VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: conflict of values
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 75%: Rain banged against the roof in a steady, insistent rhythm. The windshield wipers carved lines through the…
Rain banged against the roof in a steady, insistent rhythm. The windshield wipers carved lines through the water, leaving streaks of neon red. The heater hummed quietly, warm but not enough to chase away the tension in the car. I sat in the passenger seat, fingers pressed together in my lap, tracing invisible circles over the fabric of my jeans. Every sound seemed amplified, the tapping of rain, the hum of the engine, the croaks of thunder.
Dad: “ So… you like that kpop group right?”
Me: “Newjeans? Yeah”
Dad: Pause. His voice soft, deliberate. “Do you… like the lyrics, or… the girls?”
I blinked. I already knew where this was heading, but I kept my tone light, careful.
Me: “…I like both.” A shrug. Casual, or as close to casual as I could manage.
Dad: Exhaled slowly… fingers drumming against the steering wheel, “Yeah… I thought so”. Eyes stuck on the road.
Silence ensued. My fingers twitched in my lap. Neon streaks slid across the dashboard, painting the interior in pale yellow. The rain smacked against the glass in slow, irregular bursts, each one echoing in the small space between us.
Dad: “…Do you… think about the girls differently than the lyrics?”
Me: “…Not really. I just… like their songs.”
Dad: His voice slowed, careful, weighted, almost like each word might shatter something fragile. “You don't like them because… I don’t know… you’re curious about… yourself, right?”
My chest wound as the pressure of my next response weighed on me. He wasn’t asking about music. He was feeling for something bigger. Something he feared, but didn’t say out loud.
Me:“I… like music. That’s it.” Soft, yet only half the truth.
Dad: He exhaled. The air seemed heavier between us. His gaze flicked briefly to me, then back to the road. “And you… you’re sure you don’t… like… boys?”
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Title: Hear My Cry Passage: A free…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 62.5%: Hear My Cries Today I am more than grateful to be standing here and accepting this award in a room filled…
Hear My Cries
Today I am more than grateful to be standing here and accepting this award in a room filled with people who believe in musical expression and creativity. I too, have believed in articulating myself in my art. However, my heart can’t help but feel vexation and disappointment. Because whilst we are here, sipping our fancy champagne and snacking from our cheeseboards, hundreds of immigrants who rightfully earned the right to be here, are being arrested by so-called ‘law enforcement’.
Families are separated.
Children are scared.
On March 12 2025, Kilmar Abrego Garcia, a father of 3 who has lived here for over a decade, was detained while picking up his kids. The justification for this was later provided that he was ‘gang affiliated’. Along with that, the president himself showed an image of a tattoo on his knuckle with the word ‘MS-13', which any person in this digital age could tell was added on.
More recently, ICE detained a 5 year old.
That’s right.
You heard me right.
A 5 year-old detained like a criminal in broad daylight. Teachers are left anxious and confused on how to explain it to his classmates. ICE even used the child as ‘bait’ to lure out his mother and family.
Furthermore, every new source that has reported views on the situation opposing the President’s around the country are being dismissed and labeled ‘fake news’ by the President. Of course they are. Because nothing beats the reliability of our good ol’ president.
All the news I see. Every headline. It’s always ‘man resisting arrest’, ‘100 illegal immigrants deported in a raid’. It’s never ‘ICE agents shot and killed an unarmed man’, never ‘ICE violating the constitution by arresting without due process’.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Boarders “Boarders protect; Boarders…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 70%: [Loud Chatter] Amor can you please turn the air conditioning on. You just have to kick it a bit and it will…
[Loud Chatter]
Amor can you please turn the air conditioning on. You just have to kick it a bit and it will turn on. Perfect ok thankyou.
Please everyone sit, we’ve been standing in the heat long enough.
I know we all have stores to open, kitchens to run, and customers to satisfy, so I thank you for accepting my invitation to gather here today. As you all may know my name is Oscar Martinez and the owner of Buena Vida one of the oldest family restaurants founded here by my grandparents and carried through generations in the Old City of Cartagena. For over twenty years, I have served the people of Cartagena with my wife, and for even longer, I have watched this city through the eyes of those who built their lives within it. And in that time, I have come to understand two things. Firstly, that you, each of you, are the veins that holds the heart of this city together. You do not simply work within Cartagena; you’ve built it. Its history, its culture, its memory lives in what you do every day. You can transport an Abuelita back to her youth through a single sip of aguapanela with lemon at Alberto’s Bar, you can bring a family back to itself through something as simple as a shared table, through a bowl of fish and plantain passed between generations, where stories are told the same way they have always been.
