GCSE English and GCSE English Language Writing Exemplars (excluding Descriptive writing)

Narrative, First and Third person writing

The tasks for First and Third person writing in the GCSE English folder are interchangeable with those for the Narrative/expressive writing in the GCSE English Language folder. In each case the writing is marked out of 20, contributing 10% to the English subject award and 7.5% to the English Language subject award.

For the purposes of this exemplification, no distinction has been made between the two Specifications. All the examples below could appear in a folder for either Specification.

N.B. Descriptive Writing work for English Language is exemplified in a separate file.

The mark given for each of the examples provided is supported by comments related to the criteria and mark bands given in the specification for (i) Content & Organisation; (ii) Sentence Structure, Punctuation & Spelling.

GCSE English: First Person task

My most special moments

There are some for whom convenience food is a lifesaver. Preparing a meal isn’t something they do naturally. Plucking it out of the freezer, reading instructions, removing the outer packaging, piercing the transparent film and bunging it into the microwave requires no effort at all. A ready meal in two to three minutes, garnished with an exotic name.

Others take to cooking like fish to water, taking every care even when it comes to preparing a simple dish. Mum belongs to the latter group. She was completely in her zone as soon as she placed a pot on the burner. This wasn’t just routine. To her this was an art. A science. She was creating something- something beautiful, tantalising and even unbelievable. She resembled the fervour of a conductor orchestrating a symphony, the grace and dexterity of a ballet choreographer and the incisive intuition of a surgeon- she was the master chef if you get my drift; especially if it was on a special occasion like Eid celebrations.

To this day I remain puzzled by the fact that nothing was weighed or measured. They say you can always tell a novice in the kitchen because they’ll obsess with getting it perfect by weighing and measuring every ingredient- ounce-by-ounce, millilitre-by-millilitre. But virtuosos like my mum weigh with their hands and measure with their eyes. They’ll know instinctively if it’s too much or too little. Solomon’s wisdom, I call it- an acquired judgement that would put politicians to shame. I’m tempted to ask and put my curiosity to rest- but I won’t. There’s a magic about it, an enigma is only as enigmatic as the curiosity behind it.

Occasionally she’d look up at you. I always got confused about what she expected me to do or say, because she just looked and never spoke, before then, as if in a

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trance, returning to what she was engrossed in. This weird flash of concentration was accompanied by a mild intake of breath; it was probably her way of energising, regrouping and mustering together her concentration and focus. This wide-eyed stare wasn’t an angry or searching look; it wasn’t even a look as if to say, ‘What the hell are you doing in my domain?’ It was a warm, yet assured look. No, I wasn’t an intruder or trespasser. It was safe to pass by.

From amongst the clutter of spoons, knives, pots and pans, one object stood out. It was unique. It was the flat round metallic tin. This was no ordinary metal box. It was the container holding probably the most identifiable Indian ingredient. Ghee! As my mum prized open the airtight lid, it made a sound I can only describe as the reverse action of a vacuum cleaner.

Anyway, into the pot went spoonfuls of semi-solidified Ghee- the mother of all ingredients. Golden rivulets, like syrupy treacle, would emerge from the sides of these golden Ghee mountains, merge into rivers and gush out from the estuaries into a molten liquid lake. The brass volcanic lava would then soak into mounds of masala-fluorescent turmeric, piquant red chilli, khaki green coriander, barky-brown cinnamon and aromatic cardamom pods. A bubbling paint pot of colour all mingling into one

My favourite bit was watching her skin the onions. The layers would come unshelled- and then with her delicate fingertips she would capture the membrane-sheathed heart and reveal it like a jewel.

Once again, like a true connoisseur, she crafts the cuisine to her time-honoured recipes. She knows if it’s too hot or not sweet enough by instinct. It was her sixth sense.

It was all a bit like beholding some kind of performance. You’d never known how much time and effort and passion she had put into the rehearsal. All you would get to see is the actual performance which was always delivered with effortless ease and grace. It was ironic, because she’d never make a song and dance about anything. I can truly say that watching her cook for a family gathering was like theatre. You can bet for certain though that she would never be around to take the final bow, even if there was an encore.

