1. Refer to page 82 to 84 of your LCO booklet.

2. Audio record your Reading Aloud and SBC response.

3. Listen and give feedback to 1 of your classmates. Use the TAG format to structure your feedback.

   T: Tell your classmates something positive

   A: Ask your classmates questions to clarify some confusing points

   G: Give suggestions to your classmates for improvement.

4. Read the feedback given to you by your classmate.

5. Record a improved version of your Reading Aloud and SBC.

A: Did you annotate the passage to ensure that you note the words that you need to stress and the junctures you need to pause?

G: Give more emotions to words that carry the meaning.

A: Did you annotate the passage?

G: Slow down the reading to give yourself more time to give emotions to the content words which you need to stress.

A: Did you annotate the passage?

G: Slow down the reading. Stress the content words.

A: Did you annotate the passage?

G: Note your up & down tone.

A: did you annotate the passage?

G: more variation in tone needed

1. Refer to pages 85 to 87 of your LCO booklet.

2. Audio record your Reading Aloud & SBC response.

3. Listen & give feedback to 1 of your classmates. use the TAG format to structure your feedback.

   T: Tell your classmate something positive

   A: As k your classmate questions to clarify some confusing points

   G: Give suggestions to your classmate for improvement

4. Read the feedback given to you by your classmate.

5. Re record an improved version of your Reading Aloud & SBC.

1. Use the TALES strategy to write a descriptive paragraph about a character or event.

2. This is an example:

   He was gigantic and scary looking. Standing about two metres tall, he had shoulders the width of my dining room table. His hair hung to his shoulders and a full beard hid half of his face. His massive chest and arms were covered with tattoos. He was wearing greasy blue jeans and a black leather jacket. Chains clanked on his motorcycle boots. He held out a hand the size of a pie plate in which lay a tiny, misshapen kitten.

3. Copy the paragraph & click on the +13 / AI Image icon to generate an image to match the paragraph

4. See post below for an example of the AI image generated to match the above descriptive paragraph.

5. Choose 1 descriptive paragraph written by your classmate & see if the image generated is a good match for the paragraph. Give 3 reasons for your response why the image is an accurate or not accurate representation of the paragraph.

his face is angry while looking at the window ,seeing the clouds turn gray and the thunder rumbling with the wind blowing stuff down.

*Felix is the guy that is my profile picture

Deep in the forest, where the trees seemed to grow too tall and the fog too thick, there stood an ancient mansion—Briarwood Manor. It had been abandoned for decades, its once grand exterior now weathered and worn, with ivy crawling over the crumbling stone walls. Few dared venture near it, for whispers of strange happenings had surrounded the house for as long as anyone could remember. Locals spoke of it in hushed tones, always warning outsiders to stay far away.

The mansion was notorious for its eerie atmosphere. Its windows, though dark, seemed to peer out like unblinking eyes, watching anyone who passed by. The tall, iron gates creaked and groaned in the wind, and a faint melody of distant piano music could sometimes be heard drifting from its broken windows. But when anyone ventured close enough to investigate, the sound would always cease, as if it had never been there at all.

Despite the warnings, one evening, a curious traveler named Clara, who had recently moved to the nearby village, found herself standing at the gates of Briarwood Manor. She had heard the rumors but was skeptical. "Just an old house," she thought, "nothing more."

She pushed open the gate, its rusted hinges screeching in protest, and began walking down the overgrown path toward the front door. The mansion loomed ahead, its silhouette twisted and foreboding against the dying light of dusk. With every step, the air seemed to grow colder, the silence pressing in around her. As she reached the porch, she hesitated, feeling an odd pull—a strange compulsion—to enter.

The door creaked open on its own as if expecting her. Inside, the air was thick with dust, and the scent of something faintly rotting clung to the walls. Old portraits lined the hallway, their painted eyes following her every move. The house was vast, each room connected by long corridors, some leading to staircases that seemed to descend into blackness, others opening into rooms where the furniture was covered in faded sheets.

Clara’s footsteps echoed as she explored, drawn deeper into the heart of the mansion. She entered a grand parlor, its ceiling high and ornate, though the wallpaper peeled away in ragged strips. The grand piano in the corner, though covered in dust, seemed almost untouched. As Clara walked closer, her fingers brushing the ivory keys, a chilling note rang out—sharp and discordant. The sound reverberated through the room, sending a shiver down her spine.

Suddenly, she heard it—a faint whisper. It was soft at first, as though the walls themselves were speaking. "Leave… leave now..."

Clara froze, heart pounding. The whisper seemed to come from every direction, but when she turned, the room appeared empty. There was no one there.

She moved to the center of the room, determined to uncover the source of the voice. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something—a shadow, moving on its own. It darted across the hallway and disappeared into the darkness. A chill ran down her spine.

“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice trembling.

No response.

But then, the whispers grew louder, more frantic. "Leave! Leave this place! It’s cursed!" The air around her grew thick, as if something was pressing in from all sides. The faint sound of footsteps echoed in the distance, though no one was in sight.

Clara turned and ran, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the sound of her footsteps mingling with the others behind her. She reached the door, but as she tried to pull it open, it refused to budge. Panic surged through her as the whispers crescendoed, turning into maddened cries.

She spun around and looked back into the hallway. There, at the far end, a figure stood—pale, with hollow eyes, wearing an old-fashioned gown. The figure’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. Clara’s blood ran cold as the figure began to slowly glide toward her, its feet never quite touching the ground.

With a final, desperate push, Clara wrenched the door open and stumbled out into the night, her heart pounding in her chest. The moment she crossed the threshold, the whispers ceased. The air returned to its stillness, and the mansion behind her seemed to sigh, as if it had been waiting for her to leave.

