VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Stimulus 3 “[Playfulness is] not about…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 97.5%: Play on. I used to think the farm was the whole world, something I have spent the rest of my life trying to…
Play on.
I used to think the farm was the whole world, something I have spent the rest of my life trying to get back.
I’ll never forget soaring over the paddocks as our car sped along the gravel road, the dry river beds that were peppered with trees blurring into craters on a distant planet. In my head we weren’t driving, we were on a rocket ship, flying past asteroid belts and stars. There was a sudden jolt as the rocket crashed – a pothole. I rubbed my eyes and the toxic smell of rocket fuel left the tip of my nose, the galaxies I could almost touch faded away, as the green of the paddocks crept its way back into my vision.
I often catch myself thinking about it differently now, watching James stare out the car window as though the paddocks might still become something else. It is how we first learn the rules of the world while still remaining entirely ourselves.
Scrambling out of the car I craned my neck to take a good look at the castle. “Let the games begin,” I would say to myself. I shaped the castle so its towers stood firm and proud, its drawbridge like a mouth was closed up tight. I’d reach my hand out and place it on the beautiful limestone walls, the bumps getting stuck in the grooves of my little palms. I jerked my hand away as rust fragments scattered towards the ground, not a castle at all – just the corrugated iron walls of the shed.
The metal squeaked as I forced my way in; dust particles danced through the air, burning the surface of my eyes. The musty stench of the shed crept its way up my nose and forced a powdery cough out of me. I turned the corner and gasped when the dazzling sea of blue scales from my sleeping dragon revealed itself to me. The sounds of its snores made the walls of the shed rumble.
Every twist of the throttle fed it, and it answered with a furious snarl that tore the silence. It wasn’t a dragon at all, just my blue motorbike that my little legs were quickly outgrowing.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Speech - Oral Presentation, Contention…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 67.5%: Can you believe that in Australia, the national youth offender rate was 1,650 per 100,000 young people aged…
Can you believe that in Australia, the national youth offender rate was 1,650 per 100,000 young people aged 10–17? Many child development experts in the health and legal field support raising the age of criminal responsibility from 10 to 14, as a necessary step to decrease crime and support youth. Greetings, classmates and Mrs Goro , Today, I urge you to consider why we as a community must prioritise the safety and support for the youth in decreasing crime rates to foster a safe and friendly environment for all children and teens in Australia.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Speech - Oral Presentation, Contention…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 60%: Can you believe that in Australia, the national youth offender rate was 1,650 per 100,000 young people aged…
Can you believe that in Australia, the national youth offender rate was 1,650 per 100,000 young people aged 10–17? Many child development experts in the health and legal field support raising the age of criminal responsibility from 10 to 14, as a necessary step to decrease crime and support youth. Greetings, classmates and Mrs Goro , Today, I urge you to consider why we as a community must prioritise the safety and support for the youth in decreasing crime rates to foster a safe and friendly environment for all children and teens in Australia.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: write a diasporic fiction story.
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 85%: a bowl of rice and a ceramic plate I am the first daughter. i am the second. i sit down at the table and flip…
a bowl of rice and a ceramic plate
I am the first daughter.
i am the second.
i sit down at the table and flip my phone face-down, breathing in the steam from my bowl of warm white rice. my hands gloss over the surface of the marbled black table as i pick up the cracked rice spoon and begin to poke the rice, the spoon gripping the grains with certainty.
My brother’s voice breaks the lull in conversation, his hands pushing my father’s folded newspaper off the table. His brash voice cuts through the oversaturated room. My parents easily talk over him using the harsh and fricative phonetics of Mandarin, Cantonese and Hokkien, each syllable vying to be louder than the last, consonants exploding with force and spittle. My brother’s voice raises, grating the wooden table that nestles my warm rice until my parents turn to look at him. He’s only asking for the soy chicken. I frown at his abrasiveness before I silently give him what he wants. My mother reminds him to finish his chiah before he leaves the table, and I dish myself another spoonful of rice before I begin to chew.
“how many minutes have you studied today?” i don’t reply. i don’t count the minutes but today i know there aren’t many of them. “i don’t understand how you spend this much time on your laptop without accomplishing anything meaningful. your procrastination is a serious issue, one day you’ll regret wasting all this time.” my mother lectures me, her words scraping across the table as they attempt to worm their way into my head. my sisters focus on eating, if their mouths are full then they can’t be asked to contribute to this conversation. i avoid eye contact and look back down at my rice. it has gone cold.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Standing up against tyranny
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 67.5%: Fellow citizens, Today, I stand before you not as a dissenter, but as a seeker of truth in a world shrouded…
Fellow citizens,
Today, I stand before you not as a dissenter, but as a seeker of truth in a world shrouded by the illusion of perfection. The speech we heard earlier extolled the virtues of our so-called utopia, a place where order and harmony reign supreme. But I ask you, at what cost?
