Rowan Class hakas

In dance we are following the unit, ‘World of Sport.’ This involves the children creating their own hakas. The children looked at footage of how the New Zealand rugby team has developed their own haka and also some of the previous hakas created by Class AS in the past.

The children then set to work on creating  their own hakas with a focus on intimidation, a range of movement, synchronicity and working at a range of levels. The hakas are available to watch below.


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Additional stanzas in the style of Timothy Winters by Charles Causley

Since the start of this term we have been looking at the poetry of Charles Causley. Last week, the class produced some excellent homework where they researched the life of Causley. This week, the children have been looking carefully at one of Causley’s greatest poems – Timothy Winters.

The poem paints a grim picture of a boy who has been neglected, and the struggles he faces in life. As a class we identified all of the problems that Timothy encountered and used this to inspiration to write our own additional stanzas. Below, you will find the original poem, then some examples from Rowan Class children.

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Timothy Winters

 Timothy Winters is rather confused

Of why he is always being abused.

His Grandma and father are always drunk

Which makes Timothy Winters smell like a skunk.


His feet are like blocks of shiny ice,

And his poor house is filled with mice.

He’s like a waterfall, crying, crying

And deep inside he knows he is dying.


Timothy’s house is always cold.

The small bits of food are covered in mould.

At school he would always sneak in and steal,

He has never had a decent meal.


When he gets home, he looks for a drink,

But can only find drips in the kitchen sink.

He always has to go to bed,

With bloody feet and an aching head.


On the next morning he goes to church,

And waits behind a silver birch.

He walks in, trying not to think

Of when he gets home what he has to drink.

By Lois L


Timothy Winters

His dad and grandma are always drunk,

So he smells just like a skunk.

Sometimes it looks like he is confused,

It’s probably because he’s always abused.


When he was younger he always was crying,

Inside it looks like he is secretly dying.

Timothy Winters sits in the cold ,

Watching the sink get clogged up with mould.


Sometimes he thinks about going out to steal;

Just so he can have a decent meal.

His abusive father always drinks ;

Instead of fixing the  kitchen sink.


He dreams for a better day,

But that’s easier to dream than to say.

People say he has the flu ,

But I doubt that that is true.


To him people are always mean,

Even when he tries not to be seen.

So to Timothy Winters we will pray,

No matter what other people say.



Timothy Winters

When Timothy is home there is nothing to drink,

Just drips of water coming from the kitchen sink.

Timothy Winters is secretly crying,

Deep inside he knows he is dying.


When he’s at school, he doesn’t want to be seen,

All the children there are rude and mean.

Timothy Winters is always confused,

Timothy Winters is constantly abused.


Sometimes, because of the lack of his meals,

Timothy Winters has to steal.

Timothy’s house is cold as ice,

His home is filled with rats and mice.


Timothy’s father is always drunk,

He never bathes and smells like a skunk.

The bread he eats is stale and cold,

It’s crunchy and disgusting with splodges of mould.


Old Man Winters misses Timothy’s mother,

But Timothy Winters doesn’t bother.

Timothy Winters is awfully shy,

Sometimes he wishes he could just die.




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Using a painting to inspire writing

In English, we used a painting at the end of last term to inspire some writing. The painting was An Experiment on a Bird in the Air Pump by Joseph Wright. The children had to take on the role of one of the participants in the painting and write the scene from their point of view. Here’s Mimi’s writing – can you guess whose point of view she’s writing from.

I shaded my eyes. In front of me was a beautiful cockatoo, and this worm scientist was going to suffocate it. I was so disgusted, I felt like I would bring up my dinner.

I was going to scream “STOP!” but as I started to shout, Father covered my mouth and pulled me back.

“Respect your elder’s Penelope.” Father whispered. The evil scientist glared at all of us with his lightning blue eyes.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we gather here for a special event….” I covered my ears to block him out; instead, I looked over at my older sister, Madeline, and rolled my eyes. She and Noah were gazing into each other’s eyes (as always. I’m surprised she even sleeps at night not staring into the hazelnut eyes of Prince Charming). How ghastly. It makes me want to vomit at the thought.

I gazed over at my little sister, Elizabeth. She looked incredibly frightened, but she was ever so curious, so she locked her eyes on the bird, not knowing what would happen next. I held on to her as the scientist slowly pumped the air out of the cockatoo.

