Year 6 – Historical writing competition
The children in Y6 had an exciting opportunity to enter a Trust-wide historical writing competition. Children in the year group completed entries based on their learning within our history curriculum on WW2. The children used their prior learning to help create a story based on WW2. Impressively, 2 of our Year 6 children were placed in the top 3, both receiving book vouchers.
All the children’s entries are now going to be entered into the National Competition. We’ll let you know if we have another winner!
Mr. Robinson, NST Director of Humanities, judged the entries. When giving the awards to Madison and Alisha, he congratulated them on how well they had used their historical factual knowledge of World War 2 to bring their fictional writing to life. He was also most impressed with the high-quality handwriting and presentation. Alisha and Madison both explained that their love of reading has helped them to develop an excellent writing style. Mr. Robinson was certainly impressed by the way they constructed their writing, used ambitious vocabulary and captured the reader's interest. We hope you enjoy reading extracts from their work below.
Mrs Robinson, Headteacher, added "At Four oaks we are very proud of all our children's submissions and special congratulations goes to Madison, Year 6 who will be travelling to Nottingham University next Thursday to attend the National Finals award ceremony."
"My name is Theodore, I work as a Nazi police officer, guarding the spiteful concentration camps. I despise them. I hate watching them suffer, watching them starve. They are brutal. The days go by like years, the minutes go by like hours, I want it to stop, to end but there’s nothing I can do; every day I see their hollow faces behind the bars, their depressed expressions fill my body with sorrow. Day by day their their colour drains but the soldiers guarding have never been happier”. Alisha - First place
“I close my eyes and grip Josh’s hand tightly waiting for the sharp CRACK of the long wooden beast of a cane and the burst of hot sparks exploding across the backs of my legs, just below the hem of my tattered pinafore. I’m standing at the cracked slab of oak Ms Wiggings likes to call a table, my brother, Josh standing beside me. Our foster mother Ms Wiggings is a rotten old hag with a bulging stomach straining against the waist of her starched apron: a sharp voice edged with steel and a crooked nose pock-marked with warts and moles. My eyes sting with tears thinking of our own dear mother with her soft voice and gentle perfume and father; strong as the horses he rode and just as clumsy as them too!” Madison - Third place