But secondly, and this is why I have asked you here today, I have watched that same heart begin to strain.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Escape and entrapment Title: The…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 65%: A voice speaks to me. Sometimes loud, other times quiet. But either way, I have navigated the challenges of…
A voice speaks to me. Sometimes loud, other times quiet. But either way, I have navigated the challenges of every person, yet always a comment whispering in my ear. A never ending stream of negative which wounds its way around me, tying me up tight, and leaving my sanity to drip out of my body. Constricted by the person whom I can always hear, but never see, no matter how quickly I turned in my youth. I learned to live with it. Masking its presence, as to not retract the curtains onto my instability. My mind entrapped within a cage. A vivid, restless, resolute captive is there; were it but free, it would soar cloud-high.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Write an opinion piece of any sort
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 80%: Hello fellow readers. Let me fill you in on the recent events in the Horman household. I hope this blog finds…
Hello fellow readers.
Let me fill you in on the recent events in the Horman household.
I hope this blog finds you well - cos I've been hobbling around lately. The top of my foot has been bruising up and for a while I couldn't work out why. I've developed quite a limp.
Yesterday, it came to me! Footy season has started and so my kids and I have been kicking the footy with each other in the front yard. They love it! But it's been too long since I've kicked a footy.
So, I'm hurt for a good reason - been playing with the boys. (And I'm a bit soft - don't judge me!)
This has made me think… I remember begging my dad to come outside with me to play when I was a youngster. For footy or tennis or basketball.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: theme: "other worlds" Stimulus:…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 77.5%: My World is Not Your World Whenever I think back to the man I used to be, I remember a quiet, suffocating…
My World is Not Your World
Whenever I think back to the man I used to be, I remember a quiet, suffocating room.
Not the kind of place where it feels soft, safe, or secure, but a place where the quiet humming of crappy computers and shaky squeaking of office chairs can easily distract you from any resemblance you once had to what you want for yourself. Every morning, I sat at my desk in one of the many grey cubicles, often scowling at the stale stench of out-of-date sanitiser as it crept up my nasal cavity and stubbornly sat on my tongue. I stared at the monitor with a hazy, senseless gaze, always sat motionless under the neglected, flickering, fluorescent lights, wishing something would change.
Emails. Spreadsheets. Reports. Over and over, day after day.
The clock kept ticking with a hammering jolt, echoing around the room in a mechanical heartbeat, and the manager’s sharp, stern, watchful eyes kept me tightly in check; had my life been enchained in a system? Had my world been transformed into a prison-like cell?
There was an exhaustion in adulthood, which left me in a limp, depressing slump. You were supposed to be ‘normal’. You had to fit in, like you were told — “society needs people like you,” they all said. Uniqueness was stigmatised, socially viewed with unprovoked hatred; my desire to be special had been seemingly futile. Because of this, there had been a leech-like presence of a ‘black mark’ plaguing my mind; I had mistakenly taken the thoughts and words it uttered to me as my own.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Title: The breaking point Stimulus 2:…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 80%: I am forty now, and I sit beneath the birches in Cambridge knowing that once, a policy decided how many voices…
I am forty now, and I sit beneath the birches in Cambridge knowing that once, a policy decided how many voices a family like mine was permitted to keep. Here, spring leans softly over warm oak benches, and schoolchildren scatter laughter as easily as dust from their leather shoes, their joy multiplying without consequence. The air smells of thawed earth and green beginnings, generous and uncounted. But I remember the wind in our village in Henan, how it drove grit between my teeth, pressed silence into our rooms, and pushed us to our limits. How even breath felt rationed. In this mild light, their bright noise feels almost defiant — a small, radiant excess against the arithmetic that once governed our lives.
When I close my eyes, I still see my mother’s face — not the soft one from my youth, but my final encounter with her; wind-split lips, fine fissures at the corners of her eyes weathered by seasons in the fields. Mother worked the fields and the collective kitchen every season; her hands smelled faintly of wok hei, skin blistered and peeling where intense heat had blazed. She smiled at neighbours, tended their poultry; yet at home her gaze flickered at the door before she spoke, fingers worrying the hem of her apron as she bent her voice toward Father.
