people are synonymous for our love of the humble “cuppa”. In our minds (Punctuate,) anything can be solved with a cup of tea. For me, tea has been one of the great cures to the tyranny of rush in my life (awkward phrasing, try tyrannical rush). Important and special moments of my life have revolved around tea. I was first introduced to tea by my granny. No surprises there! I’ve sipped tea in tragedy, I’ve chinked glasses in celebration. Tea is how I’ve made many a friend over the years. Tea speaks not only of the calm and rejuvenation it brings, but of the rituals accompanying it, and the companionship it invites. Those five minutes throughout the day of preparing tea give my days a sense of rhythm. It baffles me as to what is so comforting about boiling water, a tea bag and a splash of milk. The thought of hot water, milk and leaves sounds revolting yet the comforting concoction never fails to disappoint, unless my sister made it, in that case, not so much. I suspect it is more the endless possibilities of a cup of tea which I enjoy so much. The symbolic nature of it as a drink to have a chat over or a kind gesture to a visitor.

I’m certainly a member of the phone addicts club. We all are nowadays if you ask me. Everywhere you turn you are bombarded with mobile phones. From people talking on mobile phones, to texting to aimlessly scrolling. I am most certainly guilty of all of the above. One such aspect of the mobile phone phenomenon which enrages me is people on their phones in restaurants. It frustrates me seeing two or more sitting together, not conversing and glued to their mobile phone. This is very hypocritical of me considering I have been guilty of this more than a few times, however, I make a conscious effort to avoid using my phone at the table when I am out for dinner with people now. Why is it we are so unenthused by human contact? It saddens me as even I feel uncomfortable if for example I am eating lunch with my mom in a restaurant and she goes to the restroom. An involuntary reaction to go on my phones takes over me as I feel “awkward” just sitting there looking around. I feel as though it looks more normal to be on your phone than to just sit there doing nothing. Society has made me feel this way and it dismays me how normal it is to be living in this virtual world compared to living in the real world. My three weeks in the Gaeltacht were spent phoneless and the eleven girls in my house and I came to a unanimous realisation that we in fact preferred being without our phones. We weren’t constantly bombarded with glamorous photos of other people lives. It was quite liberating. This love hate relationship I experience with my phone is draining!

Mindlessly brushing my teeth on a Monday morning, quite content with my start to the day when all of a sudden a “plop” on my freshly washed jumper. I look down, pre-empting the despair, but hopeful all the same that I am wrong. Much to my disappointment a persistent stain right in the centre of my jumper. How wonderful! I think to myself perhaps some rubbing and water will get rid of it and of course it lessens the vibrancy of the white against the deep maroon, nevertheless there will be a faint stain consistently for the week to follow, a reminder of my two-minute stent of brushing on Monday morning.

Sitting into my Sunday dinner, the warm aroma of the roast beef and gravy diffusing through my nasal cavity, triggering my salivary glands. That is where the enjoyable experience comes to a complete halt. My brother plods down the stairs and roughly wolves into his dinner. The once perfect separation of the roast beef, carrots, and buttery mashed potatoes all amalgamate into one pile of mush in his mouth, trailed by a continuous line of gravy streaming from the side of his mouth. I can’t bear to watch people eat with their mouth open. I am repulsed to the point of gagging. The chewing of bananas with one’s mouth open, the slurping of soup all lead to my despair.

Have you ever experienced that awkward moment where you are left sitting on the toilet without an inch of toilet paper? I presume most people would answer yes, and if you answered no, well, you really have got your shit together! For the vast majority of us who have experienced this, I’m sure you can relate to the immense feeling of despair which comes over you when you look to find there is no toilet paper left. You take a moment to think to yourself, “Why didn’t I check first?” or “What do I do now?” The probability of this happening is relatively high, however, when the situation occurs we are completely stunned as if we never imagined it could happen. The shout of embarrassment succeeds and then a sibling, parent, friend, whatever unfortunate sole hears the shout throws the toilet paper at you accompanied by a gush of shared laughter between you.

