Week 6 Writing Homework
Writing Prompt:
Redo last week’s homework.
‘Classrooms should replace traditional desks with standing or “movement” stations.’
Craft arguments that demonstrate intricate causal relationships, compelling evidence, and rhetorical mastery.
Please upload your homework as a comment below:
- Due Date : September 2, 2025
- Feedback will be shared in 3-5 days
10 thoughts on “Week 6 Writing Homework”
The air in the terminal was a heavy, stale mix of coffee and nervous energy. Leo leaned against a polished stone pillar, his knuckles white where he gripped his bag’s strap. He watched the arrivals board, its bright, digital numbers a flicker of disquiet against the cavernous gloom. Seven years. A chasm measured not just in time but in silence. He hadn’t known what to expect from this moment, but the heavy knot of dread in his gut was a chillingly familiar feeling. The last passengers from the Boston flight began to trickle out, and Leo’s breath caught. Their hollow footsteps echoed on the tile floor like a slow drumbeat, growing closer. His gaze darted across the thinning crowd, searching. And then, he saw her.
Clara hadn’t changed as much as he’d thought. A few more lines were etched around her eyes, but her smile was the same—a little tired, but genuine. The rattle of her suitcase handle against the tile was a familiar sound he hadn’t realized he’d missed. She stopped a few feet away, her eyes scanning the crowd before locking on his.
“Leo?” she said, her voice a little breathy, like she was holding back a sob.
“Mom,” he managed. The word felt foreign, too big for the small space between them.
A silence stretched, filled only by the distant announcements. He wanted to say, “I missed you,” but all he could manage was a foolish observation. “Your hair,” he blurted out.
A small, genuine laugh escaped her. “Yours is longer. It used to be a little boy’s bowl cut. Things definitely change.”
The laughter faded, replaced by a more serious expression. Her eyes, the exact same shade of brown as his, glistened with unshed tears.
“I know I can’t get that time back, sweetheart,” she said, her voice low and steady. “But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Tears welled in his own eyes. The knot in his stomach finally unraveled, replaced by a rushing warmth. He dropped his bag and took a step forward, then another, until he was close enough. He opened his arms, and for the first time in seven years, he was home. Their embrace was tight, a silent conversation of apology, forgiveness, and love that spanned all the years they had lost.
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
6-Sophia Zhang
Two diamond studded earrings dangled from my ears, catching the light to dazzle any onlookers. Hearing a set of feet pounding on the weathered pavement with puffing, I twisted away from a runner whose legs were quivering slightly. The way he ran was… familiar, almost, like I had seen it in a past life. The air was heavy with the scent of waterlogged leaves, with a hint of petrichor, dew glimmering on the leaves. But suddenly, the jogger turned back, his face half lit by the sun, the other half silhouetted in shadows. I stilled my trembling hands. I stood up, spine straighter, each vertebrae more alert. I He tilted his face, an ongoing battle raging inside him. A miniscule, incredibly hopeful smile was forming across his face.
“Well, hello, Arianna. It’s…” he stammered, lost for words. But I couldn’t blame him. A few words would never be able to express our conflicts, our seperation, how much time we had been apart for. A few words would get lost in the war, lost in the huge, looming cavern that divided us.
“Father,” I whispered, the word feeling foreign on my tongue.
“Daughter,” he replied, wiping sweat off his forehead. He flexed his muscles as I noticed; he had gotten much burlier. My father, previously a skinny shrimp, had become a muscular man, tanned skin layered with strength. My heart beat more slowly, until it was going at a ‘largo’ tempo. I dropped my gaze, cheeks burning, fingers clumsily interlacing with each other. I remembered the times where I had thought about his futility and inability to protect me.
There was none of that now.
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
6-Aria Cui
While the young brain undergoes rapid neurodevelopment, 87% of students remain physically static in conventional classrooms. This paradox—where cognitive growth is stifled by environmental inactivity—demands urgent intervention. Replacing traditional desks with standing or movement stations is not a superficial upgrade; it is an instructive recalibration that aligns educational environments with the physiological, psychological, and social realities of learning.
