narrative-life in the jungle

The huddle of snakes loomed over the unconscious, writhing globule of flesh nested within the leaves. It seemed as if the jungle's world had stopped just for this baby-and all the jaguars, toucans and insects paused in their daily rush for survival to ogle at this grub-like being. Beneath the harsh, unforgiving burn of the tropical sun a few warbled cries emitted from the pile of leaves.

Although compelled by its pitiful, bulging figure, not a creature stirred for fear that the snakes might lash out at them. There was no doubt the human youngling would have to face its own morose fate. 

Za, the fearsome leader, stared unblinkingly at the bulky package. A globule of saliva glistened on his right fang. Snapping his neck back, he shot up. Leaves shot up from his path. He hovered in the air, dancing menacingly. The trembling youngling gave him a blank look. His scarlet eyes gleaming with gustatory glee, he was perfectly poised to sink those fangs into such plump, juicy meat. 

"Za, wait." a voice croaked from behind. 

As heads turned, the circle of snakes quickly dispersed as they gave way to the figure crouched behind their leader. 

Za whipped his head around. His eyes pierced the figure behind him, but as he identified the snake he relaxed his posture. 

"Boong."

"Give me the child."

Za tilted his head menacingly, tongue flicking in and out as he boasted those razor-sharp fangs. 

"I respect you as an elder, however king gets the first bite." Boong shook his weathered, wrinkly head dismissively. 

"I don't aim to satisfy my hunger, little Za," he slithered leisurely over to the child and stared into its glassy gaze. "I ask that you let me care for it."

Za's croons stiffened. Za's own blood froze, as he cocked his neck at his own advisor. Even the burrow animals had emerged to dolefully observe, fearing for the wise snake. The air felt thick. Had a pin dropped in that very forest, you would have heard it hit the ground. 

"Alright."

If any of the snakes had shoulders, you would have seen them immediately sink in relief. "And how do you plan to care for... it?"

Boong smiled, his weathered, chipped fangs coming into view. 

"The same way I took care of you all these years."

And with that the baby clambered onto Boong's back. No one questioned how it had been inclined to do so, but as Boong feebly slunk away it was certain that he would already raise another formidable, powerful creature.

persuasive-fairytales are misleading

 stereotypes between boys and girls

expectations of life

future in jeopardy

30MIN

Fairytales have most often been one of the most popular forms of entertainment, but they are just as misleading as they are enjoyed. Don't believe me? Think of young generations, baited at a young age to believe all sorts of stereotypes and have unrealistic expectations of themselves and others that they will have to one day tearfully realise aren't true. This does horrific things to young minds and futures. We cannot lead impressionable children into what feels like a real-life horror story. After all, why build up all these dreams just to crush them mercilessly?

The first thing one might think of pertaining to fairytales and fables would be the stereotypes automatically ingrained into brains as soon as those messages and themes are repeated. Think of Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, or Cinderella, white princesses who waited all day for white men to save them. How would young girls or boys of colour feel like they could be capable of doing great things if traditionally white characters where the heroes? How would a young girl be able to save herself from danger if she's taught to wait around until someone comes to help? If these ideologies aren't reversed, then there's no one to teach them otherwise and these insecurities and illusions of incapability are carried straight into adulthood. 

Not only do these made-up stories destruct open-mindedness, they also build a false 'storyline' and expectations that mere school-age children already expect themselves to follow. If every admirable, pretty, thin waisted princess always has to meet her prince, wear dresses or never do sports then young girls already expect that of themselves before their real lives have even started and they've even any time to figure out their sexuality or personality. If every young boy believes he must never show emotion and only be strong for others then there's no doubt they'll grow into young men who feel as if they cannot confide in anyone. These are not ideals they personally aimed for-they are the ideals that society forces them into. 

With fairytales plaguing young mindsets and expectations, it's no doubt that their futures are in jeopardy as well. Adult life is far from your average fable, but of course coddled and fondled offspring have never been prepared for such a brutal reality. Kidnapping, jobs, colleagues that are wolves in sheep's clothing and all sorts of other issues pose a risk to any and every child. But if the child was raised and prepared properly then they would deal with such problems effortlessly. They would know that life requires problem-solving skills, wit and skill from them and not a skinny body or big muscles. However those raised on fables would never know this-so who is going to have to painfully expose them to reality apart from life itself?

Fairytales always end in happy endings, but reading them can end in a nightmare for the fragile and impressionable minds of the young generation. Children need to believe in diversity, to rejoice in all the joys our society offers and believe in themselves and their capability. Recycled fairy stories with the same plots and the same characters only twists young minds and ruins futures before they've even started. Don't make real life feel like a unfair, brutal awakening. Let children live out their own stories. 

narrative-the wide open plains

 someone journeying through endless plains, hallucinations of salvation but they're not true

30MIN

It provided Grace little solace to see the pages and pages of tallies in her journal counting the days it had been in her search for freedom.

After all, a story of journeying through the wide open plains every day was far too banal to keep a diary. She hadn't known how long it had been since she was in that horrific city, but even envisioning the torture she'd be put through if she'd stayed fueled her every step, every heave of her bulky knapsack.

But the longer she traveled, the more she saw that there was no disparity in the insanity she felt either in the prison or in her escape. The sun seeped into her frock and her hair clung to her face. Grace looked up, a feeling of utter helplessness sinking her shoulders. She had never felt so isolated-not even accompanied by a cloud for miles around. 

Grace didn't know how long it had been since the sun had risen. She assumed it was midday, as it had already halfway made its journey through the sky. She jigged her sagging knapsack so that it hitched up her back a bit more, and trudged on through the uniform grass. Grace looked about her plain surroundings. However, instead of being greeted with the same old view of endless green land, for once there was a small figure in the distance. 

Grace didn't think twice before darting towards the blob. Her possessions clunked in her knapsack. Her clammy palms slipped on the straps. Her knees buckled every now and then. But the prospect of finding someone else in this segregating environment made her heart beat just that little bit faster, made her push forward just that little bit further. 

For the first time in ages, Grace was deliriously smiling at the possibility that she had found her safe haven. The blob began to take form and shapes and lines came into view. Grace's feet skidded, the girl staggering as her lips parted at the sight before her. She wiped at a sheen of cold sweat that had formed on her forehead. 

A imposing, grand hotel loomed over her. It was a wonder she hadn't seen it ages before-this building stretched up to the bare skies. Even the hundreds of window panes scattered across its surface appeared to be coated in gilt. 

The mahogany door swung open, beckoning Grace to enter. She took a few tentative steps. Heart pounding, she push the door further open as she ogled at the inside. 

Her knapsack tumbled to the ground. It was as if  the inside was even bigger than its shell suggested, if that was possible. Beneath a resplendent chandelier, the hotel was full of bustling butlers and servants with neatly trimmed mustaches. Satin and silk draped the walls, and a spiraling staircase led up to rows and rows of shimmering hotel room doors. Grace swore she could see her reflection in the spotless marble floor, as she whipped her head round. 