Father was a quiet mechanic who fixed tractors and tempers.
“Keep your head down,” he said. “We have the little one now.”
At the collective kitchen, Mother would slip extra ration tickets to families with hidden daughters. A quick triplet knock against hollow wood. Silence encroached. Doors locked, breaths withheld when the family planning officers loomed. When they left, Mother gave her signal — a wet ashen cloth hung on her line, and voices returned in low currents.
Then came the winter of 1990. Mother came home with frost in her hair, her coat thick with the cloying scent of hope. Her boots were caked with mud from the back roads, not the main path.
My chopsticks clinked against the china as I cleared the last grain of rice. Mother abruptly stood up, her chair creaking.
“Where are you going, Mother?” I asked.
“A gathering,” she told me, kissing my forehead.
Father cleared his throat, and latched onto Mother’s coat.
“It’s not our fight,” he said.
Mother resisted.
She touched his cheek, and turned her back. Her coat snapped in the wind.
Seasons passed. Leaf litter piled into mounds. For me, the winter never left.
When Mother cracked, so did Father and I.
Mama, why paint your death as noble, when you left us behind?
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: theme: "other worlds"
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 70%: Detective Amnesia "Clatter!" The countless bottles collide together on the floor around me, an applause of…
Detective Amnesia
"Clatter!" The countless bottles collide together on the floor around me, an applause of clinks. I push myself upright, slow and groggy, with a pulsing ache in my head. My nostrils flare at the stale stench of sweat and old beer, making my face contort into a wincing cringe — Someone has been living here. The thought unsettles me. If someone has been living here, is that someone…Me?
I mutter to myself quietly in denial, “Why would anyone do this to themselves?” A cold metallic weight of shame sits lodged in the back of my throat, leaving me too speechless to move. “Who…am I-” I get cut off by a shivering breeze crawling up my back, drawing my attention to the shattered window. The lack of glass on the floor leads me to believe something was thrown from inside, and the absence of a shoe on my left foot hints at exactly what happened the night before.
Somewhere in the bloated ‘man-meat’ and droopy flesh — A sensation? Or a voice?
Limbic System: “A wave of melancholy floods your chest, dragging you heavily towards the window — it’s a desire you’ve felt before.”
Me: “Who is it? That dry, strained voice.”
Limbic System: “You need it. The pale is coming. The world is ending.”
Me: “No! I don’t need it anymore, I'm done!”
Limbic System: “It’ll make you feel like a superstar, just another sip.”
Narrowly, I fend off the voice, putting a halt to the hissing cacophonous whispers — leaving me with a silent yearning for an unfamiliar yet guilty pleasure. Standing at the still broken window, I stare down at the winding roads and streets, the buildings loom with a watchful, unwelcoming gaze — urging me to leave. I take a step back, my bloodshot eyes catching sight of the reflection of a greasy man with a bulbous nose and swollen face under all the facial hair — It’s a face I don’t recognise in the slightest. A stranger, even.
There’s a permanent grimace engraved upon my face, my eyes rimmed with fatigue that seems earned rather than inherited.
Limbic System: “This is the face of a real superstar.”
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Creative about protest
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 67.5%: The Sun rose without asking permission as its cycle continued. It stretched itself across the city in sheets…
The Sun rose without asking permission as its cycle continued.
It stretched itself across the city in sheets of gold, slipping through windows, bouncing off glass and polished pavements. Everything it touched appeared clean, awake, deserving. Light spilled confidently over streets and faces, revealing only what it wanted to show. From above, the world looked organised. Balanced. Fair.
But light never settles evenly.
Where the Sun weakened, Shadows gathered. They clung to alleyways and back streets, folded themselves beneath bridges, pressed against walls where warmth could not reach. They moved quietly, shaped by the Sun’s position rather than their own will. Anywhere the sun looked, they would migrate into the darkness.
The Sun called this natural.
It claimed transparency, believing its glow meant honesty. When problems surfaced, it exposed them briefly, just enough to prove it was watching. People praised its clarity. They trusted the way it highlighted success, the way warmth crept into their souls at the sight. They looked up, never down.