* * * * * * * * * *

I like celebrations and parties; they are a good excuse to enjoy good company and let yourself go. However, as I have grown older, my perspective on celebrations has changed. When you are young, it seems as if the celebrations revolve around you; the adults smother you with their doting and shower you with presents only because they see you as an innocent little tot. You have no idea about the significance of the day. You just enjoy the attention.

As you grow older, you gain more knowledge and understanding about the significance of the practices and festivals. You enjoy everything but with a sense of responsibility and knowing.

Waking up early, really early, is my biggest bugbear. With all the excitement, anticipation and preparation the night before, an early rise is not always that easy.

It’s all worth it though when you put on your newest clothes- the best outfit you have been saving for this day. You feel special. You look special. However, it is not just about dressing up and feeling good. You have to fulfil your religious duties too. So

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early morning prayers, giving charity and remembering the deceased are an integral part of the celebrations.

Occasions bring people together. There are some you look forward to sharing the day with and some colourful characters that you have to call ‘family’. Gifts exchange hands. Handshakes and hugs come thick and fast.

Reminding myself to steer clear of one of my aunties, I head for the back room. I dread being hugged out of breath by her. From a distance she could be mistaken for Pat Butcher from Eastenders. Rotund and robust, she stands formidable with arms wide open and a huge comic strip smile, ready and waiting to give you that huge hug. Occasionally, there’s a little lift if she’s feeling a tad hearty. And yet, despite my best efforts, there’s just no escaping the ‘great squeeze’. This time it’s with a pat on the head as well! She probably still sees me as a ten year old just because I’m shorter than her grandson. Why does she always wind me up? I grin and grit my teeth. Stay calm. Remember it is Eid. It’ll be over soon…

The family meal is the best part. Food is a good congregator, especially when there is plenty of it. The decorations add to the ambience of the occasion. Everyone waits in nervous anticipation. The atmosphere is buzzing. Let the feast begin!

I try to grab a seat near one of my uncles. He’s hilarious! You’re guaranteed a bundle of laughs when he’s around. A wicked combination of Del Boy and David Brent, he’s a crafty salesman who just hasn’t made the big time yet. He’s got that glint of tragic stardom about him. I bet he thinks he could have been big in Bollywood, which is probably why he’s always got that ‘If only…’ look in his eyes. I remember him this time last year telling us about a dodgy job-lot of ‘authentic’ Indian woodcarvings made in some back street workshop in Birmingham he had managed to flog! It’s like listening to a heroic traveller narrating the chronicles of his epic adventure to his people who themselves just don’t have the bottle to take risks.

At the end of the meal, there’s lots of getting up and moving around, as everyone begins to clump together in groups. There are the kiddies who randomly run around screaming. Then there are the boys standing around acting cool and casual desperately trying to attract the girls’ attention but they are far too busy gasping at each other’s latest hairstyles and henna hand designs. Over there is the ‘30’s to 40’s’ club who like to relax and have a laugh, measuring up their career progress against each other, or canvassing ideas for the name of their next baby. Finally there’s the over-50s crowd who sit and mull over the latest news headlines and muse over the politics of the day, occasionally glancing at the younger generation in silent disapproval as if to say, ‘You pretty little things haven’t got a clue about life. We do. We’ve lived it!’ Celebrations are great. They bring people together- the weird and the wonderful. It’s what celebrations are all about I suppose, bringing people together.

It all ends with compliments and farewells. Everyone takes away with them the memories of the day that they will probably reminisce over until the same time next year.

Commentary

This is highly sophisticated work. A wide range of well-selected and ambitious vocabulary is employed to great effect in a reflective piece that never fails to hold the interest of the reader. Detail is carefully chosen and well described and the sentences are thoughtfully shaped. It is clear that the student has

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consciously shaped language for the reader’s entertainment. The characters are described in an interesting and engaging way as the student draws us into his family situation with assured wit and honesty in this excellent reflective piece. The SSPS aspect is flawless. This is Band 4 work and deserves full marks.

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GCSE English Language: Narrative/expressive task

Only my mother could embarrass me like that!

"What do you think you’re doing?” Mum asked.

"Doing my art homework. What does it look like?" I snapped.

"Not on my antique table, you’re not."

"But mum, I need to get this done,” I moaned.

"Oh and you’re going to pay for a new one when you get paint stains all over it?"

