Death in a Dream

Sleep engulfs me.

I’m standing in an isolated clearing, the blood moon illuminating the red, wet ground. Men in dark suits surround me. Murder is etched into their black eyes, tunnels to oblivion. Maniacal laughter echoes around the trees. I’m breathing terror. I hear a twig snap behind me, and I spin, lashing out. He crumples like a marionette with his strings cut. The battle rages on.

My arm brakes for no reason. I twist my ankle and tears form an opaque curtain over my eyes. I blink like the world depends on it. Theoretically, it does. Pain is everything. Blood is everywhere. Defeated opponents carpet the ground. Some unconscious, some crippled, some severely wounded. Most are ceaselessly attacking me. I've never felt more fear.

Leaves rustle, bushes quiver. Assassins? Snipers? My mind is freeze-dried from panic, and it’s going overdrive. They emerge. All my friends and family, everyone I have ever or will ever care about, gaping at the fight. They are in advantageous positions, but they are paralysed with terror, compelled to watch me receive my unfortunate fate.

I shove my current opponent, and he stumbles, cracking his skull on a log. The moment his heart stops, his body ruptures, blood artfully tie dyeing his elegant tuxedo. His body disintegrates and floats on the breeze, ashes hitchhiking on the wind. I can only stare. I don’t notice the man behind me, manufactured from shadows. I don’t notice the knife glint as it bathes in the moonlight. But I do notice the tip of the blade protruding from my gut. The men disappear, their task completed. I seize the hilt and yank it out. I admire the elaborate carvings adorning the silver blade made from moonbeams. Mist obscures my vision.

I wake up. I've been sobbing into my pillow, and my duvet is tangled around my limbs from thrashing around. Thank goodness it was only a nightmare. My hand is clenched around something cold as death. I bring it out, through the jungle of bedclothes, and fling it away from me in terror. It’s the knife from my dream.

A stabbing pain courses through my body, threatening to make me black out. I gasp, my breathing uneven. I’m not balanced, my body teetering over the edge of my bed. I have no strength to right myself, and I land on the floor with a thud. I feel nothing. I lie there, in a growing pool of scarlet blood. It seeps towards the knife. The beautiful knife, soaking in blood, yet none stains the blade. It shimmers, and suddenly it’s in my hand. I can’t get rid of it, my fingers refuse to respond. A flashback- I’m in the clearing, and a man in a black suit looms over me. His scythe seems as tall as a redwood from my position, lying on my back on moss and pine needles. The scythe seems to swing without any guidance from the towering, faceless man above.

I died of decapitation while dreaming.

Alexandra Cemetery

L.I. To use the model of ‘The Old Alley’ to write descriptively about a place.

Twisted gates creak,

Fog entwines around

Cracking stone graves.

Gnarled, squatting pine trees

Cast shadows on the ground

They dance and lengthen

As the sun descends the deep blue sky,

Now streaked with gold.

Thin, wispy clouds

Obscure the crescent moon

Stars twinkle cheerfully,

Spirits of the corpses residing here

Until their bones rot away to nothing.

Wind moans,

A child calling to the deceased.

Weeds and moss suffocate the dirty stone,

And so, consequently, slabs of the gravestones

Separate themselves,

And roll down the shallow hill.

Cobwebs strangle the carved stone angels,

Blocking epitaphs from sight.

Decaying leaves carpet the unmowed grass

Leaving a floor of decomposition to walk on.

Over the rotting fences,

You will find fields filled with cattle,

And a  highway roaring with cars

Unaffected by the death and mourning

That calls this cemetery home.

Abundant silence fills my ears

This is not a happy place.

I crouch by a checker-patterned grave,

Sweeping dust from the headstone.

I hope the dead appreciate that

There’s plenty more to clean.

By Amy

My apologies for lack of posts.

