Scholarship G1 W3 Writing

Part 1.

Week 3 Scholarship Writing Homework

Write a narrative with this opening line:

Meandering through the graveyard it felt like something was watching me.

Include a difficult decision about whether or not to forgive your deceased father.

Use both https://myshakespeare.com/hamlet/act-1-scene-5 https://genius.com/Ted-hughes-the-shot-annotated as inspiration for your story. 

400 Words

Part 2.

Scholarship Interview Question:

How can you contribute to your dream private school? Have you taken part in any leadership roles?

78 thoughts on “Scholarship G1 W3 Writing”

  1. Meandering through the graveyard it felt like someone was watching me.The caliginous tendrils of darkness snarled , baring its fang but it couldn’t get me from the angelic light bathing me like a holy angel. I stared intently at the sanguine, dried blood staining the luciferian ground. Twigs snapped like brittle bones as I trudged along the crepuscular, stygian path. Silhouettes of the forgotten glared in anguish at my presence, malevolent as satan. My eyes trained on a seemingly ordinary stone withering roses and tears. I bent down to stare at my fathers grave.

    My father has always been cruel to me, even when I get good marks he says I can do better. He would always whip me if I didn’t get 100 percent, which was all the time. He had always treated me like an unforgivable, diabolical, satanic person, and treated my sister like an angelic, divine being, even when she got bad marks he just said the test was too hard. He never whipped or smacked my sister, only me. I remembered my birthday, when everything was wishing me best wishes when my father said nothing, and gave me nothing, not even a smile. He always rubbed it into me when I made a mistake, like cutting open a scar, leaving me with bigger marks of what had happened.

    But also I saw him work tirelessly at his job, it was even a high paying one, to keep me in a private school and put food on the table. He works 12 hours a day, starting to sleep at 9 o’clock and waking up at 3 o’clock. He had only rubbed in for me to improve because he wanted me to prosper when I was a grown up, and not suffer like him. He was only trying to get the best out of me, knowing I could always improve, knowing that men could get better jobs than women so he should punish and lecture me more.

    Then, I remembered his last words at the hospital. Send … my love… to my…wife…and my… daughter before he sputtered one more time and died. I started fuming. His actions were unforgivable. He had tried to lecture me harshly. He had taken it too far. My thoughts were crowed with bad memories of him, ready to continue this grudge for eternity.

    I stepped up , and with one last glare of bitterness, I left the graveyard.

  2. Part 2, question 1; I personally think that I can make a good contribution to the King’s college community. All of my previous teachers have mentioned many times that I am able to complete the adequate requirements and help my peers in any task, whether it be in the classroom solving advanced maths problems or on the field, playing sports with my fellow pupils. I can execute tasks of various difficulty and can assist others in doing so. A quote from my 2020 report card:

    “Vageesha is an able student in the classroom. He spends time interacting with other students and assisting them with their growth. He heavily contributes to class activities and when asks a question, is usually the first to put his hand up. His attendance is always perfect and he abides by the school rules. He heeds to my advice and listens to other pupils to gain knowledge. He takes advantage of any opportunities and was even selected for a holiday gifted and talented class to strengthen the school’s reputation. He assists the teachers when requested and can help with any requested task independently or with minimal assistance.”

    My teacher, Mr. Neil Hazel wrote this. He also mentioned that for sections in my report card in which I was classified as having weak performance that I would listen carefully. Most kids in primary school often volunteered to do class jobs to get away from classes, but I put my hand up for 2 main reasons: I was best in the class and all of my teacher noted that my academic achievement was high, so high that none of my teachers except my year 5 one could even find anything that was legitimately challenging for me, and I was responsible with risky things. Because teachers often tried to put me with kids who were slightly behind academically, our school teacher had plenty of teaching to do, and so they needed assistance. Here I was, there in that class pretty much just to be exploited. No,obviously, you might be thinking, why are you writing this down if you put it in a bad light now? Well, because I agreed to teach my class. The teachers sent me to teach them how to use computers, do maths problems, and write with good grammar. I remember in year 1 I was sent to the OC class because our teacher was absent. The teacher was doing a long division. I decided to start writing down what they were doing on the board. Another casual teacher who came with us asked me what I was doing, as did the other student. I explained to them the maths problem and how to solve it. I was really doing it because our split book that we were assigned was too easy, so I took my time to teach other students. I had a friend from kindergarten who I once told that my writing book had run out during a writing lesson. He told me to tell the teacher about it. I got a bigger one with 8mm rules (My handwriting has always been small and was written in a cursive font). Other students approached me regarding the book and requested to be informed on why I had a different workbook to them. I explained what had happened to them. Realising that I had good writing, many people, all the way up to year 4, came to me requesting I edit their writing, before the teachers. I often was confused, and encouraged others. When people said I could do anything, instead of being arrogant like my year 1 teacher called me in front of my class (she hated me a lot, and exploited me. Since I didn’t understand her tactfulness and continued teaching the class, my mum ended up snapping at my teachers for using me. The teacher ended up sending me to the year 6 class for maths just so she didn’t have to bother about me) I helped those people as much as I could. The only awards I won were academic ones, strangely enough, because my school teachers, except 2 of them, all show a grudge towards me.

    Part 2, question 2;
    Although I have never engaged in any leadership roles, I have tried for all of the available ones. In year 1, I became the backup SRC for my class, which was elected by the students. I only became backup because…. The girls voted for the girls, and the boys voted for me, so it ended up, because there were more girls than boys, I ended up in the backup position. In year one, the teacher had a message to deliver to each and every teacher and staff member in the faculty. It was something about a staff lunch meeting. As if she couldn’t put it over the P.A. Well, I ended up completing it. I delivered the message to every single one of them. It was great. The sense of accomplishment I felt doing it was incredible, I did many other things, assisting in setting up our class for the selective test this year, helping teachers carry stuff, everything leaders should do but don’t.

