Armstrong's Awesome Assessments

Assessment Showcase

Mrs Armstrong has shared some of her Year 9 written assessment pieces.

Taking inspiration from Jean Rhys's short story 'I used to live her once,' their task was:

Imagine you are returning to a place that you once knew well. Write about the experience.

I stood outside waiting. Waiting for myself to find some courage to just enter. Enter a place in which I didn’t recognise. I go to this school but yet I can’t remember it looking like this. Nothing seems familiar. I clutch hold of my friends hand as I start to enter the empty, tranquil building. As I go in, the thunderous sound from the rain starts to throw itself at the windows Shivers run down my body as I start to question myself on what it will be like.

I came here to remember the way everything looked. To bring back the memories. But everything has changed. The walls were painted blue but now they’re white. We didn’t have carpet in the classrooms, now they do. As I start to remember the reason I had to leave, questions start to enter my head. What if nobody remembers me? My teachers? My friends? What if nobody acts the same?

As the questions start to get worse, I hear the sound of the creaky doors starting to open. The old teachers had gone. As the headteacher Mrs. Peet starts walking towards me, she turns into her office, followed by other teachers in which none of them acknowledge me. More questions start to come into my head. Why did I have to go away? Why couldn’t I stay here?

But then I remembered what happened…

I could only hear the sound of my feet dragging along the dusty, muddy pavement. It used to be so beautiful: a long, neat road that was surrounded by joyful roses and daffodils. Where had all the love gone?

The sound of laughter used to echo endlessly in the playground; but all I could hear now was the sound of the rain trickling down the old, cracked walls.

It was so strange, there was no rain nor wind. The area felt so different to me, this wasn’t the place I once knew and loved. All the children had been emptied out like a cup, it was so quiet and lonely.

Suddenly, my heart sped up. I sunk into the floor with the loudest scream I’ve ever made. Or was it only so loud to me? I then realised I had stood in a pothole in the road, the anxiety was stalking me; it was like the memory was still haunting me.

Suddenly the gate of the nearby graveyard slammed shut; but there was no wind and certainly nobody there. Or was there?

It was awful, it was like the memories surrounded me like walls and now the gate was a sign that I was locked in forever.

The memory haunts me. I could hear the sharp voices whispering in my ears, then it hit me.

Thousands of children burst out of the building their laughter almost like torture for me.

But why couldn’t they see me?

The wind screamed at me as if telling me to go back. But I couldn’t, besides, I was looking forward to being back home, I wonder if it would be the same.

The wind stopped howling and held its breath waiting for something to happen. Crunch, crunch, crunch. I walked on.

I had just come back after being away in Spain for six months. I can barely remember the house, or my parents: would they remember me? Would I be welcome? I can’t recognise any of this and yet it’s not changed. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I don’t fit in. Maybe I am just a stranger.

I should have stayed in Spain. The harsh cold ripped through my coat like a wild beast. Whereas in Spain I was burning. I shouldn’t have returned. I knew that as soon as I reached the corner. But I had to ignore it. Happiness warm memories overcame bitter cold fear. The wind started again desperately telling me to go back.  Then I see it and the memories are gone and my body freezes. I was right. I don’t belong here. Not in this place.

Calm, scorching sand blanketed the ground in every direction; no wind blew. Several neglected houses sat in a crooked line to her left, but only half of each building stood. The sky seemed to glow, reflecting on unnatural shade of blue that gave every object a sapphire look. Each minute the temperature would change, however, now it was peculiarly parching. Although the sun couldn’t be seen in the animated sky it must be extremely incandescent for it to be this vivid.

Even though she had only started search again, in her head, she knew she had little chance of ever finding her friends again.

She didn’t want to believe it; but she did.

Her surroundings begin to look familiar. Not in the way the sand and sky seems so mundane, but more in the direction that she’s been here before. Questions start bounding off her skull; she can feel them, however she can’t answer them.

“Why can’t I remember anything?”

The vacancy of memories confuse her. In her mind she can remember names, but never places or faces to put to those names, like a book where every seven pages on page is torn out. Suddenly, she realises how warm she is. Her body is sweltering and she can feel her once faint clothes clasping to her dampened frame, as she struggles to pull them off with clammy hands. She calls out for her friends. No answer but that had rubbed her throat raw. Dehydration starts to creep in.

Overwhelmed by her headache, she can vaguely make out the tall, metal fences that line a stretch of trodden sand with barbed wire following the top of each barricade. Something at the end of the tunnel catches her eye.

Her mind is flooded with recalls of memories and she cries out in pain.

It’s unbearable.

Something grasps hold of her shoulder.