What kind of a question was that? Of course I wasn’t going to be able to pay for it. I would have to sell my organs if I was even going to get close to affording a new table like this. I just stood there, scowling.

“Exactly," mum said smugly. "I didn’t think so. Pack up your things and find somewhere else to do your art work."

But where else was I going to do my work? There was nowhere. My parents were interior designers and with it they had more money than sense. The house looked more like a show room. Each room had a colour scheme to create a "mood" and give it "character," as my mum had once told me, after I had questioned the décor. Although, that still didn’t explain to me why it had to be so boring. All rooms had a neutral colour on the walls with antique, coloured furnishing all designed along with the colour plan.

The living room walls for instance, were painted a matt beige shade with mid-brown leather sofas. A couple of two-seaters were placed against the two walls, while a reclining armchair sat in front of the window. Placed neatly in these seats were real, animal skin cushions making the sofas look unwelcoming. However, the cushions were only for show and not to be used or touched too often- not that I would want to use one. On the remaining wall a carved, marble mantle piece dominated the room, polished to perfection and above it a giant mirror, which apparently "expanded" the room. A huge plasma T.V with cinema sound system occupied the far comer and apart from the few professional family portraits, which I hated, the rest of the walls were fashionably bare. The floor was covered with a cream carpet and in the centre sat a brown, buffalo fur rug. On top of this rug stood the wooden, antique table from which I had been banished. Packing up my equipment, I headed up to my bedroom.

My room wasn’t like the rest of the house; it had character. It was a small room, which I liked, and nothing matched. Everything was tacky and clashing greens, pinks, blues and yellows, coated my walls, as it was the only room my parents didn’t have control over. All that populated my room were my three-chest of drawers and dressing table along one wall and opposite was where my dinky, single bed lay. At the foot of it was my wardrobe. Taking a couple of strides over my untidy floor, covered in clothes and junk, I reached my dressing table. Pushing the clutter away and setting down my canvas artwork, which was far too big to fit on my small table, I got to work. By the time I had finished, it was late. Slipping into bed, my thoughts twigged on the date of the next day. Friday 19th July - my 16th birthday. With this delight resting in my mind, I drifted off to sleep.

I rushed downstairs early next morning to find my presents stacked, with my fry up

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breakfast, already waiting on the dining room table. My parents followed me in, chorusing "Happy Birthday." No sooner had they finished singing, their smiles faded to guilty looks. I looked up at them from my breakfast.

"Poppet, I know it’s your l6th, but…” my dad started, glancing at mum for assistance. I knew what was coming. This was when they announced that there was this really important business meeting they had to attend, so they wouldn’t be there that night and therefore I couldn’t have my party. I shrugged it off. This wasn’t the first time I had been let down by them. My parents weren’t the sort to ever come to things like my school plays or fetes and I couldn’t remember the last time they had been there for a birthday party. Work always came first. However, I thought they may have made more of an effort for my l6th birthday; I was wrong.

As soon as I got into school, I explained the bad news to Jessica, my best friend. "Well, that’s perfect," Jessica gleamed with excitement. She noticed my look of confusion and went on to explain her happiness. "You say they’re not coming back until tomorrow, yeah?" I nodded in reply. "Then you can have a house party. Come on, don’t let them spoil your l6th and anyway you have the biggest house. You could have loads of people.”Although I would get into masses of trouble if my parents ever found out, it was my 16th birthday. Why shouldn’t I have a party? It was they who had spoiled everything by going to some work thing; they should be here for my birthday. Anyway they wouldn’t be back until tomorrow evening — that would give me enough time to tidy the house and make sure all the evidence had been cleared. They would never know.

“Yeah okay," I agreed, "Why not?"

The party had started and news had spread. Not only had majority, of my year arrived, but also extra guests from other years had turned up- most of whom I did not know.

Deafening music, pumping from the surround sound, filled the crammed rooms downstairs. People were chatting, dancing and drinking, making the neatly decorated rooms turn into my parents’ nightmare.

The living room was the worst. The once glinting mantle piece was covered in sticky, spilt drinks, whilst the carpet had crunched snacks, trodden into it. The sofas, with their cushions, were trashed as they were covered in empty cups and crisp debris. Ring marks remained where every cup had been placed on the antique table. It now wouldn’t have mattered about paint stains and for some reason, I felt a thriving buzz for the mess and disorganisation; a contrast from the normal perfection.

