VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: knowledge vs ignorance the soceity on…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 75%: A society which takes pride in ignorance, and disdains a passion for intelect. This society exists in the…
A society which takes pride in ignorance, and disdains a passion for intelect. This society exists in the dystopian novel 'Fahrenheit 451' and cognitive stimulation. The protagonist Guy Montag lives within this society, as a fire man, he goes through an identity crisis, after and finds himself questioning knowledge and ignorance. Ray Bradbury depicts a world where knowledge is perceived as an immense weakness and social decline. The society embodies ignorance and romantises obliviousness. It also prohibits and disdains those who seek knowledge, due to the auto cratic regime. This imulsifies itself into our world as the lack of passion for literature and cognitive thinking is prevelant vastly as well as the superiority of ignorance over knowledge.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: This is a section B personal journeys…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 85%: .
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VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Write a speech about protest, with the…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 100%: Namaste! Welcome to the Himalayas, home to the highest summit in the world. Enjoy our unparalleled views above…
Namaste! Welcome to the Himalayas, home to the highest summit in the world. Enjoy our unparalleled views above the skies that will take your breath away! Tick off your bucket lists and complete a one-in-a-lifetime expedition!
But watch your step, you wouldn’t want to step on our skiddy slopes!
Or maybe the countless bodies buried by the snow. By our footsteps. Our selfishness.
By our determination! Take on our gruelling challenge and reach our 29035ft peak! Be one of the few to complete the mission and take the familiar routes guided by our own experienced and successful climbers! Your prize?
Bragging rights.
“But it’s worth it right?”
Wrong.
Every year, tourists and climbers trample on our beloved land. They pollute Sagarmatha and leave behind corpses, marking their territory and taking over our mountains. Our peaks. Paths are naturally formed from eroding footsteps. Trails of blood follow those who summit, clouded by no remorse. We stand above the world, yet we have never been lower. We look down from the peak of Sagarmatha, breathing through oxygen tanks, while the mountain holding us up suffocates under the weight of our pride.
Today, I am not here to celebrate a feat of human endurance, I am here to protest a massacre of our sacred land. I am here to demand that we stop treating our most prized natural wonder as a pathetic landfill.
Its image is often painted as a white, pristine, pure beauty, yet the truth is far from that. According to National Geographic, Mount Everest has become the “world’s highest garbage dump.” Since the first successful ascent in 1953, the surge in climbers has left behind a trail of wreckage. Tonnes of discarded oxygen tanks, tents, plastic, and even worse, human waste.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Write a speech about protest, with the…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 95%: Namaste! Welcome to the Himalayas, home to the highest summit in the world. Enjoy our unparalleled views above…
Namaste! Welcome to the Himalayas, home to the highest summit in the world. Enjoy our unparalleled views above the skies that will take your breath away! Tick off your bucket lists and complete a one-in-a-lifetime expedition!
But watch your step, you wouldn’t want to step on our skiddy slopes!
Or maybe the countless bodies buried by the snow. By our footsteps. Our selfishness.
By our determination! Take on our gruelling challenge and reach our 29035ft peak! Be one of the few to complete the mission and take the familiar routes guided by our own experienced and successful climbers! Your prize?
Bragging rights.
“But it’s worth it right?”
Wrong.
Every year, tourists and climbers trample on our beloved land. They pollute Sagarmatha and leave behind corpses, marking their territory and taking over our mountains. Our peaks. Paths are naturally formed from eroding footsteps. Trails of blood follow those who summit, clouded by no remorse. We stand above the world, yet we have never been lower. We look down from the peak of Sagarmatha, breathing through oxygen tanks, while the mountain holding us up suffocates under the weight of our pride.
Today, I am not here to celebrate a feat of human endurance, I am here to protest a massacre of our sacred land. I am here to demand that we stop treating our most prized natural wonder as a pathetic landfill.
Its image is often painted as a white, pristine, pure wilderness, yet the truth is far from that. According to National Geographic, Mount Everest has become the “world’s highest garbage dump.” Since the first successful ascent in 1953, the surge in climbers has left behind a trail of wreckage. Tonnes of discarded oxygen tanks, tents, plastic, and even worse, human waste.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Write a speech about protest, with the…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 85%: Namaste! Welcome to the Himalayas, home to the highest summit in the world. Enjoy our unparalleled views above…
Namaste! Welcome to the Himalayas, home to the highest summit in the world. Enjoy our unparalleled views above the skies that will take your breath away! Tick off your bucket lists and complete a one-in-a-lifetime expedition!
But watch your step, you wouldn’t want to step on our skiddy slopes!
Or maybe the countless bodies buried by the snow. By our footsteps. Our selfishness.