I have come to the conclusion that in life it is the simplest of things which bring joy to us. The despairs I experience are so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Modern life is like a knitted scarf, an array of simplistic joys woven together by an abundance of first world problems.

This is a very well written piece, lots of interesting points about joys and despairs of life, well- illustrated. Lovely tone.

I am not convinced by the discursive element. It reads very like a personal essay, confessional and personality comes through. Discussion is muted. More evaluation and opinion on the benefits and issues of the content throughout the piece rather than just at the end, great ending though, draw conclusions throughout.

Amplify the genre aspect.

Consider writing a personal essay you show great strength in this area.

30-P-23

30-C-22

30-L-22

30-M-10

77/100 H3

Write a short story in which the central character’s status as an outsider has a direct influence on the plot (2018)

Her eyes opened like two flashlight beams staring blankly towards the ceiling. Her legs are encased in ice so (unnecessary), she can’t move. She encircles (awkward word choice, try scans) the strange room with sleepy eyes. Blue walls are brimming with shelves, each one capacitated(awkward word choice, try filled) by beakers. The room eclipses. (awkward word choice,try darkens) Light scurrying fills the silence. ‘Hello, is anyone there?’ she whimpers. In the darkness (punctuate,)a luminous green eye flicks open and suddenly a gloopy,green tentacle nudges her ribs. She jumps like a fish out of water and swings her head back a full one hundred and eighty degrees. Her heart is like a train pounding down the tracks. ‘Where am I..(Punctuate?).’ She cries. Nobody answers. (A lot of similes used, overkill. Use more descriptive sentences instead. Her heart hammers in her chest. )

Suddenly (Punctuate,) a blob like face emerges on a fluorescent screen. It’s(its) surface is green and ripples like liquid. (The screen or the face) Her eyes lodge(awkward word choice, try registers) on its beauty ‘Fellow friend. Welcome.’ She jumps backwards. (This seems to be misplaced is she not encased in ice? Tied up?) ‘He can… speak’ she shrieks. ‘Professor Emma Johnson, the alien population of this planet need you. Our planet has been destroyed by a nuclear bomb that has tranformed all of human kind into aliens-‘ ‘No, no no! Where is(Grammar, are) my family, and my kids? Are they okay, are they safe?’ Emma shouts at the screen. He ignores me (Is it 1^st or 3^rd person narrative? Jumping between two is confusing and dangerous if not intentional) and rambles on.

‘The ice block you were frozen in has protected you, you are the only human that exists.(Tense) We need your knowledge of science to transform us back into our human selves. You have three days to complete the task. Good luck.’

The screen turns blank. The straps encasing her wrists and feet untie and she flips off the table immediately.

‘What! No, come back. That’s not enough time. I don’t know how to help you! Don’t leave me alone in this!’ She yells as she hits the palm of her hand (Awkward phrasing, try slams, it’s a good verb choice)against the screen repeatedly. Again, nothing. In despair , Emma plunges her back against the wall, slides down and plumets her head into her hands. ‘What am I going to do (Punctuate, ?)’ She cries. (Separate out the dialogue, each time there is a new voice)

The clock has ticked a full three hundred and sixty degrees (Purpose, how much time do you want to pass. It’s a bit vague). She paces up and down the room. ‘Why did I ever freeze my body for science. My mother was right, this was a crazy idea. Look what I get myself into… a world full of aliens. This isn’t real. I must be dreaming’ she laments as she pinches her skin repeatedly with her finger. ‘Why-am-I-not- waking-up?! I don’t understand. This is what I wanted. I’m a scientist who always wanted to make it to the future and use my knowledge to help a different kind. To do something nobody’s done before. I froze my body for this and now, all I want to do is go home’. (Dialogue is stilted it doesn’t sound natural enough) Her eyes drip with tears, drenching her top. Moment by moment they fall, minuscule salty drops from her chin. (Good description)‘This is not what I pictured the future to look like at all’ She bawled. (Tense, is it present or past? It is unclear. Decide and maintain throughout the piece)

