We have been reading The Man Who Walked Between the Towers about Philippe Petit, a French high-wire walker. On August 7th 1974 he carried out his death defying stunt of walking on a high-wire between the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York. In the piece below, Aizah has written a biography about Philippe and his stunt.
This week in class we have been reading the story of ‘The Man Who Walked Between The Towers’ and used this to write a newspaper article about it. Here is Hannah and Dylan’s article below.
This week in class 11 we have been writing about Beowulf and his triumph over Grendel, the monstrous beast, and wrote a recount of the story.
This week we have been writing our own stories about the witch from our class novel. Can you identify which features Emily has included in her writing?
This week we found an evidence bag with some fire damaged diary pages from the Witch’s diary. We used these to write a prequel about the Witch before the story of the lost happy endings. Where do you think the witch lived? Did she have a job before she came to be inside a dead tree in the darkest, thorniest part of the forest? Was she always such an unpleasant character?
Today we are going to be looking at lesson one of this Hour of Code activity before identifying the different components in a game. Then we’ll start designing our own using scratch.
Our history topic this half term is World War 2. Please add facts and questions below.
Our topics this half term are Anglo-Saxons and Earth and Space. Add any facts or questions to the padlets below.
I didn’t mean to kill her. The hatred instilled within, got the better. I was left with only regret.
Trying to figure out this dimension, I need to hide from it-from her. Her voice remains yet only her shadow can be seen. My legs trembling, my eyes denying what I have just witnessed. I have to carry on [to reach the destination]. Grabbing the tree for reassurance, her voice repeated ‘no don’t do it’ I knew it was too late.
Carrying on knowing they would find me sooner or later. Everything was blurry. My feet gave way. I became dizzy.
When I finally encouraged myself to keep going, I emerged through the fog stumbling and tripping as each step I took the more I became curious. I was back to where I first started.
This time however I could see myself in the window with the same weapon and a vision of me as the target. I had never had a vision like that before. But like they say, there is a first time for everything.
Trying to steady my feet, I approached that room, and I saw… Myself murdering her. Throwing myself on the floor, I couldn’t bare it!
Nobody knew it was me, but now they all know. It was me, in the bedroom, with a knife.
I had to get back before they find me. Should I have told them? Or should I have kept it a secret.
I didn’t mean to do it. Regret filled my heart, but then suddenly left. I was glad I did what I did. Nothing stopped me, but what do I do now. All was peaceful when she had a world. But not for me… Demons fought against her in my brain. Suddenly strange things appeared around me and unknown noises had taken over my ears. Where was I? And what was going to happen next?
Slowly beginning to take a few small steps, I realised where I was. Trees, twigs, leaves…Dark fog. Wolves howling, leaves crunching as I walked further inside. Suddenly, I confidently stood, (however, I had never been more nervous).
Faint screams came from a distance. Which path should I take, which door should I open? Still walking towards the faint scream, I was determined not to stop. All of a suddenly I froze. The scream grew louder but without walking, I seemed to be going closer. Dark fog surrounded me and the scream, however it wasn’t alone and neither was I… A huge worn, mouldy and damp tree towered above me, I thought. Trees don’t scream…
I peered closer and looked slightly around the mushed bark. The scream was as loud as it could get. I thought my life was at an end at this point, until I slightly leaned over and looked in. I stumbled, no big deal you would think, but it was. Trying to stop myself from falling in I reached my hands out and placed them on the wet tree, but there was no tree. Instead, I fell in.
I began to scream but nobody came, instead this was the end.
Reluctantly ,Luca trudged down the overgrown path .
“ Ouch!’’ exclaimed Luca, as another vicious nettle caught his elbow .Way ahead of him ,Jack [an intrepid explorer]soured through the vine path .Jack was happily mumbling to him self .frozen in fear why couldn’t Luca move ;Luca shouted “Jack…Jack…Jack…!” no answer. “ Jack we are going to lose the track “Jack replied ,” Because … it’s going to be fun!”
In the distance , I could see Jack .I family caught up to him and he came to a halt .Luca was peculiar . Luca thought he should be going home ;we finally got past the bushes because he had seen an old house. There ahead the old ,ancient house stud tall in front of them . Jack remember what the neighbor told him about the two girls that never came out …
Reluctantly, Luca sighed trudging down the overgrown path. “Ouch,” exclaimed Luca, as another vicious nettle caught his elbow. As Jack crept cautiously, a shadow skimmed the deathly forest. Silence filled the vast, jungle like park. Luca froze in fear. As the grass leaned over the forest floor, the wind danced on Jacks face. The grass, which looked like fingers, stared at Luca angrily. In the distance, an unknown mumble could be heard…
Way ahead of Luca, Jack ( an intrepid explorer ) scoured the ghastly, dismal jungle. Tree branches towered over them, grabbed at their clothes. As they stumbled deeper into the woods, they tried to gaze up at the twilight sky. Jack led Luca up to the ancient gloomy house. Just as Luca was about to turn around, he heard a twig SNAP! Jack had broken in…
For once, please can you listen to me because you are the only person I can go to. I am asking for your help. I need to escape this Freak show. No-one is a freak, we are all special and unique. I am not simply a monster: I have feelings, emotions … a heart. I am only a boy; my heart isn’t made of steel. I implore you Father – listen to me!
My life, (my so called life) is no life. Although, you say it’s perfect, that I’m happy. I’m not. Day in day out, I am locked up in a cage and people pay to mock me, as if I wasn’t human. I’ve tried to speak to you about this countless times, but you won’t listen and you’re the only person who can help me. You don’t understand, just like everyone else; all you care about is money you don’t care about me!
I’m beyond sick of being treated like this. I’m not an animal, a pest that you struggle to keep under control. I’m a HUMAN, just like you or anyone else, I have feelings. I cry… I love…. I hate. But you don’t seem to realise that that. Back when Mother was around you were kind, you ACTUALLY loved me properly like Father ought to love his son. Yet now you treat me like anyone else, like I’m a monster, a freak of nature’ an outcast. Clearly I don’t and will never belong in this so called ‘perfect’ world; I am forever an outsider, a mere onlooker.
For once in your life could you just listen to me. I’m not just this … freak – I hate that word! Father, I want to be treated the same as any other seven year old child: is it too much to ask for a normal life?
I feel depressed, worthless; I’m discouraged by everyone I see. I’m sick of being put in a cage at the circus and being goggled at like an animal in a zoo, stuck and helpless, I’m laughed at countless times by the people who I see, while walking down the dirt track lane that leads to our cabin. You say we’re doing fine, but I know you know deep down, the only reason we’re doing well is because of me. Being jeered at for the price of bread! I don’t want to be a circus act anymore! I want to be free, I could sell my carvings, and they’re amazing! But life is a misery like this.
I’d rather be dead…
Ever since Mother died, you’ve changed, you’ve gone from this nice “dad” who took me to the park for ice cream to this… stranger who doesn’t even CARE about his son. Don’t think I didn’t see you last night with that new watch. You’re wasting your money on things we don’t need. Am I your son, your slave, or your money maker? I’m seven years old Father, what would Grandma say if she knew you were treating me like this? Let me be free. I shouldn’t be treated like this, it’s just unfair. You treat me like nothing near to a son should be. I’ll ask again and I won’t stop asking, can I have a normal life and go to school and have friends and… be loved.