We are told that our society is the pinnacle of human achievement, yet our voices are stifled, our freedoms curtailed. The promise of security has become a cage, and the pursuit of uniformity has erased our individuality. We are expected to conform, to accept the doublespeak that masks our reality. "Peace" is enforced through surveillance, "harmony" through suppression, and "unity" through fear.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: in relation to the text m. e.…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 70%: After 120 days in the belly of the Queen Victoria, Meabh had arrived in the new colony. She couldn't help but…
After 120 days in the belly of the Queen Victoria, Meabh had arrived in the new colony. She couldn't help but resent the flat dry land[1] which yielded no resemblance to the green hills of Ireland to which she held a fierce native fondness for.
As her poor mother had died of sickness, her father fallen victim to the same illness some years prior, Meabh had set out to find work , where it was now abundant. Australia.
With a sorrowful goodbye to her homeland, Meabh Kelly had endured the 120 [2] long days and nights on the careless sea. At night, the hands of men groped through the darkness. In the day, as the cruel sun shone, seawater smothered her cracked lips as disease clung [3] to the scuttling rats.[4]
Sea salt stuck to her itchy skin as she arrived in Sydney harbor, her hair knotted and clumped with salt. In desperation for a warm bed and a shower Meabh set out to find work.
Not one week after arriving in the port Meabh took a position as a maid in a doctor's house. A paper had advertised the job on a newly erected lamppost; she had called the house and been hired that same day. A cab had been organized to take her to a the newly established settlement out of Sydney, a town named Cadwell.[5] [6] [7]
Dr. Allbones was a new resident of Cadwell, where his house functioned as both clinic and home[8] to him and his young wife.
When Meabh had arrived, she was surprised to see Mrs. Allbones herself awaiting her by the doorstep. "Good evening Meabh, welcome to Caldwell!”. Meabh had taken immediate notice of Mrs. Allbones feminine quality and plush persona. She didn't speak as such but cooed [9] in sweet tones, her saccharine [10] voice could put the most diligent soldier to rest[11] . At the sight of her mistress Maebh’s was reminded of the tales her mum had told her around the darkening hearth, whispering of sirens and selkies. Creatures with sweet voices and inhuman beauty.
“I'm glad you have come” Mrs. Allbones breathed in her gentle tone, “it's hard to get people willing to leave the city and come to Cadwell, and I've been oh so desperate for a good maid. It’s much more difficult to lace up a dress by yourself.” Amused by herself Mrs. Allbones let out a breathy laugh.
Mrs. Allbones prattled continuously [12] as she showed Meabh about the rooms as if there was no partitioning [13] between her thoughts and voice.
The house was a grand and new residence which had been styled in that new colonial way[14] . It stood in the center of town among the shopfronts. On the first floor was the room used to see patients where at the center of the room was a clean steel examining table while cupboards against the walls held strange and usual equipment. The study doubled as a library and each bookshelf was pushed tightly together and crammed with medical journals and a plethora of other genres. “Your welcome to read these anytime you like, I have read these myself many times over” Ms. Allbones had said with a enthusiastic lilt in her sweet voice. Meabh nodded along, she didn’t bother mentioning she wasn’t able to read.
On the second story Dr. and Mr. Allbones room was cushioned in soft hues contrasting against the hardwood furniture. It was obvious that Dr. Allbones had let his impressionable wife decorate and the room swarmed with flowery scents and pretty rugs and furnishings. Mrs. Allbones had guided Maebh through each room, all a similar shape and styled but decorated uniquely. Yet amongst all the rooms there was no nursery. How uncommon for such young newlyweds[15] Maebh had thought!
Mrs. Allbones was different from all other doctors’ wives Meabh had seen in Dublin. She lacked the churlish smirk and dismissive glance[16] that those women[17] wielded.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: in relation to the text Lady Audelys…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 65%: After 120 days in the belly of the Queen Victoria, Meabh had arrived in the new colony. She couldn't help but…
After 120 days in the belly of the Queen Victoria, Meabh had arrived in the new colony. She couldn't help but resent the flat dry land which yielded no resemblance to the green hills of Ireland to which she held a fierce native fondness for.
As her poor mother had died of sickness, her father fallen victim to the same illness some years prior, Meabh had set out to find work , where it was now abundant. Australia.
With a sorrowful goodbye to her homeland, Meabh Kelly had endured the 120 long days and nights on the careless sea. At night, the hands of men groped through the darkness. In the day, as the cruel sun shone, seawater smothered her cracked lips as disease clung to the scuttling rats.
Sea salt stuck to her itchy skin as she arrived in Sydney harbor, her hair knotted and clumped with salt. In desperation for a warm bed and a shower Meabh set out to find work.
Not one week after arriving in the port Meabh took a position as a maid in a doctor's house. A paper had advertised the job on a newly erected lamppost; she had called the house and been hired that same day. A cab had been organized to take her to a the newly established settlement out of Sydney, a town named Cadwell.
Dr. Allbones was a new resident of Cadwell, where his house functioned as both clinic and home to him and his young wife.