I've been off school for week 4 with a fractured shoulder- so no computer time. I'll be posting heaps of writing this week though! It's going to be exiting. Queen's birthday weekend on Monday, Science I.C.A.S. test on Wednesday, and on Friday, the SHINE launch that Mr McGabe has mentioned a couple of times. SHINE is an acronym (is that the right word?) but I"m not sure what it stands for. Guaranteed no schoolwork on Friday, with sports for first and middle blocks, and a free sausage each for lunch. I won't be doing sports, because of my fracture, but instead will be blowing up helium balloons. I must remember to bring a book.

Environmental Concern- Global Warming

What is global warming?

Global warming is a worldwide problem we are now staring in the face. Human beings have caused this by creating carbon dioxide and greenhouse gases, which builds up our atmosphere, until only the Sun’s powerful rays will penetrate it. Unfortunately, our atmosphere is like Earth’s insulation, which means it will prevent the heat escaping into space. Over centuries, this heat will build up, slowly torturing vegetation, animals and human beings. The worst part is, it’s already underway.

Firstly, what are the causes of global warming? Our atmosphere is a gargantuan sphere made up of gases, blanketing Earth. Without it, the Sun would roast us by day, and we would be frozen solid by night. But by building up our atmosphere, mainly with carbon dioxide and Greenhouse gases, we are damaging our planet. Basically, it’s like adding more and more insulation to your home, meanwhile increasing the heat inside. We produce carbon dioxide by petrol fumes from vehicles, fires, smoking, and even breathing. We breathe in oxygen, and breathe out carbon dioxide. However, trees are the opposite, so felling trees is a big problem too. Petrol fumes from vehicles is mainly our biggest problem. People are driving to local places that would have only taken five more minutes to bike to. This is not good for our environment!

Subsequently, what are the consequences of global warming? For a start, the Polar Caps, the South and North Poles, and Antarctica will melt. Cute penguins and polar bears will be homeless and eventually will die out. Also, with all that melted water, the sea level will rise enough to at least drown islands and coastal towns. The weather will change dramatically. Whether it is frequent thunderstorms or terrible droughts, crops will not survive. Unless we find some sort of food source able to survive global warming, most animals (including human beings) will starve to death. Although this is a terribly slow process, taking many thousands of years, the human race will die out eventually, which will be an improvement in some ways and a catastrophe in others. Some animals will survive. Earth will not be devoid of life, because some life will have adapted and evolved to suit the environment.

Thirdly, what can we do to help prevent global warming? One of the main, and probably most effective, things we can do is not produce much more gases harmful to the environment. It’s best if the atmosphere does not get any thicker than it already is. Simple yet effective things anyone can do is bike or walk instead of drive. Don’t cut down any more forests than we really need. Riding on buses reduces the amount of petrol fumes released into the atmosphere. If twelve people each took a car that would be twelve lots of fumes. However, if they went in groups of four only three lots of fumes would be produced. If everyone acted, it would be simple things like that that made all the difference.

       In conclusion global warming is a worldwide problem. Not fiction, it’s reality. Some people will say, “Global warming is a myth. Don’t be concerned about it.” This is not true! We can help prevent the horrible consequences if we do simple things. Now that you know what global warming is, what the causes and effects are, and what you can do to help, PLEASE cooperate! A little consideration for the environment can go a long way!   

By Amy

How the Looking-Glass Obtained its Reflection

Once upon a time there was a circular, looking-glass with a rim of the most beautiful polished oak. He longed for a reflection of his own, as he was forever forced to watch as many gorgeous animals preened themselves while staring into the crystal-clear lake, with their reflections copying their every move. Then they would always peer into the looking-glass and say, “What a pity this looking-glass does not show our reflections in it. One should think a simple piece of glass would reflect our shiny feathers and glossy fur coats. A pity, that wonderful oak rim would suit us.” And, shaking their heads with false empathy, they would prance away, laughing and quickly forgetting the lonely looking-glass. So the looking-glass envied the lake, and often was forced to bathe in self-pity for the taunts he was compelled to endure.