I turned to head out of the chaos and there stood my nightmare. Mum stormed over to me. She growled. "And what do you think you’re doing?”

Commentary

The narrative is well shaped with effective plot and characterisation. The vocabulary is varied and well-suited to purpose. Dialogue is used effectively and, while the conclusion is a little predictable, the story is engaging and interests the reader. Detail is carefully selected with the contrasting of the minimalist and perfect décor and the student’s bedroom and the aftermath of the party. The SSPS aspects are sound with a variety of sentence types and

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accurate punctuation and spelling. This belongs in the lower part of Band 4 for both Content and Organisation and SSPS, giving a mark of 16.

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GCSE English Language: Narrative/expressive task

GCSE English: First Person task

My Most Special Moment

The morning of September 14th 2000, I woke early to find a brand new bright pink pushbike wrapped in shiny silver paper. It was my birthday and like all seven-year-old girls, I was desperate for a bike like all the older children. Finally I had got one. At seven o’clock, I began begging my dad to take me for a ride.

‘Not now, love, go back to bed,’ he replied drowsily. How could I sleep when my brand new bike was sitting downstairs waiting for me? Every five minutes I returned to his bedroom to force him to take me out. Finally at 8.30, he gave up and agreed to do it.

It was not a particularly warm day so I put on my brand new pale blue jumper and my navy leggings. As we rode down the steep grassy hill towards the canal, the dew glistened in the sunlight like diamonds hanging from a pure green chain. The cool autumn breeze rushed through the holes in my matching pink helmet. We raced alongside the deep blue waters for miles.

My legs were aching, shrieking out for me to stop and give them a rest but was I going to give in to them? Never! As the slope up to a bridge began, my muscles started to give up. ‘If only I could stop,’ I thought miserably. Suddenly I could feel myself falling backwards downhill slowly at first but then picking up speed quite noticeably. I began to feel panic building inside of me.

‘Dad! Dad, help me!’ I called. My chest felt as though someone was hammering from the inside. All I could think was, ‘My mum’s going to kill me if I get my new jersey dirty.’ As I reached the water’s edge, I saw my dad sprint down from the top of the bridge. ‘Ellie,’ he shouted, ‘use your brakes!’

It was the last thing I remember hearing before hitting the icy cold water. Water bubbles filled my ears as though someone was gurgling mouthwash into them. I opened my mouth to scream when foul tasting liquid flooded in, blocking my speech from coming out. All of a sudden I realised I could not breathe. I wasn’t rising to the surface and I physically didn’t have the strength to push myself up. I remember thinking, ‘Oh God, I am going to die!’

Suddenly big hands were around my waist, tugging me upwards. I was being rescued! But my oxygen supply was fast running out, everything went still and my eyelids became too heavy to hold open.

The next thing I knew I was lying on the canal bank deep in the long grass, soaked to the skin and freezing. I had so much to say but only two words escaped from my lips, ‘My bike!’

I later found out that my dad has seen my downhill ride by the bridge and had raced down to save me. However, I’d fallen into the icy blue canal, so he was forced to dive in after his seven-year-old daughter.

My bike was save too, thankfully. Unfortunately though the same could not be said about my pale blue jumper! I rode that shiny pink bike for years to come but I never went back to the canal bank.

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Commentary

This self-contained narrative has life and energy and the experience is related in an immediate and engaging fashion. The details are well chosen and story progresses with some pace. Paragraphing is accurate as are other technical aspects though there is not a great deal of ambition in the vocabulary choices. This deserves a mid Band 3 mark for the Content and Organisation aspect and a low Band 4 mark for the SSPS element, giving a mark of 14.

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GCSE English: Third Person task

A story about a situation where a person is put into danger.

Holiday Romance

“Is your rage putting you in danger?” Ria read. These words echoed in her mind, if only she had read this article a month ago, everything would be so different. Her tragic experience would never have happened. Last month, on an exciting trip with her mates, a time to relax and not think about the other stresses in her life, she never thought it could turn into the holiday from hell.