When Meabh had arrived, she was surprised to see Mrs. Allbones herself awaiting her by the doorstep. "Good evening Meabh, welcome to Caldwell!”. Meabh had taken immediate notice of Mrs. Allbones feminine quality and plush persona. She didn't speak as such but cooed in sweet tones, her saccharine voice could put the most diligent soldier to rest . At the sight of her mistress Maebh’s was reminded of the tales her mum had told her around the darkening hearth, whispering of sirens and selkies. Creatures with sweet voices and inhuman beauty.
“I'm glad you have come” Mrs. Allbones breathed in her gentle tone, “it's hard to get people willing to leave the city and come to Cadwell, and I've been oh so desperate for a good maid. It’s much more difficult to lace up a dress by yourself.” Amused by herself Mrs. Allbones let out a breathy laugh.
Mrs. Allbones prattled continuously as she showed Meabh about the rooms as if there was no partitioning between her thoughts and voice.
The house was a grand and new residence which had been styled in that new colonial way . It stood in the center of town among the shopfronts. On the first floor was the room used to see patients where at the center of the room was a clean steel examining table while cupboards against the walls held strange and usual equipment. The study doubled as a library and each bookshelf was pushed tightly together and crammed with medical journals and a plethora of other genres. “Your welcome to read these anytime you like, I have read these myself many times over” Ms. Allbones had said with a enthusiastic lilt in her sweet voice. Meabh nodded along, she didn’t bother mentioning she wasn’t able to read.
On the second story Dr. and Mr. Allbones room was cushioned in soft hues contrasting against the hardwood furniture. It was obvious that Dr. Allbones had let his impressionable wife decorate and the room swarmed with flowery scents and pretty rugs and furnishings. Mrs. Allbones had guided Maebh through each room, all a similar shape and styled but decorated uniquely. Yet amongst all the rooms there was no nursery. How uncommon for such young newlyweds Maebh had thought!
Mrs. Allbones was different from all other doctors’ wives Meabh had seen in Dublin. She lacked the churlish smirk and dismissive glance that those women wielded.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: write a speech about something you are…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 60%: “Are you xenophobic?” “Please explain”, Yes Pauline hanson you as a federal politician who stands up at…
“Are you xenophobic?” “Please explain”, Yes Pauline hanson you as a federal politician who stands up at parliament and makes xenophobic statements need me to clarify what xenophobia is, this interview is one of Australia's most iconic pop culture moments, while many like myself laughed at this meme a couple years ago I no longer find myself cracking a smile. The tides have shifted the menacing threats against immigrants particularly people of colour have escalated. Guys guys join in on the flashy new trend, all the biggest influencers are doing it, its called being a widely accepted racist political party disguising themselves as nationalist. “them job taking curry munching rascals”, yes Dazza from townsville, we hear you and we will protect you from them job hungry bastards.
The influencer getting paid the big bucks is Trump and his ICE bots, he is closely followed by Britans Nigel Farage, Canada's Mamie Bernier, and many more. But the world's most underrated influencer is our very own Pauline Hanson who has been in the game since 1994, yes why join the trend when you can start it. Pauline Hanson’s One Nation Party’s rise in popularity is a sign of retrogression in Australia’s culture, deepening the fracture in national multiculturalism and misleading the wider Australian community by redirecting their growing discontent to immigrant communities.
P1: Pauline Hanson's vindictive speeches and press runs are built from ignorant and baseless research rather than substantive policies which tackle the root cause of crises and protect Aussie values. Pauline Hanson like all notorious dictators is a fiery charismatic character, people rarely listen to what she says but rather how she says. Her cultivation of follower adore her for her legitimising and voicing their thoughts and concerns, throughout her 32 years in politics she often used hateful and discriminatory speech to express these thoughts, she has openly labelled Muslim immigrants as "violent primitive peoples” and she has famously told Senator Mehreen Faruqi to “pack your bags and piss off back to Pakistan”. The tactic of scapegoating minority groups is by no means new, Adolf hitler spread widespread antisemetic propaganda as the cause of germany's economic devastation, Saddam Hussein who persecuted ethnic and religious minorities including the Kurdish people's, to strengthen his regime. One thing all these dictators have in common is to consolidate power by scapegoating a specific racial or religious group, sounds familiar right?.Using these tactics Pauline Hanson has built her political influence by exploiting the fears and insecurities of Australians, convincing struggling families that migrants rather than policy failures, are responsible for job shortages, the housing crisis and rising cost of living. Fear may win elections but it will never solve Australia's Australia's problems.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Write a piece on personal journeys…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 90%: The beats of the ceremonial kompang pervade my thoughts as I sit rigid on the pelamin (the wedding dais), my…
The beats of the ceremonial kompang pervade my thoughts as I sit rigid on the pelamin (the wedding dais), my face hidden from view with an ornate fan by my mother seated next to me. She is crying, her tears running tracks through her makeup. Ironically, I do not cry. I look straight ahead, my eyes seeing everything, yet nothing. The fan is beautiful, silver and gold flowers on maroon fabric that looks like the grating, scratchy songket I was made to wear (“Suck in your gut, sayang, there we go.”). A wall of my most trusted female relatives and friends form before me, stopping the groom’s procession. Do they know? I do not think so. Better if they didn’t. My pain will be the one thing I alone will own.