My eyes were going blurry and I was tearing up. I needed to get out. I felt my anxiety getting stronger and stronger. My throat started to close up while I choked on my tears. The cockatoo slowly grew motionless as the air was stolen from the glass prison.

Father smirked as the cockatoo slowly suffocated. I stomped on his foot in rage. How could he smile when such a beautiful bird is being murdered?

Father glared at me, and saw how pale I was. But he just grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the wine cellar.

“Penelope! How dare you! You cannot stomp on my feet! I don’t know what has gotten into you! Go to your room!” father was full of rage, and I knew that if I didn’t hurry, I would get the cane for sure.

I ran up the stairs, and it all felt as if I was in slow motion. Suddenly, I stumbled back, unable to breathe, and collapsed down the grand staircase.


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CSI Liss – Newspaper reports begin emerging

Following news earlier in the week of an investigation into what seemed like an elaborate hoax in the music and drama room, the reporters from Rowan Class have been busy submitting copy to their editor. The first two articles cast light on what seems to be a clash between Mr Haycock and Mr Storton. Read on to find out more.

Alex M

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Crime Scene

Mr Stanley was called to the music and drama room this morning at playtime. When he returned he was ashen-faced. This is what he saw:

Year 5 and Year 6 pupils were called to the music and drama room in their role as journalists to investigate the scene. Their findings today were as follows:

  • There was an outline of a person on the floor
  • Drumsticks were placed next to the hands
  • A snare drum had been pushed over
  • A music sheet on the floor was covered in blood (it turned out to be red paint)
  • The sheet music was Kashmir by Led Zeppelin
  • There were no other signs of damage in the room
  • Mr Staunton, the drumming teacher, was seen running up the concourse last Tuesday.
  • Mr Haycock was very angry at Mr Staunton for breaking the school rules.
  • Mr Haycock has been very moody recently.
  • Mr Staunton was seen leaving the school unhurt.

Initial theories are that Mr Haycock created this scene to send out a clear warning to Mr Staunton not to break the school rules. However, many of the young journalists think that Mr Haycock must have had some help. The additional suspects are:

  • Mrs Horrocks as paint was found on the scene and she is an art teacher
  • Mr Stanley as he is Mr Haycock’s friend and they are always talking together
  • Mrs Myers as she is a stickler for rules and will punish anyone who breaks them

Mr Haycock has consented to an interview tomorrow morning where the children will have an opportunity to have their questions answered.


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Egyptian Storywriting

In English, we have been continuing to work on story openings. As an end of unit write, we asked the children to write an exciting beginning to an Egyptian story. Here’s Harriet’s great effort.

The haunted pyramid


A tall, handsome man walked to the entrance of the pyramid. He wore muddy, brown trousers; a black long- sleeved shirt; and a grey base-ball cap. He stopped just before the pyramid’s big, wide entrance, adjusted his dirty explorer bag to the right size, and went in.

When he got around the first corner, all he (Carlos Velessa) could hear was the echo of his clumpy, hiking boots. Carlos was brave but sometimes he just wished that he was back home.   In a French accent Carlos muttered,

“Wow, this place is amazing.”

Clutching tightly, Carlos held his flash light in his sweaty hand. He walked around the next corner, thinking it would never end. The torches which were on the wall burning with fire, made Carlos feel as if one of them was going to grab him and pull him into it. Finally, he could see the door leading to the gleaming treasures waiting for him to reach them.

“All I have to do is cross this bridge –which looks like it will break any minute- then I’m at my destination,” scared Carlos told himself. Slowly and carefully, Carlos tiptoed over the creaky bridge; he was nearly half way there when suddenly, the lights went out. The door the golden treasures closed.

“Oh no!” Carlos shouted. “What’s happened?”.

All of a sudden, a cold, bony finger ran across his face. Carlos shivered and looked around. It was so dark that Carlos had to squint to see; behind him stood an old mouldy skeleton.

“Eeeeek!” Carlos screeched.

Poor Carlos tried to get away but the dirty old skeleton tightened his arms around him. As Carlos tried to struggle away, parts of the bridge were breaking.

“I need to get out!” Carlos shouted to himself, “The bridge is falling!”

Scared, Carlos tried so hard to get away from the horrible, dirty skeleton; it was clinging so hard to him. Suddenly, the old bridge fell. It was crashing into little pieces. When Carlos landed, on his back, the skeleton had gone; he had been badly hurt. How was he going to get out?

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