Zack was the boy of her dreams, he had blond hair as bright as the sun, blue eyes, that type of blue where you could just get lost in them. From the first moment she saw him she knew something would happen between the two of them. They had so much in common: loved the same type of music, both enjoyed playing sports, they were just perfect for each other; it was fate that they met! Zack was just the perfect boy for Ria.......A great holiday romance, just beginning.

A big group of them would meet at the beach during the day; Ria and her friends, and Zack and his group would lay on the beach and sunbath or go and do some water sports; this was the holiday of a lifetime. At the end of the day, the girls would go and get ready and they would all meet up at ‘Le Rumba’ – the bar they had deemed theirs for the time being. There Ria and Zack would see no one else in the world, when she was in his arms, she felt nothing else mattered; although she had only known him a couple of days, she trusted him and lusted after him when he wasn’t there. Although Ria always had the feeling that she was being watched, she shared her concern with Zack, but he told her she was being silly. But she still had a strange feeling in the back of her mind.

Before Ria knew it, the end of the holiday had sprung upon them, they had been having such a good time together they had never thought about the fact that, the two of them were going to go their separate ways. It was a scary thought but Ria thought she would make the best of the night and not to let it get in their way. The girls dressed up in their best clothes and did their make up, determined to make it the best end to a brilliant holiday. Ria thought tonight was going to be excellent, something she would never forget..........but for all the wrong reasons.

Ria and the girls got down to ‘Le Rumba’ at about eight o’clock, just for when everyone else was going to meet. Zack and Ria greeted with a hug and kiss.

“Alright babe, how are you?” Zack had asked; being in his arms just felt right. “Yeh, I’m good thanks, lets get the drinks in” Ria had replied. After two rounds of drinks, Ria had noticed someone staring at her: Matt; he had been quiet and reserved but now she realised he has always made a special effort to talk and make her happy. But she just smiled nervously, brushed off his looks and carried on chatting to Zack. When Ria thought about going home it brought tears to her eyes, she didn’t want to leave the paradise that she and the others had created, Ria wanted to stay forever.

She decided to give her parents a ring, just to confirm with them her flight times, the time she would leave the fantasy island. Ria knew her and Zack would see each other after the holiday, they had each others numbers and knew where they lived, but it just wouldn’t be the same, she didn’t want to leave.

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After the phone call, walking back towards the bar, looking out for that gorgeous face waiting for her to come back, she saw that face but he certainly wasn’t looking out for Ria. He was too busy kissing her best mate, Mair. Ria was confused. What was going on? She was enraged. How could they do this? Ria was uncontrollable with anger; she had never felt so hurt before. She stormed over and without even thinking, slapped Mair. She pulled Zack over to the side of the bar to find out what was going on. He claimed it was all just a big mistake, it hadn’t meant anything.

Ria was furious; how could they have done this to her? She knew it was only a holiday romance but she did feel a lot for him, and Mair knew that. She wanted to go home; this had completely ruined the holiday. What had she done to deserve this? Ria was livid, she didn’t know what else to do but cry, but she wasn’t going to let anyone else see. She just walked away heading back towards the hotel...or so she thought.

It was late, pitch black, the stillness of the street was ominous, and something didn’t feel right, as if somebody was watching her, the same feeling from before but a lot stronger. Ria carried on walking, not knowing where she was going, the adrenaline just taking her, hoping soon she would recognise her surroundings. Her heels were the only noise breaking the eerie silence of the night. Ria was all dressed with no where to go; she wanted someone with her something certainly didn’t feel right.

The black of the night was mystifying. Ria’s paradise didn’t seem the same, no longer was it inviting and colourful but black, dull and so awful. Why was there no one there with her; of all her mates she had with her and all the people she had met.

Suddenly it wasn’t only her heels splitting the silence; another set of footsteps were fast approaching. Ria was wary of turning around, hoping it was one of her friends, scared that it wasn’t. She knew she had to look otherwise she would panic. Ria slowly turned around and with a gasp of breath, she saw Matt. Why wasn’t she pleased to see him? Surely he was going to help her?

“Are you ok?” he asked leeringly, “I saw what happened back there”

“Yes, I’m fine” Ria knew he would tell in her voice that it wasn’t, she felt uncomfortable with the situation she was in.

“Do you want to come back to my hotel?” Matt asked. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

“No I’m ok thanks” Ria snapped back and with this she started to walk away, back towards the bar, being with Zack wouldn’t be as bad as this.