Clara never spoke of what happened inside Briarwood Manor. But from that night on, the whispers continued to haunt her dreams—whispers that spoke of a long-forgotten tragedy, of lives lost in the shadows of the mansion’s walls, and of an ancient curse that still clung to the mansion’s decaying stones.

And Briarwood Manor? It stood silently, waiting for its next visitor.

1. Refer to your LCO booklet pages 88 to 90.

2. Audio record your Reading Aloud & SBC response.

3. Listen and give feedback to 1 of your classmate. Use the TAG format to structure your feedback.

   T: Tell your classmate something positive

   A: Ask your classmate questions to clarify some confusing points.

   G: give suggestions to your classmate for improvement.

4. Read the feedback given to you by your classmate.

5. Re-record an improved version of your Reading Aloud & SBC.

OWNER IS RESONSIBLE.

THE CAT IS FAT

WHICH MEANS

IT WELL FED.

GIRL IS SMILING.

A cat and a girl

Think

The girl likes the cat

Wonder

How old is the cat

Infer

The girl enjoy spending time with the cat

Think: The girl loves the cat. The girl treasures the cat.

Wonder: How did the girl get the cat?Is it a present or was it adopted? How old is the cat?

Infer: Happy to play with her cat. Enjoy spending time with her cat.

Think the cat is a paet that belongs to the girl

Wonder. How did the girl get the cat

Infer.happy to play with the cat

Instructions:

1. Write a paragraph (about 100 words) using Flashback (the paragraph can be a story starter or part of your character's thoughts)

when i passed my exams, my parents told me that I can get a new phone. so i passed and i got the phone

I was already halfway out the café when I realized it was gone. My heart jolted, stomach tight like a clenched fist. I spun around so fast I nearly collided with a man holding two lattes. “Sorry!” I muttered, eyes darting to the table where I’d sat just five minutes before. Empty. Just a napkin with a smiley face doodled in pen—hers, probably. She always left little notes like that.

Panic settled in. I retraced my steps, breathing shallow, mind racing. Did I drop it? Was it stolen? Could I track it? I pulled out my laptop—thank god I had it—and opened “Find My Device.” The dot blinked across the map, moving. Moving? Someone had it.

With my pulse in my ears, I grabbed my stuff and ran. That phone—my phone—wasn’t just a piece of tech. It was the last piece of her I hadn’t let go of.

It’s strange how something so simple can hold the weight of an entire memory—how one moment, one object, one thing becomes the axis around which your life quietly spins. For me, it wasn’t wealth, status, or even success. It was time—time with the people I love, time I didn’t know I was spending for the last time.

It all began on a balmy morning during the school holidays. My parents had just surprised me with something I had always dreamed of…

I didn’t always care about my phone. There was a time I’d lose it for days, and I wouldn’t even bother looking for it. I still remember the first one I got—super cheap, cracked in a few places, nothing fancy. I dropped it twice in the first week. But that night? That stupid phone felt like everything.

I didn’t realize how much it meant until the call came through.

It was the long awaited Christmas day, my brother and me scurried to open the presents. I opened my present, " A new waterbottle? Gee, thanks mom!" I said, I wanted a phone for Christmas but I dare not sound ungrateful in front of my mother. My older brother unwrapped his shiny wrapping, each tear grew my inpatience. A white and black box emerged from the wrapping, revealing a big logo- " iPhone 16" I gasped, " What?" Me and my brother exclaimed in unison. A fury of rage overwhelmed me. " That's not fair!" I screamed, " I get a waterbottle and he gets a phone- even though he already has one- and a laptop too?" I yelled. Anger got to me, I could feel my pulse in my ears, my mind raced with thoughts. I wanted the phone.

after looking at the picture, tears ran down my cheeks

as i go through hardship they are always behind me supporting me throughout the journey

1. Expressions for emotions (EFE)

2. TALES

3. Showing sentences

4. Turning point / Moment of Growth

The Basic Text is below for your reference:

During recess, I spotted a scene that made me sad. A tall boy was pushing Sam against the wall near the canteen. Sam's glasses fell. Sam cried and the bully laughed and grabbed his lunch money. I knew I had to help…

Despite the sadness, Liam knew he had to be strong. His parents encouraged him to stay in touch with Max through video calls and messages, and even suggested they create a scrapbook of their favorite memories together. Though the idea of a long-distance friendship seemed strange, Liam was determined to keep the bond alive. He realized that while things had changed, the friendship he cherished could still endure, even across the miles

She was sixteen again, laughing breathlessly as she raced James across this very bridge, his coat flapping behind him. He turned, grinning, and offered his hand. "Come on, slowpoke!" Their fingertips touched—and in that fleeting moment, she believed forever was real.

Back in the present, Clara blinked away the memory. James had left for war, and never returned. But here, on the bridge, he was still running, still smiling.

Tears started to roll down from Marcus eyes, his eyes was scarlet red every time he looked at the tree house, he would always remember the best time he had with his best friend after he had climbed the ladder to the afterlife, Marcus would walk the trunk of the tree and cry there for hours before he clamed down, David was Marcus first and only friend he ever had.

One day, during lunch, Tom tripped Alex in front of everyone. As laughter echoed around the cafeteria, something changed. A student named Mia stood up and said, “That’s enough, Tom!” Her courage inspired others to speak up, and soon several students reported the bullying to a teacher.

The school took immediate action. Tom faced consequences and was required to attend counseling. Meanwhile, Alex received support from classmates and staff, slowly regaining his confidence. What began as a lonely and painful experience became a story of courage, unity, and change. The students learned that standing up against bullying can make a real difference—and no one should face it alone.

By Brayden😊

She was sixteen again, laughing as she raced James across the bridge. He grinned, offering his hand. "Come on, slowpoke!" Their fingers brushed and for a moment, she believed forever was real.