    1. part 1
      Meandering through the graveyard it felt like something was watching me. I looked down at the pit in which my deceased father rested. A trigger was pulled. Memories were shot out of the barrel of a Jagdtiger. The shot whistled through the air, its flight path perfect. The sonic boom from the shell deafened me. Was I to forgive him? I saw in front of me, visions of pain. The bullet struck me, straight in the heart, shattering as its filler charges exploded. The pain of torture came to mind. An MG42 appeared, shooting at me, hitting me with every shot. I perished not. The pain of trying your hardest but not being good enough hit me on the leg. Bombs fell upon me, 3000 lbs of explosive filled with hate and anger, the reminiscence of the gloomy air shone through the light of fire. A Panzer IV, ready to fire, all continuously barraging me with hate.

      And at the front of the fleet of tanks, ships, artillery and aircraft stood one man. His figure was dim, but his eyes shone as they turned into those of a puppy dog longing for forgiveness. His command was not shouted, yet simply done naturally, as if every single force was commanded by his mind. His eyebrows were deep set into his large forehead, as were his eyes into their sockets. His nose stuck out, it’s perfectly triangular shape shining from the light of his eyes. His chin was perfectly placed in his lower face. His arms rested by his side, and his legs were planted into the ground. I was reminded of his inspiration. His hardworking self, although I didn’t admire, was also firm. He was organised. He was just there. But it felt like he was controlling me.

      That man was my father.

      I looked at him. I had no intention of forgiveness. The barrage of artillery struck me once more. I felt the pain surging through my veins, splitting my heart perfectly down the middle. He was the sun. Its cancerous rays damaged me, yet its light encouraged me. The luminous yellow glow shone down at me, blinding me with it’s power, yet giving me some health.

      I had to forgive him. If it was not for him, I’d never be alive. Yet, if it was also not for him, I wouldn’t be so hesitant to choose. I just had to. I never wanted to keep those memories with me. I had to move forward, and push the hundreds of war machines aside, blowing them to bits with my weapon of encouragement from others and my powerful nuclear bomb of persistence. I was to put this chapter of my life to an immediate end

      I forgave him.

  3. Part 1
    Beyond the pale.

    Meandering through the graveyard it felt like something was watching me. Mesomorphic tendrils wrapped around the pale mortal. My skin was as cadaverous as the skeletal trees, reaching up to the fallen angel of the moon above with morbid talons, trying to escape the tourbillion of cataclysmic foreordination of the world below. The moon was trying desperately to bathe the necropolis with a calming luster, yet even light was outlined with a tenebrous glow. The pale obelisks were forgotten souls, lachrymose for an escape, yet it never came.
    I shuffled forwards until I reached the grave. My sight landed on a small plate. The stone in front of me bore the words in cursed hands;

    Here lies Ken Hadmen. Father of Jerry and Daniel Hadmen. Shall thy bones forever rest in peace.

    I shot a quick glance behind me. The Golgotha was a baren desert. Silent, yet so cacophonous. Each tree looked like a pale knife, each gravestone looked like my father’s face, and each howl of the wind sounded like my father screaming as a blade oozed through his chest. As the last autumn leaves fell from the now-lifeless tree, a strand in my brain evoked the memories of him laughing in the car, which was washed away by the sudden wave of ire. He was never proud, never encouraging, and forgiving wasn’t his thing. I remembered how he vociferated at me, screaming about how I should have been ashamed of my existence. I remembered how every night, I would go to bed, my face whipped with unfathomable lashes, bruises dotting my face and my face cut into countless pieces, simply by my fathers’ vulgar words. I remember the conversation we had after I came back from school and the paper I had bearing that I got into the top 2% in G.A.
    “Top 2%? How dare you cheat!”
    “But I…”
    “Did. Your brother only got top 41%” my brother was the only one he was ever proud of, yet he treated him like a necklace. He would buy him a special treat, parade him around the house, and put him down until the next time he wore him. “I told you not to cheat, didn’t I? IDIOT BOY!” idiot boy was his favorite insult. I remembered how he drowned my dog and told my mother to cook it for dinner when we arrived home late due to roadwork. “I TOLD YOU NOT TO BE LATE! AND NOW LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE, IDIOT BOY, YOU’VE GIVEN YOUR BROTHER SUCH A TERRIBLE INFLUENCE!!!” I remember how he would beat me up with his metal water bottle. I remember…
    I remember my hands piercing his heart with a knife. I remembered how I brought my father into Death’s hands, I remember how I shouted “GOOD RIDDANCE!” as he took him away. I remembered how I killed my own father. I remembered how I laughed at his death.
    My organs ran in circles as I brought a halt to my macabre memories. I had decided that, from what he had done to me, I’d rather live in malignance than forgive him. There was absolutely no way I could. Not after the hate he had exposed me to, not after he had done, not after what I had done.
    I turned my back on the tombstone which hid my father. After all the hate he had dumped into me, forgiveness was not an option.

  4. Part 1
    I Couldn’t Forget
    Meandering through the graveyard, it felt like something was watching me. Graves were implanted everywhere where there was enough space. I cautiously turned around to see if someone was actually following me, but all I saw was a lonely grave in the corner, which I recognised was my father’s tombstone. Flashbacks began to flood my head as I stared at the cracked, partially broken stone and the weeds hiding it from sight.

    My father was good, but he had a bad habit. He drank overdoses of alcohol everyday. This, however, over the years, caused serious health issues. One night, he drank a whole bottle, then had a sharp stomach ache and was immediately admitted to hospital. The doctors tried to cure my father from the alcohol, but their numerous attempts all failed. They said that they couldn’t do anything to help my father because the addiction to alcohol was simply too indestructible. The only thing they could do was to let my father die peacefully. After they said that, I realised that it wasn’t my father’s fault, but the addiction that had made him increasingly drink more alcohol and become attached to it. As I watched my father pass away in hospital, I saw that his face had finally changed. Instead of the usual angry look, there was a calm one on his face as the alcohol slowly wore off.