The causal relationship between physical movement and cognitive function is well-established. Prolonged sitting restricts blood flow, reduces oxygenation, and induces neural fatigue. In contrast, standing and dynamic posturing stimulate circulation, which in turn enhances executive function, working memory, and attentional control. A 2022 study from the University of Melbourne found that students using standing desks demonstrated a 14% improvement in sustained attention and a 9% increase in task completion rates. The cause—movement—directly catalyses the effect: sharper cognition.
This physiological activation initiates a chain reaction. Improved focus leads to deeper engagement with content, which fosters better retention and academic performance. But the ripple effect extends further. Movement stations empower students to self-regulate—choosing when to stand, shift, or sway—thus calming autonomy and metacognitive awareness. In classrooms where students are trusted to manage their bodies, they also learn to manage their minds.
Moreover, movement stations dismantle the one-size-fits-all rigidity of traditional seating. Static desks disproportionately disadvantage learners—those with ADHD, sensory sensitivities, or anxiety—by enforcing stillness as a prerequisite for learning. Flexible workstations, by contrast, accommodate diverse needs without dishonour. This inclusive design not only improves individual outcomes but also fosters a culture of empathy and equity. The cause—environmental flexibility—produces the effect: a classroom where every learner belongs.
Critics may argue that movement invites distraction. Yet this concern confuses motion with chaos. In reality, structured movement enhances discipline. A comparative study across 38 NSW schools revealed that classrooms with movement stations reported fewer behavioural disruptions and higher peer collaboration. The longitudinal reconfiguration—less rigid rows, more open flow—encourages spontaneous dialogue and cooperative learning. The cause—physical openness—leads to the effect: intellectual exchange.
From a rhetorical standpoint, the argument for movement stations resonates across all three persuasive appeals. Backed by neuroscientific research and pedagogical expertise. Logos: supported by quantifiable improvements in focus, retention, and behaviour. Grounded in the lived experience of students trapped in chairs that stifle their bodies and minds. Imagine a child forced to sit motionless for six hours, their legs aching, their thoughts drifting—not from lack of interest, but from lack of oxygen.
Ultimately, the stakes are profound. If we cling to outdated furniture, we risk perpetuating outdated learning. But if we embrace movement, we unlock a classroom that breathes, adapts, and evolves. The cause—replacing static desks with dynamic stations—sets in motion a cascade of effects: sharper minds, stronger bodies, inclusive spaces, and empowered learners. The classroom of tomorrow is not silent and still—it is kinetic, collaborative, and alive.
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
6-Varoon
My better version:
It was a quiet afternoon when Emma stood at the bus stop, her fingers twisting nervously around the strap of her backpack. The bus was late, as it always was, but today it felt different. Today, something that had once felt impossible was about to happen.
The bus rounded the corner, and her heart skipped a beat. She took a deep breath, her throat tightening, but she stepped forward anyway. The doors creaked open, and there she was—her mother, standing on the steps, looking exactly the same. Emma’s breath caught in her chest.
“Mom?” Emma whispered, unsure if she was imagining it.
Her mom’s eyes widened. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, her mother’s lips trembled into a smile, and she stepped off the bus.
“Emma,” her voice was soft, shaky, as though she couldn’t quite believe it either. “It’s really you.”
Emma’s mouth went dry. She wanted to say something, anything, but the years of silence between them made it hard. There was so much to say, but nothing felt right. So, instead, she did what her heart told her to do—she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her mother.
Her mom’s arms tightened around her, as if afraid she might disappear again. Emma could feel her mother’s heartbeat against her chest, steady but fast, like her own.
“I’m so sorry, Em. I… I never wanted to leave you,” her mom whispered, her voice thick with regret.
Emma pulled back, wiping away a tear before it could fall. “You don’t have to say sorry. I didn’t understand… but I think I do now. We both had to grow up, right?”
Her mom nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. “I thought about you every day. Every single day. I just didn’t know how to come back. I was scared.” She gave a small, nervous laugh. “I’m still scared.”
Emma smiled, her eyes meeting her mother’s. “I was scared, too.”
For a long moment, they just stood there, the world around them fading into the background. Years of lost time couldn’t be erased in one conversation, but it didn’t matter. The gap between them was already starting to close, one word at a time.
Finally, Emma spoke again, her voice soft but clear. “I’m glad you’re here now.”
Her mother nodded, her smile growing wider. “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
6-Nathan Dou
Here’s my writing
Scholarly W6
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
6-Tricia Yi