Writing Models Year 6

Pie Corbett

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2017
• eBook ISBN: 9781136742217
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Education
• Subtopic: Education General

The new edition for Year 6 has been fully updated and restructured in line to deliver new units from the new framework and includes new writing models. Lesson planning has never been easier! The revised Writing Models Year 6 contains:A range of fiction genres such as traditional tale, fantasy, chatty style (new), horror (new) and character story an

Fiction models

TERM 1: NARRATIVE: DEFEATING THE MONSTER (Easier)

Diving for the Brick

I stood at the side of the pool. The water was quite still and I could see the bottom. Mr Gatenby stood with his arms folded, shouting at the class.

It was so cold that I had goose-bumps up and down my arms. My legs were shaking and my teeth had begun to chatter. Petie’s lips looked blue. It was raining a light drizzle. Icily, the wind blew.

Swimming. I lived in fear of Friday morning. Whatever the weather, Mr Gatenby would march us down to the school’s pride and joy – the new outdoor school pool. It was all right for him, dressed in his tracksuit and pumps.

Already, I could feel my chest tightening, and the familiar rasp as the asthma took hold. I tried to calm myself down, steadying each breath but the more I tried, the harder it seemed.

‘Stop gulping like a fish,’ snapped Mr Gatenby, staring at me. He was holding a brick.

‘This is what you are diving for,’ he went on, ‘you swim straight down, grab hold of it and swim straight up. It’s easy enough. Who wants to go first?’ He eyeballed the queue. There was a steely silence. Everyone shuffled and looked elsewhere.

I gazed into the water and tried to imagine what it would be like diving that far down. Supposing I reached the bottom and then hadn’t enough air to get back up? My chest felt compressed, as if an iron band had been placed across it and was being steadily tightened. Anxiously, Petie glanced at me. He could hear each wheeze.

I knew what was coming. I could feel Mr Gatenby’s eyes upon me.

‘You!’ He was pointing at me. It was no good arguing. I’d tried that before. ‘Exercise,’ he’d told me. ‘That’s what you need. Exercise to toughen you up. You’re a feeble specimen.’ And I was. The smallest boy in the class, puny arms, no muscles and a chest that seemed to go in rather than out. I had ribs that poked out like a xylophone.

He lobbed the brick into the pool. We all watched it wriggle down, the water echoing out from the splash. It hit the bottom, seemed to shimmer and then the water began to still.

I stood on the edge; my heart thumping. Then, without really thinking about what I was doing, I jumped in, legs first. The cold shock seemed to make the world stop. I flailed my arms and broke the surface. I could hear Mr Gatenby shouting at me to dive back down.

So, I leaned forwards and peered through the water, just making out the shape of the brick. Then, rasping in a breath, I plunged down, kicking my legs as hard as I could. I kept my eyes open and as I sunk deeper, the shouts faded to echoes. I lost the world above as it became a distant shape of light. My whole being was now aimed at that brick.

My chest tightened, my heart raced. It was getting harder and harder, the deeper I went. My ears began to buzz. The water seemed to be pressing in on me. The deeper I went, the colder and darker it became. I could feel the distance between the surface and myself, gathering.

Then my hand touched the rough edge of the brick. I kicked once more, grabbed it and struggled round to swim upwards. I thrust as hard as I could, but by now my legs only fluttered weakly. My face surged through a sudden rush of bubbles. My lungs ached.

The brick weighed heavy, tugging me back, pulling my hand down. But still my body managed to shoot up through a blur of water, as if propelled by some unseen force.

I broke the surface and spluttered. Hands reached down and pulled me up like a dead fish, dragged over the side of the pool.

I sat there, hunched up, nursing the brick, coughing and spluttering as my chest wheezed and whistled like an old man. The class crowded round, cheering, patting me on the back. And as I struggled to catch each breath, and my body heaved, silence fell. Quietly, as if they were one person, they all turned and looked accusingly across the pool.

Curious, I too looked up. Through a jumble of legs, I caught a glimpse of Mr Gatenby. He was on the other side of the pool, standing with his arms folded just looking at us. And it struck me how lonely he looked.

TERM 1: NARRATIVE: DEFEATING THE MONSTER (Harder)

Double Dare

Connor dreamed about falling. Some nights he didn’t want to go to sleep because he knew that the dream would come. In it, he was standing on the top of a tall building. It was so tall that you couldn’t see the bottom. And even though he did not want to, something would drag him to the edge and then he would be falling. Not flying, but falling. Downwards, with a sudden lurch of fear in his stomach.

Some nights he could wake himself, force himself up out of the dream. He’d wake in a panic, heart thudding, feeling hot and sweaty with the sheets tangled up where he had been struggling.

No one at school knew about Connor’s fear of heights. And that was the way he intended to keep it. He was quite happy. Year 6, and SATs under his belt. The last half of the summer term, and the class were all enjoying themselves. Mr Moses had fixed a brilliant day out and they were piled in the coach, on the last leg home, when it broke down.

But it didn’t matter. They had broken down in the South Downs, and the coach had pulled in by an old quarry. Mr Moses had told them to stay close while he waited with the driver and Miss Davies for the ‘rescue team’. They knew that he fancied Miss Davies so they ran off and hid nearby, to watch them chatting by the coach. Bazzer reckoned that if they waited long enough they’d see some action. After all, Miss Davies was cute with long blonde hair and very pretty. You couldn’t miss it.

