The Kapa Haka rose up with the call “E tu”. 

      The children stood still like soldiers waiting for the chant to begin.  A lone voice spread across the hall and was soon joined by the rest of the group.  The voices grew louder and stronger until suddenly they fell silent.  The crowd broke into applause, the children beamed with pride.

      When the applause ended a guitar started.  The children sang sweetly, while their hands told a story.  The audience watched carefully enjoying the calming music.  The performance moved on, and for a while the boys disappeared.  Eventually the girls stepped back making room for the boys to take the stage. 

     They stood shirtless and ready.  The crowd went wild, whistling and cheering.  When they quietened down, Mitchell roared out and everyone joined in.  The boys stamped, slapped, scratched and shouted.  Their chests quickly became red, their throats raw and their eyes wide.  With the call “pukana”, tongues poked out, muscles tensed and hands sliced at throats.  The audience erupted.

By Miss McGlasson, Leighton, Tessa and Talia

Tihore mai te rangi

They sang as sweetly as humming birds.

Whaea Danielle’s voice filled the room with joy.

Silky purple fills the stage like sweet grapes.

The teachers giggle and laugh.

Shivers ran up my spine as they sang.

The teachers sang so beautifully it felt like the hall was dancing.

My smile lit up my face, as I didn’t know they could sing that well.

By Tegan, Filadidas, Lordan and Danielle

Mamma Mia

The big burning red lights shone down on the wooden stage.  The dark blue curtains hung on the rail like soldiers.  The teachers peered out to the crowd, they were terrified.  Finally the sound of ukuleles filled the room.  It was Mamma Mia.  Everyone cheered with excitement as Mrs Pocklington and Mrs Sandford walked out in their colourful clothes and started to dance.  Everyone clapped.  The big tall poppies looked like they were dancing.  The children peered up to the teachers, shocked, as their eyes grew wider and wider.  The sound of the guitar finished, the lights sparkled on their stands and all you could hear was screaming and cheering.

By Kaylah S, Jadyn, Jimmy and Mitchell

Learning Intention: Use vocabulary that describes the object in detail.

Where do you come from?

I'd like to know ... from way down deep inside.

Are you hollow or whole?

or

Black like coal?

Are you nice or yuck? Or meaty like duck?

What secrets do you hide? On the inside?

Are you bitter or sour?

Have you been rotting for hours?

Or are you nice and sweet

Like a tasty treat?

Where will you go?

I'd like to know?

Down my throat?

By Ashlee Bradley

Wind Currents

Photography by Mikayla and Ashlee

Room 10

The beach was as wild and gloomy as a stray dog. Flax blossomed on the fringe of the cliffs. An almost perfect row of fifty two stone cold whales lay lazily across Makoriri beach. The crazy wind howled and hit the whales’ backs like a slap in the face. The beach was as pitch black as black licorice melting on the footpath. A dead fish scent lingered all across the beach. The waves avoided the washed up whales as if to say I don’t want to play with you.  

Dana Dreadon

They protect my feet
As I go on.
Mud every Saturday.
They cut out a lot of hazards
Including things like stones and mud.
They hide under my bed,
Until I am ready for sport.
They bite at people when they’re in the ruck.
Every time I play
They fracture bones as I step.
They reek of a foul smell,
And are moist after my sports game
They trouble people.
So watch out you!

- Malik Kapa-Epiha

They sit in their box
Waiting to get out;
Explore the world,
Earn their stripes as shoes.
They will fight for my feet;
Protect my feet
Against the elements.
They are the only things
That separate me from chaos,
And sore feet.

- Brandon Wyatt

They wait in my wardrobe
For winter.
Then one day,
When the temperature hits zero
I get them out
To wear until
The temperature rises.

When summer comes
I put them back with a look
Like a sewerage pond.
Dirt and grass stains
Hide the shiny surface,
With the heels worn out
From fancy walking.
And the zipper not working
I’ll sigh to myself
What a faithful pair they were.

In summer and spring
I’ll polish them
Until they shine as before.
Repair the heels;
They’ll look good as new
Until I put them back
To gather dust;
Until finally
Winter comes again.

- Michaela Jenkins–Stevenson