The Shadows carried what the light refused to hold.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: This is a story from the perspective…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 62.5%: I remember that night by the river - the air so tranquil it felt like the world was holding its breath. The…
I remember that night by the river - the air so tranquil it felt like the world was holding its breath. The men sat around the fire, their faces half-hidden by the smoke. I was close enough to see the light flicker in Pa's eyes, though he didn't look at me. They spoke in voices that curled low through the dark, thick with something I didn't have the word yet for. Fear maybe... or anger. I sat a bit back, pretending to play with a stick, but my ears caught the words they thought the night would keep a secret. "Surprise 'em tonight, settle' ‘em by breakfast," someone said, and Pa didn't argue. The fire cracked and I jumped, my heart hammered against my ribs. The smell of salt and woodsmoke mixed in the air, and somewhere out in the black water, a fish splashed. I wish it had taken me too, down into the quiet.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: This is a story from the perspective…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 65%: I remember that night by the river - the air so tranquil it felt like the world was holding its breath. The men…
I remember that night by the river - the air so tranquil it felt like the world was holding its breath. The men sat around the fire, their faces half-hidden by the smoke. I was close enough to see the light flicker in Pa's eyes, though he didn't look at me. They spoke in voices that curled low through the dark, thick with something I didn't have the word yet for. Fear maybe... or anger. I sat a bit back, pretending to play with a stick, but my ears caught the words they thought the night would keep a secret. "Surprise em’ tonight, settle' em’ by breakfast," someone said, and Pa didn't argue. The fire cracked and I jumped, my heart hammered against my ribs. The smell of salt and woodsmoke mixed in the air, and somewhere out in the black water, a fish splashed. I wish it had taken me too, down into the quiet.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: This is a story from the perspective…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 80%: I remember that night by the river - the air so tranquil it felt like the world was holding its breath. The men…
I remember that night by the river - the air so tranquil it felt like the world was holding its breath. The men sat around the fire, their faces half-hidden by the smoke. I was close enough to see the light flicker in Pa's eyes, though he didn't look at me. They spoke in voices that curled low through the dark, thick with something I didn't have the word yet for. Fear maybe... or anger. I sat a bit back, pretending to play with a stick, but my ears caught the words they thought the night would keep a secret. "Surprise em’ tonight, settle' em’ by breakfast," someone said, and Pa didn't argue. The fire cracked and I jumped, my heart hammered against my ribs. The smell of salt and woodsmoke mixed in the air, and somewhere out in the black water, a fish splashed. I wish it had taken me too, down into the quiet.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: This is a story from the perspective…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 72.5%: I remember that night by the river - the air so tranquil it felt like the world was holding its breath. The…
I remember that night by the river - the air so tranquil it felt like the world was holding its breath. The men sat around the fire, their faces half-hidden by the smoke. I was close enough to see the light flicker in Pa's eyes, though he didn't look at me. They spoke in voices that curled low through the dark; thick with something I didn't have the word yet for. Fear maybe... or anger. I sat a bit back, pretending to play with a stick, but my ears caught the words they thought the night would keep a secret. "Surprise em’ tonight, settle' em’ by breakfast," someone said, and Pa didn't argue. The fire cracked and I jumped, my heart hammered against my ribs. The smell of salt and woodsmoke mixed in the air, and somewhere out in the black water, a fish splashed. I wish it had taken me too, down into the quiet.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: This is a story from the perspective…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 70%: I remember that night by the river - the air so tranquil it felt like the world was holding its breath. The men…
I remember that night by the river - the air so tranquil it felt like the world was holding its breath. The men sat around the fire, their faces half-hidden by the smoke. I was close enough to see the light flicker in Pa's eyes, though he didn't look at me. They spoke in voices that curled low through the dark; thick with something I didn't have the word yet for. Fear maybe... or anger. I sat a bit back, pretending to play with a stick, but my ears caught the words they thought the night would keep a secret. "Surprise em’ tonight, settle' em’ by breakfast," someone said, and Pa didn't argue. The fire cracked and I jumped, my heart hammered against my ribs. The smell of salt and woodsmoke mixed in the air, and somewhere out in the black water, a fish splashed. I wish it had taken me too, down into the quiet.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: This is a story from the perspective…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 75%: I remember that night by the river - the air so tranquil it felt like the world was holding its breath. The men…