By our determination! Take on our gruelling challenge and reach our 29035ft peak! Be one of the few to complete the mission and take the familiar routes guided by our own experienced and successful climbers! Your prize?
Bragging rights.
“But it’s worth it right?”
Wrong.
Every year, tourists and climbers trample on our beloved land. They pollute Sagarmatha and leave behind corpses, marking their territory and taking over our mountains. Our peaks. Paths are naturally formed from eroding footsteps. Trails of blood follow those who summit, clouded by no remorse. We stand above the world, yet we have never been lower. We look down from the peak of Sagarmatha, breathing through oxygen tanks, while the mountain holding us up suffocates under the weight of our pride.
Today, I am not here to celebrate a feat of human endurance, I am here to protest a massacre of our sacred land. I am here to demand that we stop treating out most prized natural wonder as a pathetic landfill.
Its image is often painted as a white, pristine, pure wilderness, yet the truth is far from that. According to National Geographic, Mount Everest has become the “world’s highest garbage dump.” Since the first successful ascent in 1953, the surge in climbers has left behind a trail of wreckage. Tonnes of discarded oxygen tanks, tents, plastic, and even worse, human waste.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Write a speech about protest, with the…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 72.5%: Namaste! Welcome to the Himalayas, home to the highest summit in the world. Enjoy our unparalleled views…
Namaste! Welcome to the Himalayas, home to the highest summit in the world. Enjoy our unparalleled views above the skies that will take your breath away! Tick off your bucket lists and complete a one-in-a-lifetime expedition!
But watch your step, you wouldn’t want to step on our skiddy slopes!
Or maybe the countless bodies buried by the snow. By our footsteps. Our selfishness.
By our determination! Take on our gruelling challenge and reach our 29035ft peak! Be one of the few to complete the mission and take the familiar routes guided by our own experienced and successful climbers! Your prize?
Bragging rights.
“But it’s worth it right?”
Wrong.
Every year, tourists and climbers trample on our beloved land. They pollute Sagarmatha and leave behind corpses, marking their territory and taking over out mountains. Our peaks. Paths are naturally formed from eroding footsteps. Trails of blood follow those who summit, clouded by no remorse. We stand above the world, yet we have never been lower. We look down from the peak of Sagarmatha, breathing through oxygen tanks, while the mountain holding us up suffocates under the weight of our pride.
Today, I am not here to celebrate a feat of human endurance, I am here to protest a massacre of our sacred land. I am here to demand that we stop treating out most prized natural wonder as a pathetic landfill.
It’s image is often painted as a white, pristine, pure wilderness, yet the truth is far from that. According to National Geographic, Mount Everest has become the “worlds highest garbage dump.” Since the first successful ascent in 1953, the surge in climbers has left behind a trail of wreckage. Tonnes of discarded oxygen tanks, tents, plastic, and even worse, human waste.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: "shadows of self"
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 87.5%: The shovel was never meant to feel like this. Its handle pressed into my palms, rough and splintered, as if…
The shovel was never meant to feel like this.
Its handle pressed into my palms, rough and splintered, as if it resisted being held. Each morning, I wrapped my fingers around it anyway, lifting it from the same corner where it rested overnight—silent, waiting, certain.
Back home, my father used to say, “Tools tell stories.”
At the time, I thought he meant the work.
Now I wonder if he meant the people who are forced to carry them.
The sun does not rise here. It arrives—sudden, sharp, unforgiving. Light spills across the fields like something invasive, exposing everything: the dust, the cracks in the earth, the men bent over their labour.
Thud.
Lift.
Throw.
The rhythm is relentless. Mechanical. It strips thought from the mind until only movement remains. Dust coils into the air with every strike, settling on skin, in lungs, between words we no longer bother to say.
When was the last time someone said my name?
I try to remember how it sounded—full, deliberate, belonging to me.
Here, names dissolve. They are replaced by gestures, commands, expectations.
A single story, repeated until it becomes truth.
At night, when the field finally quiets, I think of home.
My mother used to call my name from the doorway, her voice cutting through everything else—sharp, certain, alive. I can still hear it sometimes, though it feels like it belongs to someone I used to be.
They told me she is gone now.
The words arrived without ceremony, carried across distance like something too heavy to hold properly. I did not cry then. There was no time for it, or perhaps no space left for it here.
Sometimes I wonder if I left before she did, or if grief simply arrives later, in places where there is finally room for it.
Here, even memory feels like a distraction.
Before I came, I was told a different story.
Work hard. Earn. Return.
Simple.
Certain.