Back in the present, Clara blinked. James had left for war and never returned. But here, on the bridge, he was still running, still smiling.

"James," she said, her heart aching. A figure appeared in the distance, but it wasn’t him. Clara took a big breath, whispering into the wind, "I’ll carry you with me, always."

She was sixteen again, laughing as she raced James across the bridge. He grinned, offering his hand. "Come on, slowpoke!" Their fingers brushed—and for a moment, she believed forever was real.

Back in the present, Clara blinked. James had left for war and never returned. But here, on the bridge, he was still running, still smiling.

"James," she whispered, her heart aching. A figure appeared in the distance, but it wasn’t him. Clara took a breath, whispering into the wind, "I’ll carry you with me, always." the end...............................................................................................

A Memorable Incident

Use 1 of the given pictures below.

You can tweak your CW based on the basic text (which you have extended into a full compo) to fit the topic above.

You can type your compo:

1. in Padlet (click on the + icon under your name) OR

2. in google doc and then share the doc with me via email OR

3. in Word doc & email me

Reminder to use at least 1 of the following writing strategies:

1. TALES strategy for indirect characterisation

2. Show not tell sentences

3. Expressions for emotions (EFE) eg idioms / proverbs

4. Moment of growth / Turning point for main character

5. Thoughtshot (Flashback / Flash forward / Internal dialogue)

Use different colour font to highlight the use of the different writing strategies. Eg RED for Showing sentences

Ethan's presence irritated me. His meek demeanor made him an easy target for my jokes and jabs. I would trip him in the hallways, mock his clothes, and laugh at his stammered responses. The other students would chuckle along, reinforcing my belief that I was untouchable.

But beneath my tough exterior, there was a void. I didn't realize it then, but my bullying was a mask for my own insecurities. I had learned early on that putting others down made me feel better about myself. It was a cycle I couldn't break.

One afternoon, during our school's annual field trip, disaster struck. Our class embarked on a rafting expedition down a nearby river. The waters were swift, and the raft was overcrowded. As we navigated a particularly treacherous bend, the raft capsized. I found myself tossed into the raging current, struggling to keep my head above water.

Amidst the chaos, I saw a hand reach out. It was Ethan. Without hesitation, he pulled me from the water, dragging me to the riverbank. Gasping for air, I looked up at him, bewildered. This was the same Ethan I had tormented for years.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice steady despite the ordeal.

I nodded, too stunned to speak. Ethan had saved my life.

In the days that followed, I couldn't shake the image of Ethan's face as he pulled me from the water. The realization hit me hard: the person I had hurt the most had just saved me. I sought him out, finding him sitting alone under a tree during lunch.

"Ethan," I began, my voice faltering. "I... I don't know how to say this, but thank you. You saved me."

He looked up, his expression unreadable. "I couldn't just let you drown."

"I've been a jerk," I admitted, sitting beside him. "I don't know why I treated you the way I did."

Ethan was silent for a long moment. Finally, he spoke. "People change."

That was the beginning. Over the next few weeks, I made an effort to be kind to Ethan. I apologized for my past behavior, and slowly, he began to open up. We started studying together, sharing lunch, and talking about our dreams and fears.

As time passed, our bond grew stronger. We became inseparable, partners in every school project, teammates in every game. The other students noticed the change and began to respect our friendship.

One day, during a school assembly, the principal announced that Ethan had been selected to represent our class in the upcoming science fair. The room erupted in applause, and I stood, clapping the loudest. Ethan smiled at me from the stage, his eyes filled with gratitude.

Later that day, he approached me. "I couldn't have done it without you," he said.

I shook my head. "No, Ethan. You did it because you're brilliant. I just had to see it."

Looking back, I realize how much I had to learn. My bullying stemmed from a place of fear and insecurity. Ethan taught me that true strength lies in kindness and empathy. He showed me that it's never too late to change, to make amends, and to build meaningful connections.

Our friendship became a testament to the power of redemption. It wasn't just about me helping him; it was about us helping each other grow. We supported each other through high school, college, and beyond, always remembering the day the bully became the best friend.

Even the most unlikely friendships can blossom when we choose understanding over judgment, compassion over cruelty, and forgiveness over resentment.

She was sixteen again, laughing as she raced James across the bridge. He grinned, offering his hand. "Come on, slowpoke!" Their fingers brushed and for a moment, she believed forever was real.

Back in the present, Clara blinked. James had left for war and never returned. But here, on the bridge, he was still running, still smiling.

"James," she said, her heart aching. A figure appeared in the distance, but it wasn’t him. Clara took a big breath, whispering into the wind, "I’ll carry you with me, always." Clara stood on the bridge as an old man approached.

“Cold morning,” he said.

She nodded. “I lost someone here.”

She placed a photo of James in the railing. “I’m ready to let him rest.”

The man smiled gently. “Love stays, even when they go.”

As Clara walked away, the wind carried a whisper of laughter—James, still with her.

There, in the middle of the crowd, was an old man with a long white beard, wearing a tattered coat, and standing beside a tall, wooden birdhouse. He had a peaceful look on his face as he spoke to the group of children and adults that had gathered around. He was telling them about the history of the tree and how it had been planted by his great-grandfather many years ago. But what caught my attention most was the way he spoke with such passion and warmth, as though the tree held all the secrets of his life.

As I listened to him, something unexpected happened. The old man paused for a moment and turned to me, beckoning me to come closer. I hesitated at first but then walked over, intrigued. He smiled warmly and handed me a small piece of parchment that had been carefully folded. "This is for you," he said, his voice gentle yet firm.

I opened the parchment slowly, unsure of what to expect. Inside was a hand-drawn map, leading to a small patch of land near the edge of the park. There was no indication of what lay there, but the map was old, the ink slightly faded, and there was something enchanting about it.

