Rochelle displays her original script and her prize, a copy of Kate de Goldi’s latest book Uncle Jack.

Tamsin's Story

The soft, fluffy green boots (made from the fingers of a glove) wobbled as he walked into the deep, long forest.  His pale face is covered in spikey, brown whiskers. Arms are hairy like a caveman’s but smaller.  His hairy legs are as strong as a rock.  His wavy black tunic is like a fairy’s dress

Marnie's Story

Something brushed against me under the water and at that moment I knew I wasn’t alone.

I ran screaming from the shallows. I looked back into the water. It was just the weeds swaying lazily in the current so I hopped in again. This time I was resting on the bank.

I saw from the corner of my eye that there was a slight colour in the water that was nowhere else, and it was moving towards me. Then there were more ripples in the water as though something was chasing all the little fish.

Suddenly I felt terror in the water hole.

Kalisha's Story

Finally the whistle went. GO!      

I shot past Joshua and Anton, ducking and stepping.   I was voracious for a flag and so was everybody else. They waited until no-one was there and then into the hoop and back to their territory. Everybody’s hunger for a flag turned blistering as there was only one left on the other side of the wild. The desperate, sweaty kids protected their side.

Miriam's Story

The screaming of the crowd filled the arena as the Silver Ferns scored  another goal.  With only ten minutes on the clock we were doomed.  With Silver Ferns losing to Diamonds 62-55 our team needed all the support they could get.

Another roar went up from the crowd as they scored yet again.

In the last two minutes we had caught up.  One more point and then we had won. The crowd went crazy as Maria scored the last goal. They went psycho. WE went psycho! You couldn’t even hear the music or the loud speaker. I tried to shout to Mum and Dad but the roar was too loud.

Then they were shutting the doors to the Westpac Stadium.

"The crowd went crazy as Maria scored the last goal.”

Aroha's Story

Two weeks ago my brother Halim took my mum, my sister, his girlfriend and me go-carting.  As the motor started the competition approached us. 

3… 2… 1… and we were off.

We drifted around corners, racing round and round the laps grew larger and larger and so did our competitive egos. People stared in amazement at how fast our family could race.

As my go-cart chased the yellow arrows my eyes were distracted in astonishment at how fast the arrows were disappearing underneath the cart.

That’s when I came to the corner. I had forgotten to turn the steering wheel and … PLONK! I crashed into the wall of tyres.

Everyone was still racing with stunning speed and didn’t even think when they saw me stuck on the wall of tyres.

Errrrr… I heard someone slam their brakes on. It was my brother. He helped push me back onto the yellow arrows.

A red light was flashing as we, my brother and I, passed the finish line.

Kayla's Story

A puff of smoke appeared out of the trees.  I wound down my window and heard the roaring of the cars.

It was the Arapohue Show.  I was so lucky to watch at such an amazing place by the stage.  Up next was my Uncle and Kaylah Steven’s dad. 

Kaylah’s dad was wearing a whacky wig but my uncle was burning rubber. Smoke was flying everywhere. Then two enormous ‘BANGS’ went.  He had done it.  He had popped both of the back tyres.   Rubber was flying everywhere.

When it was over I looked at my grubby face and hoped he had won.

Samuel's Story

He was as big as a walnut and as  angry as a leopard ready to kill.  The many tufts of sprouting hair bushed out in all directions. His black eyes scanned the room looking for predators. Big ears stuck out like dinner plates on the   kitchen bench.  His sturdy ebony boots were dim under the moonlight.  His eyebrows were like snakes wiggling all night long.

The tunic he was wearing barely held together on top of his muscular body. A glinting green stripe on the tunic passed as a belt.

He reeked of sweaty sock that had never seen a wash.  His muddy brown arms looked like tree trunks, except smaller.

He was…

The Man.

Rochelle's Story

Every time I go to Stevie’s house he is lying on the couch watching his favourite cartoons.  He always says “Yo” instead of “Hello” or “Hi”.

He then goes into the kitchen and pulls out his favourite snack  -  chips  -  a fat bag of chips.

He once again goes back to his couch and starts snacking, dropping every crumb on his dirty, oversized shirt. Stevie’s shirt is white, so it is always stained.

His muddy trousers drag in the dirt and grit, but he is my friend and nothing will change that.

A  study of a character

Tamzen's Story

Pop! The toast jumped out and the smell raced through the kitchen. Burning hot, it leapt from hand to hand as I raced to the pantry.  I grabbed the  peanut butter off the shelf and turned to the fridge. The butter was cold in my hand as I carried my supplies to the bench.  I put the butter down and   unscrewed the lid of the peanut butter.  Immediately the aroma of peanuts met my nostrils.  “Mmmm,” I mumbled. After removing the lid of the butter I scraped my knife across the yellow surface   creating a solid wave.  Balancing the butter on the knife I transferred it to the toast.  Straight away it became a liquid and began to vanish before my eyes.  I quickly took the knife and smeared the golden spread across the toast.  My mouth watered.

Tiahni's Story

Wednesday is the second cat that we’ve had so far. She is a black and white  kitten with lime green eyes. She has one bad habit. Actually she has more than just one ,but her main problem is that in the morning when she wants to come in she climbs the rafters of our roof.  Dad gets really irritated when she does that..  She has one step sister called Zero  -  a fat basketball of a cat.

