One of the unexpected delights of being an English teacher is witnessing how students transform thought into language – how they wrestle with ideas, shape them and make them sing on the page. At Kilbreda, our young writers are curious, questioning and deeply engaged with the world around them. Their work reveals empathy, imagination and a growing confidence in their own voices. Whether they’re building worlds through story or arguing passionately in persuasive pieces, their writing reminds us that language is not only a tool for communication, but a way of seeing and understanding life itself. Last term saw the Year 8 English classes reading ‘The Giver’, a novel about social control which explores what it means to be human. In the novel, the character Giver passes memories on to the protagonist, Jonas, so that he may learn what it is to be fully human. 

Below I’ve included some of the students’ writing of their own sense of human experience, in the style of “The Giver”.  Thanks to Ms Felicity O’Malley for sharing them with us. Enjoy! 

Student Writing Pieces

The Awakening Alley by Kiara M

The Giver warned Jonas that this memory would be like no other. Jonas took an unsteady breath as he was transmitted into a gloomy, narrow alleyway. The overflowing rubbish bin to his left reeked and beside it a strange-looking man lay unconscious, a sign resting on his grey ashy legs. The flickering streetlamp allowed Jonas to read the messily formed words: PLEASE HELP! I HAVE NOTHING. Jonas stood there for a moment in pure shock at what he was seeing. He unleashed a feeling of pity for the man. Something in Jonas told him to walk further along the alley, where he was met with three more people in the same situation as the man previous to them, with similar grimy cardboard signs. Jonas wanted so dearly to help but had nothing to give. Jonas opened his eyes and found himself in the room that he was so glad to be reunited with. He gazed up at the Giver, standing slightly above him, with tears streaming down his cheeks. It was at this moment Jonas understood the word homelessness and how dreadful it was.

The Memory of Childbirth by Viola M

Jonas lay still as the warmth of the Giver’s hands absorbed into his back. He was in a small room where lights were soft and voices murmured. There was a woman lying on a bed, her face flushed and damp, her hand clenched tightly in another’s. 

She took a deep breath, then gave a low groan. Jonas felt his own chest tighten in response. Now, tugging at the sheets, she let out a strained cry. Pain surged through her and Jonas could feel it. The pressure, the tension; it all had a purpose. 

Around her, people moved quickly. He learnt of what was a nurse, wiping the woman’s forehead and tying her hair back from her eyes. Jonas perceived a doctor, standing at the foot of the bed, deeply focussed. His voice was steady “push again, you’re almost there.”

With all the strength in her muscles she released a sharp force. Immediately the pain swelled, and a raw cry pierced the air. The woman’s head tipped back, and the nurse cleaned and cradled something so familiar to Jonas. It was a new child at its earliest stage he thought. 

He watched closely as the nurse presented to the woman, “This is your baby girl.” Everything lined up. He understood what ‘baby’ and ‘girl’ was, although he always knew them as something else. Jonas sensed that the newborn daughter united the family and recognised that it took an intimate decision to begin such a journey – one filled with agony, anticipation, hope and devotion – to bring such a fragile gift into being.  

The air was filled with the joy of arrival. There were smiles of relief and overwhelming tears of delight. The mother looked down at the baby glued to her chest, her eyes wide with awe and exhaustion. The father huddled close into a tight hug, sheltering the people who made him whole. Jonas sobbed and the memory faded from his view. Opening his eyes he was aware of the Annexe room, but he desired to go back. A heaviness curled in the pit of his stomach, stirred by the aching thought that an entire community was missing out on such a blessing, such a milestone. The Giver turned to Jonas, “That was childbirth”. Jonas, his voice croaky and stiff, replied, “I wish we all had that memory; it was miraculous” – a word he had never known before.

The Car Crash Catastrophe by Tabitha C

The Giver shuffles closer as he applies his warm and wrinkled hands across Jonas’ back. Suddenly the room disappears. Jonas was somewhere else. There was movement and it was fast and chaotic. A word came to his mind … car. He was inside a car, hands gripping a steering wheel that slid under his fingers. Wind roared around him as rain thrashed at the windshield making it almost impossible to see what was in front of him. Tires screeched. A disgusting vibration of fear travelled across his chest. Then impact. His body jerked forward, the seatbelt clenching into his ribs. Glass shattered as time seemed to slow. He felt his face hit something hard, almost knocking him out. The taste of blood filled his mouth. His ears rang. Everything spun. For a moment, there was only silence. Then the pain came fully and spread everywhere, throbbing, burning and crushing. He couldn’t move his legs. He was cramped. He tried to call out, but only a weak gasp escaped. Smoke hung in the air as Jonas got a whiff of a bitter and chemical smell. He heard someone crying nearby; it was a child. He wanted to help, but he couldn’t move. Panic surged through him, more terrifying than the pain. Then, just as suddenly, it ended. Jonas was back on the table, gasping and shaking.

Nicola Hare

Learning Leader: English