One day a stranger wandered by. He was tall, and thin, with strange dark skin that hung loosely on his body, and a mass of dark fur on his head. He looked strangely melancholy, and approached the looking-glass with a walk like a zombie. He told the looking-glass of a faraway land, full of shiny metals that glint in the sun. He told him of his nephew, who shaped these metals into plates, machines, and crafts of any kind. When the looking-glass mentioned his problem, the stranger told him of a journey that was long, dangerous, and terrifying. Yet if the looking-glass succeeded, he would be able to show all the other animals their reflections. The stranger gave him detailed instructions, and said farewell. Then he disappeared in an explosion of gold light.

The looking-glass decided that the only way forwards was on. So he hiked to a valley in which elves gladly gave him their hospitality in their protected realm. Then he journeyed to a misty mountain range, called the Murky Mountains, where rock-giants hurled massive boulders at each other in the night, and goblins roamed the undergrounds. Eventually he came to a trapdoor almost concealed in amongst the pebbles and stones on the path. With much straining, he managed to turn the ring and entered the ancient, long-abandoned dwarfish Musty Mines. Inside were horrors you and I could never hope to imagine. Fiery ogres roamed the corridors of stone, and spirits and ghosts of the dwarves who once mined their many jewels and precious stones haunted every room. A particularly fierce breed of goblins killed and ate anything they found. Somehow, the looking-glass managed to avoid contact with most of the monsters in the mines. Suddenly, right in front of him, he saw a glimmering block of silver. It was large, just the right size for what the looking-glass needed it for. He could barely lift it, but somehow he managed to carry it all the way to the exit.

Unfortunately, he emerged in total darkness.  The looking-glass had long since learned it was unwise to be out in the middle of the night, and he would have to dodge goblins and rock giants to find shelter. A thunderclap roared in the distance, and heavy rain descended onto the poor looking-glass. What a thing to happen right at this moment! Suddenly, an especially enormous rock giant picked up the boulder that he was walking on and hurled him into the night sky. What bad luck!

He was now stranded in a valley far from the forges were he would get his block of silver smelted. It was on the other side of the Murky Mountains, and there was no way he could ever get both himself and his silver back over them. Then he remembered the parting words of the depressed-looking stranger. “Remember, all riches found in those mines are enchanted, and can only be shaped three times, in any heat at all, depending on what you need and what you have. My nephew, however, is the only one who has the skill for what you need.” Suddenly, his words made sense! The looking-glass made a campfire, and heated the silver in the flickering flames. His lack of hands made it difficult, but he managed to shape it into a live bird. The bird chirped, and the looking-glass managed to get onto his back. Then off they flew! They made it to the forges when the sky glowed grey with pre-dawn light.

Inside a hunched, grey-bearded man so withered and wrinkled he might disintegrate at the slightest touch. Although in many ways the looking-glass seemed stronger than the man, he radiated an aura of intelligence and wisdom. The looking-glass managed to stutter out his problem and request, and the old man cracked a smile. ‘Of course I will help you. You have had to endure much to reach me. It is the least I can do.” So at last, the poor looking-glass’ wish had been granted! He left the forges at sundown, with a stylish silver plate behind his glass. As the silver was enchanted, any being that looked into the looking-glass saw themselves beaming back at them. Never again was he tortured past endurance, and everyone enjoyed his presence.

However, looking-glasses are not manufactured this way anymore. The enchanted silver in the Musty Mines has been depleted to non-existence, and eventually forgotten. But the looking-glass lived a long and happy life, to the amazing age of one hundred and eighty-seven. And to this day, every looking-glass and mirror has adored their gift of reflecting.