An elegant receptionist was ensconced upon a plush seat, seeming to beckon Grace over with her coy gaze.

Grace meandered over to her. Attempting to smooth back her greasy locks, she tried to make conversation with the first human she had come into contact with for ages. 

"Hello, do you think I could stay here?"

The receptionist continued to smile at her with glossy lips, her eyes glassy.

"Hello? Is this a hotel?" 

The receptionist continued to beam, almost menacingly. Grace waved a grubby hand in front of her unwavering eyes. "Hello?"

There was a faint rumbling sound in the distance as the receptionist continued to stare blankly. Grace looked about her; the servants had miraculously disappeared. The gilt-coated window panes dissipated into the air. The chandelier faded into nothingness. The hotel was crumbling into the air. Grace averted her gaze back to the receptionist-whose form was diaphanous as she vanished into thin air. 

And as Grace looked about the wide open plains, accompanied by only her knapsack and the sinking sun, she dropped to her knees. 

There had been no hotel, had there?

persuasive-limited places in schools

 30MIN

 learning, focus, 

friends, environment, delinquents

teachers, resources, buildings

With the rapidly growing population meaning more children are crammed in schools, it's time we take a step back and start limiting the number learning institutions can accept. Although it's a given that every child deserves education we must still uphold standards where schools should be able to fund enough resources to support their students. Where both teachers and students can be in a safe, close and connected community. Where classrooms aren't a traffic jam of children and teachers. If we want our children to make the most of their learning time then we must limit places in schools.

Most students already have trouble focusing in class, but add that to a large classroom of peers and they'll struggle more than ever before. If no teacher can keep such a large amount of students in line then there's no doubt things get out of hand. Troublemakers will find this is their time to shine, and this disrupts everyone's education. Sharing ideas in a small group helps students focus on only a few ideas at a time-who wants to pipe up over a mumbo-jumbo of cluttered voices and ideas? How would children develop confidence, focus and teamwork skills if large classrooms hinder them?

If it's not bad already for an easily distracted student, you'll dread to find out how relationships with students worsen the more of them there is. How do you find an accepting friend group among the sea of kids? We simply cannot let schoolkids feel segregated from their peers simply because they're lost in the large crowd. And the more lenient the school is with student numbers, the more chance there is for delinquents to plague the system. If parents of such troublemakers desperately need to find a school then it's no wonder they choose the easiest option. Don't make your child fear school. Don't make them feel like a fish out of water.

Those who work at schools even suffer from an increase of students themselves. With more resources being distributed to children the school will eventually have to downgrade because they can't afford to support such a large community. How will kids be able to learn properly if they're not using proper learning material? And with all the students bustling in the hallways and dirtying up precious schools teachers suffer keeping them all under control and cleaners toil after the messes they leave behind. Money might even have to be wasted on new buildings to hold all these kids-so along with paying all these workers and for school supplies, parents have even more to worry about financially.

So next time you see a school start limiting places of new students, give them your praise. They're doing this to preserve the safety and wellbeing of their students. They're maintaining a comfortable and close community. They're making sure students learn properly and teachers teach properly, and what's more they're saving the money of their consumers. Flinging the gates open and letting swarms of students enter the school will only end terribly.

narrative-the skatepark

 30MIN

Angela was in awe.

Utterly abject awe.

Of course, however, it wasn't visible on the girl's stone-like expression. An infinitesimal flicker of wonder encompassed her features, but as the car passed it she turned back to her parents' conversation.

"...all those hooligans on skateboards! Smoking, vaping..." her mother rambled on about the skatepark the car had just passed. Angela's father fixed his gaze on the road, exhuastion settling into his eyes.

"Yes, yes, Mary dear, I'll demolish it soon. It wouldn't be favourable to have Angela be influenced by them." and at this they both turned at their precious daughter, Mary Stone fluttering her eyelashes in a menacing yet fawning manner. "After all, she's got to practice for that National Maths Competition."

Angela gulped ever so discreetly and shrank into her seat, just as the car slid into the mansion's garage.

It was no wonder that she was immediately sent to her room with a piling tower of maths. But not more than a minute had passed and the poor girl's head was already underwater, the jumble of numbers and equations floating around her in a somnolent trance. Her gaze drifted over to her full-length window. The afternoon sun emanated warmth throughout the beach, as 'normal' teenage girls basked in the warmth. 

Angela's eyes latched onto a gaggle of girls, tittering as their ice cream cones threatened to slip from their grips. They didn't have to sit inside and do maths on such a nice day. They got to live out the rest of their childhoods. Envy, followed by rage made her stiffen and unknowingly glower at the girls. How I wonder no one felt her seething glare pierce into their backs-perhaps they were too enraptured by their own activities.

However, Angela's temperament settled as quickly as it had bubbled up as she saw where they were heading.

How come she had never seen the skatepark from her window before?

The curiosity had gotten better of the cat. Angela tensed as she darted down the stairs, feet barely brushing against the mahogany. Her heart was pounding in her ears, however it was quickly stifled by the beastly snores of her father. The door clicked ever so softly. And Angela ran into the night, the utter feeling of freedom making a wry grin appear. 

Was it midnight? Angela barely knew, but it was dark enough that no sound reverberated around the beach whatsoever, save for the gentle undulant waves creeping up the shore. She took a tentative, sluggish step onto the skatepark. The chilly concrete made her breath hitch. Another step. 

Angela felt more at home looking down at this twisting, turning mass of concrete more than she ever did doing maths sums. She could already feel the exhilaration as she swooped down a ramp, or spun in the air. She saw what the other kids did-filling the air with spins and tricks, whooping and cheering with joy. Angela wanted to be like that. She wanted to be like them more than she had ever wanted to be the mayor's daughter. 

A forgotten skateboard in the corner caught her eye. It almost beckoned her over, the girl lumbering towards it as if hypnotised. Angela picked it up, reveling in the rough surface and gentle clatter it made as it fell. She looked back towards the skatepark, a whirl of thoughts and fears dissipating from her head as she realised what fate wanted her to do. 

And it all started with that one foot on the skateboard.

persuasive-free tram travel

 work, school, important life, traffic

financial needs, pollution

gives job opportunities

30MIN

Free tram travel, to many, is a luxury. The fact that we even have to pay just to get from one place to another in this society is ridiculous. Not only is commuting for work/school more efficient, but everyone's financial needs are supported. The workers themselves benefit from more jobs. Even wildlife can thank free tram travel for not coughing up masses of gas into our ecosystem. What can we say-free tram travel is not only life-saving, but it can also make our lives easier!