The beats do not falter. They grow louder, closer, until they settle beneath my skin, a second pulse that does not belong to me. Each strike of the kompang feels like a reckoning, the walls closing in, a narrowing of choice. The women before me laugh, their voices light, teasing, bargaining for passage in language and ritual older than us all. Their bodies form a barrier, but it is a gentle one, meant to be crossed. Everything here is meant to give way.
Everything except me.
This was never meant to be my life. Not him. Not like this. Not now.
It began, as most things do, quietly. A suggestion over the dinner table, like we were only discussing the weather. “He is a good man,” my mother said, not unkindly. “Stable, pious. He will take care of you.” My father could only nod, refusing to meet my gaze. It was never framed as a question, only a sequence of reasonable steps laid out so logically that refusal would seem irrational and ungrateful.
He is a good man. That has always been the problem. But I did not love him the way a wife is meant to love her husband. There is nothing to point to, nothing to refuse without sounding cruel. Just small things – the way he speaks for me without noticing, the way my silences become agreement in his presence, the way my world, around him, felt already decided. A life where I am safe, provided for, and slowly, carefully, reduced.
I told myself I had time. That there would be space later for me to grow into whoever I was meant to be.
But time, I have learned, is something other people decide for you if you do not claim it yourself.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: write a pursuasive speech on the topic…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 87.5%: Before you leave the house tonight, make sure your phone is charged. Walk the lit road, not the shortcut.…
Before you leave the house tonight, make sure your phone is charged. Walk the lit road, not the shortcut. Keep your keys between your fingers, just in case. Hood up, music off, eyes up. Text me when you get there and don't leave your drink alone. Wear something that covers you, you wouldn’t want to suggest anything, but not so long you'll trip if you have to run. Always scream fire, never help.
We don't hand this list to boys. We have never handed this list to boys. We give it to girls before they're old enough to understand why, and by the time they're old enough to ask, they've already memorised it. Nobody decided what to hand boys instead. The manosphere decided for us.
Over the last decade, an ecosystem of podcasts, forums and posts built itself around that gap, telling boys that women are objects for their entertainment, showing emotion is weak and for girls, and feminism is the reason they feel lost and can’t get a girlfriend. This is the manosphere, and it did not create misogyny, but it has industrialised it and turned something that once needed a search to find into something that finds our youngest generations first.
The manosphere is not a single website or a single man. It is a misogynistic, global subculture operating across platforms that UN Women describes as being “characterised by anti-feminist, misogynistic viewpoints and the promotion of rigid, aggressive models of masculinity”. Andrew Tate is one such model. This ‘man’ has publicly stated that he is “absolutely a misogynist”, and posted a video stating his response to an accusation of cheating by a woman would be to “bang out the machete, boom in her face, grip her up by the neck … and you go f her”. He is currently being charged with 10 criminal offences including assault, rape, human trafficking and controlling prostitution for gain. He has collectively ten million followers. Boys are still searching his name. This is who is raising our boys while we aren't looking.
When a culture repeatedly tells young boys that showing emotions and vulnerability is for girls, and men should toughen up and deal with it, it should not surprise us when those boys grow into men who respond to vulnerability with violence. Police recorded 40,087 reports of sexual assault in 2024, the highest number on record. But a separate ABS survey tells a more confronting story. 92% of women who'd experienced sexual assault never came forward. Thousands of Australian women trapped in a blanket of fear and silence, a silence the manosphere is built to justify. The manosphere didn't pull the trigger; these men did. What it did do was provide them with a loaded gun and spare bullets. Bullets aimed at women and the very movement fighting for their rights.
Feminism is not a textbook definition; it is the apparently radical belief that the girl walking home tonight deserves to do so without a list of rules. The idea that women are people, not vessels for someone else’s dinner, children, and desires. Yet these forums, podcasts and ‘male advocates’ have twisted this word to fit their own misogynistic views. The manosphere didn't just discredit feminism; it took a word that once described the idea that women deserve the same treatment, opportunities and freedoms as men, instead rebuilding it into a threat aimed at men.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: write a pursuasive speech on the topic…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 87.5%: Before you leave the house tonight, make sure your phone is charged. Walk the lit road, not the shortcut.…
Before you leave the house tonight, make sure your phone is charged. Walk the lit road, not the shortcut. Keep your keys between your fingers, just in case. Hood up, music off, eyes up. Text me when you get there and don't leave your drink alone. Wear something that covers you, you wouldn’t want to suggest anything, but not so long you'll trip if you have to run. Always scream fire, never help.
We don't hand this list to boys. We have never handed this list to boys. We give it to girls before they're old enough to understand why, and by the time they're old enough to ask, they've already memorised it. Nobody decided what to hand boys instead. The manosphere decided for us.
Over the last decade, an ecosystem of podcasts, forums and posts built itself around that gap, telling boys that women are objects for their entertainment, showing emotion is weak and for girls, and feminism is the reason they feel lost and can’t get a girlfriend. This is the manosphere, and it did not create misogyny, but it has industrialised it and turned something that once needed a search to find into something that finds our youngest generations first.