Camp Memoir- Abseiling

My grip on the rope tightens until my knuckles turn white. It doesn’t seem like the strongest rope, but I weave my trust into it. T Taking minute steps backwards, I lean back, expecting someone who isn’t there to catch me. Millimetre by millimetre, I let more rope out into the metal ring. Gradually I descend, instinctively leaning forwards. “Lean back, that’s it. Lean back,” murmurs the soothing American accent in a encouraging tone. Pixies dance a fierce jig in my stomach. I haven’t felt this nervous for years. But my courage kicks in as soon as the vertical artificial grass runs out. A tsunami of exhilaration floods my body. “Hey. Did you know you can jump?” comes a voice from above.

My worn-out sneakers push off from the metallic grey cliff, and I soar like the Haast’s Eagle. I imagine gliding effortlessly over the gargantuan blue lake, over the native bush, hunting prey, and admiring the scenery that future generations will never witness. I’m yanked out of my daydream as my feet crunch heavily onto the moss-covered stone. Running my fingers over the grooves, suddenly I’m in medieval times, scaling the castle wall. Leaping again, hearing calming encouragement, ripples on the lake, insects chirping and birds singing. The scents of bush and dirt permeate my nostrils, along with freshwater and foreign aromas carried on the breezes I can’t identify. I feed the ring more rope, this time lots all at once, so I seem to fall for a second, before the rope catches me in its thin, rough arms.

At this moment I’m confident I can do anything. I’m mentally flying over the breathtaking scenery, tasting the fresh air, the crisp breezes, the wilderness. Full of energy, I feel the adrenaline pumping through my body.

“Are you sure you’re not a monkey?” a parent inquires. I bounce cheerfully, backing into a saturated, leafy plant. Wishing I could have taken longer, my feet touch down on horizontal earth. The parent helper disentangles the rope from the heavy ring, and I embark on the steep excursion through the bush. Trudging along the muddy, slippery track back to the hut, I long to do it again.

The Nightmare

Sleep engulfs me.

I’m standing in an isolated clearing, the blood moon illuminating the red, wet ground. Men in dark suits surround me. Murder is etched into their black eyes, tunnels to oblivion. Maniacal laughter echoes around the trees. I’m breathing terror. I hear a twig snap behind me, and I spin, lashing out. He crumples like a marionette with his strings cut. The battle rages on.

My arm brakes for no reason. I twist my ankle and tears form an opaque curtain over my eyes. I blink like the world depends on it. Theoretically, it does. Pain is everything. Blood is everywhere. Defeated opponents carpet the ground. Some unconscious, some crippled, some severely wounded. Most are ceaselessly attacking me. I've never felt more fear.

Leaves rustle, bushes quiver. Assassins? Snipers? My mind is freeze-dried from panic, and it’s going overdrive. They emerge. All my friends and family, everyone I have ever or will ever care about, gaping at the fight. They are in advantageous positions, but they are paralysed with terror, compelled to watch me receive my unfortunate fate.

I shove my current opponent, and he stumbles, cracking his skull on a log. The moment his heart stops, his body ruptures, blood artfully tie dyeing his elegant tuxedo. His body disintegrates and floats on the breeze, ashes hitchhiking on the wind. I can only stare. I don’t notice the man behind me, manufactured from shadows. I don’t notice the knife glint as it bathes in the moonlight. But I do notice the tip of the blade protruding from my gut. The men disappear, their task completed. I seize the hilt and yank it out. I admire the elaborate carvings adorning the silver blade made from moonbeams. Mist obscures my vision.

I wake up. I've been sobbing into my pillow, and my duvet is tangled around my limbs from thrashing around. Thank goodness it was only a nightmare. My hand is clenched around something cold as death. I bring it out, through the jungle of bedclothes, and fling it away from me in terror.

It’s the knife from my dream.

Learning Reflections- term 2 week 1

Week 1

Term 1 couldn't possibly go so fast. There's going to be so many exiting things this term. Science Fair, for one. My topic is 'Which fizzy drink, out of Sprite, Coke, or Fanta, does the most damage to your teeth?'