Jessica's Story

A sudden shuffle in the dense bush makes the crystal blue duck take flight.  As the thick grey blanket of cloud covers the tramper’s world an emerald green kakapo strolls by. Tui call from high in the kowhai trees.  The sound of the Blue Ducks’ whistles echoes down the hard terrain. Pohutukawa trees line the edge of the cliff like soldiers at war. Curious kiwi stroll past, pecking at the ground for huhu grubs. Crystal clear raindrops skydive to earth.

Michaela's Story 1

The sky was the reverse of a Dalmatian’s back as I sat on the soft brown folds of the blanket I’d placed on my favourite chair. Lights burned, giving Boyce Avenue a pleasant yellow glow. The road shimmered in the light and the path seemed to shine like a model’s hair in the spotlight.

As I thought about life, the bushes rustled ever so slightly. My head snapped up. Murderers, thieves—both liked to operate in the dead of night, when all is silent except an eleven year old girl sitting with her back to the past, alive and alert, scanning the outside world with fear in her eyes.

My breaths were short and as sharp as a butcher’s knife.  They sounded like gunshots in the silence.

I noticed a black figure slinking along the row of flowers in my grandmother’s garden.  It paused, turning its head  subtly, sensing that someone was watching.  Worried, I ducked down below the windowsill thinking hard. What if this  -  this person entered and took me, or worse? All was at stake now as the guy’s head swiveled sickeningly in my direction.

I had the sense not to scream but to breathe and to think that this was all an hallucination, that I was safe from any dangerous gang that may have appeared on Police Ten Seven.

But as I tried to relax more thoughts invaded my mind. There are intruders at Boyce Avenue tonight.

Michaela's Story 2

Jamee clung to my hand as we neared the front of the queue.

“What’s it like?” she asked uncertainly, her eyes on the giant blue disk.

“Fun,” I replied. “You’ll love it.”

Jamee nodded, still looking anxious.

The blue disk gradually slowed and we rushed forwards in order to get the best seats.  There were numbers on the back of the seats  -  I chose twelve and pulled Jamee onto eleven.  I caught a glimpse of her rolling her eyes.

The disk creaked into action.  Up and down and up again; we felt ourselves leave  our seats as it crested the bump in the W shaped track. 

Jamee shrieked loudly and the force of it reverberated off the distant walls of my mind.

And that’s when it happened.

The disk literally went off the track of the famed Invader making every person scream with newly heightened terror.  I yelled desperately to the girl in charge, begging her to stop the ride.

She didn’t hear me over the constant pulse of music.We flew off for the last time, soaring over the grass.

And then we fell, plummeting at least twenty metres.  Gravity played with us, laughing at our stupidity.

Mrs Honore's Story

Cascade Creek was well signposted on the beautiful winding road to Milford Sound. We turned off to explore this world-famous-in-the-Honore-family camping spot from the 1960s. To Dennis’s delight it hadn’t changed at all.

The Creek was more like a torrent after so much rain. It bubbled and rushed its way over rocks from one lake to the next in a roaring chatter as if making it to the ocean was some Olympic event. The water, as cold as diamonds, had a clarity that made the depth deceptive. Along the stony banks of the creek a profusion of lupins flourished; purple, pink, blue and yellow, making a picture more perfect than you can imagine. The air was filled with the scent of flowers and the fresh breath of the earth exhaling after heavy rain.

Our picnic of raspberries, cherries and the pure water of Cascade Creek made a memory I will store away forever.

Some of our writers recently entered a story writing competition in Kerikeri.

Rochelle Jeffery won second place with her story.

In her own words ...

I love writing, so I get a lot of inspiration.

That was when I did my Dino Disaster.

How I did it...

Well, first I designed my story on paper, then I edited it.

Next I drew my pictures.Then I started on my good copy.

I illustrated, authored and published my own story.

Here is Rochelle reading to the children in Room 2.

At Dargaville Primary we have decided to offer an extension opportunity to the senior students who love to write, especially the one or two that live to write.

The prerequisites to joining in were to be a consistent level 3 writer and to be a person who is always writing at home, in any form. The children are familiar with school writing levels, they know their own level and can pretty successfully grade their own writing. When they hear a level 4 piece they have no trouble identifying it. At the Writers Group I hope to guide them towards identifying what makes a level 4 piece and what they could do to their own work to push it along that way.

We meet every two weeks at school in the lunch hour. Between times I look forward to receiving their work in progress. There will be a set task each time we meet but the expectation is that they will write much more than that on any subject they wish. We hope to put together a school publication and to enter writing competitions.

The first task we had was to describe their pet to a reader who doesn’t know the animal. The challenge was to show the characteristics through the animals actions rather than tell the reader what it is like. Here’s Marnie’s fantastic effort.
Pip Honore

Banjo the Crazy Cat

Up the tree and down again with her claws hooked in to the tree like a hook in a fish’s mouth. Sometimes it gets away and sometimes it doesn’t. Whoosh, whoosh! goes the ground as it is being dug up for the dog to take over. She has ragged black spots on her back. Every day when I get home she has a fuzzy meat and gravy covered nose and mouth. “Meow,” goes Banjo as she greases for more food from either the dog or us. Pat, pat, pat as the grass slowly returns to its normal shape. Ssssss as the 12 kilogram cat climbs the tree again. We watch as though we are waiting for sunshine. The cat goes onto a narrow branch, then she starts going upside down and climb down the tree. (Did I mention that she has seven claws on each paw!)