The manosphere is not a single website or a single man. It is a misogynistic, global subculture operating across platforms that UN Women describes as being, “characterised by anti-feminist, misogynistic viewpoints and the promotion of rigid, aggressive models of masculinity”. Andrew Tate is one such model. This ‘man’ has publicly stated that he is “absolutely a misogynist”, and posted a video stating his response to accusation of cheating by a woman would be to “bang out the machete, boom in her face, grip her up by the neck … and you go f her”. He is currently being charged with 10 criminal offences including assault, rape, human trafficking and controlling prostitution for gain. He has collectively ten million followers. Boys are still searching his name. This is who is raising our boys while we aren't looking.
When a culture repeatedly tells young boys that showing emotions and vulnerability is for girls, and men should toughen up and deal with it, it should not surprise us when those boys grow into men who respond to vulnerability with violence. Police recorded 40,087 reports of sexual assault in 2024, the highest number on record. But a separate ABS survey tells a more confronting story. 92% of women who'd experienced sexual assault never came forward. Thousands of Australian women trapped in a blanket of fear and silence, a silence the manosphere is built to justify. The manosphere didn't pull the trigger, these men did. What it did do was provide them with a loaded gun and spare bullets. Bullets aimed at women and the very movement fighting for their rights.
Feminism is not a textbook definition, it is the apparently radical belief that the girl walking home tonight deserves to do so without a list of rules. The idea that women are people and not vessels for someone else’s dinner, children and desires. Yet these forums, podcasts and ‘male advocates’ have twisted this word to fit their own misogynistic views. The manosphere didn't just discredit feminism, it took a word that once described the idea that women deserve the same treatment, opportunities and freedoms as men, instead rebuilding it into a threat aimed at men.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: On the text : Lady Audley secret ·…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 65%: After 120 days in the belly of Queen Victoria Meabh had arrived in the new colony of Austlain. She couldn't…
After 120 days in the belly of Queen Victoria Meabh had arrived in the new colony of Austlain. She couldn't help but resent the flat dry land which yielded no resemblance to the green hills of Ireland to which held a fierce native fondness for.
As her poor mother had fallen ill and died, her father was a victim of the illness some years prior, Maebhe had set out to find work , where it was abundant. In Australia.
And so with tearful goodbye to her young siblings, Meabh Kelly had endured the 120 at sea. At night the hands of men groped through the darkness and in the day seawater soaked your cracked lips as disease clung to the sctuttling rats.
Not one week after arriving in the port of Sydyney Meabh had traveled to a newly established settlement where she had been assigned as one of the house servants of the local doctor.
A cab had been arranged to take her from Sydney port to her new master residence. Dr.Allbones was a recent resident of the town of Caldwell where his house functioned as both clinic and home to him and his young wife.
When Meabh had arrived she was surprised to see Mrs. Allbones herself awaiting her by the door step. “Goodevening Meabh, welcome to Cadwell!”. Meabh had taken immediate notice of Mrs. Allbones femmine nature. Mrs. Allbones didnt speak as such but cooed in sweet tones. Her saccharine voice could put the most diligent soldier to rest.
“I'm glad you have come” whispered Ms. Allbones in her gentle tone “it's hard to get people willing to leave the city and come to Cadwall”.
Mrs. Allbones prattled continuously as she showed Meabh about the rooms as if there was no partitioning between her thoughts and voice.
The house was a grand and new residence which had been styled in that new colonial way and was in the center of town among the shopfronts. On the first floor were rooms used to see patients as well as the kitchen and palour. On the second story The west wing of the building's second floor was Dr. Allbones rooms, dining room and study while the east was the servants quarters. No nursery, Maebh had noticed. How uncommon for such young newlyweds!
Mrs. Allbones was different to all other doctors wife Meabh had known. She lacks the churlish smirk and dismissive glance that those women possessed.
Ms. Allbone was casual with all her servants, and flirted freely, although not intentionally. She acted in a way which made Meabh had wondered what Ms. Allbones had been before she had become a doctor's wife.
Meabh was gracious of Mrs. Allbones liberality. Mrs. Allbone was as precious within her treatment of maebh as she was in her appearance.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Personal Journeys
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 72.5%: How would you define yourself? Chinese? Australian? Indian? Croatian? For many teenagers nationality…
How would you define yourself? Chinese? Australian? Indian? Croatian? For many teenagers nationality represents who they are. For me it used to be Argentinian and Chinese, but my identity is more than a language.
I was born and raised i n Buenos Aires and though I knew many people, and was in many groups, my favourite by far must’ve been table tennis. In table tennis I didn't need words — my paddle said everything. After training, I'll sit together with my Chinese and Argentinian friends eating empanadas and dumplings off a small table, laughing in two languages, proud of both. In Buenos Aires, being Chinese and Argentinian wasn't a contradiction. It was the best thing about me.
