Foundation Magazine 2021-2022 | Mount Kelly

ACADEMICS
PUPIL WRITING PREP
ARCHIE PENNINGTON, YEAR 8
WHAT HAVE WE DONE?
Environment - The surroundings or conditions in which a
person, animal, or plant lives or operates.
The zephyr of the sea’s wrath converges with my freckled skin,
I feel the potential strength and tenderness in its comforting
grip.
Waves churning,
Gulls caterwauling,
The puffing and blowing of the clouds give the ocean a mind
of its own;
Enigmatic yet routine.
Normal.
There is a hubbub of chatter and gaiety of children’s laughter
filling me with joy,
I am cherishing every moment in this ethereal place.
Continuing along the coastline trail,
The terrain is rough,
Uneven.
I spot a mud-stained, blue surgical mask,
Enmeshed into the gorse.
I stop and stare.
My care-free walk has been interrupted by the selfishness of
mankind.
Slowly but surely, I ease out the elastic and untangle the
neglected mask from the bush,
Disgusted by the contempt for our home.
Are the world’s two biggest crisis joined perfectly together
through this one act of thoughtlessness?
My anger subsides and logic kicks in.
Maybe it just fell out of the pocket unintentionally?
As the waves dance up the beach,
My thoughts sooth and my calmness resurfaces.
The weathered, granite steps coil down the dilapidated cliff,
Fading away into the crisp, golden sand.
I adore the endearing crunch, breaking through the crust with
each rapturous step.
Dogs barking frolicsomely, balls whizzing by valiantly,
This is the place to be.
But once again I am bothered.
A bright yellow tennis balls rolls up to my booted foot,
Picking up grains of shell-laden sand with every turn.
I bend to pick it up; to throw it back to the beach cricketers.
But my eye catches something,
A tiny ball of pink, plastic pollution sits blinking at me from the
sand.
But it is not alone. The more I look, the more I see.
Like out-of-place stars blanketing the night sky.
Too many to count, too many to pick up,
This is not an unintentional accident!
How do we fix this?
What have we done?
ROTARY YOUNG WRITER COMPETITION
Following the first heat of the competition, we are thrilled that once again we have entries going through to the regionals.
There were some excellent pieces submitted; however, the entries of Year 8 pupils, Archie Pennington and Amalie Cornelius-
Mercer, on the theme of environment, surpassed their peers and impressed the judges. They were both of a very high quality,
yet differ vastly in their focus and form. Read on to be impressed!
AMALIE CORNELIUS-MERCER, YEAR 8
ENVIRONMENT
Dear alien,
You asked me in your last letter to explain the wonders and
beauty of our world, so I shall.
There is gorgeous green grass, like a jewel shining in the sun.
There are trees, tall and confident, like a headmaster of a school.
There are leaves as well small little things of all shapes and
sizes, and different colours as well.
There are gushing rivers, like a stream of tears when you are
peeling an onion.
There are also mountain ranges, giant rocks that stand high and
proud while the snow gently drifts
down form the sky.
Some people down here on earth like to fight about our planet
though, people believe we are ruining the
world with technology like yours.
They believe something called “green house gases” are
destroying our world and all the creatures with it.
They talk about it on the TV sometimes, but you might know it
as a television.
Sometimes I will just sit and look at the bright green fields that
lie outside my window.
Often, I will wake up and go for a nice walk along the moor.
Occasionally I will see horses and their young. They gallop next
to me when I walk, like my very own
guardian spirit animals.
A strange feeling of being home alone fills you. You feel like you
are at home, yet you feel alone within
your sanctuary.
But you can’t experience the true wild with someone else.
It feels wrong almost, as if you are supposed to be alone so the
wilderness can suck the rest of you up
without a witness.
As if they are the rules of the wild, come alone. You are allowed
no friends in this sacred place. For once
you come, you never truly leave.
They say when the wild is finished with you, your flesh and
bones become that of a tree.
You grow until you are done growing, and you stay there.
Forever.
Until the wild is done with you once more. You visit the wild,
you must pay.
Like an amusement park, no free entry. They also say that the
roots that stick out of the ground, are the angry veins of the soul
stuck within the ancient
wood.
The wild is a good place. The wild is my home, no one can take
that away from me; the animals are my family, the trees are my
wisdom, the ground is my sanity.
The wild is my home.
I hope you feel the same as me, like the wild is your home.
Yours truly,
The environment.
ACADEMICS
The birds fly high above us, their long, feathered wings slicing
through the air either side of them.
Their excited chirps float to my ears via the calm, flowing wind.
Sometimes in the wild, you feel your soul drift away with the
breeze.
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