The old man looked at me and said, "Sometimes, the best memories are hidden in places no one thinks to look. Go and find it."

I didn’t know what to make of it, but the sense of adventure was too strong to ignore. That evening, after dinner, I returned to the park, map in hand. As I reached the location marked on the parchment, I found an old, moss-covered stone, partially hidden by overgrown ivy. With a bit of effort, I uncovered it to reveal a small metal box buried beneath the stone.

My heart raced as I opened the box. Inside, I found a collection of old photographs, some faded and others still crisp. They were pictures of the park, the tree, and the old man when he was younger. There were also letters, handwritten in elegant script, detailing moments of joy and hardship in the old man's life. It was as if I had uncovered a hidden piece of history, a treasure that had been carefully preserved over time.

As I returned home that night, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for that memorable encounter. It was more than just finding a hidden box—it was about connecting with the past, the people who shaped it, and the stories that shaped us. The old man, with his wisdom and kindness, had left me with a gift I would never forget: the reminder that sometimes, the most meaningful moments are hidden in the most unexpected places.

1:08 PM (3 minutes ago)

to ang_geok_lian

A Memorable Incident: Overcoming My Bad Arm Swing

Everyone has that one habit they just can’t seem to fix — mine was my arm swing. As simple as it sounds, it had been troubling me for a long time. Whether I was walking or running, my arm swing was stiff, uneven, and completely out of rhythm with my legs. Coaches pointed it out, friends teased me lightly, and I could even feel how awkward it looked whenever I saw myself in videos. But no matter how many times I was told to correct it, I would either forget in the moment or overthink and make it worse.

At first, I didn’t think it was such a big deal — after all, it’s just the way I move, right? But as I got more involved in athletics and fitness training, I realized how much a correct arm swing impacts balance, speed, and coordination. Every time I tried to improve my performance, this small habit held me back.

Then came a day during one of our regular training sessions that I’ll never forget. My coach had organized a movement-focused session — something different from our usual drills. He asked us to slow everything down and focus purely on form. No speed, no competition — just motion. When it was my turn, he watched me carefully and then walked over with a calm smile.

“I’ve noticed this for a while,” he said gently, “but today, we’re going to fix it. Not with force, but with focus.”

He had me stand still and move my arms slowly in front of a mirror. He guided my shoulders, corrected my wrist angle, and helped me feel what a proper swing should look and feel like. That moment felt different from all the previous corrections — it wasn’t rushed or critical. It was patient and supportive. That’s what made the difference.

From that day forward, I decided to commit to fixing it — not for others, but for myself. Every morning, I’d practice my arm swing in front of a mirror. I even filmed myself running short distances and watched them to track my progress. I became very self-aware, and although it was tough to break the old muscle memory, I started to feel the change. I also started visualizing myself moving correctly before each practice — a trick that helped me rewire my brain.

It wasn’t easy. There were days when I slipped back into the old habit and felt like I was going in circles. But I reminded myself: progress isn’t always in straight lines. Slowly but surely, the awkward swing faded. It was replaced by a natural, balanced, and smooth motion that felt like second nature.

One day, after finishing a sprint drill, my coach clapped his hands and said something I’ll never forget:
“That’s the swing I’ve been waiting to see. You did it.”

In that moment, it hit me — I had truly, finally done it. I had overcome a habit I thought would stick with me forever. What once felt frustrating and embarrassing became a source of pride.

This experience taught me that change is possible with the right mindset, consistency, and a bit of patience. It reminded me that we are not stuck with our bad habits — we just need to believe that we can grow beyond them. And sometimes, all it takes is one person to believe in us, and a decision to believe in ourselves.

That moment will always stay with me — not just as the day I fixed my arm swing, but as the day I proved to myself that nothing is too small or too hard to overcome.

in gmail too ms ang

It was a sunny, crisp day in early spring, and the atmosphere at our school’s sports field was electric. The air buzzed with the excited chatter of students, teachers, and parents gathered to cheer us on. I had signed up for the 100-meter sprint, despite not being particularly athletic. I wasn’t known for speed, but I didn’t want to miss out on the event, especially since my friends had been urging me to participate. “Come on, you’ll do great!” they kept saying, but deep down, I doubted myself. I was the kind of person who preferred to stay in my comfort zone, far from the competitive world of track and field.

As the event drew closer, my nervousness grew. The pressure was mounting—not just to perform, but to live up to the expectations of my friends, teachers, and even myself. I had always been a bit shy and cautious, hesitant to step out of my comfort zone. Yet here I was, standing at the starting line of a race, with my heart pounding like a drum in my chest.

The race began with a loud whistle, and my legs—unfamiliar with the sensation of sprinting—felt stiff and uncoordinated. I stumbled at the start, my feet not moving fast enough, and I watched helplessly as the other runners shot ahead. For a brief, devastating moment, I thought the race was already over. I had lost. My mind raced with thoughts of embarrassment—about how I would have to face my friends after such a failure, about how everyone would remember that I didn’t even stand a chance.

But then something inside me clicked. I remembered the words my coach had told me earlier that morning: "It's not about being the fastest, it's about pushing through when it feels impossible." I took a deep breath and refocused, determined not to give up. I could feel my legs gradually warming up, my muscles loosening as I found my rhythm. Step by step, I started to catch up with the runners ahead of me. The crowd began to cheer, their voices rising with every stride I took. The sound of their encouragement spurred me on.

As I neared the final stretch of the race, I could see the runner in front of me—someone I had always considered faster and more experienced than me—slowing down. She looked fatigued, her form breaking down just slightly. It was in that moment that I realized I could do this. I could finish strong. I dug deep and pushed my body to its limits. My arms pumped, my feet hit the ground with a powerful rhythm, and with a final burst of energy, I passed her just a few feet before the finish line.