Though Argentina was a beautiful place- my beautiful home, it was also a broken one. Inflation, corruption, and safety issues led to deep disappointment. The final straw for my parents was when I was robbed at knife point on a night returning from table tennis training. It killed the last bit of hope for my parents. So we moved to Melbourne when I was twelve. We packed our languages, our recipes, our traditions and my paddle — everything that couldn't fit in a suitcase but came anyway — and with a grief that felt strangely like hope, we left Argentina behind. My parents were carrying the weight of our future even while knowing that they'd have to bear uncertainty, sacrifice and the risk of failure. Luckily Australia gave the stamp for our passports and I finally got the chance to live in Australia. I'd heard so many stories about it. Australia felt like another universe. It was stable, safe and most importantly, full of hope for the future.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: VCE persuasive oral - not part of…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 82.5%: "You need to learn to be bored." Growing up, it was my parents' favourite phrase. In fact, we still have this…
"You need to learn to be bored."
Growing up, it was my parents' favourite phrase. In fact, we still have this rule in my family, a rule I'm sure many of you have too: if we're at the dinner table, our phones must be switched off. As a child, I regarded this as torture. My parents were forcing me to endure what felt like every child's worst nightmare: boredom. Yet, what I didn't realise then was that my parents weren't punishing me, they were teaching me something essential.
With the rise of "iPad kids", we are watching attention, creativity and resilience diminish as children increasingly avoid boredom. As teenagers, we see them everywhere: toddlers clutching screens in prams, cafes and cars, during the most formative stage of their life. That’s why parents must stop allowing children to avoid boredom, as learning to tolerate it is essential for healthy development.
Firstly, constant digital stimulation has made children intolerant of boredom. Boredom is the uncomfortable feeling of low mental stimulation; one we instinctively try to escape. For today's children, that escape is only a swipe away. Every swipe on a device triggers the release of dopamine - the brain's feel-good chemical. Flooding a child’s mind with this artificial reward leads to what neuroscientists call the "dopamine-deficit state" – and if that sounds alarming, it's because it is. In this state, real life can no longer meet children's unnatural baseline of stimulation and boredom becomes harder to tolerate.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: VCE persuasive oral - not part of…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 82.5%: "You need to learn to be bored." Growing up, it was my parents' favourite phrase. In fact, we still have this…
"You need to learn to be bored."
Growing up, it was my parents' favourite phrase. In fact, we still have this rule in my family, a rule I'm sure many of you have too: if we're at the dinner table, our phones must be switched off. As a child, I regarded this as torture. My parents were forcing me to endure what felt like every child's worst nightmare: boredom. Yet, what I didn't realise then was that my parents weren't punishing me, they were teaching me something essential.
With the rise of "iPad kids", we are watching attention, creativity and resilience diminish as children increasingly avoid boredom. As teenagers, we see them everywhere: toddlers clutching screens in prams, cafes and cars, during the most formative stage of their life. That’s why parents must stop allowing children to avoid boredom, as learning to tolerate it is essential for healthy development.
Firstly, constant digital stimulation has made children intolerant of boredom. Boredom is the uncomfortable feeling of low mental stimulation; one we instinctively try to escape. For today's children, that escape is only a swipe away. Every swipe on a device triggers the release of dopamine - the brain's feel-good chemical. Flooding a child’s mind with this artificial reward leads to what neuroscientists call the "dopamine-deficit state" – and if that sounds alarming, it's because it is. In this state, real life can no longer meet children's unnatural baseline of stimulation and boredom becomes harder to tolerate.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Personal journey
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 65%: the neon sign of the convenience store blinks pink and green across the wet pavement and it is three in the…
the neon sign of the convenience store blinks pink and green across the wet pavement and it is three in the morning in Melbourne but back home it is midnight and she is gone now but there is no heavy weight in his chest just the hum of the open refrigerator case holding rows of iced coffee and sushi rolls that look too perfect to be real food and he stands there watching his own reflection in the glass thinking how strange it is that the world did not stop spinning when the phone rang because when his mother whispered the news across the static of a transcontinental line he only felt a sudden deep quiet like the silence inside a library after everyone leaves and now he walks down the aisle with a basket containing things he does not need like a packet of spicy noodles and a blue pen because the grief everyone writes about in books is supposed to be a tearing of clothes or a howling at the moon but here under the fluorescent lights it is just a dull blankness a complete absence of color where her face should be and he remembers her small kitchen where the steam from the rice cooker always smelled like old wood and how she would sit by the window shell pea pods into a plastic basin with her wrinkled fingers moving like small birds but that kitchen is thousands of miles away across an ocean
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Personal journey
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 87.5%: A message from my father sits in the middle of a thread of ordinary reminders. It is between a note about…
A message from my father sits in the middle of a thread of ordinary reminders.
It is between a note about taking out the bins and another about a dentist appointment. I had not noticed it for a few days. When I open it, there is only a question: whether I still want to study in Melbourne.