All of a sudden, the silver-coated door elevated. (Tense) Emmas red puffy eyes fix on an alien wheeling towards her on a single point like a child’s spinning top. She rubs her eyes with her fists and flips them open. She let’s(Punctuate,no’) out a scream and quickly drags (Tense) her body backwards along the floor, further away from the alien ‘No, stay away from me’ she roared.(Tense) It’s single purple eye stayed locked (Tense) on her from the front. Quickly, it rolls (Tense) to the other side of the room. Her heaving chest released air as she set free a sigh of relief. ‘Should I walk over?’ She ponders as she chews vigorously on the tip of her nails. ‘Surely this little cute alien with its bulging purple pupil won’t harm me’ (Dialogue needs to be more natural, try Surely this cut little thing won’t harm me!!) she reassured herself as she walks over cautiously. Her legs move one baby step at a time, knees wobbling, with her hand hesitantly reaching out to touch it. It’s eye blinks and she leap(s) backwards. ‘Hi’ It mumbles. ‘H-h-hi’ she muttered shyly. Abruptly, the alien wheels into the back of her leg, causing her to fall into an uncontrollable stumble. Fear flows throughout her as her face makes a mould of itself in a sheet of paper on the floor. ‘Alien DNA transformator’ is embedded in large green capital letters across the top. Her eyes skim the page from left to right (Not sure what is happening at this point? It needs a clearer explanation )‘What… is this?’ She uttered as she scratches her head. 1) Human Blood 2) Six alien-handful of yellow gloop 3) One battery of an electro -clock 4) Five antennae from alien televisions 5) One alka seltzer tablet. Emma remembers the alka seltzer tablet she brought in her pocket before she was frozen in the ice cube. ‘Please be here’ she frettted as she patted the pockets of her pants numerously. ‘I have it!’ Emma vented as she felt it’s solid circle shape bulged through the fabric of her pocket. She sighed with relief, ‘I knew I would need this here!’ She scurried around the room, running to and fro, grabbing the rest of the ingredients. ‘Yellow gloop, Check, five antennae check, electro-clock battery, check’. ‘Next, human blood…’ and her lungs inhale as she grabs a shiny needle and pierces a minute hole into the layer of her epidermis (Too formal, skin is more suited.). Her blood oozed out of her arm into thick droplets into a microscopic jar. The teeny alien pushes a big floating saucer towards her. ‘Thank you, little guy’ she raved. The alien radiated a little smile, showing his gnarly yellow teeth. Emma giggled. One,by one she began dropping the ingredients into the pot. Her hand binded the ingredients until each one combined as a purple mixture. A teeny poof of purple mixture evaporated from the pot. ‘It worked!’ She sang. His face lighted up and giggled from antenna to antenna. ‘I like you’ she praised as she gave him a tight hug. ‘ I’m going to call you Ree.’ Ree hands her the small beaker, and she fills it with the potion. Emma seals a sticker onto a large beaker and wrote ‘ Alien- transformator formula’ onto it. Emma and the alien race over to the big screen and shout ‘Big alien guy?! Hello!! It’s ready. Let’s change you back to humans!’ She sighed with satisfaction. (Tense issues throughout the paragraph, decide present or past)

Three aliens slide into the room on their green, slimy legs. ‘Hello, fellow human. You have successfully made the ‘alien dna transformator’ they sputtered. Emmas (Punctuate possessive apostrophe) cheeks become numb from smiling. One of the aliens is wearing a necklace with silver letters spelling ‘nan’ across its green, ridged skin. Emma stares at it with familiarity, but the alien quickly tucks it away under her yellow pleated dress. ‘Okay, turn us back into humans!’ One alien screeched as it dragged Emma towards the floating saucer. All the aliens started howling excitedly and bouncing up and down, distracting her from the necklace. Emma removed the alka seltzer tablet from her pocket and hurled it into the saucer. The water plopped and splattered the mix into her eye. ‘Ow’ Emma squealed, but she passed no heed (too informal, try ignores)as she was overdosed with excitement. The aliens quieten. With Eyes glaring, they stare at Emma drop the alka seltzer into the potion. A sea of fizzing sounds are (Grammar) liberated from the saucer. A loud bang expels and a blinding purple gas diffuses around the room. The aliens inhale the gas with one deep breath and their belly’s heave. (Tense issues throughout the paragraph, decide present or past)