I remember that night by the river - the air so tranquil it felt like the world was holding its breath. The men sat around the fire, their faces half-hidden by the smoke. I was close enough to see the light flicker in Pa's eyes, though he didn't look at me. They spoke in voices that curled low through the dark; thick with something I didn't have the word yet for. Fear maybe... or anger. I sat a bit back, pretending to play with a stick, but my ears caught the words they thought the night would keep a secret. "Surprise em’ tonight, settle' em’ by breakfast," someone said, and Pa didn't argue. The fire cracked and I jumped, my heart hammered against my ribs. The smell of salt and woodsmoke mixed in the air, and somewhere out in the black water, a fish splashed. I wish it had taken me too, down into the quiet.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: This is a story from the perspective…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 72.5%: I remember that night by the river - the air so tranquil it felt like the world was holding its breath. The…
I remember that night by the river - the air so tranquil it felt like the world was holding its breath. The men sat around the fire, their faces half-hidden by the smoke. I was close enough to see the light flicker in Pa's eyes, though he didn't look at me. They spoke in voices that curled low through the dark; thick with something I didn't have the word yet for. Fear maybe... or anger. I sat a bit back, pretending to play with a stick, but my ears caught the words they thought the night would keep a secret. "Surprise em’ tonight, settle' em’ by breakfast," someone said, and Pa didn't argue. The fire cracked and I jumped, my heart hammered against my ribs. The smell of salt and woodsmoke mixed in the air, and somewhere out in the black water, a fish splashed. I wish it had taken me too, down into the quiet.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: This is a story from the perspective…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 65%: I remember that night by the river - the air so tranquil it felt like the world was holding its breath. The men…
I remember that night by the river - the air so tranquil it felt like the world was holding its breath. The men sat around the fire, their faces half-hidden by the smoke. I was close enough to see the light flicker in Pa's eyes, though he didn't look at me. They spoke in voices that curled low through the dark; thick with something I didn't have the word yet for. Fear maybe... or anger. I sat a bit back, pretending to play with a stick, but my ears caught the words they thought the night would keep a secret. "Surprise em’ tonight, settle' em’ by breakfast," someone said, and Pa didn't argue. The fire cracked and I jumped, my heart hammered against my ribs. The smell of salt and woodsmoke mixed in the air, and somewhere out in the black water, a fish splashed. I wish it had taken me too, down into the quiet.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: stimulus: People have a tendency to…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 80%: Awakening from a season of slumber, I am filled with an innocent joy of return. I bore through the dry…
Awakening from a season of slumber, I am filled with an innocent joy of return. I bore through the dry riverbed, into shallow waters. They’ve receded since I last toiled in them, shrinking underneath a ruling sun. My scales fleck with dirt, blanketed by the soot and sewerage. The waste sickens my palate, a layer of grime clinging to the roof of my mouth. Unblinking eyes shrouded in murky surrounds. These waters have only worsened with age.
Once, these rivers teemed with mottled blue fish, speckled with darts of green. Beneath their flashing fins, crimson yabbies would scuttle, on the sandy dunes of the riverbed. The fusion of a natural rainbow awaiting hunters who clambered down the banks under the beat of a pervasive heat. Their dark backs would be washed anew. Sweat removed from worked muscles, shining with a calm incandescence. Now, there are no visitors to these lonely lapping waves. The newcomers prefer to cling to fond memories passed, of a land resplendent from union between people and place. In these idyllic visions, no plastic spews coat the river surface, the waters are clear and welcoming.
But before me, past the tracing waterways, life retreats. Arid lands tell a different story to their false lens, tainted with a guilty mind's ignorance. Here, the only vegetation is of the weakened blades of yellow grass covering cleared farmland; this, and the occasional tree, either melting to the side, under the strain of warming skies, or a charred trunk, solemn and limbless from continual burnings.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: personal journey
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 77.5%: Who I’m Meant to Be: In our hallway, the walls are waiting. There’s an empty space between my cousin’s framed…
Who I’m Meant to Be:
In our hallway, the walls are waiting.
There’s an empty space between my cousin’s framed law degree and my uncle’s medical certificate — a careful gap measured in ambition. My mother dusts around it every weekend, as if she’s already polishing the future.
When relatives visit, they stand there.
“She’ll be next,” someone says, smiling at me like it’s already decided.
I smile back. I’ve learned how to do that.
At dinner, success is served alongside rice and stew. It sounds like job titles passed across the table. Doctor. Surgeon. Specialist. Words that land heavy and respectable. My father says them with pride, like he’s building something solid out of syllables.
I chew quietly. There’s a melody playing in my head that no one else can hear.