For Extension Writing, we have to write a 500 word story. I have a horror story based on a thought blossomed from a friend's nightmare. It may be a bit too gruesome and violent, and it is very creepy. Our Extension Writing teacher, Mrs Shaw, found some tips online for writing, from a good author. I really liked his metaphor; 'A piece of writing is like a rose bush- it grows healthier after you prune the unnecessary parts.' I think that's very clever.

This term, we have a program where we can write up our own timetables for the day. I think this will benefit our learning a lot. If I had my way, I would do silent reading and writing all day.

For maths, we are working on decimals and fractions. Lately I have done converting fractions into recurring decimals. Some decimals take ages to recur, and some only have one digit. For example, one third is 0.33333 and so on, and one seventeenth is 0.0588235294117647 repeated forever.

The Girl- Continued

Macey was perched high on a branch in an impossibly tall pine tree in Clover Park. A group of ragged teenagers, around thirteen or fourteen of age, were sitting in a ring on a bunch of slightly lower branches. She was not usually an eavesdropper, but this seemed like something out of a fairytale. Annabelle, the girl Macey had been following, had apparently run away to live in the woods. A few days later, her loyal friends Tabitha, Lola, Ryan and Jonathan had found her and started living in the woodlands with her. A couple of weeks later, they had found out that a gang of cold-blooded murderers planned to kill the farmer who owned the woods, fell them, sell them, and then they would be millionaires in positions of great power. The group of runaways had led them on a false trail and fled. After a year or so of running, fleeing, and basically surviving, they had ended up in this small village. Along the way, one of the boys, Ryan, had disappeared overnight, and they had picked up a stray dog, trained it, and named it Sammy. They were swapping information on their various findings about their supposed assassination at sunrise the next day, as they had obviously split up before this meeting. Macey was so attuned to their conversation the whole time, she didn't notice the sneeze welling up inside her... "Achoo!" She went. She realized that these people were heavily armed; daggers, bows, slingshots, and even a short sword. She also became aware that they were all staring straight at her!

My Writing- The Ocean

The Ocean
Waves crash onto fine white sand, a hand caressing the beach.
Driftwood begins a thrilling joyride, tossing and turning with the merciless currents.
Palaces of seashells lie on the ocean floor, with mazes of coral in the courtyards and rooms of salty water.
Breezes blow sand into mini hurricanes, which then set off on excursions down the beach.
The ocean is deep, silent, black, and to be in its embrace is to be suspended in oblivion.
Multicoloured fish dart in and out of the coral reefs, like children, playing in the park.
Menacing sharks hunt in the currents of water, their smirks glittering with malice.
A gentle wind races the tides in the dark night, illuminated only by the soft spotlight of the moon.

Riddle

I travel but do not move.
I glare but cannot see.
I burn but do not breathe.
What am I?

XIX XI XIV
Decode to find the answer.
Hint: It is a number code in Roman Numerals.

The Girl

The Girl

Macey stopped. There was the ragged girl she had seen that morning. Tangles in her hair, dirt on her face, rips in her clothes. Macey had no idea what to make of her. she knew everyone in the neighborhood, so she must be new. But there was only one intermediate in the whole village, and Macey hadn't seen her at school. However, Macey was a slave to curiosity, so she cautiously approached the girl. Just before she reached her, a crowd of teenagers passed in between them. "Hi, I'm Macey." said Macey, only to find she was talking to thin air! The girl had merged into the crowd. Just then, she noticed a hollow in the brick wall the girl had been sitting on. A small corner of paper was peeking out, as if a note had been hastily stuffed inside.

Macey extracted the thin paper with extreme care. Knowing it was not for her, she did not want to tear it. It looked like a half-folded origami swan, screwed up and stuffed in the hollow. It was written in a simple number code, except the numbers were Roman numerals. Macey quickly decoded it, with little trouble. 'Ryan's disappeared. We don't want to assume the worst but we will now rejoin groups. We have no food and as you know the assassination is tomorrow at sundown. We cannot go further, we must stay in this village. Sammy's dead, knife to the throat. Meet at Clover Park ASAP in the tallest climbable tree to discuss. We have a problem that we can't fix. Too risky to put in a note. Good luck, Annabelle' This all made no sense to Macey, but she replaced the note as she had found it and strode over to Clover Park to find out.