Chances are most tram passengers will be students or people going to work. Yes, these services benefit those the most. But consider the needs of each and every one of them. Imagine not having a parent to drive you around. Imagine struggling so financially you can't afford a car to get you to work. Maybe you're even disabled. It is despicable to make people pay for services that should be free simply because they were burdened by problems they didn't cause themselves. Would it cost you that must to spare a bit of pity on such helpless fellow humans?

Less vehicles and bicycles on the roads also means less streets jam-packed with cars. If we can afford trams, it is imperative that we utilise them. This is because there is significantly less traffic-meaning people can get where they need to be faster, whether it be on the tram or in another vehicle. No one should have to wake up ridiculously early to avoid heavy traffic when there could be free tram services saving everyone's time. Believe it or not nature benefits, too. The amount of exhaust that comes from a car seems minuscule-however the accumulated amount coming from hundreds of cars every day has detrimental effects on our ozone layer and global warming. We cannot further burden ourselves or our environment by packing cars onto our streets. If free tram services can prevent all this, then it's no question that we need them.

Even tram drivers and companies benefit from free services, believe it or not. Transporting people for free means demands for trams will be higher, and voila-more job opportunities for those in need. From production in factories to delivering parts, the entire economy is rewarded. People can feed their families. Pay hospital bills. Provide driving experience for the young generation. It can even become a form of persecution, a free way for criminals to be punished and still contribute to the community. So not only are free trams giving back to the public, but those who offer those services receive something back. 

Now that you've seen how beneficial and essential free tram travel is, you can clearly see that it's more of a right than a preference. Everyone benefits-students, adults, the public, the economy and the environment. Making people pay for something that could easily be free does not say good things about the benevolent, advanced society we are meant to be living in. Do you want innocent people to bear the burden? Do you want to ruin our future before it's even started?

narrative-the field

 family recieves nothing from their field, child digs it up, woop woop there's jewels

30MIN

The Rhyder children exchanged appalled glances over the bowl of cold vegetable soup placed in the middle of the table. They coughed awkwardly, mumbled their graces, but dug in with the sort of reluctant manner that made Mrs. Rhyder grimace at the guilt of not being able to feed her children properly. As the gentle clinking of soup spoons reverberated around the kitchen, Mr Rhyder watched his wife slip in with concern wrinkling her face. His face was equally grim.

"What's wrong?"

"Why are the children having to eat cabbage soup again? I thought you could get some chicken? At least another vegetable?"

Mr Rhyder solemnly looked out the scratched window that encapsulated the fields outside, rubbing his patchy stubble as he contemplated. 

"The chickens have died. Something's wrong with the field, then that affects the chicken feed." Mrs. Rhyder looked out in the same direction, heart twisting painfully at the growling thunder and the dreary mass of accumulated rain clouds. It made no sense-they had gotten a decent downpour lately, and the sun wasn't too bad. The wind whistled through the door crack. Mrs. Rhyder sharply stood up, staring down the length of her knobbly nose at this morose, sulking husband of hers. 

"Well do something about it," she snapped as she skulked back towards the dining room. "They not going to live much longer if they eat cabbage soup every day."

Mr Rhyder said nothing, watching her torn frock drag out the door.

Annie Rhyder smiled out at the field, reveling in the whoops and cheers her siblings emitted as they soaked up the sunrays. It felt like it had been ages since her bare feet had touched such ticklish, blanket-like grass. Her gaze travelled back up to the veranda, where her mother's worried face stared back over at her. The family had to live off cabbage soup for the following days(although resources were so scarce that they might even be running out of cabbages) and Mrs Rhyder couldn't even enjoy the sun, or the congenial weather that the skies offered. Annie knew all she could see were her shrinking children, the cheekbones and skin stretching over their ribs. A guilty feeling stirred in her stomach-but what could she do about it except for make the most of the sun?

She stooped down to play with a spot of dead earth, scratching at the ground. Yes, Annie would make the best dirt-castle her three brothers had ever laid eyes on. She scooped the handful of dirt to one side. Drove another hand in. The cheers and tomfoolery of her siblings were faint by now, muffled by the mounds of the dead harvest surrounding them. She repeated the process, until she had a satisfactory dirt pile adjacent to her. 

Annie bent forwards to make one final scoop. However, instead of feeling the dry earth slip between her fingers, a sharp pain shot up her arm. Retracting her hand rapidly, she clutched it to the chest where a spot of crimson trickled down her day clothes. Timidly, she reached out and brushed away the layer of dust coating the sharp object.

These weren't seeds. They weren't roots, either. Neither of those glimmered in the sanguine sunlight as this object did. With an odd swell of temerity encompassing her chest, she reached inside and tugged the object out. 

A distinct knob of gold glimmered from between her grubby fingers. 

persuasive-perfection

 never satisfied, high standard, good qualities

get a better use out of life, more applicable for jobs and whatever you want is at a good standard

others without those qualities, teamwork

30MIN

Having perfectionist qualities is something either you love or hate. However it can be proven that having high standards reaps more benefits. After all, you can even achieve more useful traits such as discipline with high standards! Not only are you going to get more out of life or a career but it will also be harder to satisfy you, meaning you receive things at a high quality. Some might say perfectionists are self-absorbed and harder to work with-but this is nonsense and there's logical evidence to back it up. So start aiming for the best. You'll never know where it might take you!

Never being satisfied with your own work may sound negative, but in fact this even improves your personality. Pushing yourself to produce only the best quality work strengthens organisation, productivity and self-discipline. These are all traits a perfectionist picks up as they strive to do their best. After all, a person who is satisfied with mediocre work won't strive to attain those necessary qualities because they aren't as determined to do their best. After all, what kind of person is affable if they don't make the effort?

As being a perfectionist makes you a better person, it's highly likely that life will only send good things your way. From being a boss to going to a restaurant, being a perfectionist always comes in handy. If you only like things at a high quality, then others will make sure their work is at a high standard so you are satisfied. The same goes the other way-if you have to impress someone (e.g. a strict boss) then you'll be sure they'll be more than appreciative of the hard work you present to them. Not only will you be more likeable, but life will be more smooth sailing. Who wants to be associated with a procrastinator?

Those who might oppose perfectionists are usually procrastinators themselves. However, those people are the ones who fall hardest when life throws a challenge at them. If you can't be bothered to work at a high standard, contribute to your colleagues, or be polite enough to important people, then it's only you who suffers the consequences. Perfectionists are thoughtful enough to keep this in mind whenever they do something. That's why they'll make the effort to be amiable, cooperative and precise at whatever they do. At the end of the day, it's no wonder those who can't be bothered are despised-knowing that they lack enough care to help makes no one feel good.

Having high standards makes life smooth sailing. If you're satisfied with a boat full of holes, there's no wonder you're going to sink before you've started your journey through life. Not only do you become a better person, but you also motivate others to become hard workers and this simply results in a better life for you. From having your kids receive the best education to inventing life-saving devices others will thank you for being a perfectionist. Don't be a burden-be the saviour.

narrative-wild weather

 30MIN

Wild storm appears on a land which has always had sunshine, futuristic city

Alyssa Violet was indeed the most esteemed 13 year old of the city, but equally the most envied person. 