The girls told the boys to grow up and went off moodily to pick flowers and look at birds … soon everyone else got bored. Moses wasn’t making any interesting moves and obviously needed to be bought The Beginner’s Book of Chatting Up for a leaver’s present. The class wandered off to inspect the quarry.

Connor didn’t know who started it but the next thing he knew someone had dared everyone else to climb the quarry. Immediately, his heart began to race and his fear clutched at his stomach. He could feel the sickening bite as worry gnawed away at him like a rat.

‘Supposing the coach gets going, Moses will kill us,’ he muttered. But it was no good.

‘Double dare, Connor,’ yelled Dabber. ‘First to the top.’ He leaped at the edge of the quarry as if he was attacking it and began to scrabble up. Everyone else crowded round, chanting and clapping their hands. The sound of their voices echoed round the quarry, ‘Double dare, double dare.’

But Connor stood firm, unable to move, as Dabber scrambled higher.

‘You scared or what,’ said Yogi, pressing his face too close.

‘If that idiot wants to spend his time climbing up, that’s his business. But I’m not getting in trouble with Moses on his behalf,’ said Connor. The others looked at him and he could see them muttering to each other. He could guess what they were saying.

Everyone was watching as Dabber went higher and higher. By now he was nearing the top and looked no more than an ant on the upper part of the chalk face of the quarry. But just before he reached the top, he seemed to pause. Then he slid, sending a flurry of chalk and stones flying down. Then he was quite still, clinging onto the face, not daring to move. His voice echoed down.

‘I’m stuck,’ he yelled. They could all hear the tremor, the catch of fear.

‘Blimey, Moses will kill us,’ said Lonny. Everyone started talking at once. Some reckoned he’d only got a few minutes left. Others thought he’d pull himself together. No one suggested the sensible thing – getting Mr Moses.

Then they heard the sound of Dabber crying. It came in short, sharp stabs. Connor could imagine what Dabber was feeling; the way the fear was washing over him in a cold wave that would paralyse any movement. He also knew what he had to do. Without thinking, he began to climb. Fiona ran forwards and grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t do it, I’ll get Moses,’ but Connor shook his head.

‘I’ll be all right,’ he replied, trying to sound confident. But their eyes met and he knew that she had seen the sudden flash of fear. She stepped back and he climbed on and up.

Connor used the little tufts of grass that grew on the chalk surface as handholds. Carefully, he used the stones that jutted out as handholds. It was steep and he knew that it would be fatal if he looked down. So, he concentrated on moving up, pausing every now and then to glance at Dabber.

About ten minutes later, he reached him. Connor dared not look down, as he knew that if he did, they would both be stuck there, frozen in fear like two flies, stuck for ever on the edge of the world.

‘It’s me Dabber,’ he said softly. ‘Let’s do the last bit together.’

‘I’ll fall,’ snapped Dabber. He was rigid and unable to move. Connor began to talk slowly and softly to relax Dabber. Then he suggested a movement and bit-by-bit he managed to help him on and up. Sometimes he had to find Dabber a foothold, actually holding his foot as he moved. What frightened Connor most was the thought that he might catch Dabber’s fear like some sort of quick-fire disease.

The top came suddenly. The grass poked over the edge like an unruly haircut. The two boys dragged themselves over the lip of the cliff and lay on the grass panting. Connor could feel his legs shaking.

‘Thanks,’ stammered Dabber, as Connor stood up. For the first time, Connor looked back over the edge and down. He could see the road and the garage team mending the coach like miniature models. Far below, he could see the class watching. He waved and he heard their cheers. Right at the front of the group, he could see Fiona standing on her own, waving to him. It was like looking at a map that was real. He could see for miles, the fields set out like miniature handkerchiefs and the tiny roads winding across the landscape.

Connor and Dabber trudged back down the lane that led to the road. They said nothing to each other. It had been a double dare and Connor had fulfilled his pledge. A double dare could not be refused.

But more than that. When he slept that night, the dream came back. Once again, he was on top of the same building with his feet curled on the very edge. Then he was leaning ever increasingly forwards, till he began to fall. Only this time, he noticed that he had spread his arms out on each side, like a large cross. And he was not falling – not falling – but flying. For Connor had found his wings.

TERM 1: NARRATIVE: A MODERN RETELLING FROM ONE VIEWPOINT (Easier)

Break-in

She watched from the side gate as they left the building. There were three of them. Jules pressed back into the hedge and kept as still as possible. She could feel a thorn digging into her side.

A moment later, they were down the path and off up the road. The kid was running on ahead and his mother kept shouting at him. Typical parents, thought Jules. Always bossing others about.

She waited a few seconds longer and then could resist it no longer. She slipped the latch on the side gate, walked straight up to the kitchen door and the next moment she was inside. The warmth of the kitchen engulfed her. Her skin prickled with goose bumps.

She stood still for a moment, closed her eyes and just...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• Introduction
• Poetry models
• Fiction models
• Non-fiction models
• Teachers’ notes