Frozen Morning

Frozen morning

Sharp, cold breezes canter in the early morning light.
I feel their icy touch.
A golden sun rises through dense layers of clouds.
I see the bright glare of orange.
Steamy mist rises above half-frozen pools.
I feel the moist cold seeping through coats and jackets.
Birds chirp in the shadowy trees.
I hear their joyful song.
Thick ice carpets the bare ground.
I feel the crunching underfoot.
Orange mist swirls around the trees.
I see the dim glow.
Creeks melt and rush swiftly along.
I hear the trickling of running water.
Insects chirp from their perches in the bushes.
I hear their playful orchestra.
Tall bare pines stand tall, their silhouettes jumping out in the landscapes.
I see their dark figures.

By Amy

Learning Reflections- Week 7

Week 7

This week was amazing! We had a disco on Wednesday, themed '80s', and it was brilliant! Also we had 25 Japanese students from Makuhari Junior High come and stay at 25 lucky host families. They were coming and going, visiting scenic attractions all around the North Island. They learned a lot and I hope they really enjoyed their stay here. This week in maths, I learnt about integers. They are whole numbers, negatives and positives. I also learnt how to add or subtract a positive and negative number. The rule is looks confusing, but it isn't, however, I find it impossible to word.Next week we will have finished number and will move on to measurement, in maths. We had a test to see how much we already know, and I don't really think I did very well. Measurement is definitely not my best area in maths! Extension Writing has started, and I really enjoy it. We do a lot of poetry, which is fortunately my favourite genre of writing. This has been a really great week!

My Writing- Jungle Girl

Jungle Girl
She flits from branch to branch like a fantail.
She leaps from log to log like a tiger.
She runs as fast as a springbok.
She swings from vine to vine like a monkey.
She slithers as silently as a snake.
She climbs as high as a giraffe.
She roars as loud as a lion.
She dances as gracefully as a swan.
She flies as expertly as an eagle.
She swims like a dolphin.
She hops from stone to stone like a rabbit.
She holds as tight as a python.
She thinks as clearly as a human.
She moves as precisely as a jaguar.
She creeps as stealthily as a mouse.
She hunts as skilfully as a cheetah.

By Amy

My Writing- Lonely

Lonely

Lonely is a pain in your heart that never stops aching.

Lonely is a burning behind your eyes, filling them with tears.

Lonely is an endless tunnel of black.

Lonely is a rope made of interlinked question marks that is the

 only thing keeping you from falling into a bottomless abyss.

Lonely is a dark sea, silent and black, nothing in any direction.

Lonely is a hall filled with people, where even your best friend ignores you.

Lonely is a ladder, with no end.

Lonely is a hallucination where you see everything you want,

 but it dissolves into smoke the moment you touch it.

Lonely is a searing pain in your stomach, always increasing,

like someone is tearing your insides apart.

However, lonely is just an illusion.

By Amy

My Writing- Spring

Spring

Light rain patters

On the roof of leaves

New shoots rise,

A light, light green

Newborn lambs baa,

White as snow

Baby calves sleep

Under skies of indigo.

Moon shines bright,

In the opaque black

Stars flicker and twinkle

With a warmth the sun lacks

Horizon glows orange

Sun shines gold

Sees this time of year again,

Spring's story, yet to be told

Clouds drift lazily

Over quilts of snow now thinning

Across the land, people now

Tell stories of new beginnings.