"Perhaps her pocket money is more than my month's wage,"

"Look at her in that ridiculous skirt-must have cost more than our hoverboard!" 

Taunts like these fluttered about her as she strolled down the street, flocked by bodyguards or servants alike. She paid no heed to these, however-if you were lucky you might get the slightest blank glance in your direction as she promenaded off, nose in the air. 

Yet these were remarks made by even their wealthy neighbours that also lived in the skyscraper filled, urban district. God, who knew what the desolate on the other side of town thought of the richest man's daughter. 

The poor, to Alyssa, were almost like a fairytale-she had heard only of them in stories. If she strained hard enough she could see the mounds of tents and factories from her 9th bedroom. But it was clear that her stone faced father was eager to only ostracise them from his precious daughter. To everyone it would have seemed as if Mr Violet was heartless if it weren't for the copious amounts of care he put into his daughter's safety. Thanks to him, she had never even lived to see a day where there had been a storm.

However, that all changed one day. 

Alyssa rose from her 13th bedroom, peering out from her eyemask in a somnolent trance. She stared out her glass window. However, instead of being greeted with the usual warm ways caressing her face as they always did a sharp, biting gust of wind slapped her. She jumped back, gasping for air. What had happened to the sun?

At that moment a butler promptly rushed in with her breakfast tray, a concerned look gracing his wrinkled face.

"Ms Violet? What seems to be the matter?"

Alyssa remained speechless, however a shaky, manicured hard lifted itself to the window. The butler's gaze followed its direction. His lips parted underneath his trimmed moustache. "Oh."

The biggest storm of the century was brewing. Fearsome, looming masses of raincloud accumulated above skyscrapers. Already whirlwinds of papers and rubbish had swirled up to even the highest levels, fluttering in the harsh wind. The wind whistled in a grating, rasping tone as the glass rattled. And, somewhere in the distance, there was a distinct rumbling that did not leave a good feeling mingling in Alyssa's stomach. 

"What's that, Davey?" The soft whisper emanated from the girl. Contrary to the haughty disposition others assumed she had, the meek, gentle Alyssa the butler knew couldn't harm a butterfly.

His breath hitched under that bush of a mustache, wincing at facing the wrath of his boss. The window pane shivered in their silence. A lightning bolt flashed in the distance, inciting a small squeak from the girl. The wind was already howling by now, lamp posts bending under the pressure. 

A sharp bang from the other side of the room caught their attention. The door whipped open, and a large, stocky man barged in. His narrowed, beetle-like eyes zoned in on the pair. However, as Davey was accustomed to, his boss's sharp gaze softened an infinitesimal amount as they laid on his daughter. He cleared his gruff morning voice. Straightened his tie.

"Let's go, Alyssa," he growled, an underlying sinister tone sending shivers up Davey's back. "Something's gone wrong."

persuasive-cleaning duties for students

 teach discipline, important life skills

cleanliness, better schools

money and resources saved

Students cleaning classrooms? That's unheard of in the western world, where any sort of helping out is a punishment to most kids. However implementing these sorts of activities into school life is more important than you think-financially, educationally and environmentally. Yes, cleaning duties in classrooms might as well just be as important as the teaching itself! So if you want future generations to be disciplined, grateful individuals you'll never get going if you don't start early.

Discipline can be difficult to implement in a class full of rowdy kids, but cleaning duties changes that and so much more effortlessly. Having a cleaning routine, organising materials, and toiling to get the room spotless means the skills such as organisation, dedication and problem solving will be in practice for students to use in later life. If they don't practice now, they'll never get the hang of it! It even allows them to practice cleaning properly for when they move out or work a part time job. Wouldn't it be embarrassing if you graduated and still were never taught how to mop floors properly?

Along with strengthening young minds, cleaning duties also do the double job of ensuring your children have a welcoming space to learn in. Hired cleaners rush to care for a whole school-if each class focuses on one classroom, chances are they'll pay more attention to detail and dedicate themselves. This results in a clean, comfortable learning environment. And signs of good education is always a spotless school, where students have no distractions and can be reassured that they can be safe in a space that is well cared for. After all, who has pride in a filthy classroom?

Having children do cleaning duties for free means everyone can invest in better things. Schools can invest in better resources for education, resulting in an enhanced learning experience. Parents can pay less for school fees that go into cleaning and more into the reassurance that their child can recieve the maximum potential out of their education. No one wants to waste money on unnecessary things, especially when they could get so much more out of another free option. It's your money. If you're spending it, shouldn't you be responsible enough to use it for the best?

Students may moan and groan when hearing of cleaning, but there won't be many grumbles for long when they hear of the benefits. To think that their education, future and financial status is secure just with the help of cleaning the classroom every day! Having a classroom is a gift. Being able to discipline and learn by yourself just with chores is a gift. Thus it is imperative that children start cleaning duties in the classroom. After all, you never know where it might take them.

narrative-second best

 someone is always second best than their sister-but in an anonymous competition, they turn out to be the true best

nonnono beauty pageant where she always wins second-turns it its not so bad winning second

30MIN

Jane had never hated someone of her own family more than she did now.

Amira, however, paid no need to her sister's seething glare and continued to apply her makeup, swiping on her lipstick with one flick of the tube. It seemed she was too lost in her own reflection to even care.

Jane looked back at her own mirror, flinching at her plain features. It was wrong to have such a loathing for her own sister-but she was sick of it. Sick of being second best. Sick of watching that wretch waddle up to the stage every year, flutter those broom-like lashes and give a knowing smile to the crowd that Jane knew was directly aimed at her. 

Why wasn't she the one with blond hair? Jane picked up a straggly, lackluster brown stand and tucked it back in her bun. She hadn't even been the one born with sparkling, translucent blue eyes. But tell that to her pageant freak of a mum. 

To be truly honest, all she wanted to do was be a normal girl-maybe even do writing competitions or be praised for being a good student. But in a world where everyone thought her sister was prettier, all she yearned for in this moment and time was to win at least one competition to prove everyone wrong.

She didn't want to be second best.

"Good luck," Amira said, silky voice floating towards Jane. Jane whirled around in her seat and mustered the grimmest expression she could, to which only Amira blew a kiss, eyes narrowed. 

Jane must have been glowering at the makeup-room exit for quite some time, because someone meekly tapped her shoulder. Startled, she turned back around and yelped. The person jumped backwards, almost toppling over in the piles of taffeta and silk their waist was swathed in. 

"Sorry about that," a girl said, brushing her black locks past her shoulder. "I'm Gerogia! I'm new here, so I was hoping I could make some friends." 

Jane was not in the mood, and her lips pursed slightly at the injustice of constantly being swarmed by prettier girls. 

"Oh, but I've heard of your sister though. I hate her already."