All at once, the tentacle of the aliens enlarged into the size of a giants foot. Soon after, it’s body, and then its head. Their eyes bulge and projected off their face, snapping back into a human eye. Instantly, it’s tentacle takes the shape of a human foot, and it’s gloopy head solidifies, forming a humans face. Each alien slowly morphes into her kids from the past. They run over to her and hug her, she stares confused. ‘Hello fellow strangers, welcome to the future!’ She shrieked. Her kids stare at eachother confused ‘Mum, it’s us, Emily, Julia and Elizabeth .’ ‘I don’t know you, I’m sorry.’ She admitted. The alien dna transformator has wiped her memory completely. Tears collapse and pour from their eyes as they realise what has happened. ‘Welcome to the future!’ She voiced. ‘You’re going to love it!’. (The ending is quite contrived, I see you are including a twist, it needs to be teased out more.)

It is a short story, has all the ingredients setting, plot, character, description, atmosphere…

She is an outsider.  It is missing coherence and flow. Tense needs to be consistent. A lot of description but sometimes overdone. Dialogue needs to be laid out correctly. Separate out. Plot is good but doesn’t ring true. Too neat in places, Alka seltzer, the necklace, you need more subtlety. Craft piece, tells rather than shows.

30-P-21

30-C-18

30-L-17

10-M-9

65/100 H4

(2) Write a short story in which the central character’s status as an outsider has a direct influence on the plot (2018)

PLAN:

An attack/brainwashing/

1. A child, excluded, goes to the computer room at lunch everyday

2. Establishes a tech company/ marries the founder of a genetics company

3. He steals his wife’s company by sedating her and getting the contract etc

It was a Baltic, gloomy morning in the middle of November and Tom was on his way to school.

Kids in 4th class usually enjoy school, but to say Tom dreaded school was an understatement; he had no friends, making every day feel like a week. However, today was special. Tom was oblivious to the massive changes he would cause in the future. This is the story of how a nobody became a somebody. This is the story of how Tom conquered the world. (Is there any reason for the reader to continue? Is this opening necessary? Could the story begin with the next paragraph?)

“Ok class, it’s November. You know what that means, right?” said Ms. Kelly.

“Christmas is soon!” screamed Adam.

Tom’s blood boiled whenever Adam spoke, and it made sense why, it was jealousy.(Stating the obvious – it could improved by describing his physical and emotional reaction)

Anything Adam ever said, the boys would cheer and the girls would swoon.

Adam’s presence fuelled the darkness and evil intentions in Tom’s little heart.

“Oh, 11pm already?! Ok, lunch-time!” Ms. Kelly raved.

Everybody cheered and gathered their friends. The room filled with laughter and fun, juxtaposed to the winterly weather currently transpiring.

As if he was invisible, Tom faded out of the room. He began walking around the school.

That’s when he stumbled upon the computer room. It was empty.

Tom didn’t understand what it was about some cruddy old computers that enthralled him, but he still wanted to walk in and explore.

That’s when he started learning coding and programming, skills that would give him an abundance of clout. (Too many ‘that’s’ being used. Consider building tension. Avoid telling us too much)

During his teen years, he embarked on countless personal projects. Namely, developing websites.(Countless?)His prowess earned him a scholarship at (to) one of the biggest technological universities in the country: Thinking Together Technology.

For the first time in his life, Tom wasn’t regretful of his childhood spent in isolation.

But still, Tom had a dormant darkness which rendered his heart black forever. Unbeknownst to him, he was suppressing it.(sp: suppressing)

Then came the big day, Tom’s first day at university. He was determined to be top of the class, hoping his years of practice would stand to him.

The first assignment of the year was “What does the future of technology mean to you?”

They had a fortnight to complete the task. The 2 (two) weeks passed rather fast, (quickly, rapidly, swiftly)  they each had to present it in front of their class for the final grade. It was Tom’s turn. His idea involved making clones from people’s genetic and psychological material.

