VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: framework: protest title: 'every voice…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 75%: Every Voice Is Important December 1st 1955 - Montgomery, Alabama, USA They say obedience keeps peace. That's a…
Every Voice Is Important
December 1st 1955 - Montgomery, Alabama, USA
They say obedience keeps peace. That's a lie. My life has been anything from peaceful. My hands were trembling when I clenched my bus ticket. The orange paper turning grey with every drop of rain. My black trench coat clinging damply to my skin, as drops of water ran over my brows and sploched towards the pavement. I stared at the wooden door engraved with 'White's only'. Through the fogged windows, I saw yellow light and heard laughing voices. Customers waiting for the bus. A reminder that I'm not like them.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Title : Connections
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 72.5%: Good morning. I stand before you in the Federal Court of Victoria as an Aboriginal member of parliament to…
Good morning. I stand before you in the Federal Court of Victoria as an Aboriginal member of parliament to talk about a familiar concept we are all privileged to: Connection. Yet, some are neglected of this privilege by a select few. I ask the parliament leaders, what happens when we deprive people from a source of connection. What happens when we enable the foundation of Australia to be built upon by irreparable loss. Like removing a child from their father, this can lead to severe disconnection between peace and freedom.
Recently, the 'select few' unremorsefully blasted a 46,000-year-old Aboriginal site which hosted centuries of Aboriginal culture. And it was all toppled down for the sake of economic returns. Visualise the roaring machinery of demolition vehicles destroying every tree in its path just for the sake of an iron mine. Senior Judge, was our culture less significant than iron mine?
During the stolen generations, many of Aboriginal were:
Stripped of rights.
Stripped of family.
Stripped of connection.
Have we not learnt from the past? They removed children from their families once, yet again you remove the ancestral site from the children. Now you remove connection again.
Rio Tinto performed a cost-benefit analysis and they deemed our culture in Juukan Gorge as trivial.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: framework: protest
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 97.5%: INSTRUCTION MANUAL Model No.1: How to Build a Racist Society (Beginner Set) This manual is compiled from the…
INSTRUCTION MANUAL
Model No.1: How to Build a Racist Society (Beginner Set)
This manual is compiled from the tried and tested expertise of a person of colour residing in Australia. This expertise, passed on through generations, guarantees authentic results. Isolation, exclusion and fear of objecting. Read carefully and follow step by step to achieve a society dressed in prejudice.
WARNING: This product is hazardous to human dignity. Misuse may cause trauma, isolation and generational pain.
DO NOT: Assume this manual is harmless. The fact it sounds like a joke is part of the danger.
STEP 1: Lay the foundation
Parts required:
- Selective memory
- Media outlets
- Legislative acts
- Ignorance
Caution: Truth may resurface
The cornerstone of a successful racist society lies in policy. The Immigration Restriction Act, The White Australia Policy, a 50 word dictation test forms the base of a white working man’s paradise and ensuring Australia is an empowered white community. To distinctively separate the country by race, you only need to follow the demonstration of Arthur Caldwell, your ethnocentric idol. For example, in a populate or perish situation, fill the country with the right type – Beautiful Balts. It’s the prime solution to alleviate public fears about maintaining Australia’s White racial makeup. Generations later, non-white people will understand that being European, British, African or Asian is not the determinant. It is white and non-white. These policies must further be recorded. Future generations must understand that although the laws themselves have been dismantled, their ideologies endure. The original policies need not remain structurally intact. Their legacy ensures that darker-skinned individuals continue to be marked as less than. Finally, to prevent outspoken truths, embed polished narratives throughout school textbooks, documentaries and newspapers. Ensure the historical racial violence is diluted so that minorities are denied a moral foothold and protest appears unnecessary.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: "It's time"
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 62.5%: Keeley McDermott Section B It's Time Goodmorning Australia. Today I stand as not only a candidate for prime…
Keeley McDermott
Section B
It's Time
Goodmorning Australia.
Today I stand as not only a candidate for prime minister over this hardworking country, but as a woman trying to eradicate one of our negative issues. An issue that has spread throughout like poison throughout our souls. The poison of misogyny. I seek to dismantle this poison, whereas my opponent seeks to maintain the system that hurts us all. I aim to create a government that works for all of us. Not just a small group.
Every election we undergo the same process. There is talk about change, we vote for someone the same person, and then we go home and forget our decision was based on what. Over and over again we vote for the same corrupt government, who promise us the same lies. In a moment my opponent will stand up and speak about hardships we all face, but let me ask you. Will we see any change if you vote him in? Will groceries still cost an arm and a leg? Will housing prices still remain unreachable? Will domestic violence still have enormous numbers?
Nothing will change if we support this idea of praising the government and not holding them accountable for their promises.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: stimulas one and two
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 92.5%: The Creative Space The living room felt smaller without the furniture. Boxes lined the walls like sentinels,…
The Creative Space
The living room felt smaller without the furniture. Boxes lined the walls like sentinels, taped shut, marked with black texta: Kitchen, Books, Fragile. The house, once loud with voices and slammed doors, now held only the hollow sound of their breathing. Dust hung in the air, catching the late afternoon light. The walls seemed naked, pale rectangles where pictures had once hung like badges of family history. The carpet held ghostly dents from the furniture, small hollows that suggested absence more than presence. Even the air smelled different—a mix of cardboard, dust and polish, as if the house itself were bracing for abandonment.