    When my father was still alive, he always smelled like alcohol and was heavily drunk. This almost always led to me becoming seriously injured and recieving countless cuts and bruises and beat me for no reason. At that point, I hated him so much. But, I recalled that deadly night, when my father was in hospital, the alcohol had partially gone away and he had returned to normal. In his last few moments, I had a chance to talk with him. As he died, he apologised, “I’m sorry.” I wondered if I should forgive my father. Was he truly sorry? Would it mean a sense of guilt would be on me my whole life? Should I forgive him? But, memories before made me forgive my father, when I remembered that when he wasn’t drunk, he was kind and caring and wouldn’t hurt me at all. It was the addiction of alcohol that made my father turn into a brutal and violent person, not himself.

    After the sad memory, I slowed down my pace as I fell into deep thinking. I was at the age when I had to pursue in a career, and I could go any pathway I wanted. I thought of the many other people who, like my father were kind and caring but were affected by the addiction of smoking or alcohol. I wanted to help them and save their lives. I reflected deeply and after minutes of silence, I knew what I wanted to be. I was going to become a scientist who could invent new types of medicines for curing mental disorders, such as smoking, alcohol and many more. “I might just be able to prevent more tragic deaths like my father’s,” I thought hopefully. As I walked out of the graveyard feeling clear-minded, I felt that the decision to visit my father’s grave was a choice I could never forget making.

  5. My name is Claire Wang and I currently attend Opportunity Class at Balgowlah Heights Public School. My dream private school is Meriden, a school that supports and helps girls find their full potential. Housing girls from Kindergarten all the way to Year 12, this is my dream private school to go to.
    I love reading books, I’m always reading every single day. Reading has helped me be who I am, making me do great things and being my friend who makes me travel without moving my feet. At Balgowlah Heights I don’t have many friends, I’m a diffident, shy girl who doesn’t make friends easily. But I make friends through reading books. I excel in reading and writing which made me sign up to become a Library Moniter in 2023. I feel like I have the power and courage to contribute to Meriden, I interact well with small groups rather than larger ones and can frequently host book clubs or other interactive activities with younger students. Having participated in K to help which is a program that helps kindergarten students play and have fun with older students and having three younger siblings I have a lot of experience with younger children. I can also give Meriden School a helping hand. I have helped run mini fetes to help with the school and have joined the choir. This year in grade 6 I will also be running a social group with younger kids in grade K-2 with a partner. In these 45 minute sessions we’ll be discussing, playing fun games and also teaching kids the importance of working together and courage. I may not be the most confident of a person but I can help in a variety of different ways that still make my contributions to my school big. At Meriden I can do the exact same thing. Meriden is a wonderful school, supporting so many girls that dream big dreams and hope one day they will leave a mark on Earth. One day, I also hope that I will be joining those happy smiling faces too.

  6. Part 2
    How can you contribute to MLC?

    I can contribute to the school with my soft skills and hard skills which can improve MLC.

    I can contribute to the school by demonstrating my soft skills, for example communication, volunteering and teamwork. My communication skills are very high, since I am a great listener and speaker and I can get along with all classmates. This greatly helps; I can easily form friendships in the new environment. I also do a lot of volunteering, for example when I participated in Council’s Plant a Tree Day and helped to plant new trees. I also protected the environment by picking up recyclable bottles on the streets and recycling them in a machine. To fertilise our garden, I constructed a compost bin to make fertiliser from food scraps. I’m great at teamwork and can help everyone in the team to reach our goal by the deadline.

    I’m confident that I’ll be one of the top students in academics. My favourite subject is Maths. I am a fast learner and feel comfortable with all the school subjects. I am fearless even when the subjects turn a lot harder and more challenging as I progress into Y7-Y12. I can keep calm and work them out.

    Swimming: I’m currently attending MLC School Aquatic Centre 3-4 times a week in Metro Squad. Every Saturday I get up at 5AM to attend swimming training, because that’s the only available session for my level. I am well supported by my parents and coaches. For any future challenges and opportunities, I’ll strive for excellence. I just love swimming in the water.

    Music: MLC has a well-established music tradition, a long tradition of musical excellence, and the best music centre I’ve ever seen. I’ve got a few years’ experience playing musical instruments (piano and violin) in the Symphony Orchestra. I believe my passion for classical music, strong commitment to the Symphony Orchestra and interest in improving my musical abilities make me an ideal canidate to join the MLC school community.

    In conclusion, I’m confident I’ll make many contributions to your school.

    Have you taken part in any leadership roles?

    Yes, in my school I took the canteen role to manage our classroom’s lunch orders. I provided service to my classmates to make sure they always got their yummy lunch on time, with the correct food they have ordered. I love to communicate with all classmates when I hand them their lunches.
    Addtionally, our school has a mentor program where senior students have opportunities to meet with Stage 2 and lead them. It’s been both a challenging and rewarding experience. I have realised that I need to set a good impression on my mentee because my mentee learns from what I do, including behaviour, actions and manner. From the experience as mentor, I have also developed skills in communication, responsibility, patience and many more. For example, once I was trying to teach my mentee how to play badminton in a class activity. I was trying to teach her how to hit the shuttlecock with the racquet, but she kept doing it wrong. I began to get angry and fustrated, but then I realised that being angry won’t get us anywhere. From then on, I was patient and calm. Eventually, in the end my mentee managed to hit it correctly.