I remember standing in the kitchen when I read it properly for the first time. The kettle had just boiled and switched itself off. Someone upstairs was moving furniture across the floor. I typed my reply while holding the phone in one hand and waiting for the cup to fill. I wrote “yes” and pressed send before the water reached the top.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Prompt: A single spark can transform a…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 95%: It all originated from a single spark. A match so faint that it was indistinguishable from its own shadow. This…
It all originated from a single spark. A match so faint that it was indistinguishable from its own shadow. This spark, however, travelled with the frantic assistance of paint thinner, which clung to the concrete prison walls like a dying breath. The distinct scent of salty rain and burnt plastic stagnated over the alienated town, a heavy, chemical shroud. Faces of cheerful children were plastered against the slabs of concrete—pleas for a future that would forever haunt my mind. It felt as though the town had calcified into a permanent state where justice was a myth and silence was the law.
“Violence is not the answer to violence!” a voice cried from the safety of the dark.
“Those offenders deserved to rot in their cells! Not to burn!”
“Find him! Catch the man who did this!”
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: demand progreess
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 85%: Demand progress For centuries, protest had stood on its forefront, desperate for the social change. People…
Demand progress
For centuries, protest had stood on its forefront, desperate for the social change. People repeatedly challenge issues ranging from imbalance of gender equality to global political decision. From a birds eye view, protest may appear to be nothing more than crowds marching through streets, holding signs and chanting slogans. However, the depth of protest is far more about a public refusal of silence, it is an act of courage that allows ordinary people to confront bias and demand a need of progress to better, despite their wealth, authority, race or influence. Those who refuse to accept had repeated demonstrated that courage can leave a significant mark on society. Although their voice may be small, but the impact can extend far beyond their time, inspiring more to come. So the conclusion revealed itself clear, ------
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Aim is to argue. This is for oral…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 75%: In Australia, over half of young females drop out of sport, with many blaming lack of support as key reasons.…
In Australia, over half of young females drop out of sport, with many blaming lack of support as key reasons. Some may believe it is due to lack of ability, however it is because local sporting clubs are failing to address the barriers such as judgement, unequal funding and limited role models. We as a community must prioritise the participation of young females in sport to foster a safe and friendly environment for all players, throughout their lives.
Negative stereotypes and embarrassment play a major role in the discouragement of female participation in sport, especially during adolescence. From an early age, females are encouraged to view sport as masculine and ‘unfeminine’ and that girls are too delicate and fragile for male-dominated sports. This marginalisation, often reinforced by media and the community, intentionally or unintentionally, causes girls to drop out due to low confidence or fear of being judged and mislabelled regarding their sexuality or femininity. Once most females reach adolescence, they are undergoing numerous overwhelming transitions. Their bodies are undergoing rapid physical changes, they are just beginning high school, and are pressured to engage in competitive leagues of sport. This number of rapid overwhelming changes can make young females more self-conscious and ultimately withdraw themselves from sport. According to a report by Youth Sports Trust, 62% of young females want to participate in sport at school, however they hesitated due to lack confidence and fear of judgement. This confirms females possess a desire to participate, however due to the perception of environments being unwelcome or dismissive of females, it feels like they missed an opportunity. If local clubs can demonstrate inclusive and inviting surroundings, it will help boost female participation as it will help build females’ confidence and make them feel accepted. To accomplish this, we can start by encouraging social connection between all players and club members by throwing club-organised events to create new and strengthen team bonds.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Discovery Joy
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 70%: Hues of crimson, amber and tuscany blend into the marble of the early morning sky. Sun peers through the stand…
Hues of crimson, amber and tuscany blend into the marble of the early morning sky. Sun peers through the stand of acacias trees, as the summer zephyrs brushed through the window of Grandma’s farmhouse attic, waking up Mia. Silence. Nothing but the symphony of the dawn choruses melding with the cicadas chirping. This was unusual; unlikely. Silence absent her whole life suddenly swamped the atmosphere around her, with a steady pace thudding in her chest, the echo of her breathing sounding ever so pristine clear.
Back home, silence never existed, as did her idea of a perfect family. Every morning began with the constant bickering of her parents ricocheting through the paper thin walls of Mia’s bedroom, The air thickened with the rage boiling inside her. Her desire to take action against her parents was crushed at her utter reluctancy, deep down knowing her actions lacked the impact needed. Her chest tightened, energy drained as the weight on her shoulders anchored her to the rough wooden floor, as she puddled on the floor, blending into the confinement of her room.
Descending the stairs of the farmhouse, Mia awaits the chaos to begin. Yet again, nothing. Just the sweet aroma of honey drizzled upon Grandma’s fresh batch of pancakes, with a hint of the lavender scent wafting through the porch of the farmhouse. Tip-toeing into the kitchen, Mia’s stiff, tightened chest softened to the sight of her grandmother placing the cut-up bananas around her pancakes, forming flowers. She recognised the feeling: love, but what scared her was the thought that she wouldn’t find this again. Her parents' love for each other was gone, what was even left to share with her? As Grandma reached for the cupboard, Mia’s stomach twisted into a knot as she was…
…Suddenly back in her house, warily stepping out toward the battlefield of the war between her parents. In the eyes of 7-year-old Mia, society would expect her to start weeping, pleading to stop, maybe even run up to her parents, and vanish all their issues. But the true discovery that day uncovered another layer to her trauma, that she indeed, was the issue.
