A few weeks ago,my Teacher said to make a game of Round to the nearest One,Ten,Hundred,THousand,Ten Thaousand and Hundred thousand,I did 10 questions,your welcome to play my game!
This week my class LS1 and I had to make printed artwork, I had a lot of fun doing printing with different colours it was so fun to do!
I’ll give you steps to follow if you’d like to do this!
My favorite part was pressing the wooden block to the paper and if l were to do thi again l would put more ink on the blockA
Today my teacher told me to make a Character profile about someone form the movie Holes,we could pick either Armpit,ZigZay,Zero or X-ray,I picked X-ray.This was actually very intresting and fun to do,I would 100% do this again.
Because of the story we read as a class Holes we all made a Yellow spotted lizard that was a poisness in the story and the cracks is the dried-up dirt floor
This poppy was a special flower during the ANZAC day war, I made a purple one to remeber the ANZAC animals who fought for us in the war, inculding SGT.Stubby, Waller the horse and many more animals. Farewell to them. R.I.P.
My teacher gave my friend and I a task about idioms,My friend and I worked together because we were a little bit confused.
A few days ago we had to write about animals that served in ww1,so I did I horse,why did I do a horse? because there was a horse named Waler,Waler served in ww1 by carrying heavy stuffon his back with a wooden trailer,sadliy Waler died in ww1 by battle wounds and diseases,It was really sad.
Last week my class and I had to make a google draw showing what we see in our mind when we think of ANZAC,I did a soilder that survived from ww1 and him kneeling down and looking at someone that had passed during war.
Diary entry
Location-Battle fields/Flanders fields
Date- 25th April 1925
Dear diary,
The shooting finally stopped this morning, but the quiet feels heavier than the noise. We lost half the members yesterday. It was a giant mess of mud and barbed wire, and I’ve got a shard of glass in my arm that won’t stop throbbing. When I was brought in, I saw Nurse Sarah. Even under her mask, you can see the exhaustion in her eyes. She didn’t complain, but the way she moved slowly, like every step hurt ,This tells you everything you need to know. It’s hard to tell who is more broken, the boys on the stretchers or the women trying to save them.
The waiting is the hardest part because the time seems to move so slowly while you are sitting there in the dark. My arm is pulsing with a steady heat and every beat of my heart makes the pain from that glass shard flare up again, making it impossible to find any position that feels even a little bit comfortable. I keep watching the nurses as they move from bed to bed in the dim light, and it is clear that they have not slept in days because their shoulders are slumped and they move with a heavy tiredness that they cannot hide anymore. Even when they are not speaking, you can feel how much they are carrying, yet they keep going back to help the next person who calls out for them. It makes me feel bad to complain about my own injury when I see how hard they are working to keep everyone alive in this crowded place. The air is thick with the smell of old bandages and mud, and the only sound is the low murmuring of voices and the occasional groan from across the room, which makes the whole hospital feel like a place where time has just stopped for all of us.
I finally managed to close my eyes for a short while, but it wasn’t restful sleep. It was just a heavy blur, full of the sounds from the day mixing with the quiet groans of the night. Every time I drift off, I see the faces of the men we left behind, or I feel the jolting terror of the shelling starting up again. It makes me jumpy, and I wake up quickly, my heart hammering against my ribs, only to remember I’m safe, for now, in this tent. The darkness doesn’t help because it lets your imagination run wild. You start thinking about home and everything you miss, and those thoughts hurt more than the glass in my arm ever could.
I look around at the others. We are all just waiting here. Waiting for the doctor, waiting for the all-clear, waiting for the fighting to end, or maybe just waiting for another dawn. We share nothing but this silence and this fear. There’s a young lad next to me, maybe seventeen, and he hasn’t said a word since I got here. He just stares at the ceiling. I want to tell him something helpful, something brave, but I don’t have the words left. The nurses keep giving us small, kind smiles, which are the only bits of real sunshine in this whole awful place. Those small smiles are what we hold onto. They make you think that maybe, just maybe, everything will be alright once we get through this long, dark night.
Two weeks ago ls1 did ”Pop art” and the other week we made our own “ink print” with our principal.He said we were one of the first classes to do a ink prints with him,he hadn’t done a ink print with classes in 10+ years.
the materials we needed was,a wood sheet of your face,pencil or pen,hot glue gun and any colored paper you woud like.