Memoir Writing.

Room 11 are back from camp and are starting a new writing activity. We are learning to show not tell by writing memoirs about a certain memory we can remember from the past. Some of our memoirs we have written so far are to do with waking up on a school morning and what we do on a Saturday morning. It's been fun to write and and mess around with my memories, even some that I'd forgotten about. Here are the opinions of some other students.

" It sounded easy but it's actually kind of hard because you have to make it really detailed." - Eleanor.

" It's fun because you can write about your own memory and nobody will have the same thing as you." - Elysia.

"They're much easier than writing an autobiography because you can write about your memory and you can detail it more easily." - Brynn.

Some people were worried about being able to describe their memory properly but when you're the one that had the memory, it's easier than you think.
Attached to the blog are some of our classes memoirs. We hope you enjoy reading them and feel like you're literally in the memory.

By Gina.

A Perfectly Painful Saturday.

The ref passed Rosie the netball. We’d already won the paper scissors rock, so we got to start with the ball. I wondered how my recently broken toe would hold after skipping 3 games. It often started aching but I’d learnt to deal with it. The buzzer startled me out of my day-dream. Game on!!! My old school were our opponents. I won’t lie, they’re a good team. Nervous, but excited I waited for my team to need my help. Being a defence player, I don’t get the ball often unless my netball team were playing a team that was about to score a goal. I play goal keep so I’m often needed to stop goals from my opponents team. My team was going great, they probably wouldn’t need me for a while. That quickly changed. Bright water’s goal keep intercepted a ball mean’t to be thrown to Paris and sent it up the court in a whirl of flapping girls trying to catch it. I rushed forward with a sudden surge of energy against the cold wintery morning. Annoyingly my player followed. The game finally got interesting.

By Gina                                         

William's Football memoir

Walking focused out of the tense quiet dressing room hearing the clattering studs on the concrete. Nerves getting worse,This was going to be the biggest football game of my life. Claps and cheers started to roar around the stands.Our coach shouting out our game plan. Running onto the pitch hearing the stiff frost crunch. The referees whistle had blown, game on.

Macgregor's morning memoir.

I’m dreaming.  Or am I.  No.  How can I be asleep if I am thinking? I slowly open my eyes, and close them again as I think that it’s a school day.  I then fall into unconsciousness.  I must be asleep.

I open my eyes again and see the light seeping through a gap in the curtins.  I see the light pouring through the slightly ajar door.

My duvet is somewhere other than on top of me, My sheet is down the side of the bed, and I am…who knows.

I hear the opening of a door and see the blinding light, I close my eyes hurriedly pretending I’m asleep, and before mum can give me a kiss BOO!  AHHHHH!  YES! Oh no it’s time to get up I think.

I slowly tumble out of my soft bed, I feel like a dead washing machine on a plate of jelly while hitting the floor and sluggishly waddling out of the now open door.

I the living room I hear clattering in there’s kitchen from my mum making breakfast, crunching of toast from in between my dads teeth and my brother’s nowhere to be seen.  It’s 7:30 he’s probably caught the bus.

Breakfast time.

By Macgregor.