Time seemed to slow down as I crossed the line, my lungs burning and my body aching. The next thing I knew, I heard the roar of applause, and before I could fully process what had happened, I was being handed a medal for first place. I had won. The realization hit me slowly. I had gone from being nearly last to taking the top spot, not because I was the fastest, but because I had refused to quit, even when everything in me was telling me to give up.

I looked out over the crowd. My friends were cheering wildly, clapping and shouting my name, their faces beaming with pride. My teacher was smiling with that familiar, encouraging look she always had whenever she saw potential in a student. The rush of emotions was overwhelming. It wasn’t just about winning the race; it was about proving something to myself. I had confronted my fears, taken risks, and discovered a strength within me that I hadn’t known existed.

Later, when I walked back to my friends, they surrounded me with hugs and high-fives. “We knew you could do it!” they exclaimed. But what really stuck with me that day was how I felt about myself. For once, I didn’t let doubt or fear hold me back. I realized that in life, we often face moments where we want to quit or feel we aren’t capable of succeeding. But the real victory isn’t in avoiding failure—it’s in showing up and giving our best, even when it seems impossible.

That race taught me that courage isn’t about being fearless; it’s about running, even when you feel like you’ve already fallen behind. It reminded me that the only person I really need to prove anything to is myself. I’ve carried that lesson with me ever since, applying it to other challenges in my life, whether they were academic, personal, or even professional.

The memory of that day, of running the race against all odds, continues to be a source of inspiration. It serves as a reminder that sometimes, we find our greatest strengths when we push past the point where we think we can’t go any further. And every time I face a challenge now, I remember that if I can overcome the doubt and keep moving forward, I can achieve anything I set my mind to.

That was the most memorable day for me.

That was the most memorable day for me.

Everyone else seemed to have taken shelter, ducking under store awnings or running for the nearest bus. Yet, I kept walking, my boots splashing through the rising puddles, thinking only of getting home. But that’s when I saw her.

Near the corner of 6th and Pine, beneath the cracked, sagging bus stop bench, stood an elderly woman. Her frail figure was barely visible through the heavy curtain of rain, but I could make out her hunched back and the thin plastic bags she clutched desperately in her hands. Her gray hair, soaked and plastered to her face, looked almost like a halo, except there was no serenity in her expression. She stood still, unmoving, as if she were part of the storm itself.

For a split second, I considered walking past her. My heart, already heavy with the long day behind me, whispered that surely someone else would help. But I couldn’t ignore the sight of her, alone, in the middle of this tempest. There was a peculiar stillness about her that seemed to draw me in like she was waiting for someone, anyone, to notice.

I approached her carefully, my shoes squelching against the wet ground, my breath quickening as I got closer. My eyes flicked from her fragile form to the bags in her hands, the way she swayed slightly, as though the storm might carry her away at any moment.

“Ma’am? Do you need help?” I asked gently, unsure if she could even hear me over the storm.

She didn’t respond immediately. Her face remained blank, her lips moving as though to speak but nothing came out. Her eyes, glazed and distant, seemed to be looking through me rather than at me. Then, as if noticing I was standing there, she looked up. Her eyes were red maybe from tears, maybe from the rain. Her lips parted, but instead of speaking, she simply nodded toward the bus stop.

“Bus… missed it,” she whispered, her voice thin and cracked, a sharp contrast to the storm's roar.

My gaze flickered to the stop. The bus shelter was empty. There would be no bus for at least twenty minutes.

I didn’t think about it for long. Without saying another word, I slid off my soaking wet hoodie and draped it over her head like a makeshift umbrella. The material was flimsy, struggling against the weight of the rain, but it provided some cover. She blinked, perhaps confused at first, then let out a faint sigh of relief, almost imperceptible.

“Are you okay?” I asked, feeling the wet fabric of my jeans cling to my legs as I crouched next to her, my own body shivering under the cold. But she didn’t answer right away. Instead, she just held the grocery bags tightly in her hands, her knuckles white against the plastic. It was as though the bags were the last thing she could hold onto in a world slipping out of her grasp.

I sat down beside her on the bench, my body pressed against the damp metal. We sat there in silence, the rain pounding harder, the world around us fading into a blur of wet grayness. I looked down at her hands again and realized she wasn’t just holding the bags; she was clutching them as if they were precious, as if they contained something she couldn’t bear to lose.

After a few moments, I took the sandwich from my bag one I hadn’t even touched and offered it to her. Her eyes flickered to it, but she didn’t take it at first. She simply stared at the bread, the lettuce, the cold meat, her gaze distant.

“You should eat,” I said, trying to keep my voice warm and steady. I didn’t know why I felt so strongly about this. She wasn’t a friend. I had no obligation to her. And yet, there was something about her presence in the rain, the quiet sorrow she carried with her, that made it impossible to walk away.

At last, her trembling hands reached out and took the sandwich from me, slowly unwrapping it. She bit into it, the first real food she’d had in what looked like days. I could hear her chewing softly, her eyes closing as if she were savoring the taste. For a moment, the chaos of the rain, the noise of the world, melted away. It was just the two of us, a simple act of kindness amidst the storm.

I didn’t expect her to say anything. I didn’t expect gratitude or even acknowledgment. But when she finished the sandwich, she turned to me. Her eyes were different now still tired, still weathered, but not as distant. She looked at me like I had just restored something fragile inside her, something she thought she might never get back.

The bus came then, its headlights glowing faintly through the downpour. She stood slowly, still clutching her bags, and turned to me. Her gaze lingered for a heartbeat longer than usual, and then, without a word, she climbed aboard.

I watched the bus pull away, its taillights disappearing into the storm, leaving me alone on the corner. My hands were cold, my clothes drenched, and my feet were sore from standing in the rain. But as I began walking again, I felt something shift inside me. A warmth spread through my chest that had nothing to do with the rain or the chill in the air.