  7. Part 2:
    Question 1.
    I believe that I can make a good contribution to North Sydney Boys. All the teachers that had me under their kind care all complimented me on how I invariably helped my peers with any task and excelled in Maths, English, and Creative Writing. I am a kind, caring person that looks forward to helping others. In my 2022 report, my teacher stated that I “always is ready to help” and that I “outshone other students in many subjects” it stated that “Albie is a gifted child that is extensive in a variety of subjects including Maths, English, and Writing. He is efficient and reluctant to give up. We also adore how he is cute and active, always ready for a task”
    The teacher that wrote that was Mr. Packham, my fifth-grade teacher. He also mentioned that I would still listen attentively even if I was the best in the class. I also volunteered to help him do some tasks when he hurt his back and couldn’t bend down. When he was away, I had the idea to bring together the class and make a “get well” card. There were also jobs to do. Most kids wanted to do jobs because they didn’t want to stay in class, but I volunteered because I had the best academics and because last year, my best friend had an emotional breakdown and helped the principal do some tasks. I was there to help him do them.
    My academics, were so easy that my teacher had to go to the year 6 gats class to find something even remotely difficult for me. I also taught my classmates sometimes if they were struggling. As I reiterate, I excel in writing. The news of my writing spread across the school, resulting in even the year 6s asking me to check their writing. Although you might think it’s a good thing, there is also another side. unsurprisingly, winning so many awards means holding lots of grudges, although I try as much as possible to resolve them as soon as possible.
    Question 2.
    I have never had a leadership role, although I have tried out for one. I was in year 2, and at that time, there were 20 options and they could only pick 10, so, they picked the first 10 that they saw, and unfortunately, I was not in that “first ten” so I failed to get in. every chance I got, I have tried out leadership roles every chance I got. The next year, I tried out again, but that year, the boys voted for the boys only, and the girls voted for the girls only. There were more girls than boys so, the girls won. I’ve never managed to obtain a leadership role, but I have been able to get some pretty good ones such as the person who delivers all the monthly orbit newspapers.

  8. sarah-h-yonggmail-com

    Part 1
    Meandering through the graveyard it felt like something was watching me. I looked back at the creaky dilapidated gate and thought about the past few days. Should I not have come back? My father’s death had shook me, but why should I care? He never showed any love. Instead, he was always bitter, punishing me for his actions. I despondently, dejectedly walked past all the withered graves, reading the names as I passed them. I could either forgive and forget my father, or feel enmity and malevolence towards him for the rest of my life. Anger surged through my half grieving body as I began to think back at the traumatic hallowing memories that had haunted me for my whole life.

    A sudden flashback materialised right before my eyes. I strolled past the living room door, realising that the floor was untidy. I bolted over to quickly clean it, not wanting to get punished. My face was pale and colourless with apprehension. I finished cleaning in a flash and relief overtook the angst I was experiencing. Suddenly, my father jumped out from behind the couch. He catapulted all the toys I had just put away all over the living room, leaving the place in shambles once again. Then, out of nowhere, he began to scream and shout and lecture me about keeping the place neat and tidy. Apoplectically, he slapped me on the cheek, leaving a red scar that I still have today. He vehemently told me I’m not good enough with such force that I can still feel the gloomy feeling from when he told me.

    I suddenly realised how many times this had happened, how many times he had tortured me, lectured me, and told me I’m not worthy. As I approached his uncared-for grave, I could somehow see through his pile of ashes and hear his thoughts. I could see his ghost, vaguely regretting all the hurt and pain he had caused me. I could hear his decayed brain, thinking about his actions towards me. I could feel his feelings, feeling guilt and repentance. For the first time, I realised that he didn’t mean what he had done. I realised that his parents had treated him like he treated me. I sat down on the bench next to him, and thought about what to do. Not realising what he had done didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t shown any respect for me. Then, I pulled the trigger. I forgave him.

  9. cn-camnguyengmail-com

    PART 1
    Meandering through the graveyard it felt like something was watching me. Turning back, I only saw the crooked trees and the still gravestones. I bent down to the tombstone that read ‘Josh Millers’. I clutched onto the bouquet of lilies in my hand; the whistling wind passing by. Even though I grew up without him, I always found myself missing my father. I wanted to know what kind of a person he was. Everyone seemed to have loving fathers who picked them up from school every day.

    I propped the lilies against the lugubrious gravestone. A low groan erupted from beneath the dirt. Could it be my father? Swiping away the cobwebs and grime that covered the face of the tomb. ‘A man committing suicide after abandoning his family for money. 1968-1990, Josh Millers.’ I knew he died young but leaving his family for money? Implausible.
    ***
    “You need to choose, Millers. It’s them or the deal.”
    He was silent. The man looked at his wife, who held an infant in her arms.
    “Time is ticking. Pick.” commanded a woman in a black suit.
    The baby began to wail; the mother didn’t do anything but stand still. Walking towards the suited woman, the mother fell to her knees, dejected.
    ***
    That was what he wanted all along. We seemed only like a profit to him. My father only wanted to begin a family to keep his job safe. I would never forgive him, even if he did write me an apology letter before he died. If he was really sorry, he could go back and fix all his mistakes, and make a family that he would stay with, not for money, but out of love.

  10. Unforgiven
    Meandering through the graveyard it felt like someone was watching me. Algid blood surged down my spine. I turned around, expecting stalwart and callous zephyrs to encircle me and pull me into the ground beneath me. Instead, I found myself staring at my fathers grave.

    Excruciating guilt and agitating confusion was at my doorstep. The bedazzling marble and teeming, vermillion roses aroused the vexation of me towards my father. I would’ve scoffed at my father for not dying in shame and embarrassment. It was the fact that my father succumbed in physical pain that withheld my enragement.

    Relics of my rancorous father lashing out at me came back at me like unwanted evidence. I wanted to acknowledge that my father was a gracious and genuine man, but I knew the deceitful actions he’d done to reach his station. He held his chin up even with a pungent odour of filthy lies and spiteful actions.

    If I walked away from his grave, where my father was lying, unforgiven, I would live forever with scorching scars of guilt. Even if my father had breached my rights and forbid me from living a casual life, he was still a father. Sometimes, it felt like daunting opinions and being unsuccessful weaved bricks around me, enclosing me like wolves, baring their razor sharp teeth. But my father would congratulate me on my achievements, even if they were small.

    I could remember my father taking me out to the local ice cream shop after I was scolded by my mother for breaking an exquisite vase, etched with blossoms and robins. His mellow laughter in that souvenir was like a burnt log stakes that could still warm my heart. So could I forgive my brazen father?

    I neither wanted to stride away feeling disencumbered because I had forgiven a man who was forceful and heedless. Delicate china and tea sets from Britain littered the floor like shredded money while my father shrieked at me. The uncivilised pandemonium rang past the corridors, clanging against the walls. I could only stand there with my head down, ashamed of my failures. I now could only wish that I was intrepid then, standing up to my father, but it was my mother that was the saviour.

