Context: We are working on migration in Humanities/Geography and have looked at push and pull factors. Our class text is "The Arrival" by Shaun Tan. It's a picture book, without any text. I gave them the pictures related to the migration stories of some of the characters and their task was to write in role as that person, telling their story. There had been no scaffolding, preparation or support at all. (The writing was done in their Humanities lesson, not in English. We currently work on discussion texts in English.) They had 20 minutes writing time in the afternoon. No planning time. I've kept their spelling, punctuation and paragraphs.
They don't get assessed on one piece of writing, though. These are just examples and I've given the child's current overall writing level.
Example 1 (current writing level: 3b/a)
A few years ago I migrated to banter land, because I was being used to slave for the upper Class. (e.g.) Rich people they used to whack me over and over until my leg turned into the darkest purple you’ve ever seen. I’d well and I cried but they continued to whack me. So one evening the two horrible monster’s granted me an ½ hours of sleep. So I got to the second landed [landing] and a mirror was hanging on the large wall, and I look at myself, and I pulled down my trousers to see my cuts and broses, on my Legs. Then I ran and Jumped out of the window and I didn’t Look back.
Example 2 (current writing level: 4c/b)
I was tortured, they made me work in a hidden mine underground, we never saw the light until the day I escaped from that forbidden hellhole. Every time we thought positive and begun to grow used to the mine we were shot straight back down into darkness and despair. I used to believe that one day we would escape and breathe the fresh soft air, and that I would smell the fresh flowers of the summer. The breeze I have nearly died for, instead of the coal filled air that acted like a blizzard when it felt like pins flying at speed the point straight into your face it was horrific it was a tragedy. Only five of five thousand kids made it out alive.
We escaped by digging a small hole just big enough for me and four others to escape. It was a dangerous plan because we had to go through our torturers office and climb out of the window.
Example 3 (current writing level: 4a/5c)
23 years ago, something horrific happened to me and my home town. War was declared. My life had changed in a fraction of a second.
The next day, I woke up to the sound of an air raid siren. I was shocked. Tears started to flow down my pale face.
Suddenly, I heard loud sounds coming from my shiny red door. I had this thought going through my head, saying “Don’t open it,” while other thoughts were saying, “What if it was a kid running in for protection?” I opened it…
It was a conscription officer. My shaking hand almost forced me to shut it in his face. I never, though. I just stopped myself.
After a while he said to me, “Are you Mr Roberts?” I stuttered, but I forced myself to say, “Yes. Yes, I am.” He looked right into my bloodshot eyes and muttered to me, “I’m so sorry, sir, but you are going to have to join the war.” I felt like fainting. I tried to stop myself but tears started to fill up my face.
I don't have any L6 writers in my class.