“Where are you going?” Matt shouted, grabbing her arm. “LET GO OF ME” Ria screamed.

Before Ria knew it his hand was over her mouth, her voice was paralysed, and she couldn’t call for help, what was Matt doing? He carried her round the corner, where he released her.

“How about we have our own little party here, Hun?”

“No thanks, I’ve got to get back, I only told Zack I was going for a little walk to cool down” A blatant lie but she was hoping Matt wouldn’t now this. She was feeling very uncomfortable about what was going on.

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“Stay for a bit!” Matt ordered, he pushed her to sit down on the wall. Ria was quiet. She didn’t know what to do or say. Her whole body was still. She thought any movement would anger him anymore.

“Come on babe, I know you like me, I saw the looks and the smiles” Matt said.

“I...I...was just trying to be friendly” Ria stuttered, a friendly smile had got her into this.

“Don’t you want to be with me then?” Matt questioned.

“I’m with Zack” she replied, she didn’t know whether she was anymore but she didn’t want to look available.

“I saw you two arguing, you aren’t together anymore, so you and me can get together.” And with that, he pinched her backside.

“Get off me!”

“O you know you like it, don’t tease me.” He tried to kiss her and as she pulled away, he grabbed her so she couldn’t. What was going on? She wasn’t kissing back so how could he enjoy it, and she was trying to imagine how nice it would be to be in Zack’s arms again, why had she ruined it? Ria was petrified, if he could force her to kiss him, what else could he do, she felt helpless. Ria’s mind didn’t seem to be in her body, she wouldn’t accept this normally, and with that thought Matt’s hands had risen up to her chest, unbuttoning her top. Someone help here!And before she knew it...

“GET OFF HER!” a familiar voice, but whose; she opened her eyes to see Zack, standing over the knocked out Matt on the floor.

“ZACK!” Ria screamed, she fell into his arms and cried.

And now sitting here reading the magazine article, her rage did put her in danger, she had been such a fool and got herself in a situation she couldn’t get out off, if Zack hadn’t been there that evening, who knows what could have happened. But it was unquestionably a holiday that she will never forget.

Commentary

This student organises her third person narrative quite carefully and the content retains the reader’s interest. The situation is well established in the opening paragraphs and characterisation is developed. The central relationship is reasonably convincing and the narrative has some pace. Details are generally well chosen and appropriate. Technically it is fairly competent though comma splicing also slightly weakens the overall effect. Direct speech is well-handled and sounds authentic although the punctuation is sometimes faulty. The spelling is mostly correct though the range of vocabulary is relatively limited and on occasion there are agreement errors. Both Content and Organisation and SSPS are worthy of a mark in the respective Band 3s, giving the piece a total of 13.

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GCSE English: First person task

My most Special moment

Once I was training in my boxing gym and I was lifting 18kg weights. The other weights were set out on the floor for when I needed them. I was on my last set of ten when I fell back and the weight came crashing down and landed on my leg. I couldn’t feel my left leg. I twisted my ankle and then I was rolling around in excrushiating pain. My manager came in once he heard my call of pain. He sat me up and I hobuld over to the ring. He sat me down on the side of the ring and got me a glass of warter. Ten minutes later I gave my dad a call and he came straight to the gym. My dad and my manager took me to hospital.

We arrived in an hours time. The traffic was bad and I hobuld over to a chair and sat there with my manager while my dad went to reseption. By the time we got to the hospital my leg had swollen up to the size of a baby elephants foot. I was called in, the doctor said ‘What is your name?’ I said ‘Mark.’ I was given an x-ray and sent to the emergency room and was told some hart breaking news considering that I had a big fight coming up, they said, you have broken your tibia and sprained your ankle. I had to stay in a hospital bed for 2 to 3 months.

Each day my leg was getting better, My family visited every day and my manager to. I was getting better pritty fast. My manager came in the room and gave me good and bad news. I said, ‘Can I hear the good news first?’ ‘OK,’ he said. I was told that Joe Calzaghe, one of the best boxers in the world, was coming to see me in a few weeks time. And the bad news was that my boxing match was canceled but I wasn’t bothered about that.