“I should have never had a child with you!” declared her father.
“Do you think I did either?” her mother agreed, “She is our only bond to each other, our pure bond of hatred”
Now Mia knew: her life was the bane of their existence . Her fingernails dug into her palms, as the tension settled into the air. The anger bottled up from her young age gushed through each vein in her body. Glaring at her for a split second, as her expression blanked, her parents began bickering again. The blood that once surged through her body drained at an instant. The walls trapped her in her own spiraling thoughts, as her chin quivered, the silent sob overpowered by the constant arguing. She scans the room for an escape, the antique cupboard. Inching past the chaotic argument, Mia locked herself inside, when she realised she had found her new home. Curled into a ball, she detached herself from the harsh truth: Mia is nothing.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: writing about country
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 85%: A Disconnected Country Wound This country has a scar. Severed from itself. Buried among a sprawling, silent…
A Disconnected Country
Wound
This country has a scar.
Severed from itself.
Buried among a sprawling, silent tide of society’s castoffs.
A submerged landscape. Drowning everything beneath a stagnant sea of refuse.
The air is hot.
Suffocating.
Every breath taken is a stark reminder that this country is now broken, beyond repair.
And it's OUR fault.
There’s a buzz. Life here is a rarity, an iridescent haze hangs over the sludge. The humming of flies swarming over the landscape of debris and decay. This is all that’s left.
It's repulsive.
However you were right, all those years ago when we questioned you and looked to you to grant us change. But our country is naturally regenerative isn't it? Is Climate change just another Generation Z progressive tantrum?
I wonder if that's still the case.
Memory
I’m lucky.
I remember this country before. It was a vast, breathing masterpiece- ancient, untamed, and luminous in its quiet power.
The air was pure.
Calm.
The sky stretched endlessly, a deep and generous blue that seemed to cradle the land beneath it. Sunlight poured over the deep red earth in golden sheets, warming it and igniting the colours of the bush into something almost dreamlike. Rivers ran clear, unhurried, threading through the land like veins of glass.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Title: 'Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 100%: Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust January in the Old Land was a frigid, stormy period. Wisps of dust covered the…
Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust
January in the Old Land was a frigid, stormy period.
Wisps of dust covered the barren wasteland; the lifeless dormant trees whispered. Underneath the high-rise sun, the ripe apples – fruits of all knowledge – fell in sequence.
They came for the apples, seeking to caress the symbol of creation. To have plucked it from its stem and prayed to their thousand-year-old souls.
In sight of eternal life, they scraped the dry earth in their pilgrimage to the Old Land. Their eyes, filmed with the grey dust of the wasteland, scanned the horizon for the curve of the ripening fruit. They did not want to survive; they wanted to outrun the grave – to be more than human. They sought to be cleansed.
This was the Elders’ burden; they claimed to be the keepers of life, yet their hands were perpetually stained grey. They had spent so many centuries dissecting the anatomy of ash that they had forgotten the presence of air. They taught the Bright Generation that to live forever, one must first master the decay.
But in that month of January, the Dark Plague came. It killed insidiously as it progressed from a simple cold into the decay of ash and dust. It marked the season of forgetting. During this period, the Old Land turned its back on the sun; a jagged silence, it felt, refused to thaw. The sun’s cycle became irregular; it slowed down as if it were an ember gasping in ash. The apples softened and fell one by one: the Old Land was dying.
The Elders were custodians; they had interpreted the scripture of decay. They made it their mission to guide the Bright Generation along a path toward eternal life.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: “Protest enables marginalised groups…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 92.5%: It was a dreary morning on the way to work - the kind where the sky hangs low and heavy, pressing a dull…
It was a dreary morning on the way to work - the kind where the sky hangs low and heavy, pressing a dull weight against everything below. The windscreen wipers dragged rhythmically across the glass, smearing the drizzle into streaks of blurred light. Then, without warning, that song crackled through the speakers.
For a moment, I froze.
These were the lyrics that had anchored our cause and aided our voice, forcing passersby to hear the pleas of the marginalised.
We refused to be silent; we knew we couldn’t if real change was to happen. The struggle was never going to be over. We were certain that we couldn’t go quietly; being placid would never get us heard.
There was no room for passivity; we were fuelled by our desire for change, each and every one of us unwavering in our drive to lead young people to a brighter future. Like Martin Luther King once boldly stated, “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about the things that matter”, and that day, I felt like I was going to live forever.
A diverse tapestry of students gathered, from the salt-sprayed coastal towns to the quietest regional towns, coalesced to fight for the future of our planet.
Kaleidoscopic sprawls of youth filled the streets of the city, replacing the honking of horns and engine roars with our homemade signs and our incessant determination. We pushed the boundaries that once held us back, drowning out the drones of voices that tried to silence us.
Not even the methodical and mechanical procession of businessmen and CEOs, shielded by a world that prioritised profit over the planet, could keep us back.
We understood that to remain silent was to accept defeat, and that we had to stand up for what we believed. Acting as a constant reminder of what we were assembled to do, Taylor Swift’s lyrics echoed through my mind, “Only the young can run.”