Week 5 Writing Homework

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You have had the “Gravity Flu” for one week. Write a diary entry about a day where the illness gives you an unexpected advantage. Perhaps you use your weightlessness to win a game, to see something no one else can, or to help someone in a surprising way. Remember to include: The date and a salutation. A clear account of what happened. Your thoughts and feelings about the events. At least two of the advanced techniques we learned today.

You can access the slides here, the slides are view-only and cannot be downloaded due to copyright and plagiarism concerns: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1mA8P657B_VYjb-neJv1LXxxJ0vvbwESt?usp=sharing

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  • Due Date : November 21, 2025
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16 thoughts on “Week 5 Writing Homework”

  1. Tamim Shahriar

    15 November 2025

    Dear Diary,

    I’ve been sick with a gravity flu for about a week now and whenever I try to jump up, I always float up and I could basically fly. I always have to be careful to not jump at home, because if I do, I might hit the ceiling. It basically feels like being a helium balloon but I could still bounce back to the floor after 10 seconds or so.

    Today was a bit different though. I was playing a cup final for my soccer team and we were losing 1-0 in the last minute, but my teammate sent a high ball and I soared over everyone on the field and smashed the ball with my head to make it 1-1. It was then extra time and whoever scores wins, but in the end of the game, I jumped up and scored a sensational kung fu kick to make it 2-1, so my illness made me a hero.

    Reply
  6. Sehej Dhillon

    November 18, 2025
    Dear Diary,

    I think the Gravity Flu is starting to enjoy messing with me. It’s been one week, and I swear, every day feels like a new trick from a mischievous prankster who’s way too entertained by my confusion.

    Today was one of those days when it threw a curveball I didn’t expect, and it ended up turning into an unexpected advantage. But first, let me tell you how it started.

    I was out with my friend Tom and we decided to play basketball. I’ve been practicing a bit with my weightlessness, trying to get the hang of controlling it better. I’ve got some techniques down—like how to steady myself by focusing on a fixed point, kind of like how a helicopter hovers in place. And I’ve learned that by pushing off certain objects, I can fly in a specific direction, like bouncing off the ground without actually touching it. But there’s still this feeling of “what if I lose control” hanging over me.

    Anyway, back to the game. Tom is, well, he’s good. Super competitive, always trash-talking. I’ve barely managed to keep up with him lately, but today, something about my weightlessness felt different. Maybe the Flu was in a particularly playful mood, or maybe I was finally starting to use it to my advantage, but something changed.

    The ball was coming toward me, and instinctively, I floated just a little too high. I didn’t mean to, but bam—I went up, and the ball flew right past my hand. But instead of crashing down, I noticed that I was just… suspended there. For a moment, everything went still. The world, the ball, Tom—frozen in a perfect frame.

    The Flu, always the prankster, had clearly been waiting for the perfect moment to show off. It was like it knew that if I wasn’t careful, I would drift too high, get distracted, and lose control. But instead, it timed my floating perfectly—right in the middle of the action. I could almost feel it laughing at me, saying, “Now’s your chance. Show them what you can do—or just stay up here and look silly. The choice is yours.”

    I took a breath, steadied myself, and focused. I used what I’d learned about controlling my flight: by focusing on the court lines, I anchored myself mid-air, and with one quick push off the invisible ground beneath me, I soared toward the hoop. Tom, still expecting me to fall back to earth, didn’t see me coming. He barely had time to react. And bam—I dunked the ball while floating. The look on his face was priceless. He just stared at me like I was a magic trick gone too far.

    “Okay, no way, that’s not fair!” he yelled, hands on his hips. I could tell the Flu was having a field day, delighted at how perfectly it had set me up. It was like the Flu had been sitting in the wings, watching me fumble with my weightlessness all week, just waiting for the right moment to turn me into the star of the game. “See? I told you you had it in you,” it seemed to say, almost smugly.

    It got even stranger from there. After I won the game (obviously, since I could just float over his shots), I noticed something really odd. We were walking back to the car when a group of kids came running toward us, laughing. One of them had a kite that got stuck in a tree. Without a second thought, I floated up and grabbed the string, bringing it down with ease. It was like the Flu wasn’t just a prankster now—it was a helper, too.

    As I landed, a little girl ran up to me, eyes wide. “You can fly?” she asked in awe.

    “Sort of,” I said, a grin spreading across my face. “It’s like… gravity just decided to take a break for me.”

    The Flu, ever the trickster, gave me that moment of heroism, too. It felt strangely good to be useful, to float up and help. But it was also a little bittersweet. The more I used it, the more I realized how much I still miss the simple feeling of being rooted. It’s like the Flu’s constant joke: it keeps you floating, never really letting you rest on solid ground.

    Still, I’m starting to get better at controlling it. The hovering technique I’ve been working on is improving. By focusing on my core and letting my body follow my movements, I can float like I’m walking in midair. But the real trick is knowing when to stop—when to bring myself back down before I just drift away. And I’ve learned how to adjust my direction mid-flight by thinking of the ground as my “reflex” point, something like a springboard. It’s like I’m always on the edge of control, which feels both freeing and frustrating. It’s like I’m always teetering on the edge of falling… but never quite doing it.

    In the end, it was another day of unpredictable chaos. The Flu has its highs and lows—today was a mix of both. A winning shot, a floating kite, a little bit of humor, and a strange sense of power. I still can’t tell if it’s all just one big cosmic joke or if I’m actually getting the hang of this. Maybe a bit of both. But I have to admit, for once, I’m not that mad at it. If the Flu can make me win a game and rescue a kite, I’ll take it.

    Tomorrow, who knows what it’ll have in store for me. Maybe it’ll turn me into a superhero, or maybe I’ll end up floating straight into a tree. Either way, I’m sure the Flu will be there, laughing at me from the sidelines, waiting for the next prank.

    Until then,
    Me

    Reply
  8. Riya Prabhakaran

    29 March 2025
    Dear Diary,

    The Gravity Flu has been annoying all week, but today something unexpected happened. I was in the library during recess, trying to finish my homework, when the strange weightless feeling returned. It’s like the flu has a mind of its own, tapping my shoulder and going, “Time to float again,” right when I least want it.

    I reached for a book on the top shelf, one of the ones no one ever bothers with because they’re practically touching the ceiling. Just as I stretched my arm, the lightness lifted me off the ground, slow and quiet, like someone turning down gravity with a dial. The air felt cooler and smoother up there, almost like the whole library changed as I rose above everyone’s heads. I grabbed the book without even thinking about the fact that my feet weren’t on the floor.

    Mrs Patel walked past and froze. She looked up at me with the most shocked face I’ve ever seen. I honestly didn’t know whether to apologise or pretend this was completely normal. I gently floated back down, trying not to make it look obvious that I had no control over any of it. She laughed and said, “Well, I wish I had that ability for shelving,” which actually made me feel better. Usually the Gravity Flu feels like a nuisance, but today it felt like I was seeing things no one else could — the tops of shelves, dust patterns, sunlight hitting the windows from a whole different angle. It was strangely peaceful up there.

    Later, I used the floating to help a little Year 3 kid who lost his toy car behind a giant book trolley. It had rolled way underneath, but the weightlessness lifted me just enough to reach over the whole thing and grab it. He looked at me like I was some kind of secret superhero. I still don’t love being sick, but for the first time all week, it didn’t feel like something happening to me. It felt like something I could actually use.

    That’s today’s chaos,
    Riya

    Reply

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