After a week, Joe came to see me. I was waiting with the door open. He came in and my dad and my manager left us to talk. We were just chatting about boxing and I was asking questions about how many fights he had won. He said just over 18 in his career. He asked me how any I had won and I told him six so far. We had a good chat and a cuple of moments later he said, ‘Will you be able to make it to my match. I’ll get you front row seats.’ I said, ‘I don’t have enough money.’ But he produced tickets from his pocket and they were for the front row by his corner. I said, ‘Thank you so much. You have made my day.’

I was out of hospital in no time. My dad came to pick me up and I was happy to see my street and most importantly my family. I was welcomed home with celebrations and we partied.

The next day the boxing match was on and me and my family were ready to go. We got there in an hour and sat in our seats. Joe’s fight was over in three rounds with a clean knockout and the towel thrown in. I jumped up in excitment and after the match he called me and asked if I wanted to go clubbing. I said ‘yes.’ So we went out together and had a good time. We kept in touch and we are good friends even now.

Commentary

The work has an immediate reality and the student introduces the narrative with a simple but clear description of the time and place. The accident is fairly carefully handled in a totally credible if simple way and the hospital scene is accurately portrayed. After Calzaghe’s visit, the work becomes more fanciful and the ending is less convincing. However, there is much to recommend this

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simple but reasonably engaging story. It has a clear beginning, middle and end and there are not many unnecessary details. Paragraphing is secure. The student has been wise to write about an aspect of life of which he has clear experience. This makes the work more convincing and engaging. On the other hand, there are spelling and grammatical errors and the punctuation is weak on occasion. It deserves a mark in the top end of the Band 2 Content and Organisation aspect and a Band 2 SSPS mark, giving it a total of 10.

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GCSE English Language: Narrative/expressive task

Hero

On a lovely morning Carl woke up to see the sun shining through the window and into his room. He got out of bed and decided to go out with his friends. So he got dressed and went down to get his breakfast and ring his mate Jamie he had brown hair blue eyes and was very funny. He answered and said “Hello” and Carl said “I Jamie I was wondering if to want to go out tonight?” he said “OK sure I will see you later then” “OK” Carl said.

Then he realised that he might not have enough money. He went to cheak his walit “Oh no!” there was no money there. He got his car keys and ran out to his car. Got in put his seatbelt on and put the engine on and drove to the bank. On the way there he saw a supiceus black van driving to the back. He never thought anything of it. It parked outside the bank and Carl pulled over and parked on the other side of the road. He got out of his car and locked it up and went into the bank.

He was waiting in the line in the bank then all of a sudden four robbers came in wereing black clothes and a black mask. The robbers were shouting “Get on the floor now!” every one got down petified. Two went down to the vault and put C4 on the vault door and the other two robbers was pointing guns at the hostages Carl was really scared and so was the hostages. There was a young girl lying down next to him who was praying. She had blonde hair, brown eyes and a lovely smile, Carl said to her that it was going to be OK, she said “thank you.”

Then the other two robbers came up and said 2 minutes. All of them said “OK”. Then they stared whispering about how they are going to escape so Carl said to the young girl “whats your name” She said “Kelly” “OK Kelly I need your help to get all the innocent people out of here” and Kelly said “OK I’ll try my best” Carl smiled.

The robbers counted down “5, 4, 3, 2, 1” There was a bang like fireworks in November. All the robbers ran down to the vault to get all the money then the police pulled up outside. Carl went around telling people its going to be OK and he was going to get them out.

He was talking to the person behind the counter and said “is there any way out” he said yes and opened a secret hatch and I told everyone to go down and follow the path.

Every one went down and followed the path and found a way out. Everyone was now thanking Carl and Kelly that they had saved everyone. And the police moved into the bank and down into the vault and only brought out three of the robbers. Carl was confused so he ran in and remembered the secret hatch he opened it and there was the last robber.

Carl got his money out to go with Jamie and drove home to get dressed for his night out with Jamie. He said “what a day!”