    The roses had now withered. Had my consideration shrivelled up the roses, turning them ash black? Would I turn the whole world into slate grey darkness, shrouding the sky with wisps of my personal guilt? Maybe if I forgave my father, the house and garden would bloom into plains of flowers and the birds would come again to chirp. Maybe if I forgave my father,I wouldn’t feel so selfish for making the house a living hell. Maybe if I forgave my father, I would feel free again, the burden would be washed away and I could live again. Maybe I could walk away from my fathers grave, where he lay, forgiven this time with my chin held high.

  11. Part one by Aaron Wang

    Meandering through the graveyard it felt like someone was watching me. I looked around as the darkness encased me in an unforgiving prison. The snarling jaws and wretched face of the night laughed as I stared at my fathers grave, mourning. “What did he do for you?” said the darkness, still laughing at my stupidity. My face turned red and I was about to lash out at the disrespect of the darkness but then I let the words slowly sink in. I could not help but think he was right. My father had done nothing. Everyday he forced me to sit at the table with a homework booklet in front of my face. When I didn’t complete the unreasonably difficult and lengthy homework with full marks he would spank me until until I drowned in my tears of pain. Every test I got at school he would ground me 5 days each mark I got of the maximum. I was about to rip the flower I had placed on his grave of when A voice from the sky startled me.

    The moon with its mouth carved into a smile and a warm light illuminating it yelled from the distance: “he has worked for you!” even a massive shout at that distance couldn’t be heard properly. “Ignore that.” the darkness said, chuckling. I did not listen to the darkness and started to think about the moons words. My father had worked. long hours in fact. 10 to 8 every day with no breaks apart from the public holidays. He put food on the table for me and drove me to school everyday. I know my dad was trying to help me. But his punishments when I failed tests were not helpful. I know he wants me to be a successful worker who doesn’t need to work huge hours and has many breaks but it didn’t work. I do not remember the sums he hollered in my face, just the impact of his rough hands on my body. He didn’t assist me with work, just spanked me if I didn’t do it. There was no way I would forget it. I yanked the flowers from the base of the grave and walked off without turning back.

  12. I am Jessie Xu from Ermington Public School’s OC class. Right now, SCEGGS is my dream school. There are many talented girls in the school and surrounding myself with them can make me a better version of myself. The infrastructure and facilities also support my thought that SCEGGS would be a school brimming with opportunities.

    I will contribute to SCEGGS with my leadership. I am passionate, enthusiastic and respectful, and hence, I was elected as sports captain for 2023. I was also picked as one of the SCRs of my school. I will definitely also bring my leadership qualities to SCEGGS if possible.

    I am also rather excellent at both netball and tennis. I have been in my school netball team for three years in a row. I have gotten better each time due to practicing with my team. For tennis, I have been playing club level competitions, constantly sharing the joy of victory with my tennis partner.

    I make ambitions as high as I dare and strive for them with all my might. I will continue to do so at SCEGGS, my dream school. Hopefully you can consider me.

  13. Pt 2.
    My name is Elvia Lin and I would be glad to become a student and MLC. I currently attend the OC class in Ryde Public School. The MLC quote is “Dare to be more”. I find this quote to suit me because I have ambitions to become an astronomer and make many discoveries.

    I am part of the school debate team and have been a finalist for the Multicultural Speaking Competition. I can contribute my skills in these areas for competitions held. I play tennis and have matches every Saturday. I also have swimming classes and I’ve learnt and progressed a lot through the years. I can use my sports experience to contribute to the school.

    Although I haven’t made any big leadership roles I have had some in my current school and past school. In my first school, Kent Road, I was nominated as SRC in year two. When I was in that position I had the opportunity to help make decisions for the school. For example, we got new recycling bins for the school and got to assist younger grades. In my current school, I was elected as a nominee for the school captain. Although I wasn’t voted, I learnt how to speak in front of a large audience and I could be around other pupils who helped and supported me during the preparation.

    My tennis coach wrote that I helped younger kids during tennis such as teaching them the right grip and helping them even when they’re stressed. This comment boosts my confidence because I know that even though I may not be the teacher, I can still help others. During tennis competitions, me and my teammate will support each other even if we lose, we will say that it’s okay and just try harder.

    I would be grateful if I was able to be a student at MLC. Thank you for reading this.

  14. Meandering around in the graveyard it felt like someone was watching me. Staring lovingly at the tombstone in front of me i gently placed down the pearly white roses and traced my hand across the tombstone and tenderly caressed the engravings. “Dear Atalanta,” I thought “Why couldn’t you have lived longer?”. Suddenly a chill went down my back, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice cold water onto my head. This time I knew there was a person behind me.

    I turned around stiffly afraid of the ominous stranger behind me. But I decided to face my fears and turn around. As soon as I turned to face the unidentified person behind me I regretted it. My hands quivered and terror pierced my feeble and shattered heart. A tall and slender figure loomed enigmatically above me. A jet-black hood veiled his face in a foreboding shadow. Onyx tendrils of vapour slithered around him like snakes slowly tightening their grip on his body. A deep voice emitted from what seemed to be the stranger towering above me it said “I am willing to make you an offer, I will revive your dear mother, Atalanta Grace on the condition that you give me your lifeline.” I thought deeply about this tempting offer.

    My mother was the kindest woman I’d ever met. She would sing to me in her sweet and soothing voice at night while tuck ing me into my covers and gently embracing me. She was as pure as pearly-white lillies and her laughter was soft and melodic like bells chiming rhythmically in synchronisation. She had white-blonde hair that cascaded down her back in ocean waves. Her soft periwinkle eyes gave me warmth on event the coldest winter nights. The pale completion was as white as snow and perfect, smooth and unscarred. I would easily give up my lifeline to have her back. But was it really worth it? That question lingered in the back of my mind and bothered me.