After hearing everything he had to say, the teacher became disgusted. Absolutely appalled by the horrific intentions of someone so young. Consequently, Tom was expelled from Thinking Together Technology. (drastic, credibility issues now in story – what exactly was the reaction – there’s room for description here)

Tom was livid. He stormed home, his heart blacker than evil itself and his face more red than an angry fire.( redder? Crimson/ scarlet/ reddened…) He shut the front door behind him as he entered his house, ran up to the bathroom, looked at the mirror, and stayed idle for a few seconds. (Why?)

He didn’t know what to do, he (had) left school, his life was completely derailed.

Out of nowhere, Tom aggressively smashed his head against the bathroom mirror.

Again, and again, and again, until he was left with an enormous laceration engulfing his forehead. Tears started gushing out of his eyes, mixing with the horrendous looking pool of blood. He laid (lay) there, paralysed, not knowing what to do.

“What will come of me?,”  (become) He internally groaned, tired from the blood loss.

A few months passed, Tom and a few classmates from Thinking Together Technology were collaborating on a new social media platform. Tom shared his vision for a new avant-garde platform that combined elements of the old with his vision of the new. They called it, Findbook.

They spent years and years, meticulously coding and programming, the end goal was always in mind. Throughout the years, Tom has had investors approach him, companies contact him, and much more. Everyone seemed to think that this project would break the internet; and it did.

A year after Tom and his colleagues released Findbook, the became filthy rich. (Timing issues: too many months and years passing without explanation, mark a specific time and look back ’four years later they launched…it had taken…’)

Not to mention, there were Findbook firms all over the world. Tom could have never pictured this happening after his scandal in university. (What scandal?)

Life kept on getting better for Tom. One day, he met a woman at a conference, her name was Stannie. An unusual name, but she also happened to be the CEO of the world’s top genetics company: Jenetix.

Jenetix was used by practically everyone to find out their heritage and to see if they had dangerous genes.

They went out on a few dates, and before they knew it, they got married.

Meanwhile, Findbook was growing at an exponential rate, soon it became the most used social media, easily beating competitors, such as Facebook, Youtube, and Instagram.

Tom’s wife and colleagues were actually oblivious (leave out ‘actually’)  to his deceit. He had far greater intentions. Marrying the CEO of Jenetix, combined with his database of every user profile on the world’s most popular social media; it was a recipe for chaos. Tom tricked his colleagues and his wife, he never gave up on his wicked plan of making clones of everybody. He never explained why as he always wanted to maintain the confidentiality. Slowly but surely, he became more and more tyrannical.

He brutally murdered his wife so he could obtain rights to the her company, and as for his colleagues at Findbook, he betrayed them and signed contracts which revoked their rights, making Tom the CEO of both Findbook and Jenetix. (Too much happening – It would be enough to say he got married and infer his evil intentions, letting the reader surmise his evil plan’ )

With his immense power, Tom kept getting offered alliances with other world leaders as they were intimidated by his potential. Tom refused, he was adamant in what he was doing. (adamant that what he was doing would be/was…)

He began to extract information from almost every single human being with their genetic material from Jenetix and their psychological material from Findbook.

With his staggering amount of money, he was able to build a lab for this project deep underground in Greenland, a place where he’d hope to remain undiscovered.

Additionally, he rented out (hired? ) scientists, geneticists, and engineers to ensure the project’s success.

Unfortunately, his co-workers were impervious to the monstrosity that was happening, they never questioned it as they too were intimidated by Tom’s power.

When each clone was created, they were implanted with coordinates of the real version of themselves in order to; go there, kill them, and take their place in society.

In no time, over 60 per cent of the global population were Tom’s clones.

Some people weren’t on Findbook nor had a copy of their genes in Jenetix, like Adam. These people were detected and were blacklisted. Meaning they were going to be assassinated.(incomplete sentence. Adjust punctuation with previous sentence or rephrase)

The world plunged into World War III.

It became a post-apocalyptic wasteland.