But stories like that are easy to believe when they are told from a distance. They smooth over the edges, soften the weight of reality. No one tells you what is taken in exchange. No one tells you how quickly you become something smaller in the eyes of others.
Not a son.
Not a voice.
Not even a name.
Just a body that works.
Just a story that suits them.
The first time the shovel slippecad, I felt it before I heard it.
A break in the rhythm.
A crack in the pattern.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: 'Shakespeare presents marriage as…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 75%: I used to believe belonging would arrive easily — as inevitable as the promises that carried us here. That it…
I used to believe belonging would arrive easily — as inevitable as the promises that carried us here. That it would unfold in wider streets, brighter classrooms, futures stretching beyond what my parents had known. They spoke of this country as generous, waiting — its vastness absorbing whoever arrived with enough determination.
“We came here for you,” my father would say, his voice firm with purpose, as though sacrifice could be justified by what followed. I believed him. When we arrived, I stepped onto the ground as if it might recognise me — as if movement alone was enough to claim a place within it.
But even before this country, there had already been a leaving. My parents rarely spoke about it, yet it lingered in fragments — a village surrendered for a city, red earth replaced by concrete, intimacy traded for survival. Opportunity had come once before, and they had taken it. By the time we left Bharat, the unravelling had already begun — migration unfolding long before we boarded the plane, each shift loosening another thread until the fabric no longer held
In my grandmother’s village, the earth was never passive. It rose to meet me, warm and insistent, pressing back against my weight as though it recognised me. I remember the way it clung beneath my fingernails, dark and stubborn, the smell of rain-soaked mitti rising thick in the air, intimate and inescapable.
“Feel the land,” my grandmother would say. And I did — not learned passively, but known. Anchorage was never sought, it lived within me, unquestioned. Here, nothing takes root.
The ground cracks beneath my shoes, pale and brittle, dust lifting too easily with each step. The air smells faintly of eucalyptus — sharp, sterile, unfamiliar — refusing to soften into memory. Magpies call in the distance, their song clean and foreign against streets too wide, too empty. I tell myself this is what we came for — space, possibility, a future unbound by limitation — but the words feel rehearsed, worn thin by repetition.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Give a mark /40 creative and /20 for…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 75%: Narrative: Unearthed #2 Red dirt kicked up from underneath my tires, coating not only my ute but my forearm…
Narrative: Unearthed #2
Red dirt kicked up from underneath my tires, coating not only my ute but my forearm resting out the window in the red dust I had known too well. The gum trees along the road appeared as they always had withered, thirsty yet sturdy and resilient. The road was almost identical to the last time I had been on it. Lost behind years of the opening of train doors and the scurry of commuters, the distant memory of the property I was pulling into flooded back. Pushing the gate open, the squeak that filled my childhood years was just the same. However that seemed about it. The patio had caved in. Gone. The cricket pitch Dad and I had worn into the ground and yet adored so much was now overgrown with invasive wild shrubbery. The makeshift cricket bat my Dad made out of a plank of wood was nowhere to be seen. The times where we had to hand make our toys came flooding back; Makeshift balls, bats, stumps.All gone. Windows were boarded and the door falling off the hinges almost as if it had nothing left to protect. No sign of life. Nothing. Just still, stale air.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Give a mark /40 creative and /20 for…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 77.5%: Narrative: Unearthed #2 Red dirt kicked up from underneath my tires, coating not only my ute but my forearm…
Narrative: Unearthed #2
Red dirt kicked up from underneath my tires, coating not only my ute but my forearm resting out the window in the red dust I had known too well. The gum trees along the road appeared as they always had withered, thirsty yet sturdy and resilient. The road was almost identical to the last time I had been on it. Lost behind years of the opening of train doors and the scurry of commuters, the distant memory of the property I was pulling into flooded back. Pushing the gate open, the squeak that filled my childhood years was just the same. However that seemed about it. The patio had caved in. Gone. The cricket pitch Dad and I had worn into the ground and yet adored so much was now overgrown with invasive wild shrubbery. The makeshift cricket bat my Dad made out of a plank of wood was nowhere to be seen. The times where we had to hand make our toys came flooding back; Makeshift balls, bats, stumps. All gone. We lived off the land as Dad would say “why buy something when we could make it!”
Windows were boarded and the door falling off the hinges almost as if it had nothing left to protect. No sign of life. Nothing. Just still, stale air.