Jane was about to turn back to her own business when her ears perked up at the insult. Before Georgia had time to process anything, Jane's enthusiastically shaking hand was in  hers.

"My name's Jane."

Boy, had Jane underestimated Georgia. No wonder she had been so captivated by the girl on their first acquaintance. Without fail, Georgia had already become an audience favourite, her sanguine aura and approachable energy quite unfamiliar in a place filled with fake smiles. Oohs reverberated around the stage as she displayed herself in each intricate outfit, laughs echoing even down to the dressing room as she gave witty responses to the judges.

The judges glanced at each other approvingly, as the contestants strutted up next to each other. Jane had tried her best, but she didn't really know what else to do that would make her stand out. However, it was already worth it to see her trembling mess of a sister, a tear clinging to the corner of her eye for fear of  ruining her mascara. Amira's forced smile had strained itself even further as she desperately looked out to her mother in the judges' seat. 

Her mother helplessly stared back, gesturing for her daughter to keep smiling.

"Runners-up..."

The judges' announcements sounded drowsy and underwater, as Jane slipped into a somnolent trance. The slight hitches of the other girls' breaths and twitching movements seemed miles away, even as they were crammed like glittery sardines in a tin. All she wanted to hear was who was in second place. 

"Second place..." 

All Jane's senses came back into sharp focus. Snapping back into reality, her eyes drilled into her mother as her glossy lips moved over the microphone.

"...Jane Smith."

Not a surprise. But what was the true surprise (or perhaps the most predictable outcome, depending on how you looked at it) was that Georgia had come in first by a long shot. No sharp pang of ignominy pierced Jane this time. In fact, she looked satisfyingly over at Georgia, draped in the winner's sash and shot her a genuine smile. Jane didn't even care to look over at her sister, or be bothered by her anguished wails which were drowned by the applause and cheering. 

Perhaps being second best could still teach others a lesson.

persuasive-buses with seatbelts

 safety, emergency

making use of resources, being advantaged

education

30MIN

Seatbelts are essential for any road trip where the passengers must be assured that they can ride safe. And with buses being the most accident-prone, largest capacity vehicle, it makes sense that they deserve them the most. Protecting our community's safety is not only important, but so is using money and resources for the better and being able to educate old and young on the importance of using seatbelts anywhere, everywhere. Hundreds of lives could be saved with enforcing more seatbelts on buses. Do you want to be the cause of such deaths?

When travelling anywhere on the road, safety is essential. It's one thing to drive safe, however we cannot always prevent drunk drivers or slippery roads. Even in such a meticulous, careful society we still have kids flying out of cars and brain injuries caused by heads smashing against windows. In buses there are even more accidents because of the large space and numerous amount of people-not to mention the clumsy, long shape they take. To think that a death could be prevented with a mere seatbelt. It's true! No matter how hard you can hold onto chairs or armrests, they will never provide as much protection and support as a seatbelt.

Some might say that putting seatbelts on buses wastes money. But any decision we make in today's society costs money-and if we do spend some, it's for the better that we're investing in our safety. We cannot scrimp and save for luxurious houses we don't need if the money could be spent on something crucial for road safety. Think about suffering third world countries. In busy, traffic jammed streets, you'd think people there would spend money on seatbelts if it was the first thing they could afford. If we can afford seatbelts, why not take advantage of that? Wouldn't you prioritise others' lives over pieces of paper with dollar signs?

Another good use of seatbelts we get is the education that it offers. This may not be the sort of thing you learn in the classroom, but as you've seen how imperative it is that we wear them for our safety implementing them into our daily lives reminds us how we should practice this protection and always wear a seatbelt. Children who refuse to wear a seatbelt will eventually pipe down when they see that they have to wear one even on buses. Teenagers who practice wearing seatbelts could avoid heavily damaging their lives and futures with one night drive without them on. Responsibility and security on the street is the most important thing we can learn, and that's not possible without the use of seatbelts.

Hundreds, even thousands of people die every year due to not wearing seatbelts on buses. Lives wasted. Families destroyed. Futures torn apart at the hands of reckless drivers and road accidents. We need to utilise the resources we have for these life-saving devices, as we can afford them. Be grateful for the power to wear seatbelts on buses if you can. Be grateful for lives saved by implementing them. Be grateful for the good life skills and responsibility you can pass on to future generations. After all, life is precious! 

narrative-beyond the sea

 someone lives on a boat, watches the uncivilised humans on an island do terrible things, yet she can't/can survive by herself?

used to live in an equally uncivilised society

30MIN

It was as if, even after all the perfidious torture on the island, Bartholomew had still remained the same benign boy as he had always been.

Oh, how his heart ached when he heard the screams of the sacrifices, or when he cast his eyes on the gaunt, pallid expressions of the girls. Everyone else had been desensitised after witnessing so many horrors. But not Bartholomew Quentin, the meek mousy son of the chief.

It had been yet another banal day on the island. The sun's sanguine rays sifted through the clouds, onto the land which would once again be splattered with blood (as it had been the day before, and the one before that...). The nooses fluttered in the gentle breeze like washcloths. Bartholomew, who had been anxiously watching them, was ensconced onto a straw throne beside his dad. He didn't dare to steal a glance at his father's face, but sure enough he could feel waves of intimidation and belligerence rippling off the stocky, hippo-like beast. An unsettling emotion wrung his heart as he looked over the sea of sacrifices. They traipsed along the path, chanting a solemn prayer as they lined up before the executors as if programmed to do so. Bartholomew writhed uncomfortably in his chair, feeling the helpless eyes of  mere children burn into him as they looked at him from below. 

Yes, the matter at hand surely did not suit the convivial weather that morning. 

As Bartholomew strained to avert his attention to the sea, a speck in the distance caught his eye. It glided over the waters, in a dragged, lazy movement, before stopping still.

Was that... a person? 

Bartholomew's lips parted in shock. He gripped the scratchy armrest of his throne, but kept his mouth shut. After all, he had seen many times what his father would do to any foreigners who approached their island. 

How he wanted to wave the person away, to yell warnings of the island and save their life. 

But Bartholomew Quentin was a coward, and always had been. 

The person stood perfectly still and erect on their little sailboat, staring at the scene as if hypnotised. No one noticed them, even if they were the only sight on the horizon more miles around. As the screams echoed around him, and the usual thudding of bodies were muffled by the sand, they continued watching. Bartholomew squinted at the figure-perhaps a girl-and questioning yet admiring her flagrant courage (or was it temerity?) She continued to observe the crimson liquid seep into the sand, and then the cheering of Bartholomew's father as the bodies were dumped. 

How come he had been exposed to this sort of thing every day in his life, and yet he still flinched more than some girl who had never seen this sort of thing before?

It was only then that she started to make her leave. Bartholomew looked over in awe as she coolly steered around, sailboat shrinking in the distance. Questions whirled around his head as he ogled at her disappearing figure. Where had she come from? What was it like living beyond the sea?

