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Dear Thomas

I felt so intrigued when I saw your letter slip down from behind the photo left here from the previous owners. As I read the letter, I realised how lucky your family was to have a Son/Brother, who sacrificed his life to protect our country. I truly appreciate the immense sacrifice you have made. 

Life now is very different. Ever since the war ended nothing bad has happened to New Zealand, or the world. There have been some disagreements between other countries, but nothing that has affected us. Some different things about New Zealand:  We all use technology like digital phones, watches and electric vehicles. If you were still alive you probably would not be able to understand any of it but don’t worry because sometimes I don’t get it either.

There have been a lot of good changes that have happened through the years. Women are allowed to go to university  now and are allowed to work instead of staying back home. A lot of women are really happy and there are even some who have become very successful in life.

I wish our paths had crossed sooner so we could discuss your story in person. Even though you are gone, I hope you had a wonderful life after the war.

Kind Regards

Your Pen Pal Marii

In Term One, on the final day of school, we seniors had the opportunity to perform the Stations of the Cross in front of the entire school, including some parents. Each member of the class was assigned a role and spent two weeks rehearsing, beginning in Week 8. The roles included Jesus, Mary, John, Soldiers, Pontius Pilate, Simon of Cyrene, Veronica, and the people of Jerusalem. There were also three narrators: Narrator 1 described the events as they unfolded, Narrator 2 reflected on the suffering and sacrifices endured by Jesus, and Narrator 3 focused on how we can strive to live more like Jesus. I was assigned the role of Narrator 3.

Before the performance began, the actors changed into costumes representing clothing worn during that historical period. The narrators did not need costumes, as our role was to read rather than act. Each station showed the suffering Jesus endured while carrying the cross. He was whipped by the soldiers and fell three times under its weight, the cross pressing heavily against his back. At the conclusion of the performance, Jesus is crucified and dies. His body is then placed in a tomb, covered with a white cloth covering his body and face. As he is laid to rest, soft music is played, and all the actors quietly exit back into the library.

My favourite part of the experience was the rehearsals, where small mistakes often led to moments of laughter that I still remember whenever they are mentioned. Even though this is my final year, I would gladly take part in this again, especially to relive the powerful moment of Jesus sacrificing himself on the cross for our sins.

The Book Lamentations is written in the genre of poetry because it expresses deep grief, sadness and mourning after the destruction of Jerusalem. It helps the readers understand the feeling of sadness.

Paragraph 1

The snowflakes twinkle down from the sky, as I skip through an empty narrow alley way with my feet crunching on the plain white snow. I caught a glimpse of some old tatty  pictures of missing children, glued and hung tight on the cold stone wall. Instead of stopping to get a better look, I walk on thinking nothing of it. As I walked on, I came across a large black board filled with names written in white chalk. Some names looked faded as if they were old, while others looked so new that they matched the pure white snow below it. When I saw the chalk, I felt hesitant at first, thinking of writing my name but after a while I picked it  up and wrote my name, right in the middle.

Paragraph 2 

The chalk slipped from my fingers. Smiling at my own name, a prickly sensation of being watched makes me freeze. I turn slowly, finding a miniature doll, identical to me, staring back from behind a massive glass pane. I slowly step forward, trying to get a better look at the doll.My eyes widen when I see it up close. It is wearing the exact same clothes as me. Feeling really weird I am super curious about why it looks like that?

I look down at my own clothes, then quickly look back at the doll—but it is gone. My heart starts beating faster. I move closer to the door and peek through. There it is, standing right in the middle on top of a cushion.

I try really hard to open the door, but it won’t move at all. I start to feel frustrated and angry. I grab some snow, pack it into a ball, and throw it at the glass door. I walked away in frustration.

Paragraph 3

I give up on trying to open the door and start to walk away when I hear the familiar creaking of a door opening. No one is there. I edged towards the entrance, finally stopping through the door with a curious gaze to take my surroundings in. The snow and gravel trapped under the soles of my shoes squish and squeak across the wooden floor. The doll’s eyes felt predatory, tracking my every move like prey waiting to strike. I was in a room filled with creepy dolls yet my anxiety drops the instant I see it – a perfect miniature of me perched on a cushion in the very middle of the room. I go to grab the doll when another doll on a bike startles me by riding past my legs, breaking my concentration. Ignoring the doll’s sudden crash into the door, I turn back to see my doll only to find it gone. I desperately search every inch of the room, my eyes darting into corners until I find it. Standing, perched atop a high shelf practically daring me to climb for it. Summoning every ounce of strength, I march over to the shelf ready to start my climb.