Swinging the door open with a single shove I peered inside. What was once an energetic house was now overrun with an emptiness. Moving through the house, I found in each doorway a different memory. Suddenly I stopped. I looked at the doorframe taking off my hat, I read the wall. There were marks, followed by initials and ages. Towards the bottom of the wall I saw my initials JF, Age: 6, Date 26/03/92, my sixth birthday. That day we had been in a heatwave which had destroyed all the crops. Blissfully unaware, my brother and I ran around the property with water guns shooting each other. I had shot my Father whilst he was sitting at the dinner table with my Mother both staring at papers of which were of no relevance to six year old me. I stood there waiting for my consequence, yet it never came. Instead the dreary look on my Father’s face had vanished that day. Looking back I could remember his smile, optimistic and comforting, as he chased me and my brother around seeking playful revenge.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Title: 'All aboard a path to..."…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 65%: All aboard a path to… Recovery. My father once told me that finding joy within a hobby is the only way to get…
All aboard a path to…
Recovery.
My father once told me that finding joy within a hobby is the only way to get by in life. Without a hobby, you are quite frankly nothing in this world.
He said that your hobby sticks with you for the rest of your life. Whether that be writing, playing a sport, or becoming part of a band. No matter what you chose to take pride in and find joy in, it will stick with you forever.
Just like mine did. It is hiking.
Good afternoon all, my name is Sophie, Sophie Foster, and I am a 21 year old girl from Traralgon, Victoria.
Today I have been given the pleasure to share my story with the world, and hopefully touch someone’s heart who needs it.
Growing up I was strictly a family girl through and through.
My siblings and I were all home schooled, so we only really had each other and our cousins who we would see occasionally.
My family was my only love. The only ones I knew. The only ones I had.
Considering we grew up and had lived in quite a rural area with nothing much around us, my family had always loved doing anything really adventurous and extravegent.
We loved to go hiking up in the tallest mountains possible, exploring new land, and bonding in a place I’d like to call my second home.
My father, at age 52, got diagnosed with cancer. I was a little bit too young to really understand what that meant.
Until I turned 14. Unfortunately, he passed away when I was 14.
I didn’t know how to feel. I didn’t know what grief was. I didn’t know what to do with myself.
It was like I had lost the second half of me when it happened.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: protest and engagement
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 90%: Death is the only certainty that connects every human being, yet it is the one choice that no human should ever…
Death is the only certainty that connects every human being, yet it is the one choice that no human should ever have inflicted upon them. Yet some governments claim that ending a life early is a form of justice. Should we accept this as moral or fair? The death penalty strips away something that no human can ever reclaim, their life, an irreversible action that leaves no room for correction or redemption. Life imprisonment already confines offenders, which protects society, yet execution exterminates the possibility for reflection, change, or eventual reconciliation. Taking a life in the name of justice isn’t justice at all, it simply sustains violence and demonstrates that the state values punishment over humanity. Execution in the name of justice is neither fair nor just, it is irreversible and denies the possibility of personal growth or redemption. It signals a disturbing lack of faith in humanity’s capacity to improve and transform. When a government decides that a person is beyond repair, it makes a definitive statement not only about that individual, but about its own belief in human potential and the kind of justice it chooses to uphold. A society’s response to wrongdoing reveals its values, if it answers violence with violence, it risks diminishing the very humanity it seeks to defend.
Some claim that the death penalty deters crime by permanently removing offenders from society. However, this argument fails to engage with the deeper meaning of human behaviour. The flaw lies in assuming all violent acts are deliberate and rational, when many crimes occur impulsively or under extreme stress. In moments of anger, trauma, desperation, or mental instability, individuals aren’t considering consequences, they are reacting. Emotional overwhelm can override logical reasoning, and in such moments the fear of punishment becomes secondary to immediate impulse. The idea that a potential offender calmly pauses to weigh the fear of execution before committing a crime oversimplifies the complexity of human psychology. If the true purpose of justice is to protect society, then life imprisonment already achieves this without needing to resort to irreversible punishment. It removes dangerous people from the public while still allowing space for accountability and reflection. Execution doesn’t enhance protection, it merely changes the severity of the response. It shifts the focus from prevention to retaliation. Therefore, if capital punishment genuinely functioned as an effective deterrent, regions that enforce it would consistently show lower crime rates. However, evidence does not consistently support this claim. Violence exists in societies with and without the death penalty, suggesting that punishment alone does not address the roots of criminal behaviour. The death penalty doesn’t eliminate violence, it simply replaces one form of violence with another. Rather than engaging with the deeper causes of crime such as poverty, inequality, generational trauma, and untreated mental illness, execution can act as a shortcut. It allows society to disengage from the difficult responsibility of reform and instead rely on permanent punishment. Addressing systemic issues requires sustained effort, social investment, and uncomfortable self-examination. Execution, by contrast, offers an immediate and dramatic solution that avoids long-term engagement with structural problems. In doing so, it creates the illusion of control while leaving the underlying causes of crime unresolved.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: An exposition on growing up.