But as quickly as she had retreated, another sight had appeared along the horizon. This time, it wasn't one solitary boat.

A villager noticed this. A yell resounded throughout the sacrificial site, everyone's gazes following the direction his hand pointed to.

A fleet. A fleet of ships, rapidly approaching the island like a swarm of ants. There was lots of them. They were clearly armed. A battle cry echoed in the distance. Bartholomew's father shot up from his seat, face twisted with evident confusion and rage. But one thing that was truly peculiar, as the islanders watched in fear, was a mere young girl on a handmade sailboat leading the charge with a sinister grin on her face.

 

persuasive-australia and the monarchy

 30MIN

 not belonging to anyone future generation independence

aboriginal, colonisers, true owners

diversity from britain, australian identity

Australia has been considered part of the British Empire ever since Captain Cook set foot upon the sandy plains. However, we're talking about the needs of our 21st century generations. Do they need the monarchy? With the range of migrants, cultures and individual Australian identity we've all adopted I think we're more than ready to break about and become our own country. We never have been like and never will need Britain-and I'm sure the Aboriginal community, with their own land stolen by the monarchy, will indefinitely agree. Let's make Australia Australia again. Let's leave behind the days of the monarchy.

Making monarchy a thing of the past has deep positive influences on both our society and future ones. We're not 'owned' by anyone. We're not part of a bigger plan, a country 'higher' than us. We stand independently and strongly. This gives Australian citizens a sense of pride at not being owned by another country. It also gives them freedom of choice-we can now make decisions on laws, government or anything else to suit our own needs and not those of the British Monarchy. After all, no one likes being subservient to another country especially when we are much more capable than them.

One community that has experience with being subordinates to others would undoubtedly be the Aboriginal community. And their oppression was indeed a result of the Monarchy's influence, so supporting the monarchy would be supporting years of non-stop suffering and pain to Australia's true owners. Isn't it time that we give them back ownership of their own land? After all the murders, the sick tortures and even the segregation of children from parents all the colonisers have done is mustered a mere 'sorry'. If the monarchy is capable of stealing land and destroying almost a whole race, it is capable of doing what it knows is right and giving back that ownership.

Having aboriginal communities also sets us apart from Britain. In fact, there is so much disparity between the two countries you wonder why they're even associated with each other. The two country have different landscapes, accents, diversity of migrants and just general viewpoints! In fact, they're on opposite sides of the world. Having such different identies means that we don't need their influence when we're already paving our pathways. So it's not moral to have the Monarchy be in control of such a different country, but it's not even logical too. 

We're the biggest isolated country on Earth. In the ocean, on our own, relying on ourselves and the only land that we have to support us. So it makes no sense for a small country like Britain to have such power over us! Diversity, independence, Aussie pride and the rightful apology the Aborigines deserve all starts with breaking free. We've never been more ready, Australia. It's time to go our own way.

Persuasive-why we should not watch handsome suit

 It has come to our attention that we should rewatch the movie 'Handsome Suit'. However this is an unjustified, terrible decision and would have detrimental effects on the developing mindsets of the new generation. Its harmful stereotypes, insulting use of language and lack of structure not only makes it an ineffective film but also a threat to young perceptions of our world. Do you want to waste precious class time on such an useless, damaging joke instead of watching something new and interesting?

The stereotypes enforced in the movie show a clear understanding of the banal, sexist, misogynistic and fat-phobic ideologies of the director. Takuro is immediately perceived as 'ugly' and 'fat' to everyone, despite people having different tastes and interests. This would make anyone similar looking feel self-conscious and destroy their self esteem. It portrays girls as girly, judgmental and all interested in the same  type of man-which is evidently not true. But this still poses as an insult to the female race, and a deeply offensive one at that. How could anyone believe they could be loved if they got a part in a movie where the whole point of their role was to 'be ugly?'

Not only that, but the whole movie itself is one big cinematic faliure. Its pacing and plot is childish, and for a class of 14 year olds who have mostly already seen it we do not deserve to experience such banal torture again. The whole movie through is quite predictable, and the only plot twist we experience is a disappointing and unsatisfying one-and does not do justice to the gorgeous, genuinely more appealing 'off-suit' character Motoe with more personality. Instead the love interest turns out to be the pretty ex-model-what does that say about our standards? We deserve to watch a newer, more entertaining film with better moral standards.

What awards does Handsome Suit have anyone to prove its capability? Has it won any major film awards, or is it a failure in even the film industry? It's obvious to see that the latter is the obvious option. It has no credibility outside of Japan. Even its own Wikipedia page is vague and quickly written, the actors having received almost no credit for it because it simply wasn't good enough to give them fame. Even a mere glimpse of award winning Ghibli studio films (which more interesting plots and lovable characters) would tell you that even they are films more worth watching. 

Don't waste your class time watching a film the majority has already watched. Don't waste an education space your parents toiled to pay for watching a film that heavily stereotypes and discriminates against unchangeable characteristics. Save our future, preserve the impressionable minds of the developing generation. Watch anything but Handsome Suit.

narrative-camera

girl finds a camera, taking photos with it takes in objects/people from surroundings and stores them into the film, takes photo of mirror

30MIN

The garage sale... the garage sale...

Lily Rosingham sifted through the cardboard box, the basement eerily silent save for the clinking of materials as they brushed against each other. A gentle, sanguine ray of sunlight cast a light on the box. Boy was this basement aging-in the few ephemeral glimpses of sunlight Lily could catch, it was evident that the air was thick with dust and decay. 

Why was there nothing of value in her grandparents' house? How come she had rummaged through every box, every crevice and yet all her efforts had been nugatory? Lily sighed, her breath knocking away a coat of dust encrusted on the box. She stood up. Just as she was about to solemnly make her way upstairs, a glimmer in the darkness caught her eye. Lily tentatively leered forward. Her hand seemed to attract itself to this unusual object, dragging itself in and clasping around the unfamilar object and tugging it out. She held it up to the light, examining the way it bounced off the surface of the plastic. How come she had never seen this camera, despite all her searching?

Perhaps an old camera might be of value-it didn't even look too decrepit. Lily, mouth half open, examined its faded surface. Yes, the lens gleamed in the dim lighting! No scratches, no sign of failure. Heart  fluttering, Lily scrambled around to find something worth capturing A brass record player beckoned her over from the corner, grand and morose in all its glory. She lumbered over. The camera floated up to her eyes as if someone were tugging strings at her arms. Shaking, Lily clicked the button. A flash illuminated the room. 

Rubbing dust from her eyes, as Lily's gaze fluttered over towards the corner, a small squeak escaped her lips. The thing was, there was no record player anymore. She stumbled back, footsteps reverberating throughout the basement. Her mind ran through all sorts of logical explanations and theories, but it was evident that she had she was embroiled in quite the imbroglio. How was this possible?