    But I had made up my mind and I was not going to change it. I simply said “I accept.”.

  15. sarah-h-yonggmail-com

    Part 2
    How can you contribute to your dream private school?
    I can contribute to King’s by using my ability to work well in a team and lead people, participating in extracurricular activities and taking on leadership roles. I can use my ability to work well in a team to contribute to the school by joining team sports and activities that I can thrive in. My leadership skills would help me in this as it would assist me in leading the team. I can also achieve in both sports and academics. Thus, representing the school and contributing. I am able to do this because of the many awards I have gotten. I have gotten multiple academic excellence awards, achievement awards, and math and english excellence awards. These awards show what I am capable of and that I would be able to represent the school, therefore, contributing. I can also contribute to Kings through sports, such as soccer, tennis and swimming. I have done numerous tennis camps and have won countless soccer matches. On top of this, I have also gotten multiple swimming awards. Another way to contribute is through taking on leadership roles. Although I have not obtained any as of yet, I am eager to take on the challenge of getting one.

    Have you taken part in any leadership roles?
    No, I haven’t had any major leadership roles yet. Although I did attempt to become a school leader at my new school, as most people voted for people they knew, I wasn’t selected. To become a leader. However, I have taken on multiple minor leadership roles, such as leading my team in maths, reading and even sport. Even though I haven’t had any major leadership roles yet, I am hoping to get one in my future years at The King’s School.

  16. Part 1
    Meandering through the graveyard it felt like something was watching me. An icy cold blast of zephyrs swirled around the tombstone. Years of rage howled and erupted around me, anger twisting around my father’s grave, tendrils swarming around the sky, and all of a sudden was pure silence. A single sound from an insignificant ant would have ruined it. The moon shone with an eerie bright light, mist masking the moon, disappearing in the mysterious clouds drifting like a raft in a wide and deep ocean. Skeletal trees, bare with dust without a single leaf whispering in the darkness. Dead and decayed leaves spiralled around the twisted trees, barren and rotting while the trunk shook violently, as if taking a struggle like some of the deaths people may have had laying down beneath the ground.

    Foul flowers lay, stricken with death, its decomposed ashes laying on the rock. It was the last thing I ever gave to my father. Yet, it was also the first. I was never the favourite child, always second to my brother. The tomb was an insult to my life, spitting out all of the rage he had inside of him. To him, I was always the disappointment, the sly fox who could never get the better of himself. But now he is deceased, I didn’t know what feelings to show towards him. Should I have shown him sympathy for the actions he had inflicted onto me?

    Now that he was dead, I felt all the love I could’ve felt if I was different. Was it I that was the problem, the heart of the hatred he had felt for me. It hits me so hard now that he has passed away, and brother to brother, I can feel the only true friend I’ve ever had and that will stay with me, tears etching down his face. I ought to feel some sympathy, but even in the graveyard, with my family and countless others with me, I have never felt so alone, disrupted from my path. Questioning the wonders of life, why one has to leave. The world had never seemed so unclear to me.

    If one could forgive so easily, they wouldn’t be forgiving. It would seem like a task to them, but now, as I stood on the grave, my father laying below it, finally free from the horrors of the earth, it was the most difficult thing I had ever experienced. I had never truly known my father, some would say he was a mysterious man. But it wasn’t that. I couldn’t understand him deeply, his true intentions. It was only now I was questioning this. And solely because of the reason I didn’t know what he meant, I would finally forgive him, leaving him to truly rest in peace.

    Part 2
    I believe I have the ability to contribute to my dream school, Trinity as I am an overall helpful and inquisitive learner. I believe I can contribute to the schools in many different ways, and I will help other students if they are struggling. I am cheerful about learning, and in no way will hate it, and instead teach others to appreciate homework and am optimistic about many things.

    I believe I have good teamwork skills, so I can bring together a group of students to success. I have the ability to communicate with people and get everyone to participate instead of someone getting the lion’s share of the credit. I will teach others different techniques so when it is time to present, we can all talk about different things and know what we’re talking about. An example of my teamwork once when I was in year 3, I helped everyone and they helped me in different ways and we had good collaboration skills resulting in succeeding well in the class project.

    I love learning and have many achievements because of my passion for learning. It was always helpful knowing that what I use in school will be useful in life too, and I believe it will be the same in your school. I love reading books, some which include Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Heroes of Olympus, Wings of Fire and many more, and I may spend more than 2 hours a day reading a single book.

    I also believe that I am helpful towards other students, helping them find things they have lost and helping with difficult subjects. An example of this happening was when someone had problems with a Mathematics problem, and I helped them with it, letting them understand exactly how the question works.

    This is why I believe I will be helpful and will contribute to this school in great ways. I may even innovate something and generally be effective in teaching other students about certain questions.

  17. diem-dngmail-com

    Part 1
    To forgive or not
    Meandering through the graveyard it felt like something was watching me. I could feel their eyes, looking closely at me. I could feel a somewhat familiar cold grasp on my shoulder. I jerked my head behind me, and nothing was there. I was greeted with a gravestone, my father’s gravestone.

    I examined it closely.

    In loving memory of,
    James Barker
    (1953-2018)

    I quickly walked away from it, my mind recalling a memory of my father, coming back from a late night at the bar. I was met with his wrath almost every night, and I would always look at my mother, her stone cold face and how she had a little jump whenever my father hit me. By the end of the day, I was bruised all over and my mother would just give me an ice pack, afraid of what my father would do if she smothered me with care.

    But other times, he was a fun guy, enjoying playing video games with me. Other times, he would help me with my homework and help me ace tests. Other times, he would cheer me on at some event. But then it was when he came back from the bar that he would undergo a complete transformation. It was that alcohol which was driving his mind crazy.

    But I had to choose whether to forgive my father, or hold a grudge against him for the rest of eternity. Would I forgive an abusive father, who also cheered me on? I had gotten several bruises and cuts just from one night. But I also got many good achievements out of my father helping me and cheering me on. Which were I to choose? But I could still feel the trauma and pain from those nights, crying in the corner, clutching an ice pack and mouthing curses at my father. It was one traumatic experience indeed.