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 90%: There is a harrowing disparity between a baby’s boot and the heavy-set, weather-beaten leather of an adult’s…
There is a harrowing disparity between a baby’s boot and the heavy-set, weather-beaten leather of an adult’s shoe; the visual representation of time—the inevitable expansion of self and the transition from infancy to adulthood. However, it is rarely as seamless as a change of footwear—instead, a treacherous process of looking back while being unavoidably propelled forward.
Those who desperately claw at the past often stumble at the hurdle of the present, which barrels towards them unacknowledged. That is not to say that their efforts are futile. Oftentimes, it is easier to dwell on the past—to reminisce and ruminate on that which can no longer be. What can no longer hurt you. Good or bad, painful or pleasant, familiarity and predictability are the most comforting states to exist within. We inherently avoid uncomfortable truths, and, for some people, that uncomfortable truth is their reality. They would prefer to force their feet into their old, battered, yet beautifully constructed baby boots rather than accept that they have outgrown them for larger, newer, and less familiar ones.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: country framework
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 72.5%: Unsettled ‘The loss of innocence portrayed in the American identity within Don McLean’s ‘American Pie’ 1950s…
Unsettled
‘The loss of innocence portrayed in the American identity within Don McLean’s ‘American Pie’
1950s idyllic utopia:
Don McLean curates a nostalgic setting through the commencing line “a long, long time ago”, which reveals the idealised and almost romanticised longing for the past. McLean discusses how the 1950s rock n roll “used to make [him] smile” symbolising the intense connection and attachment McLean felt towards the ‘old’ version of innocent rock n roll. The extratextual references to the “bible” and “god” underscore the conservative version of the American dream, that McLean felt connected to. This simultaneously gave McLean a sense of spiritual meaning in an uncertain world. The symbolic allusion to the “book of love” refering to the monotunes hit song, which represents the youthful and golden age of America where generations were unified, the nation was politically stable and moral. The significance of McLean placing the romanticised version of America at the commencement of the lyrics is to highlight the inherited national innocence (in 1950s America) to foreshadow the decline of national innocence and connection to National identity.
The loss of Buddy Holly in 1959:
The death of Buddy Holly symbolised through the motif “the day the music died” serves to underscore the major cultural influence Holly had on the idyllic and innocent version of the American identity. Holly’s passing reflects the death of the golden, youthful age of America in which McLean emphasises his emotional attachment to. The chorus exemplifies McLean’s growing disconnection to America’s national identity through the motif of the “dry levee” which highlights how the new generation of Americans will be inheriting shallow and lifeless art rather than the pure nature of Holly’s legacy. McLean suggests that the lack of innocence in forms of art will ultimately strip the beauty and idealisation of the American dream, leading to intensified tension and disconnection in one's identity and ambitions.
The significance of new forms of art:
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: In the future, medical advancements…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 100%: Everyone said I was lucky. Rejuvenation took me back to 22. No mishaps nor side-effects, just a smooth…
Everyone said I was lucky. Rejuvenation took me back to 22. No mishaps nor side-effects, just a smooth procedure. But no-one tells you what 100-year-old bones smell like when trapped in 22-year-old skin.
At first it was the food. Steak tasted like wet cardboard. Coffee tasted like rotten milk, as if its proteins lost their structure. I thought it was a side-effect. “Your tastebuds are just young again!” the doctor laughed.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Stimulus attached
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 80%: Koa Thopre Indigenous Australian Wurunjderi Man Today, we stand at the crossroads of comfort and action. Where…
Koa Thopre
Indigenous Australian
Wurunjderi Man
Today, we stand at the crossroads of comfort and action. Where the necessity for everyone’s voice to be heard so that a win may finally come. A win will not sprout spontaneously, it requires people to speak out and demand change. Our ancestors have already begun, they planted the seeds of action, to ensure our Indigenous brothers and sisters do not just walk away with wins, but a life reclaimed from the wreckage of generational trauma.
For too long, we have sat silenced, our actions ignored. Our government made it clear our voices do not matter, leaving us to continue to suffer. We carry the ghosts of 100,000 children torn from their mother’s arms. We walk on the soil that drank the blood of 60,000 ancestors, murdered on the very land, by the very people who claimed “terra nullius”.We feel that the ache of a population hollowed out by 90% by a breath of diseases we never invited. We have acted. We have marched. We cried out. Our attempts were made futile, the canopy of silence was so thick, our voices could not come through. The government trapped us in a bystander loop, drawing us in silence.
Ultimately, this has been the truth of the Indigenous experience since the 27th of April 1770.