It wasn’t the feeling of having done something grand. It wasn’t the satisfaction of helping someone in need. It was something simpler something more human. A quiet, unspoken connection between two strangers in the middle of a downpour, reminding me that sometimes, in the rush of everything, all it takes to change a moment is simply to be present.

The rain didn’t stop. It would keep falling, just as it always did. But as I walked the rest of the way home, soaked to the bone, I knew that I would never forget the woman at the bus stop and the way that one small act of kindness had made the world feel a little less cold, a little less alone.

Without delay, I rushed to her side. "Are you okay, ma'am?" I questioned nervously. She looked up at me with her face pale and tried to speak something, but I was not able to understand what she was saying. Immediately, I realized that she might be going through a heart attack or any other medical condition.

There was no time to waste. I helped her slowly stand up, trying my best to hold on to her. The first thing that came to mind was to call for help. I quickly pulled out my phone and called emergency services, explaining the situation as well as I could. The operator said that help would be there soon.

While we waited for the ambulance, I stayed with the woman and attempted to reassure her. I took her hand quietly and reassured her that everything would be all right. Her breathing slowed somewhat, as well, and she was able to muster up a faint smile, though still weak. "Thank you," she whispered feebly.

Two minutes later, the ambulance arrived, and the paramedics took over. They complimented me on being quick-witted and told me that my presence of mind had most likely saved from doing more harm to the situation. The elderly woman was taken into the hospital for further care, and I heaved a sigh of relief at the knowledge that she was in capable hands.

The experience stayed with me for days. It was not just about helping someone in need, but about the feeling of being overwhelmed by the fact that what I did had altered an individual's life. It showed me that the simplest act of kindness can be incredibly powerful. That day, I learned that when we see someone who needs help, we have to do something about it fast and with sympathy.

Even today, I remember glancing at the grateful smile on that woman's face, and it reminds me each time of the power that stems from helping people.

Now, the chair sat empty.

Max was gone.

The news had come just a few days ago, dropping into Liam’s world like a stone into a calm pond. He still remembered the moment with perfect clarity—his mom calling him downstairs, her voice unusually soft. Max’s family was moving. Not just to a different town, or even a different state. To a whole other country. Liam had blinked at her, confused, as if he hadn’t heard right. But he had. Max was leaving. And there was nothing anyone could do about it.

They had only a week to say goodbye. One week to cram in all the sleepovers, late-night video game marathons, and backyard soccer matches they could. One week to pretend everything was still the same, even though it wasn’t. Liam had smiled through it all, trying to be brave, trying not to show the lump in his throat or the way his chest ached every time he looked at Max and remembered he wouldn’t be around much longer.

And now, he was gone.

The house was quieter now. The silence was loud, if that made any sense—filled with all the things that weren’t happening. No thuds of footsteps racing down the stairs, no bursts of laughter coming from Liam’s room, no arguments about which superhero was better or who won the last round of Mario Kart. Just quiet. And that stupid empty chair.

Liam hugged his pillow close, trying not to cry. Ten-year-olds weren’t supposed to cry over stuff like this, right? Except they did. At least, he did.

He missed Max more than he could say.

“Liam?” his mom’s voice floated in from the hallway. She knocked gently before opening the door. “How are you holding up?”

He shrugged, not trusting himself to speak.

She came in and sat beside him, her hand rubbing small circles on his back. “It’s okay to feel sad. Max is really important to you.”

Liam nodded, biting his lip.

“You know,” she said after a moment, “you and Max can still talk. Video calls, emails, messages. It’s not the same, I know. But it’s something.”

“I guess,” Liam mumbled.

“Why don’t we do something special?” she suggested. “What if you made a scrapbook? A place to keep all your memories with Max—photos, drawings, ticket stubs, anything that reminds you of the fun you had together.”

Liam turned the idea over in his mind. A scrapbook. It wasn’t Max himself, but it was a way to keep him close. He gave a small nod.

“Okay,” he whispered.

The next day, he gathered everything he could find. There was the picture of them grinning with ice cream smeared all over their faces from last summer, and the old movie ticket from when they went to see Space Blasters 4 and spilled popcorn everywhere. He even found the little comic book they made together, “Captain Banana and the Evil Eggplant.”

He sat at the kitchen table with scissors, glue, markers, and a blank journal. Page by page, the memories came to life again. Each one brought a smile, sometimes a tear, but mostly a warm feeling—like Max was right there, laughing beside him.

Later that week, Liam video-called Max for the first time since he left. The connection was a little fuzzy, and the time difference made it tricky, but when Max’s face popped up on the screen, Liam’s heart leapt.

“Dude!” Max grinned. “I miss your ugly face.”

Liam laughed. “I miss your stink.”

They talked for an hour, showing each other their rooms, new toys, and silly pets. Max told him about the new country—how the food was different, the kids at school spoke three languages, and there were weird birds everywhere.

“I made a scrapbook,” Liam said shyly, turning the pages to the camera.

Max’s eyes lit up. “That’s so cool! I wanna make one too.”

“Wanna add stuff together?” Liam asked. “Like, every week?”

“Definitely,” Max nodded. “We can even send each other stuff in the mail. Like letters. Old school style.”

As the days turned into weeks, Liam started to feel better. The chair in his room didn’t look so lonely anymore—it became the place where he sat during video calls, holding up drawings or showing Max what he was building with Legos. They played online games, told each other jokes, and even made up a new superhero: “Captain Wi-Fi,” who fought against lag monsters and bad connections.

Liam still missed Max, of course. But he was learning something important—friendship wasn’t about always being in the same room. It was about showing up, no matter the distance. It was about remembering, reaching out, and holding on.

The world still felt a little quieter without Max around. But it wasn’t empty.

Not anymore.