She flicked through to the photo album, clicking with a fervent ardour. Her eyes widened at the most recent photo-the record player, simply sitting there as if nothing had happened. 

Lily whipped around, eagerly scouring the room for any other antiques. A mirror on the other room struck out, towering over the mountainous piles of trash. Lily lifted her camera up to her eye, squinting at her stiff reflection. The button clicked. 

Another flash bounced off the walls, so sudden that Lily didn't even have time to make a peep. In fact she couldn't make any sound at all. Because as the camera clattered to the ground, it became apparent that there was no one in the room at all.

The room was once again filled with that eerie quiescence that plagued it. But if one really strained their ears, they might have heard the muffled yelling of a girl emanating from a camera. 

persuasive-spread of urban sprawl

 30MIN

Loss of wildlife, pride, sympathy, didn't choose, crowded, pollution

Less better working and learning environment, traffic 

unfair, moral standards, our own health, plague, sickness

It's safe to say that humans are one of the most dominant species, populations spreading and settling themselves in all corners of the world. However this case of urban sprawl has caused more harm than good. Those who promote this are also fully aware of the pollution, extinction, sickness and destruction this brings about. In the end, it brings no benefit to anyone-even the people creating it. It's time to stand against urban sprawl, before we ruin our own futures.

Some people have already ruined their own sense of sympathy, carelessly tossing away the lives of thousands of species that lived in the areas where skyscrapers and trams rapidly replace them. A habitat with factory smoke and concrete streets is no place for an animal. Don't you have any sympathy for these pitiful creatures? Don't you have any pride in preserving the native wildlife of your country, the unique characteristic that makes your country your country? They never chose to have this happen to them. It has been purely our decision to destroy their habitats. At the very least we should be grateful to the benign wildlife which we have been blessed with.

It's not just others whose living conditions suffer with the spread of human settlements. We suffer too, even if modernisation sounds beneficial in retrospect. No child can work properly in a city filled with pollution and a din of car horns and motorbikes outside their school. No one can commute to work if they have to get through hours of traffic every morning. Thus the money that can go into living and learning resources diminish, as there are more people to provide for. How can anyone even live properly if their surroundings are just one big traffic jam?

Those who benefit from urban sprawl are likely the ones who have the worst moral standards. This 'upgrade' only benefits their wallets. They're fully aware of the sickness and suffering they bring about, yet they continue to do it because it doesn't affect them. Living in such cramped, crowded spaces has detrimental effects on people's moods and makes sickness more likely to spread. From the Black Death to COVID-19, densely populated cities are always hit hardest because of the low hygiene standards and constant person-to-person contact. Would you risk your own health, your family's health just to be sheep to these corrupt people?

In a society where everyone's evaluating their actions, it's time we backtrack and think about the impact that we have by enforcing urban sprawl. Judging by the suffering we bring to wildlife, developing generations and even ourselves, it's safe to say it's not the best idea. It's important that we preserve our moral standards than factories and business offices. Keep our country the way Mother Nature intended it. Stop the spread of urban sprawl. 

narrative-awe and wonder

Poor person walks into rich neighbourhood by accident, segregated physically, looking around

30MIN

"Sam! Come back here!"

The aforementioned boy skidded around the corner, ragged breaths echoing in the alley. He choked out raspy laughter as he called back, "Can't catch me, James!" 

He picked up his pace, sprinting fervently down the mouldy cobblestone path.

"No, that's not it! You're going into the-"

James voice trailed away as Sam's footsteps faded into the distance. The mousy haired boy emerged from the alleyway that his friend had stood in moments before, panting heavily. "Oh, Sam." he murmured dolefully. "Don't say I didn't warn you that you were heading straight through the Barrier."

His reckless friend had already slipped right through. Sam continued to dart down the street, mirth lacing his breathless chortles. "James was always painfully slo..." his words trailed off as he finally began to notice his surroundings. Where were the narrow, desolate streets of Lowerville? In his whole life, he had never seen a street that provided such natural sunlight, such absence of the scent of rotting meat and garbage that typically shrouded the narrow walkways. Sam took huge gulps of the fresh, intoxicating air and leered at his surroundings. Instead of the withered, crumbling buildings these streets were filled with houses that were so meticulously clean that he could see his ragged reflection in the doors.

He self consciously looked down at his rags, tucking them into his shorts in a futile attempt to make himself look presentable. Sam's stomach filled with unsettling dread as he realised that he has somehow gone through the border to Richtown, but it was far too late to turn back now.

All his life, he had never seen such straight buildings. Such spotless, wide walkways. The boy had never seen actual grass until now, but the 'backyards' of this segregated community even had something he had only ever heard about in stories-flowers. Blooming ones, at that. It was only now that he realised how banal and monotone the streets of Lowerville were, as he ogled at the vibrant abodes that lined the streets. Even the birds looked a great deal healthier than the gaunt, haggard creatures of Lowerville. 

The only thing that resembled Lowerville were the bare streets. However, this only provided a sanguine tranquility while walking alone on Lowerville streets sent shivers down your back because somehow or other you were likely to get robbed. Not even a leaf stirred, save for a toddler with her hair in ringlets skipping up and down the footpath. She halted her movements. Sam's heart thudded in his chest as she tilted her head judgementally, looking up at down at the wan appearance of this boy more than three times her age. How sad-the satin frock she wore possibly cost more than his apartment block. Sam's cheeks burned in embarrassment at having a mere 3 or 4 year old judge him.

"Sally! Time for tea!" A voice sang from within one of the manors. The clicking of heels approached the veranda. Sam's feet stubbornly remained glued to the spot as he stay there helplessly. Why couldn't he run? His chest tightened in terror as a polished woman flitted out the door, beaming at the girl with pearly white teeth. The clicking of heels slowed as her gaze travelled over to where her supposed daughter was looking-right at Sam. The woman's smile melted, disposition changing drastically as she stared him up and down. 

"Another one crossed the border, huh?" She said lowly, tone dangerously soft. "We know what to do with you."

a dream speech

 My friends, my equals-I have a dream that we can all perceive each other as one, no matter of status or wealth. That our society won’t have to be divided into the unaffected and those who have to brawl for less than half of what others earn. That developing generations won’t have to fit in the mould that social hierarchy forces each and every one of us in based on our ancestors’ positions. The further we let this divide segregate us, the less we can live as a community. Why should I even bear children if they have to live through the lugubrious toil that this system provides? Do you want to wait out our impending doom or make a change?

 

The time is now, my friends. This brutal ideaology has infested what used to be a society of man vs life-it has disintegrated our morals into merely man vs man. The poor grapple desperately in order to feed families, relentlessly rending each other to shreds in order to survive. The rich never have enough, either-they take advantage of both their luxuries and others’ suffering. The inequality that plagues our society creates an imbalance in the scale of justice-the wealthy see themselves as ‘higher’ than others, while the poor see themselves as inadequate even if they possess twice the smarts or personality. Whatever sufferings humanity experiences, the desolate are hit the hardest while the most the wealthy receive is a minor graze. Is this a fate the so-called ‘smartest animal of Earth’ should live out until extinction, even if it is easily solvable?