Tom’s tyranny inspired a group of rebels to congregate and take him down, hoping that they can (could) live in a safer world.

The rebels were led by none other than Adam!

After countless sacrifices, bloodshed, and war; Tom was defeated. The rebels accounted for 20 per cent of the earth’s population, they had to cultivate their own hope now there was so few of them.

Tom’s transformation from a nobody to a tyrant who committed mass genocide was documented in history books.

That wasn’t the end though, no.

A group of who went by the name “The XXY” became inspired by Tom’s success and how he started off as a nobody. The XXY then began what was known as “Humanity’s Demise.”

A Short story must have a limited scope/timeframe. This piece has many positives – it is imaginative and creative, but unfortunately its scope is vast. It is in essence, a film. Here you must try to provide a snapshot of this. Rather than walking us through Tom’s life, perhaps start at the point where he is presenting in university and offer flashbacks to his isolation at primary school. Later as he is with his wife, suggest how he is really using her for the company she owns. Finally, his defeat could echo a moment from his primary school and Adam.

P: 20/30

C: 18/30

L: 17/30

M: 9/10

Overall: 64/100

Write a thought-provoking speech, to be delivered at a United Nations Youth Conference, in which you consider some of the causes and possible solutions to what you see as the defining struggles of our age. (2015)

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We find it very easy to complain in this day and age. Fifty years ago, our parents and grandparents would have thought that what we have right now is everything (Awkward phrasing); ground-breaking technology to fight disease and ground-breaking technology to do menial daily tasks just because. (Repetitive phrasing)… There’s (No capital required) no real reason why. We have all of this at our fingertips and still, just waiting to slip off the tip of our tongues (Vague point, unclear)is, “oh(Capital required), but we don’t like that,” or “oh, but this isn’t fair.” We complain about the tiniest things to no end and we never take a step back to see what the real problems are, to see what we can do to make a difference. (Vague point) Young people of the world, my name is Emily Carroll and I am here today to help us all to take a step back, and to see the bigger picture.(Good)

(Jumps to new area, speech should flow)

Take a step back… And another, and another. No matter how many steps we take back right now, I can imagine that a lot of us in this room are oblivious to. (Awkward phrasing) It’s the biggest picture that has a direct effect on our lives. (What does?) It’s the biggest picture; it’s our world. Look at me! Already jumping to conclusions on whose world this is. We seem to think that the earth is something that we can take ownership of when in fact (Awkward phrasing), it is its own entity that’s not only home to us, but a whole array of different plants and animals. We have been conditioned to think, since the dark ages, that this world is ours and that we can treat it however we please. But the tale of time has shown us otherwise. If we don’t treat the world with respect, then why should it show us any?

Mother Nature has shown (Repetitive language) us that because we haven’t shared our planet (Vague and unclear), we have become the helpless victims of global warming and climate change. I was recently sitting in my biology class, listening to my teacher harp on about the heart. She said that because we don’t realise how much our bodily functions rely on the heart, we don’t look after it properly. I quickly likened this to our relationship with the earth. Because (Don’t start sentence with because) we don’t realise that everything we do relies on the health of our dear. planet, we don’t look after it at all. (The content of this paragraph is good , it is relevant and on task, delivery needs to match this. Vary expression. Craft sentences.)

I was talking to a friend about this a week ago (Too informal.) and she said that it’s not the fault of our generation that the earth faces a grim fate; it’s the fault of our parents’ generation and our grandparents’ generation. Sure it was them that industrialised the world,(Too informal for audience.) but let me. (Punctuation)ask you this: whose generation isn’t doing a whole pile to rectify the situation? That’s right! We’re sitting here like lame ducks as the earth crumbles right beneath our feet, melts before our eyes and slips right through our fingers. What are we going to do about it? What can we do about it? It’s too late, right? Wrong! (Strong section) There’s nothing too small when trying to put the world back together again.(Awkward phrasing) Maybe we are too late to turn back the clock and undo centuries of destruction, but we’re not too late to prevent the situation from getting any worse. And you know what they say: “an (Punctuation)ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”

Now that we’ve addressed our relationship with the earth (Rephrase, nice link though), I think it’s about time we address our relationship with each other. Talk about a defining struggle of our age! We struggle to even define what a real conversation is nowadays. We communicate through a screen more than we communicate face-to-face and that (Grammar) lack of human connection is becoming more and more obvious. No, we can’t blame this on the evolution of technology. Although it was that that put all these devices in the grasp of our hands (Awkward phrasing), we are the ones who enabled this technology to take over our lives, one click at a time.