Commentary

The story has some structure and the student has taken care to organise his work. However, the opening is very conventional and does not greatly involve

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the reader. The choice of content is unselective with many unnecessary details, which do not advance the reader’s engagement. On the other hand, the chosen vocabulary is suitable if simple. The punctuation and spelling are sometimes accurate though the direct speech paragraphing is poor. Occasionally there are agreement problems. The content is event driven and relies on action to convince. The ending seems something of an anticlimax after the heroism. This is a very simple adventure story with some irrelevant sections. It is clear and direct but the choice of approach leaves the reader feeling uninvolved. An investigation of character, feelings and atmosphere and less action would have improved it. The story deserves to gain a low Band 2 mark for Content and Organisation and a Band 2 mark for the SSPS aspect, giving a total of 8 marks.

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GCSE English: Third person task

A story about a situation where someone is put into danger

The Cemetery

One night Mark was driving in the misty darkness up to the cemetry with four of his friends called Jake, Stacey, and Jodie and jarred, it was Halloween they were going up the hill to the cemetry when the wheel went bang. And the girls screamed loudly. Jake when out to see what it was. It was the wheel with a knife sliced in it.

The girls were scared, Mark and the boys said Lets go for a walk in the cemetery. The girls said I will if you keep close to me Jake and Mark said yes we will so they went in to the mist. They were walking up the top of the cemetry and Jarred said Look at that dead man up there. Stacey screamed saying wise up. Then Jarred said look the dead man is in the corner of the cemetry. Jodie said no he isn’t and slapped Jarred.

Stacey was on her hands and knees crying saying to me don’t let go of me. Mark said OK. Every time Jarred tried to scare them they didn’t believe him so they was walking one time and Jarred saw a light but they said stop lying but 5 mins later Stacey saw it then they all saw it. It was a dead man with a flashlight. So they all started running then they stopped to see where the man was but he wasn’t behind them. So they kept walking then they saw him again.

So they ran to the gate and kept going till they saw something and they ran again until they saw a caravan and they all ran there and knocked on the door. No one answered so they walked in and Mark used the phone to ask his mother to come and collect them. The phone was cut off and they saw the shadow of the man. They ran out and hit him on the head. It was Marks father walking the dogs out looking for them.

Mark phoned the ambulance because he was knocked out he woke back up and said don’t phone an ambulance. So Mark phoned them and said don’t bother coming he’s OK now. Marks’s father was shouting at him for nicking a car and for popping the wheel then Jake and Jarrod was laughing Marks father said I don’t know why you are laughing for because I am telling your parent and the girls and he said yeah.

Mark went home and his mother was shouting at him. And saying you are grounded for two weeks and you are paying for the wheel. And you are going to clean the car and clean the house up for two weeks. After he was grounded Mark phoned the boys and they said they was grounded to and he phoned the girls and they said they was grounded and not allowed to bother with Mark.

Commentary

This student tells a basic narrative with a clear development and outcome. He is able to structure the story with a simple chronology but there is little development of character or atmosphere. The range of vocabulary is very limited and the work is flawed with many errors both in punctuation and agreement. It is paragraphed but lacks direct speech punctuation. His choice of topic and approach is limiting though he does not descend into totally

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unrealistic content as happens frequently when students are tempted to stray into cemeteries. This work deserves a low Band 2 mark for Content and Organisation and a Band 1 mark for SSPS. This gives the story a total of 7 marks.

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GCSE English: Third person task

A story about a situation where a person is put into danger

The motorway drive.

They was loud lafhs in the car me and Brady was excited we was going to Jamaca we was planning it for ages it was a hot sunny day flying down the motorway.

There is wizing spinning cars shooting down the M1, I smell strong ova powering diesel flying up my nose There was a sound of good sweet engines, the wind was fundering.

Brady was all ways the class clown and Jake was the cool popular won. Me and Jake was shooting down the motor way and Jake turned left and a car bumped Jake and then his tire fell off and then bang… Jake was knocked out and Brady maneged to stay up he got out of the car and ran he looked back and the car went bang. People was screeming and crying and when the car blew up sumet flung up and choped Brady head of in a split of a second and then the police came and they was shocked and they put the fire out and every thing went OK. But sadly Brady and Jake died. There names was remembered.

Commentary

There are clear problems with spelling, punctuation and agreement in this piece which reduce the SSPS mark to 1. The story is very brief without any development of character, atmosphere or feelings. The change of person is a weakness and the vocabulary range is fairly narrow. There is, however, a discernible narrative line with a clear start and end. For the Content and Organisation aspect it deserves a Band 1 mark of 4 giving a total of 5 marks.

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