    I clutched the bouquet of flowers I was ordered to give to my father. I resisted giving them to him. The grudge in my heart would be harboured to it forever.

  18. Part 1.
    The most important choice.

    Meandering through the graveyard, it felt like something was watching me. The graves of the deceased sent shivers up my spine. Then a thought struck me. My father lies here, bones dug into the ground. I stared at the tombstone blankly. I couldn’t decide whether I’m elated or bitter. But, in the end, he still is my father. The thoughts overwhelmed my brain, and I couldn’t stay strong anymore. I crept to my father’s grave. But what I had seen there shocked me. A pale, bony figure rising up from the underworld struggling to escape to rocky terrain. The grave it came up from was….my father’s. How was this physically possible? How did his devilish mind come up with escaping death, at the cost of such an atrocity?
    Ripper, as he likes to be called, was my father. And I wasn’t fond of it, at all. He committed such crimes that my mother and I had to escape home just so none of my father’s maniacal acts could be done to us. Every day, he would go out and murder a person out in the neighbourhood, slicing and cutting their throats and other body features. And the local police couldn’t catch him. My mother and I always stayed silent because we knew that if my father heard about it at all, he would send us straight down to hell. Jack was his first name, and Jack the Ripper was what most people called him.
    ‘I am, in fact, your father. Charlie, my boy, please forgive me for the crimes I committed. Your mother sliced behind the back and I was sent to noxious, void, graveyard. That wicked monster brewed the most virulent of potions and sent me straight to hell! I promise that I will be a good father to you if you just forgive me. I am the flash of light that you’ve long yearned for your whole life! And with me, you’d be gay and joyous! You can hide behind me, your father, and forget about all those that happened in the past.’
    I didn’t know what could be done. On one hand, if I refused, he’d go on another killing spree and, most likely, one of the victims might be myself. On the other hand, if I forgave him, that means I’m forgiving one of the most scandalous villains of the world. I didn’t know what could’ve been done. In a moment of frustration, I took out my pocketknife, and stabbed my father, and he sank back into the shadows, greeting death once again.

    Part 2.

    I believe I can contribute many things to my dream private school, Sydney Grammar. Although I haven’t taken many leadership roles so far at school, I am keen to find one and try my hardest to be a leader people can look up to. The only leadership role I have gotten myself was vice captain in year 2, and I also tried out for school captain and prefect last year. Although I did not succeed, the action taught me a big lesson. The voting system is based on the thoughts about me by the teachers and students. The only way to gain them was to collectively, over a period of time, to create a sense of trust within each other. This was one of the reasons why I didn’t get chosen by my teacher to give out a speech in the top 20.

    Furthermore, I contribute a lot to group-based projects, and, more often than not, I accept other peers’ thoughts and mix them with mine, which creates the ultimate masterpiece. Nearly all the time, I try my best to do everything. There might be a few hiccups, but I persevere and try again and again.

    All of the time, I am a mostly positive person. I try to help others and persevere. I can be a voice in the middle because I can solve arguments peacefully and easily on the playground. I help others in need, whenever they need it, and I help them face their issues. Once, someone lost their handball under an overarching building in my school, and I crawled inside and got it for them. This is one of many examples of my contributions on the playground.

    Also, I always devote much of my free time to projects that are due and spend massive amounts of my screen time on tasks such as drama scripts, maths projects, and science activities. I may not have the most flexible mind, but I have a practical one, and that is often how I go with things.

    I contribute many of my learning materials to my peers at school. From rulers to scissors, pens and textas, I always share the items I have at school to my peers in class that need them.

    In conclusion, I have tried out for leadership roles and would like to be given another chance. In addition, I also contribute a lot to my school, sharing items and working well in a group.

  19. cn-camnguyengmail-com

    PART 2
    If I am selected for a scholarship, I will represent MLC with pride as a conscientious and motivated student. I truly believe what makes me an outstanding candidate for this school, is my optimism, open-mindedness and constant desire to grow into a better person. I feel that I will also benefit the performing arts program and academic program, by contributing well towards both.

    I will also give back to the school community. As I have been SRC for 3 years in a row, I will make sure that I will push myself to improve the school’s community. I will also encourage myself to be the best student that I can, and do my best in my studies, to try and improve wherever I can so I can be a good representitive of the school.

  20. Meandering through the graveyard felt like someone was watching me. Should I forgive him or not I thought out loud as memories of both sides flushed through my brain, And then I arrived. I stared blankly at the engravings on the rusty tombstone. I edged closer to his tombstone and dusted it, it said, In memory of William Anderson (1945-2011). My heart sank as I dropped the flowers and left at once I felt one million shards of regret pierced through my chest reminding me what I would be without him. But the forces of courage pushed back reminding me how he did it.

    I envisioned him coming home from work dead in the morning forcing me to play piano until noon, standing there with an alcohol bottle, whipping me every time I stop or play the wrong note. I remember the times he would come home from the bar and hit me knowing that I passed the bedtime curfew leaving with sore bones and bloody cuts of glass. Once he even through my prized pet fish out of the window and forced me to watch them get pecked boneless by the birds.

    But there were times he helped me on homework and got me the books I wanted and even play video games with me. My father had worked long hours in fact from noon to 2 in the morning every day with no breaks even public holidays. He put food on the table for me and drove me to school everyday. I know my dad was trying to help me. But the cost was unbearable.

    I know I have to chose to forgive or the hold a grudge but I can’t decide hold a grudge and let him haunt my life or forgive him with chances of abusing my own children. My head was tearing apart, I had a flashback showing all the good things he did and his intention but the truth fought back. should i forgive him for destroying my childhood but giving me a great adulthood. I remember how he died, that night when I insisted I want to be a doctor in stead of composer and he died in his sleep because of rage. I thought holding a grudge won’t change much anyway so I forgive him

  21. I will strive with honor to contribute to this school as I am a great fit for the motto Fortiter et fideliter. I shall volunteer with charities Assist at events such as school plays, donating books to the library and lots more. All of the time, I am a mostly positive person. I try to help others and keep on going. Although I havent got a lot of leadership role this year I have gotten house captain and class captain. This will prove that I shall thrive to make this school better in any possible way I can.