Music has always felt like a secret doorway. When I close my bedroom door, the house fades into background noise — the clink of dishes, the murmur of the evening news, the low hum of expectation. I sit on the edge of my bed with my guitar, and the world rearranges itself. Chords feel like breathing. Lyrics slip out of me before I can overthink them.
In those moments, I am not someone’s potential.
I am simply myself.
The first time I let the word “music” escape at the dinner table, it fell between us like a glass shattering.
Silence spread slowly, carefully.
My mother’s smile stiffened, just slightly. My father cleared his throat — the sound he makes before saying something measured.
“It’s good to have hobbies,” he said.
Hobby.
The word shrank everything I felt into something decorative.
I nodded, but something inside me folded in on itself.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Personal journeys
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 65%: The aroma of fresh jasmine filled the streets, with frequent honks and beeps creating ringing sirens throughout…
The aroma of fresh jasmine filled the streets, with frequent honks and beeps creating ringing sirens throughout my brain. The air was dense and carried a trance of sandalwood brewed with smoke. The community was different from Melbourne, the locals here had friendly conversation and negotiated about fresh produce at markets. While the women wore flourishing sarees mixed with abstract patterns and a welcoming smile. However I still did not feel like a local. Slangs were foreign to me, and my relatives furrowed their eyebrows in confusion when I would converse with them, but did not fail to understand when my older brother would speak to them.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: how ai has impacted education
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 70%: Artificial intelligence has begun to transform many areas of education, but one of the most promising…
Artificial intelligence has begun to transform many areas of education, but one of the most promising applications lies in improving the way student writing is understood and evaluated. My interest in entering the field of educational AI stems from a desire to help English students develop stronger essays through clearer, more consistent feedback. Writing is one of the most important skills students learn, yet it is also one of the most difficult to assess fairly and efficiently. By contributing to AI systems that can read and analyse student essays, I hope to help create tools that support both students and teachers in developing stronger writing.
One of the main challenges in English education is the time required for teachers to carefully read and provide detailed feedback on every student’s work. Essays require attention not only to grammar and structure, but also to ideas, argument development, and interpretation. Because teachers often manage large classes, it can be difficult to give every essay the depth of feedback it deserves. Educational AI has the potential to assist in this process by quickly analysing writing patterns, identifying structural weaknesses, and highlighting areas where arguments could be strengthened. Rather than replacing teachers, such systems could allow them to focus more on higher-level guidance while routine analysis is handled automatically.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Personal journeys
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 70%: The aroma of fresh jasmine filled the streets, with frequent honks and beeps creating lingering sirens…
The aroma of fresh jasmine filled the streets, with frequent honks and beeps creating lingering sirens throughout my brain. The air was dense and carried a trace of sandalwood brewed with smoke. This is where I called home. The community was different from Melbourne, the locals here had friendly conversation and negotiated about fresh produce at markets. The women wore flourishing sarees mixed with abstract patterns and a welcoming smile. However, I still did not feel like a local. Slangs were foreign to me, and my relatives furrowed their eyebrows in confusion when I would converse with them, but did not fail to understand when my
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Personal journeys
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 67.5%: The aroma of fresh jasmine filled the streets, with frequent honks and beeps creating lingering sirens…
The aroma of fresh jasmine filled the streets, with frequent honks and beeps creating lingering sirens throughout my brain. The air was dense and carried a trace of sandalwood brewed with smoke. This is where I called home. The community was different from Melbourne, the locals here had friendly conversation and negotiated about fresh produce at markets. The women wore flourishing sarees mixed with abstract patterns and a welcoming smile. However I still did not feel like a local. Slangs were foreign to me, and my relatives furrowed their eyebrows in confusion when I would converse with them, but did not fail to understand when my
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Personal journeys
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 60%: The aroma of fresh jasmine filled the streets, with the frequent honks and beeps creating lingering sirens…
The aroma of fresh jasmine filled the streets, with the frequent honks and beeps creating lingering sirens throughout my brain. The air was dense heavy and carried a linger of sandalwood brewed infused with smoke. This is where I called home. The community was different from Melbourne, the locals here had friendly conversation and negotiated about fresh produce at markets. The women wore flourishing sarees mixed with abstract patterns and a welcoming smile. However I still did not feel like a local. Slangs were foreign to me, and my relatives furrowed their eyebrows in confusion when I would converse with them, but did not fail to understand when my older brother would speak to them. No