Lucas and Mia, full of energy, raced to the water, laughing as the waves splashed around them. “I’m faster!” Lucas shouted, but Mia was right behind him, determined to keep up.

Their parents, Michael and Sarah, relaxed on the beach, setting up a cozy spot with towels and snacks. “They’ll be exhausted in no time,” Michael said, smiling at the kids.

Soon, Mia asked, “Can we build a sandcastle?” Lucas rolled his eyes but agreed. The family worked together to make a big castle with a moat, decorated with seashells and seaweed.

Afterward, they enjoyed a picnic on the beach, sharing sandwiches and ice cream. The sun began to set, painting the sky with beautiful colors.

As they watched the kids splash in the water one last time, Michael turned to Sarah and said, “This is the perfect day.”

The family agreed—it was a day full of fun, laughter, and memories that would last forever.

When I got closer and closer to the noise, I saw that the sobbing was coming from my classmate, Janey. I then asked her why she was crying and she answered," It was Issac.

The very second I heard this, my jaw dropped for 10 minutes before coming back. If there was one thing about

Many of you have not complete this task! Please do so during the June hols.

1. Refer to the photo above and craft possible predicting questions using 5W1H. (Predicting questions are questions are questions you think the oral examiner may ask.)

2. Type your predicting questions under your name by clicking on the + icon. Label this post as Predicting Questions.

3. Use the PREP + See Think Wonder Infer strategies to respond to the 3 prompts based on the photo stimulus. Label this post as My Response.

4. The prompts for you to address are:

   A: How might the girl in the photo be feeling? Why?

   B: Have you ever achieved something that made you feel proud of your effort?

   C: Why is it important to celebrate your own success and the success of others?

5. Read the SBC response written by your peer in the column to your right. Give feedback for him/her to improve using the TAG framework:

   T: Tell your peer 1 thing you like about his/her response

   A: Ask questions to clarify points made by your peer which may be incomplete / unclear / or can be further elaborated

   G: Give suggestions on how to improve on your peer's response

   
   

what do you think she won?

who are those ppl?

Have you experienced being proud before?

Have you ever felt that someone was sharing your joy? Why?

what do you think the girl is feeling and why.

have you won an award share with me your experience.

how do you feel when others praise you for your hard work and effort.

what- what do you think the girl is doing? what do you when you receive an award? Share your experience.

when- when do you think this event/ place takes place? Why?

where- where do you think this place is held at? Why?

why- Why do you think the girl is doing/ why is she holding the item?

how- how do you think the girl in the photograph is feeling? How do you feel when you receive an award?

2.what do u think is happening in the picture

3.do you think its good to celebrate someones effort

why does getting award make u recgonised for ur effort

how does it feel when others congratulate u

B No but I hope I will achieve something next time and if I win anything in the future, I would be very happy and try and influence others to also get prizes.

C I think that it is very important to celebrate everyone's achievements to make them feel proud of themselves so that they would improve next time and influence others to also get prizes.

2.why do you think that she deserve the award.

3.how do you think the parents are feeling about her award.

do you want to do this

• What might the girl be feeling and thinking while receiving the award?

• Why do you think receiving an award is a thing you are supposed to be happy about?

• Have you ever felt proud before?

2.Why is she smiling?

3.How does she feel?

4.Has there been one time where you felt pride?

what is the prize that she got?

why did she get the prize?

Who is the girl?

how did she get it ?

how old is the girl?

how does the girl's parents feel?why?

what is the girl doing?

-Why are the people on the side clapping for the girl?

-Do you think that the girl is appreciative to the parents?

-Do you think that the girl is feeling proud?

why does it feel good when you are recognized?

how does it help you achieve harder goals

1. Why is the girl holding the trophy? What did she do to earn it?

2. How do you think the girl feels in this moment, and why?

3. What kind of competition or event do you think she participated in?

4. What challenges might she have faced before winning the trophy?

5. Who do you think supported her on her journey to success?

6. What might she do next after receiving the trophy?

“Cold morning,” he said.

She nodded. “I lost someone here.”

She placed a photo of James in the railing. “I’m ready to let him rest.”

The man smiled gently. “Love stays, even when they go.”

As Clara walked away, the wind carried a whisper of laughter—James, still with her.

2) What might be the reason for her celebration?

3) Have you ever felt proud before?

4) Is the girls parents actually happy for her?

I think the girl is feeling proud and happy as she has won a trophy. Personally, I have won a trophy before when I was 8 years old. The feeling was a mix of pride and joy as it was my first time and I nailed it. It may also be the girl's first time and yet, she has won a trophy. So, in a nutshell, I think the girl has a mixed feeling of pride and joy

no.2:who is the girl?

no.3:who is the two people around her?

no.4:where is she and why is she there for? A award ceremony?

2.Are her parents proud of her?

3.Have you won an award before?

4.Have you felt pride before?

How would you feel if you got an award and why?

Where do you think this place is held?

Why did she receive the award?

When do you think this place is held?

What do you think her parents are feeling?

Yes. Personally, I have basketball training outside and I would take part in tournaments. As I was the rookie of the team, I would have to train harder while enduring taunts from teammates who were better than me. However, when we went into a finals after much hard work. Even though we lost, I got MVP, which I was then given a trophy. All of the sudden, I felt that my effort had paid off. So, all in all, I achieved something and I felt proud of my effort

how did she get it?

did she get chosen or nominated?

why is she standing on the stage

have you ever had a award before?

2.i think the girl is receiving a award from the school

3.yes,because we are acknowledging their award

why do you think she won this award?

have you won an award b4?if so,y

She probably feels proud, happy, and maybe even a little overwhelmed. Winning a trophy often comes after a lot of dedication, so this moment is a mix of relief and excitement as her efforts are finally recognized.