Paragraph 4

Despite my nerves, I am determined to grab the doll. I wonder about its maker but push that thought aside to focus. Stepping onto the first shelf, I take off one mitten, using my mouth for a firmer grip on the doll. I stretch closer, extending my hand toward it. The instant my skin makes contact, I am plunged into its body. My perspective shifts instantly; the room looks wrong, filtered through a lens that isn’t my own. I am looking through the doll’s eyes… and I realise I’m not the one in control anymore.

Today, our whole school had the exciting opportunity to attend the ATAMIRA: Kori Pūrākau Workshop. From the moment we arrived, there was a buzz of excitement as everyone gathered, ready to experience something new and meaningful. This workshop was not just about dance and movement — it was about storytelling, culture, and learning about our ancestors.

During the workshop, the instructors welcomed us warmly and shared the importance of Kori Pūrākau, which is storytelling through movement. They taught us how our bodies can express emotions, tell stories, and represent important moments from the past. Through their guidance, we learned how our ancestors used movement, performance, and creativity to pass down stories, traditions, and values from generation to generation.

We were split into groups and given the chance to create our own movements based on different parts of a story. It was amazing to see everyone working together, sharing ideas, and building confidence as we performed in front of each other. There were lots of smiles, laughter, and encouragement as we learned new skills and stepped outside our comfort zones.

One of the most special parts of the experience was learning about different cultures and how storytelling connects people. We discovered how our ancestors’ journeys, challenges, and achievements can still inspire us today. The workshop helped us understand the importance of respecting our heritage and being proud of who we are and where we come from.

Overall, the ATAMIRA: Kori Pūrākau Workshop was an unforgettable experience. Our whole school had so much fun while learning valuable lessons about culture, storytelling, and our ancestors. It was a day filled with creativity, teamwork, and inspiration that we will remember for a long time.

Umbrella

People walked past us with faces of disgust. I could hear
them talk loudly about how good their lives are. I couldn’t understand why they would say something like that, especially to people who didn’t deserve those words. I turned a deaf ear to the terrible comments and looked up at my father. I met his gaze – a chilling void that still held a desperate spark of light. He smiled a fake smile and then sniffed the air. I did too, smelling a beautiful baked pie from the bakery across the road. I sighed and decided to place my hands just above a soft warm candle that kept me and my father alive.

I can relate Euphrasie Barbiers Qualities and Attitudes to my life by showing generosity when I see a poor person sitting on the road by going to the shops to buy them food and water.

St Francis of Asisi was born in Giovanni di Pietro di Bernardone. He is known as Francis of Asisi and was a mystic Italian Poet and Catholic Friar who founded the religious order of the Franciscans. In parts of his life, he served the poor and cared for the marginalised. He wanted to help the poor because he wanted to imitate Jesus Christ’s humility as a way to serve society. This is why Saint Francis of Assisi is the Patron Saint of the Poor as he renounced his wealthy life to embrace absolute poverty.

Today I decided to try one of the Experiments with Eleanor Challenges, and I was really excited to get started. For this experiment, the task was to place a seed inside a wet paper towel and then put it into a clear bag so we can observe what happens over time. I thought this experiment sounded very cool and interesting because it shows how plants begin to grow in a simple way.

I chose to use apple seeds for my experiment. The reason I picked apple seeds is because apples are my favourite fruit. They taste so yummy that sometimes I can eat four apples in one day — and even five if I’m really in the mood! I also liked the idea of watching something I enjoy eating turn into a growing plant.

I felt very excited while setting up this experiment and I can’t wait to see what happens next as the days go by. I am also very happy to share this experiment on my blog so everyone can see what I have been working on and follow along with my learning.

Below is a photo that I took of my seed inside the bag, ready to begin its growing journey!