  22. Part 2 By Aaron Wang

    If I am able to achieve a scholarship for this school, I will work hard to achieve the absolute best in all that I do. I will participate whenever I am asked. I will joyously do all tasks I am asked to do as well as many extra curricular activities.

    I will also try for a leadership position. I am currently the school vice captain and I hope I will lead this school as well as I will lead my current school. As well as that, I can participate in many extra curricular activities. These include swimming, band and chess. This school has much to offer, and you can be assured I will accept that offer gratefully.

  23. part 1
    Meandering through the graveyard it felt like someone was watching me. Skeletal trees intertwined, creating a canopy above me as I stared down at my lone fathers grave. Kneeling down at the dilapidated tombstone, I gently tossed a white rose onto the bed of flowers that rested upon the grave. The wind blew silently as I sat on the withered grass during the middle of the night. Leaves fell to the ground. I sighed. My father was never kind to me. My multiple attempts to satisfy his constant demands never worked. It seemed I was always doing something wrong.

    My sister and I were treated very differently. My father expected more from me, trapping me behind bars of guilt and shame. His mouth was always full to the brim with disapproval. Each day he pushed me further into the ruthless flames of his temper. He wanted me to feel the endless pain that he felt. I thought I was broken. Broken by the constant criticism and dissatisfaction. I had fury bottled up inside me. I thought I was my fathers punching bag. All the discontentment that I was given when I’ve done nothing wrong, tore me apart. Tormenting memories flooded into my mind, cracking my already damaged heart.

    But… it wasn’t what it seemed. I myself had also thrown spiteful phrases at him. I made rude comments when he didn’t understand. I wasn’t always the victim in this story. I was oblivious to the pain my father faced. I reached into my pocket, grabbing a crumpled medical report. “Why didn’t you tell me you had cancer all along? I muttered under my breath, tears streaming down my face. That’s why he would leave the house at five in the morning and return in the middle of the night, when I was sleeping and oblivious to the hard work he had done. That’s why he saved up so much money. He wasn’t greedy; he was preparing for his passing. I was a child, naive and unable to process the situation. I lay in the endless, painful traumas of my life. Little did I know, my father did too. I believed I was the one who was suffering, the one with endless hardships and pain put upon me but I wasn’t. I was unable to see how much hard work my dad did just to leave us some money when he passed away. I never thought of it like that.

    I stood up, brushing the leaves and twigs off my legs. I made my way through the tombstones, leaving my father to rest, peacefully. He was one of the only people who cared about me. He gave me as much as he could as a single parent. With a final glance at the gravestones and a heavy heart, I left, shutting the rusted iron doors behind me. I forgave him and all that was left was peace and tranquility.

  24. part 2
    Question 1:
    I have always been an academically strong student, and a helpful, kind friend. I am empathetic and respectful with a wide range of interests. I am willing to expand my knowledge at this school and will try my best to succeed and achieve.

    I try my best in every subject and strive to achieve the goals that I have set for myself. All my teachers have said I was a fast learner and a bright student. I passed the OC examination and got top 10% for Math Olympiad and 93 for AMC. At my previous school, I was also elected to represent my class in public speaking back in year 2.

    I am a respectful and sensible student. I love to help people, whether I know them or not. My year five teacher even said that I was kind of like the diffuser in the classroom and can solve problems with optimism. I am a supportive classmate and show compassion for others.

    I have a lot of interests such as robotics, coding, recorder, badminton, drawing, flute and piano. I am currently doing the grade 5 test for piano and passed with an A+ for my previous test. I enjoy hobbies such as art and have recently won 5th place for a drawing competition. I have also performed recorder in the opera house and have also played flute in my previous school’s band.

    I will be able to attend many competitions and fundraisers as well as extra-curricular activities if I attend Plc. I will continue to try my best in all areas and can help other people out. I believe these qualities will contribute to the school.

    Question 2
    Leadership roles of mine include vice SRC and LACLA. In year 3 I was voted vice SRC. I had to go to meetings every wednesday and sacrifice my lunchtime but this experience taught me a lot about responsibility. At my new school Ashfield Public School, I am one of the LACLA monitors. LACLA stands for Let African Children Learn Association. LACLA can teach so much about respect and gratitude. These roles have taught me a lot about teamwork and empathy. To me helping others is more than just a small act of kindness, helping others is how you help yourself.

  25. Part one
    Meandering through the graveyard, it felt like something was watching me. Demonic tendrils of darkness snarled at me as I wandered thoughtlessly through the eerie, inky graveyard. I stumbled over a pebble and came face to face with my father’s headstone. Instantly all my memories of him come whizzing straight to my head. Every critique, all the insults and disrespect.

    During the little time, he was with me, he insulted and critiqued everything I did, no matter how little it was. Every wound I received, he opened it and poured salt into it. He destroyed all that he could of my loved possessions. He decimated my friendships. He never let me have any fun. Friends coming over to my home, are not allowed. Staying at someone else’s home is not allowed.

    Despite this, I had seen him working long hours to provide for my family. He went to sleep late and woke up early to get to work. He spoiled my siblings and turned them against me. Although he despised me, he worked hard and treated my family well. He gave meaningful presents to everyone except for me.

    A battle in my heart raged, do I forgive him for his actions or not? He was heartless to me but kindhearted to everyone else. He spoiled the rest of my family and turned them against me. He helped my friends and taught them life skills. This and that, this and that. The battle was barely progressing. Eventually, I remembered my father’s last words, “tell him I’m sorry.” It was puzzling. Did he mean me? Or someone else. He died soon after saying it. The sound of the heart rate monitor flatlining was forever engrained in my memory.

    The chance of him regretting his actions towards me easily ended the battle. Perhaps he only meant those as a way to help teach me. I walked out of the graveyard. I forgave him.

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