Our leaders talk of “bridging the gap” as if it were a simple stroll across a creek. In reality, it is not a creek. It is a canyon. Our government’s continued suppression and ignoring of our actions has created cracks and breaks in society. Our government believes change will appear from sheer willpower. Our government believes society can do all the work while they sit and observe. Our actions will not turn into fruition without the validation of our government.
When our government refuses to acknowledge the importance of everyone’s voices, tension begins to widen the cracks formed. Picture a class of ten Indigenous children starting their education. By the time the final year 12 bell rings, three chairs sit empty. Where are they? Sidelined by the system that was made to raise them up.
Look at Juukan gorge. 46,000 years of sacred history, stories and dreams, redacted to dust in a heartbeat. Our government heard our shouts of protest, but they still put the match to the fuse. Our government completely ignored our voice, instead they weighed heritage against a profit margin and decided our history was worth less than ores. They choose money over culture, they choose comfort over action.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: it is a VCE crafting texts folio, with…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 87.5%: The bell didnt just ring, it shrieked. It was a jagged sound that tore through the stifling heat of the Amani…
The bell didnt just ring, it shrieked. It was a jagged sound that tore through the stifling heat of the Amani High School classroom, signalling the start of Ahmad Abdullah’s real work. As his classmates scrambled, Ahmad remained still. He waited for the teacher to leave before swiftly sliding his mathematics textbook under his waistband.
Since the summer of 2021, Kabul had changed drastically. The world had turned monochrome under the new flag. The US troops had vanished, resulting in the Taliban taking over the streets. Ahmad cautiously stepped out onto the gravel path. He didn’t just walk; he navigated a minefield of glances. To the men patrolling in the green heavy duty jeeps, he was a model citizen; a boy going to school. However, they were unaware that he was smuggler. Every textbook he carried home was a silent ammunition, a weapon intended to dismantel the silence imposed on the women in every Kabul home. Ahmad continued his journey, constantly looking over his shoulder. Every turn was a gamble with his life, however, that did not faze him. This was his protest; a silent but impactful war fought with ink and paper.
“I’m home”, he whispered, bolting the wooden door behind him. The house smelled of saffron and the weary scent of his mothers’ labour. In the kitchen, Lina and Maria had their hands busy cutting spinach; a perfect household in the eyes of the enemy. But as Ahmad’s shadow fell across the floor, the girls ignited with excitement.
“Did anyone see?” Lina asked concernedly. She was the eldest, old enough to remember the times she was allowed to attend school and go outside. Now, her world had shrunk to the four walls of this courtyard she called home.
Ahmad hesitated. “No, but Abdul’s father…. They took him. They found the texts he used to teach his daughters and their notebooks.” The air in the room turned cold. Their only source of defense against the oppressors now seemed to be uncertain. Ahmad looked at Maria, the youngest. She didn’t know or care about the nuances of Jihadist ideologies, or the Afghanistan War; she was simply hungry for knowledge. She didn’t want a revolution, she just wanted to know how numbers worked.
“Open the book.” urged Maria.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: There wasn't a promot but it was meant…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 85%: Dear the class of 2016 31/12/25 The thoughts over everyone else moving on apart for me stabs me in my heart,…
Dear the class of 2016 31/12/25
The thoughts over everyone else moving on apart for me stabs me in my heart, you’ve all probably forgotten who I am. However, I definitely haven’t forgotten any of you. It is kind of hypocritical to expect you to remember me when you didn’t even remember me all of those years ago. I have always been forgotten but I promise you now, you will never forget about me. My purpose was to make sure no one else was forgotten, to promote them for the shame I felt however everyone that was remember always failed to remember me in the end. It isn’t only one of you, but like how all drops of water create the ocean you were all interconnected. From the start of games in the playground, to the end of never being invited out, I was always left out of the game.
I remember the times I tried so hard, I changed the ways I acted; I bought all the right clothing with the little money I held. But like an animal at the zoo, I was trapped away only to be stared at with nothing in your eyes. I thought I did everything right, truly I did, but these moments I am reflecting on it’s clear you don’t even notice I was there, I mean how could you? I remember a time where for the first time I wasn’t chosen last in PE, it was the start of year 9. There was one new student in class and he chose me; it was a shame that he left the school 3 days later but that moment I will always hold deeply. The way we played together in PE as two people rather than a distance between us. A nice guy who was struggling himself with wondering where he belonged, a new school would have been scary, and I hope for him I gave some sort of comfort. However, this isn’t about him, how could it be about him? That was the only time I remember being seen and you’re reading this expecting it to be about him? I remember so vividly my first day of school, the day I didn’t even realise would shape my entire life and I can’t even blame you for not choosing me for any games because you were only five years old, just like me. A piece of paper can’t be blamed for cutting your finger if it didn’t even know it was sharp… right?