Modern communication has been developed ever since the first hieroglyphics were drawn on cave walls but it seems that we have taken a step backwards. As I have said before (Avoid this type of generic phrase), communicating through a screen has made real conversation nothing but a distant memory. If we think that “hey, wua?” is the makings of a meaningful conversation, then it seems that we have lost the run of ourselves completely. Gone are the days of sitting around the kitchen table, chatting as we enjoy a wholesome home-cooked meal. I can’t even remember the last time everyone in my house sat down together to eat and talk. How many of us in this room can relate to that? too many. (Punctuation) (Coherence of the paragraph is off. Seems to jump. Is the final question meaningful/relevant?)

I’m sure we can all see one obvious solution to this problem. That’s right! Take a step back, put down your phone and take time to make the time for the people around you. Nothing is more comforting than sitting down and talking something out with another human being. So why is it that we were so quick to neglect that? (Does this hang well with previous point, not fully fleshed out?)

Why is it that we are so quick to turn a blind eye to the struggles of our civilisation? Just because we are here today in a state of the art building, that doesn’t mean there aren’t others sleeping under nothing but drapes at this very moment, without a roof over their heads (Awkward phrasing). Just because we have so much more than we could ever possibly need, that doesn’t mean there aren’t others that don’t even have the bare necessities. From not having a bed to sleep on to not having a healthy body, by no fault of their own, there are others that are so much worse off than us and it still seems that we are oblivious to that fact. (I can see the point you’re trying to make but it is too vague. It needs illustration and further exploration.)

the reason for this?(Punctuation) Well, it’s simple! We are so caught up in our own lives that we forget that there’s a whole world out there that needs our help. Because(Avoid) we have so much, we forget that there are others that have nothing at all. Picture this: you’re a young person living somewhere exotic. The gentle wind in your hair and the warm sand between your toes. Living in pure bliss, you rest easy knowing your world is paradise, your life is a dream. You’re jolted awake in the middle of the night by your terrified mother. You’re being evacuated from your safe haven in the sun because a tsunami is coming. You’re whole life, perfect as it was, washed away in a wave. You have nothing… You have nothing. (Jumps, unclear, vague needs more flow.)

Natural disasters aren’t something that we can just eliminate, but we can help eliminate the burden that follows. Unfortunately (punctuation)we can’t do a whole llot (Spelling)to end wars, but we can help bring civilians to safety. We can’t stop famines from breaking out because of crop failure, but we can help feed the hungry mouths that are waiting for the sweet taste of food. Along with all these ‘we can’ts,” there’s a whole lot of “we cans,” and i think it’s about time we take a step back and say we can, and say it loud.(Control the expression, punctuate)

Take a step back… And another, and another. Open you eyes and see the world and all it has to offer and all that we can do to help it. Open you ears and listen to the needs of others. Open your mouths and talk to each other for once, and open your hands and get ready to give. Give all that you have, give all that you can and when you’ve given your all, get ready to give some more. We all have something to give, something to offer to the table, so it’s about time we did that. It has been my pleasure to take a step back with you all this evening and it will be my pleasure to give a little, alongside each and every one of you. (Strong conclusion, tone is different to rest of piece)

Speech has all the elements of a speech, but they need to flow together. This lacks a genuine sense of task, authenticity. It is needs improved coherence. Remember your audience. Content and ideas are good, it’s the delivery and the consistency of their delivery that need to be worked on. Be clear. Develop your ideas. Illustrate them. Keep the audience engaged.

30-P-23

30-C-20

30-L-21

10-M-10

74-H3

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