Category: Communication

In this chapter the protagonist, Scout, has her first day at school which gives us a detailed description of the schooling system is the ‘Deep South’. We are met by Ms Caroline Fisher who is a young new teacher. Jem tells us that she uses a new kind of teaching called the ‘Dewey Decimal System’.

Scout has a bad run in with the new teacher when she finds out that Scout can read. Ms Caroline tells scout that she cannot read at home anymore which upsets her. Scout feels that what they are doing in school is not satisfactory to her standards. We also learn about some of the townsfolk in Maycomb. We learn that alot of people are poor and live off of the land and that that may be alien to people from other counties.

CHARACTERS: Scout, Atticus, Jem, Ms Caroline Fisher, Walter Cunningham.

FAVOURITE QUOTE: ‘”Are we poor, Atticus? Atticus nodded. “We are indeed.”‘

Summary of Chapter 1

The chapter starts with an argument between Scout and Jem and ‘how it all started’. They then start talking about alot of things that start the argument. The chapter then develops into the background of the Finch family and how Atticus (their father) came to Maycomb county

As the chapter develops we find out about their home life and Scouts relationship with her brother. It describes the way they play and how they get along. Dill is introduced later on in the chapter and that is when they go onto explain the situation with Boo Radley. Dill dares Jem to try and get Boo to come out of the house. This is where the chapter ends.

CHARACTERS: Scout, Jem, Dill, Atticus, Calpurnia, Boo Radley.

CHOSEN QUOTE: ‘Maycomb was an old town, but it was a tired old town when I first knew it.’

Continue reading

I strongly disagree with this argument and I think that Isabelle Kerr’s attitude towards new words and slang is appalling. It genuinely surprises me that someone who writes professionally for a national newspaper can be this arrogant towards new language and advances in words and culture. She refers to herself ‘as a member of the younger generation, partly responsible for these linguistic calamities, I can only apologise’. I do not believe she has a right to apologise because there is no reason to. Slang is a form of language that Our current generation and generations before us have been adding to for years. She says she apologises for the linguistic calamities that we have created like she has the right to, like we have created a monstrosity that she completely and utterly despises. She makes it sound like we have committed a deadly sin to the rest of humanity that can never ever be fixed.

Slang is a language that every generation has used at some point in their lives. It’s nothing new to the world of language and also not something new to young people. Ms Kerr writes ‘ It’s already a constant battle for young people to prove that we’re not all ASBO- wielding yobs who can’t communicate properly’. on her rather expensive laptop in the Porsche that her Daddy bought her for her 18th birthday. Kerr explains to her readers that all youngsters that use slang go around robbing shops, mugging pregnant women and tormenting the old people on the local estate. This is quite obviously not true and hurts me personally because I am a strong user of slang.

‘Regardless, the future of the English language looks bleak’. This statement is like totally not true ya get me bruv. Slang isn’t anything new to the English language like Isabelle may think. We Brits have been using slang words since before Shakespeare. People create words that mean something to them personally that they can use for their own uses. Kerr, in her box of arrogance, believes that because some kids who created a couple of words on the internet (like selfie or twerk) the world, by law, will be doomed to a new generation of idiotic ASBO- wielding yobs in track suits and hoodies. This image must really frighten Isabelle. Ms Kerr goes on to write ‘Shakespeare would be turning in his grave’. At this point, she has totally lost me. Either she was trying to be ironic or my suspicions of her being really stupid are true. Shakespeare was a pioneer of Slang language. He made up new words to make his rhymes flow and his scripts glow. She has literally dug herself a hole of brainless babble and then filled it with idiotic, not very funny, jokes. Who even hired her?

The words that she is disapproving of are only being added to the Oxford ONLINE dictionary as a joke to a bad week of bad dancing and selfies. ‘By including them online, the oxford dictionaries are awarding these dismal words a degree of permanence that is both unrealistic and unnecessary’. The whole point is that they’re only being added to the online version. It’s like  a photograph of a good holiday. It’s not there for a practical use. It’s to remind you that you had a good time a while ago. These words are just going to blow over in the wind in a couple of months just like the word ‘wicked’, ‘groovy’ and ‘sick’. Nobody says those words anymore and thats the whole point. They’re a trend at one point and then never ever used again. Isabelle does say they are just a ‘fashion trend’ but that kind of undermines her whole argument. If they’re just a fashion trend why get into such a big fuss over them?

The title for her argument says everything about her. ‘Twerking, selfie and unlike? Young people don’t speak like that – I should know’. She thinks that just because her and her posh little stuck up friends at the tea party don’t say selfie, unlike and twerk, that everybody under twenty don’t use them. Well she’s wrong because I’ve seen a hell of a lot of people doing #ThrowbackThursdays and #Selfies. The point is people do use these words and she really needs to get a grip of her life and report on something that actually matters in the world like the Crisis in Ukraine or Gay rights in Russia. She really needs to stop prancing around on her high horse and look out at the world and see what matters.

To conclude, I do not believe that Slang is a bad thing. In fact I think we should embrace it and accept it into modern society because most of the people in the UK are speaking some form of slang. Ms Kerr really doesn’t have a say on whether or not slang is good or not because she obviously has not been around long enough to see it being put into good use. I would like to finish on a quote about slang by the famous american poet Carl Sandburg. ‘Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on it’s hands and goes to work’.