It could have been a sports tournament, a science fair, a spelling bee, a music or dance recital, or an academic competition. The exact event depends on her interests, but it’s likely something she’s passionate about.

She might have faced long hours of practice, self-doubt, tough competitors, or even setbacks like injuries or failures. Balancing school, training, and personal life could also have been difficult.

Her parents or guardians, coaches, teachers, and friends likely played important roles. Their encouragement, guidance, and belief in her would have helped her push through hard times.

She might celebrate with her loved ones, thank those who helped her, and then set new goals. Winning the trophy might motivate her to aim even higher or inspire others to follow their dreams.

no.2:the is called katie li yong jie

no.3:The two people is the principal and the vice-principal

no.4:she is there to receive the trophy and to take a picture for her's school glory, she is at a award ceremony

i have achieved nothing

B: No, but i was still proud of myself and my team during P6 Sport fest. My team was all girls but in the first round we had more points than the other class but unfortunately we did not win

C: Celebrating your own success is more important as it can help you recognize your own hard work and could motivate us, while only celebrating others can lead to forgetting about ourselves.

B: Yes, I have achieved something that made me feel proud of my effort. I recalled, the hall was bustling with cheers and busy chatters. I hid at the side of the hall, attempting to cool my furious heart to slow down, I smiled at my friends. Acting like everything was fine- although I knew I was seconds away from having a heart attack. There is was. The announcer announced my class and the first person in my class went up to collect the certificate, and soon , I went up jittery and nervous but I still acted like everything was alright. My legs wobbled like jelly as the blinding lights shone on me. I hastily shaked the principal's hand as I walked to the side of the stage, looking back I think that the proudest moment was my effort. It need not be the award itself but the amount of effort I had put into my project made me the proudest. In a nutshell, I had achieved something that I was very proud of.

C: I think it is important to celebrate your own success as well as others as it not only do you feel proud of that small milestone but it also gives a memory worth looking back and makes you more motivated to do better the next time. Once, I had an art project for an competition to submit with my group. There was one particular day, I remember that we had finally made the base of the artwork after a few brain- wracking hours of planning. We were so happy that we celebrated with a small cheer and a short break full of smiles. It was short- of course but the unity and connection of our group made me feel really happy. In summary, I think it is important to celebrate the small successes of others and yourself as it brings many benefits such as strengthens your bonds and makes you more motivated to do better next time.

• The girl might be feeling happy as she is grinning widely in the picture. She could have reached a goal she wanted to achieve

• As you may feel that you have achieved a milestone and feel proud about your hardwork. It also may mean that you are recognized for your hard work

• Yes. I have felt proud before when I achieved gold for IYDC ( internation youth dance competition) last year.

i think the girl is feeling proud of herself because she has worked hard and she has stayed up to practice her math and disciplined herself to win the competition.

yes when i worked very hard for my Chinese exam in primary 4 because my Chinese was very bad so i studied very hard and my Chinese got AL1 for my Chinese my parents were proud of me and brought to wherever i wanted to eat dinner

B: Have you ever achieved something that made you feel proud of your effort?
Yes, I’ve helped many people solve problems, complete projects, and learn new things—seeing someone succeed because of guidance I provided makes me feel proud. It’s rewarding to know that my effort contributed to someone else’s growth or confidence.

C: Why is it important to celebrate your own success and the success of others?
Celebrating success boosts confidence and reinforces positive behavior. It helps people recognize their progress, stay motivated, and feel valued. When we celebrate others’ achievements, it creates a culture of encouragement and support, making everyone feel seen and appreciated. It also strengthens relationships and reminds us that success is often a shared journey.

C. P: It is so that we reward ourselves and others for all the hard work we put in. R: When we celebrate for our successes and the successes of others, we feel a sense of pride for al the effort we put in to achieve the success. E: Once, when I got a good grades for my subjects when I was P4, my mother would celebrate by bringing me to Japan. P: Thus, we celebrate our successes and the successes of others to reward ourselves and others for all the hard work we put in.

WHERE DO YOU THINK THEY ARE HOLDING THE BIRTHDAY PARTY WHY.

WHAT TIME DO YOU THINK IT IS. NIGHT OR MORNING.

WHO IS IN THE PIC.WHERE IS THE FATHER.

where do they celebrate their bday

what do u think is in the picture

why do u think the woman on the left is not smiling

how r the people feeling

what-what are the people doing

where-where are they celebrating

when-when will you celebrate your birthday. Before or after

who-whose birthday is it

why-why are there alot of people for this birthday

how-how are the people in the photo doing

where is the location of the restaurant

when are they celebrating

who are they

why are they celebrating

how are they celebrating

SEE THINK WONDER

SEE: I see a cake ,a family celebrating a persons birthday.

THINK: I think that they are enjoying themselves

WONDER: relationship among family.

INFER: a family-> usual for family to celebrate birthdays

Tell me about a time where you had a gathering with your family.

Do you enjoy celebrating birthdays?

2. The last time i had a gathering was when i went to my cousins house to celebrate my birthday, it was my PSLE year and i did not have much gatherings that year, so i really cherished the time with my cousins before i had to be locked up in my room for a few hours to study before i could even have a break. In conclusion, the last time i had a gathering was when i went to my cousins house to celebrate my birthday.

3. Yes, i enjoy to attend birthdays and celebrate my birthday, i like it as birthdays are like a very great opportunity to bond with my family and friends, i also like birthdays as sometimes during my friends or cousins birthday, we get to go to super cool and thrilling theme parks such as universal studios and disney sea. In conclusion, i do like to celebrate birthdays

1. Write a SPEECH as the last Canva or PPT slide for your SS project.

2. Upload the whole deck of slides in Padlet under your name.

3. Click on the +13 icon & choose Audio Recording.

4. Audio record your speech as an oral presentation to the class.