By Amy

My Writing- Autumn

Autumn

Cold breezes dance through crisp morning air. Crackly brown leaves cascade around gnarled oak trees. Bare branches protrude from tree trunks, like knobbly fingers snatching at thin air. A carpet of decaying leaves lies underfoot, crunching into dust with every step. Light rain patters on the roof of twigs, dropping through the torn umbrella of entwined boughs and branches. A golden sun ascends the misty sky, making every dew drop glow glow. My eyes light up from the beauty of Autumn.   By Amy

Relay for Life Poetry- Hope

Relay for Life Poetry

HOPE

An abyss stretches out in front

Deep and bottomless

I'm not going to fall while I'm young

Into the ravine filled with darkness

Shove me off, but I won't fall

My family hasn't given up hope

Gather my strength, take one step more

Over obstacles, climb a breaking rope

I won't yet be robbed of life

Into the pit I will not yet fall

Now I live a survivor's life

And hope gave me it all

Remember those who were lost

Support those yet to pull through

Celebrate life at all costs

Give hope is what you must do

By Amy

Learning Reflections- Week 5

Week 5

How many days in a week? Seven?! It feels like it must have been two or three! On Monday, there was the Inter-Intermediate Swimming Sports, and I went as a reporter. It was a day with unpredictable weather, with warm sunshine for the first hour or two and freezing rain and wind on and off for the rest of the day. We came home disappointed, placing sixth out of seven intermediates. Tuesday passed in such a breeze, I can't even remember many things we did. On Wednesday, we received the test results for all the testing we have been doing. I did pretty well, with Stanine nines in most areas. In writing, the explanation I handed in for the test was leveled at 6P,  which is great considering that I was only a level 4A at the end of last year. Seriously, you would think I would go down in levels over the summer holidays, but no, apparently not! Over the week in mathematics, I have learnt how to tell if a number is divisible by four, six and eleven. If the number formed by the last two digits is a multiple of four, the original number is divisible by four. If the number is divisible by two and three, it is also a multiple of six. For eleven, it is a little complicated. First, you add together the digits in even positions. For, say, 3492, you would add together the four and the two. Next, find the sum of the digits in odd positions, which would be 3+9=12. If the difference between the two answers is zero or a multiple of eleven, the original number is a multiple of eleven.  

Learning Reflections- Week 4

Week 4

This week we did lots of testing!!! Monday should be renamed 'Maths Testing Day'. We did a basic facts test, the IKAN test, and the PAT Mathematics test. Maths is my favourite subject, but several of my friends were groaning with boredom by lunchtime. Since then, we have done lots more PATs such as English, Reading Comprehension, Listening, etc. I didn't learn anything from the tests, because the whole point of them is to find out what you have learned and what you need to learn. However, we have done a report on wetas, so I learnt heaps about them. I also learnt that it is not necessary to have headings for every paragraph if you have  good topic sentences. In maths, I've learnt a lot this week. I've learnt what prime factors are, and how to use a factor tree to find them. Also, my maths group did lots of work on highest common factors and lowest common multiples. This week has been a great week for learning!!!

Learning Reflections- Week 3

Week 3

This week passed in a blur! On Friday we had our inter house swimming competition. It was similar to the swimming sports at my old school, but we never got cold. Everyone was sitting with their house, and cheering the swimmers along. The four houses are Mangapiko (my house) Puniu, Waipa, and Waikato. Even though I didn't do well in the races, I still had an awesome day! I've done heaps of writing this week, too.

My Learning Reflections- Week 1&2

Week 1&2

My first week at TAI has gone so  fast! There's so many things to remember, e.g. which bus to catch, what your classmates are called, where the playground is, etc. But now we have almost been here two weeks, (how does time go so quickly?!) we are doing heaps of testing. My brain is going overload! Maths, spelling, reading, music, it's a miracle I can remember everything after six weeks of holidays! Maths is my favourite subject, I've learnt how to round numbers to significant figures. If it is to one significant figure, you round it to the first digit. Example: 577 rounded to one significant figure is 600.  

Welcome to my blog

Hi

My name is Amy and this is my site for my school Te Awamutu Intermediate. I will be using this to record and reflect on my learning over the year. I hope you enjoy it.