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: country framework
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 70%: How does Popular culture shape and distort a nation’s identity over time? Popular culture is sought to cause…
How does Popular culture shape and distort a nation’s identity over time?
Popular culture is sought to cause complexities through significantly influencing a nation’s identity, this idea is explored in Don McLean’s famous lyrics ‘American Pie’ released in 1971. McLean’s lyrics encapsulate the major decline in American morality (in the 60s) since the death of ‘innocent’ rock n roll marked by the death of Buddy Holly in 1959. McLean’s ‘American Pie’ was released in 1971 in response to the concerns of immorality of American culture in the 1960s. Americans were highly influenced by modern forms of rock n roll, such as the Brit pop phenomenon ‘The Beatles’, these bands challenged the traditional American national identity through challenging the entrenched idealisations of traditional conservatism (Christianity, rigid gender roles, family of four) in the original ‘American Dream’. The shift in American morality occurred due to the influence of major cultural events such as the peace movements, changes in the second wave of feminism and the Vietnam War in the 1960s, which ultimately challenged the romanticised traditional American Dream McLean is mourning in the lyrics. Therefore, revealing that popular culture and social changes can distort traditional views of American identity.
The speaker encapsulates the idealised and almost romanticised perception of the traditional cultural identity of the American Dream. The song commences with the line “A long long time ago …” This introduction, almost fairy-tale-like in nature, captures the nostalgic longing of the traditional American society in which the protagonist feels significantly connected. The utilisation of past-tense language, such as "remembered" and “used” reinforces the speaker's idealised perception in attaining the traditional idea of the American dream. However, through implementing past-tense language, the speaker demonstrates how the traditional American dream is abstract and unattainable due to major cultural changes in the 1960s. The speaker's reflection on remembering how the music “used to make [the speaker] smile” highlights how traditional and suggested moral popular culture has been overridden by modernised versions of art, which emphasises the protagonist’s inability to connect with his nation due to a lack of familiarity and ultimate disconnection.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: challenge and protest
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 87.5%: The air doesn't smell like the ocean anymore. It smells like iron. Thick, wet, and heavy. I stand in the…
The air doesn't smell like the ocean anymore. It smells like iron. Thick, wet, and heavy. I stand in the middle of a village that is no longer a village, just a collection of burning wood and broken bodies. My heart hammers against my ribs like a trapped bird. I look down at my hands, and for a second, I can’t see the skin. They are stained a deep, dark crimson that seems to seep into my very pores. I try to wipe it off on my tunic, but it only smears, turning my clothes into a map of my sins.
I had never once questioned the fighting, until now.
Once i was the "great warrior" they all whispered about. The boy who could cut down a commander twice his size before they even drew their breath. I was a spirit of evil, a mindless tool for men who promised me glory. Every time I close my eyes, I see the faces of the people I’ve killed over the last ten years. Their silent stares are a constant headache that no amount of victory can cure. I remember my father’s voice, a memory that feels like a physical blow: "A true warrior needs no sword." I didn't understand it then. I thought a warrior was someone who survived, who wore the bodies he had killed like medals draping across his arms. I never thought about why I was fighting only if I would win.
Around me, the other soldiers are laughing, tossing stolen grain into their wagons. They look at the bodies in the mud not sparing a second thought. My mind keeps replaying my fathers words “no one in this world is your enemy”. I fall to my knees, fingers digging into my skull as my thoughts tear through each other, because for the first time i am not slashing my daggers at an innocent persons neck, I am fighting what ive been taught to be.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: This is a section B personal journey's…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 87.5%: We are, by nature, fascinated by the possibility of uncovering a pre-existing self that reflects our…
We are, by nature, fascinated by the possibility of uncovering a pre-existing self that reflects our perceived authentic selves and, in turn, inspires others. There is rampant admiration that we bestow on those who pursue an innate interest and then polish it and distil it until it becomes highly noteworthy. Whether it be the late Steve Jobs or the current titan that is Elon Musk, we place them on pedestals and shower them with almost cult-like praise as “revolutionaries, geniuses and expert problem solvers in many areas”. Viewing their personal success from rags to riches, it draws us to attempt to copy the same formula. As humans, we seek validation from our peers and those around us and naturally seek acceptance from society. Thus, in our lifelong search for an identity, we often look up to seemingly untouchable role models and wish for the same monumentous impact, and with this, we aim to state, “This is me”. Fantastical stories such as those
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Audience: class of 2026 graduation speech
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 85%: Playing with the Rules We are told the world is a playground- a vast arena where constraints are defined by…
Playing with the Rules
We are told the world is a playground- a vast arena where constraints are defined by personal boundaries and liberty is a swing waiting for anyone brave enough to jump at the chance.