 

At the end of the day, aren’t we all the same? No matter our position, we are all victims of death. No one is safe from illness, no one is safe from grief-this is how we are equal in the eyes of the Grim Reaper. Yet the rich are seen as godlike merely for having more figures in their bank accounts. They can spare a few dollars and be seen as saviours-while the poor can give their lives and merely be seen as ‘doing their duty’. Wouldn’t we all live in peace not seeing the unfortunate try to wrestle themselves out of an bottomless pit, while the rich can cluelessly dismiss them from their thrones above? If we could all be on level ground, we could truly see from each others’ perspectives. There would be no divide.

So, as we all share a common thing-the brain-let’s put our heads together and find the source of this problem. After all, it’s how we find a solution. All this suffering, all this turmoil can be traced to one thing. Ignorance. The wealthy are ignorant of just how much the poor suffer-it’s as if sparing a few dollars will make up for all their troubles. Even the desolate are ignorant. If they stop seeing the rich as a separate species and truly realise their potential and the rights they deserve, they could be spurred on to make a change. Yet you all seem content staying in your places, letting this injustice roam free. Educate each other! Educate the young! Educate the rich, the poor, the needy, the intelligent-when it comes to problems like this, everyone is struck dumb on fixing it. Because that’s the issue. To fix the problem of segregation, we need to band together.

 

Will our children be able to grow up in a world where they feel surrounded by like-minded people? Will we be able to die peacefully knowing that we have righted things, that we can look from friend to friend and human to human? It starts with us, or it’ll never start. The time is now, my dear friends. Let’s right our wrongs.

persuasive-schools focus on literacy and numeracy

 30MIN

future career's basic knowledge, daily life

other extracurriculars wasting time, not liked

improve resources and focus

As methods of education advance in our modern society, it's time we stop trying to constantly modify it and think about what's really the best for our children. Yes, the basic literacy and numeracy subjects. After all, they provide the essential foundations for a good career (which is what school is all for) and life. But with unnecessary subjects wasting precious time and resources, our children's futures are at risk. Every second of their learning time is precious and determines their future. Will you waste that time, or focus on the vital literacy and numeracy subjects?

Future careers are depend heavily on what you learn in school. And most future careers depend on basic maths and english skills. Journalists, scientists, technicians-if you want to get your dream job you must have even a little experience in those area. Even in daily life, from buying groceries to cooking, you need those skills. The illiterate and uneducated may prove a good example-they struggle day-to-day, whether it's telling the time to getting a job, and this all leads to the fact that no one could help them improve the crucial maths and literacy skills that one needs to survive in this century. This is why no precious learning time can be wasted on anything else-there is too much to risk.

You may have noticed that most subjects don't provide these opportunities. And students with different tastes like different activities-so why waste everyone's time forcing an unwilling child to participate in an unnecessary subject? Schools don't consider whether a student wants to be an artist, yet it's still reasonable for them to force a child into doing the art class. They could have been learning important persuasive skills or arithmetic! If time is so precious, parents have the right to not waste their money on subjects their children don't need.

Money is also utilised properly if literacy and numerical talents are emphasised. If more focus is put on those areas, more money goes into those resources. If more money is used for those resources, the more helpful the education is. This ensures a good use of education, and is necessary for the success in life that all adults put such importance on. No wonder schools that put emphasis on english and math subjects are so desirable!

When our children's futures are at risk, it's important that we really evaluate what is the best for our developing generation and society. It all starts with good education-and this means strengthening the tools crucial for any job, numeracy and literacy. In such a dangerous world with impressionable, easily influenced students, it's our responsibility to consider what is the most beneficial for them. If we are too reckless, our actions will later reflect on us when it's become too late to make those changes.

narrative-explosion of colour

 the whole world is grey, person finds old torch that brings colour, stop working then explodes everything into colour and whoop everyone is nice

30MIN

Same old, same old. The world functioned as if everyone's movements were manufactured by some robot or other. There was no life in human movements-and animal wise? Well, they say there's no wildlife in places where a lot of deaths have occurred. 

This was the morose, monotone world that Sally Creek had always lived in. Every day she would blearily open her eyes to the same breakfast, with the same dull colour, and walk down the somber street to her prison of a school. Often she was grateful for being one of the only ones to feel emotion-but sometimes the terror that crawled up her back when seeing the barbed wire, the prison guards and the concrete backyard was something she would rather have not felt.

Yes, beneath her conventional stone-face Sally was sure she was the only one she knew who had such powerful emotions swirling beneath the surface. After all, most of her peers never even blinked when brutally punished for disobedience. Perhaps the miserable dullness that plagued the society had seeped into people's bloodstreams.

Perhaps she was the only one who felt pain, felt emotions. Perhaps she was the only one who wanted to know about life before the new regime.

Sally's eyes slid coolly over to the principal, beady eyes glowering over the swarm of students through his sunglasses. She would give him the credit-he did indeed spike fear right inter her palpitating heart every time he turned in her direction. 

The recess bell droned throughout the halls, a long low whine (bells that tingled were now considered too sanguine for the new society). Students filed out of the classrooms in an orderly fashion. No one rushed to greet their friends-no one needed friends if they didn't have any emotions. Sally quickened her pace discreetly to catch up, slipping on her bland face as she passed the armed guards. However, as soon as the trail of students turned the corner Sally abruptly swerved off in the other direction. No student even batted an eye. She could barely hide her shock at the reckless act, hastening her pace to slip into a closet unseen. 

As soon as the door swung shut, a relieved sigh that had been bubbling up in her throat escaped as the thick tension dissipated. Sad how a closet could provide such solace-but that was how things went in this quotidian society now. 

A gleam near the pile of mops caught her eye. Timidly, Sally's hand wandered over to brush the mops away. Oh, merely a run-of-the-mill torch. Sally turned away, heart sinking. But there was something unusual. She whipped her head back around. The pallid yellow of the torch was almost resplendent in the moudly, humid closet. Yes, the yellow-a colour!

Open mouthed, Sally snatched the torch and fumbled feebly at the buttons. A click-and rays of light were cast on the cleaning tools. Sally muffled her stunned shriek, eyelids shrinking back more and more as she swung the torch around. Every surface the light shone on, a vivid colour glared back at her. Her eyes darted, trying to recall the names of these new hues.

However, in her excitement she failed to notice the torch trembling in her hands-and not because her own hands were shaking. Oh no, this was all by itself.

A bang. A flash. And as the smoke cleared, Sally stuffed her strangled coughs into her blazer as she waved it away. But the sight yet to greet her would by far be the most peculiar, even after everything that had happened.