Ozymandias inspired creative writing.
The lone and level sands stretched far away. The cloaked figure struggled to walk through the dunes. His ripped boots were coated in sand from the long tiresome trek through the Egyptian desert. On his back were three large water bottles and a cow skin sack that was filled to the brim with tools and food. As he passed over a rather large dune he noticed a small silver object glinting in the desert sun. Fendal pulled out a small rock, to a passer by would have just seemed to be a small rock, and inserted into a small hole in the rock. For a few seconds all was silent. Fendal scratched his head in confusion. Just as Fendal bent down to see if he had inserted it right a low level rumbling started up and slowly the rumbling became an Earthquake. Fendal stepped back in awe as a giant golden spire rose from between the sands. On top was a ghostly figure with a golden crown.
‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!’
Fendal dropped his hood, and for the first time, spoke.
‘Your majesty, I Fendal, have travelled from the northern isles in aid of your most magnificent power and gold. You see, we on the northern isles are a weak people with no military or ways of defence. I come to you with the only thing our people posses anywhere near as valuable as yourself.’
Fendal pulled of his sac and fumbled around for a while. He pulled out a glistening stone, encrusted with emeralds and diamonds. At the center was a glistening light that stunned Ozymandias.
‘And what does one call this magnificent stone?’ Ozymandias inquired.
‘This is the MaidenStone that are people have defended for eons. It is the only thing we posses with any real value. I offer this gift to you im exchange for an army of your ancient soldiers to defend our lands.’
Ozymandias looked stunned by the mysterious stone. For a second he gazed into the stones power and his ghoulish eyes glinted. He wanted this stone and he would do anything to get it. He nodded.
‘I will take your stone in exchange for my first legion. They are well trained and will swear oath to your king. Now if you would…’
Ozymandias pointed to the stone. Fendal looked up at the great king, with reluctance he threw the stone up in the air. For a second it floated and then it shot through the Egyptian desert air into Ozymandias’ hands.

Creative writing coursework

God, why are long car trips so ridiculously boring? I hate just sitting there and getting motion sickness after half an hour of driving. Although the result of the car drive is always fun. I looked out the window and tried to keep my lunch down. My brother was sitting next to me playing games on the iPad. Some game about trains and clouds or some rubbish. Mum was asleep in the passenger sleep, i mean I couldn’t blame her. We’d  been travelling for over four hours now and it was starting to get tedious. We always go on holiday every summer to some remote place to sleep in a tent. I really don’t understand the point. Mum says its to get closer to nature but to be totally honest I’d rather stay at home and watch youtube videos.  I mean on the internet you don’t get huge mosquitoes. My dad sat at the wheel looking tired and bored. He was surrounded by empty coffee cups from Starbucks.

After about twenty more minutes we pulled up into this huge field filled with camper vans and tents. I told Mum that if we were going camping we should at least go to somewhere without people.  As you may have guessed I don’t  like people very much and I rarely communicate with people Im not very good friends with. I do not wish to share a field with a whole bunch of people I’ve never met and probably never see again.

Dad opened up the boot and pulled out three large tents and walked us to the other end of the campsite. As we approached I noticed a few other kids with their parents alot of whom were wearing vests and baggy trousers. I felt like I shouldn’t have really been there. The whole campsite was a mess with lucazade bottles littering the small stream that travelled down the left side of the field. As we approached the back left corner of the field, Dad was setting up the tents next to a large white camper van. Inside were a bunch of guys that seemed to be about 20ish. In front were an elderly couple in a black caravan. They had a small patio thing with a roof over it and they were cooking really bad looking sausages.

To be totally honest, I don’t like being outside at the best times, let alone being surrounded by weed smoking college students and elderly people that cant even cook sausages properly. Dinner was terrible that night. We had cold ham sandwich’s from TESCO and Haribos from the car journey.

As it started to get dark, I could hear the people in the camper van next to us put on some music. I don’t mind people playing music in public, as long as its good music. It must have been at least one or two AM in the morning when things really got noisy. The elderly couple from im front of Mum and Dads tent sounded like they had had enough of the music. I peeked my head out of the tent and I could see the old man hobble up to the door and knock politely three times. A man with long hair and a sleeveless top opened the door and looked at the man puzzled. ‘Do you think you could keep the noise down a bit son, its just there’s quite a few people who wanna rest.’ ‘Piss off’ replied the guy. He slammed the door in the elderly mans face and went back to relax I presumed. The elderly man knocked again. The guy opened the door. ‘If you don’t turn that bloody music off Im going to come in there and turn it off myself’ exclaimed the elderly man. The guy at this point looked really annoyed and what happened next really ruined my Holiday. The old man wobbled on the step from the ground to the door. At first I thought he was alright and would gain balance again. It happened really slowly like everything around me had slowed. The man toppled to the ground and the loom on his face was priceless. He seemed to be shocked but also angry at the same time.

I really wish I could paint the picture better but its hard describing a persons death. The Ambulance rolled up at 5ish. The Police had already been and gone with the Kids from the camper van. Everyone in the campsite was standing around this dead body. The old mans wife had gone with the police for questioning.  The police had also taken Dad. They said they needed as much help with what happened as possible. To be totally honest I just wanted to go home. I didn’t know the old man until five minutes before his death. As the paramedics lifted the body off of the ground and into an ambulance and started to clean up the mess left behind, an official looking man in a suit and holding a cup of coffee walked towards the large gathering of people. ‘Alright lads and ladies, Im from the parks management office. I’ve been told to come to tell you that you need to get off of the park by twelve. We apologise but as you can probably guess we have no choice but to evacuate the area for police inspection.’ The man sounded really tired given that it was five in the morning.