This may feel like the reality for our suppressed inner child who is still itching to conquer the football field or impress on the dancefloor with the moves they worked hours to memorise.
This has however been abruptly stripped from us as we have made our way through the all - important world of the teenage years. I look around at all the faces of those I once hated, those who once filled me with butterflies, those who I once thought were way too cool to talk to me, and those who I once thought weren't cool enough. Although these comparative categories my immature mind built 6 years ago burden me with immense regret, I cannot help but view this as a reflection. A reflection of the performative environment instilled in us from the moment we walked through these gates. I want us all to reflect on the past 6 years where we have been thrown into an enclosed stage waiting for the final bell screaming ‘freedom, finally’; the freedom from the highschool stage which has diseased our minds with ceaseless comparison and scrutiny.
As teenagers, we live in the same society we did when we were children, only we are defined by our ‘performance’ rather than accepted and free to decide who we are. This society is a stage that has been upheld by us, confining us to ‘lines’ and directions that the community deems essential to achieve the esteemed goal: fitting in.
This is an issue that has infiltrated the spirit of growing up and stripped us of the innocence and wonder that once encapsulated everything we cared about. I come here to argue the necessity in subverting ‘Performance’. Stop controlling your emotions based on the comparison; instead build your emotions on the adventure waiting for you outside these gates. I want to inspire you, the class of 2026. Return to the imaginative wonders of childhood that seem like a vague memory now. We are only a blink away from the uncertain and awe-inspiring world of real life, thus i am asking you to return to your journey in conquering the footy field. Or to finally reveal the dance moves and return to the freedoms of play that have built the forces that high school has silenced.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: My target audience is the class of…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 82.5%: Playing with the Rules We are told the world is a playground- a vast arena where constraints are defined by…
Playing with the Rules
We are told the world is a playground- a vast arena where constraints are defined by personal boundaries and liberty is a swing waiting for anyone brave enough to jump at the chance.
This may feel like the reality for our suppressed inner child who is still itching to conquer the football field or impress on the dancefloor with the moves they worked hours to memorise.
This has however been abruptly stripped from us as we have made our way through the all - important world of the teenage years. I look around at all the faces of those I once hated, those who once filled me with butterflies, those who I once thought were way too cool to talk to me, and those who I once thought weren't cool enough. Although these comparative categories my immature mind built 6 years ago burden me with immense regret, I cannot help but view this as a reflection. A reflection of the performative environment instilled in us from the moment we walked through these gates. I want us all to reflect on the past 6 years where we have been thrown into an enclosed stage waiting for the final bell screaming ‘freedom, finally’; the freedom from the highschool stage which has diseased our minds with ceaseless comparison and scrutiny.
As teenagers, we live in the same society we did when we were children, only we are defined by our ‘performance’ rather than accepted and free to decide who we are. This society is a stage that has been facilitated by us, confining us to ‘lines’ and directions that the community deems essential to achieve the esteemed goal: fitting in.
This is an issue that has infiltrated the spirit of growing up and stripped us of the innocence and wonder that once encapsulated everything we cared about. I come here to argue the necessity in subverting ‘Performance’. Stop controlling your emotions based on the comparison; instead build your emotions on the adventure waiting for you outside these gates. I want to inspire you, the class of 2026- only a blink away from the uncertain and awe-inspiring world of real life, to return to your journey in conquering the footy field or to finally reveal the dance moves and return to the freedoms of play that have built the forces that high school has silenced.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Title: Life's journey is a collection…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 90%: I remember my mum pulling down a blouse over my head. I had just finished a tantrum, tears were dried up on my…
I remember my mum pulling down a blouse over my head. I had just finished a tantrum, tears were dried up on my cheeks, eyes rimmed with red and my nose was still runny. All I wanted to do was wear normal clothes, clothes that weren't itchy or stood out. But, Vishu, the Kerala new year, meant that I was forced into a cream paavada, lined with gold. My arms felt stuck in the sleeves, the fabric felt stiff against my skin. To top it off, my mum pressed a black pottu onto my forehead, and layered my arms and neck with gold jewellery. I couldn’t move without it clinking with every step. I wanted to run around and play tag with my friends, but the blouse was too tight. It felt like it was stopping me from doing things properly. Even eating was hard. I had to constantly move my bangles out of the way to stop them from getting stuck on my sleeves. I just kept on thinking about the moment I could take it all off and wear my normal clothes. It felt like the kind of story my grandmother would tell, something she could make sound beautiful even when I only felt trapped inside it.