Anna knelt by the couch, dragging out a battered board game. The lid sagged at the corners, its colours faded, the painted jester grinning with a patience that felt mocking now.
“Look what I found,” she said, forcing brightness into her voice.
Lily’s face softened—a rare break in her nervous frown. “We used to play this every Saturday. Do you remember?”
Mark snorted, dropping onto the floor. “I remember you crying every time you lost.”
“Only because you cheated,” Anna replied, trying to sound amused.
But her laugh caught. She remembered that afternoon—the dice skittering across the carpet, her father’s calm voice telling her to “roll again, with a cooler head.” That moment, so small, had felt safe: someone setting boundaries, keeping the game—and the family—together.
Now, the safety felt like a myth.
Their laughter rang out, sharp and too loud in the emptiness, then faded almost guiltily. It left a stillness that made them all aware of how strange it was to sit cross-legged again, as if the house itself had tricked them into revisiting a time they’d outgrown.
Mark rolled the dice. The clatter echoed in the stripped room. “Still the same game. Still the same rules,” he said.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Where were you when the silence became…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 67.5%: Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury; Where were you when...? I'll let you fill in the blanks here; with a major…
Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury; Where were you when...? I'll let you fill in the blanks here; with a major event, or a seemingly insignificant action that resulted in incomprehensible damages.
As the representative of Olivia Caldwell in this court of law, I stand here before you today with one job, to honour, and fight for the dignity and loving Memory of Livvy. See the facts in this case are in no way disputed, Livvy Caldwell was shamelessly, brutally murdered by Officer Jaxon Hayes, for simply exercising her god given right to protest. Livvy simply walked to the front steps of parliament house, with a sign and a dream. A dream that a seemingly shy, average kid such as herself could influence change in this ever-declining landslide that we call a government. She came unarmed and unwavering to any signs of defeat. After an hour or so, Livvy was forcefully dragged away from the protest and beaten to death by Officer Jaxon Hayes. Her life taken, while her rights were oppressed and stripped away from her. A cruel, heinous, act of injustice stricken upon an innocent woman.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: is an overarching crafting text with…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 67.5%: “Keep the light alive.” That was what Mum whispered as the doctor closed the door behind him. I didn’t…
“Keep the light alive.”
That was what Mum whispered as the doctor closed the door behind him. I didn’t understand what she meant then, not really. But those words echoed through every sleepless night that followed, a reminder, a burden, and eventually, a truth.
Year 12 was supposed to be the year I proved myself. It was meant to be about leadership roles, perfect grades, and preparing for the future. Instead, I spent most of it sitting in the dim light of hospital corridors, tracing cracks in the linoleum floor while the machines beside my brother hummed in rhythm with my heart. Each beep felt like a countdown I could not stop.
At school, the world continued to move while mine stood still. My friends spoke about formals and university offers, but my mind remained in Room 312, where time folded in on itself. I was there, yet not. A ghost walking through corridors lined with laughter that no longer felt real. Teachers would ask if I was okay and I would nod, swallowing the words that pressed at the back of my throat. How could I explain that my world had dimmed and no one seemed to notice?
Depression arrived quietly, like fog seeping under a locked door. Some mornings I would sit in the car before school and stare at the steering wheel, unable to move. My body went through the motions of smiling, studying, and submitting, but my spirit remained behind in that hospital room. My mind replayed the same images over and over: my brother’s pale skin beneath fluorescent light, the sterile smell of antiseptic, the silence that filled the space between heartbeats.
When he passed, time did not stop like I thought it would. It simply changed shape. The days blurred together and the world lost its colour. People said he was in a better place, but all I could think was that I wasn’t. I began to fear sleep, not because of nightmares but because of the quiet that came before
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Where were you when the silence became…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 67.5%: Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury; Where were you when...? I'll let you fill in the blanks here; with a major…
Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury; Where were you when...? I'll let you fill in the blanks here; with a major event, or a seemingly insignificant action that resulted in incomprehensible damages.
As the representative of Olivia Caldwell in this court of law, I stand here before you today with one job, to honour, and fight for the dignity and loving Memory of Livvy. See the facts in this case are in no way disputed, Livvy Caldwell was shamelessly, brutally murdered by Officer Jaxon Hayes, for simply exercising her god given right to protest. Livvy simply walked to the front steps of parliament house, with a sign and a dream. A dream that a seemingly shy, average kid such as herself could influence change in this ever-declining landslide that we call a government. She came unarmed and unwavering to any signs of defeat. After an hour or so, Livvy was forcefully dragged away from the protest and beaten to death by Officer Jaxon Hayes. Her life taken, while her rights were oppressed and stripped away from her. A cruel, heinous, act of injustice stricken upon an innocent woman.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Where were you when the silence became…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 62.5%: Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury; Where were you when...? I'll let you fill in the blanks here; with a major…
Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury; Where were you when...? I'll let you fill in the blanks here; with a major event, or a seemingly insignificant action that resulted in incomprehensible damages.
As the representative of Olivia Caldwell in this court of law, I stand here before you today with one job, to honour, and fight for the dignity and loving Memory of Livvy. See the facts in this case are in no way disputed, Livvy Caldwell was shamelessly, brutally murdered by Officer Jaxon Hayes, for simply excersing her god given right to protest. Livvy simply commuted to the front steps of parliment house, with a sign and a dream. A dream that a seemingly shy, average kid such as herself could influence change in this ever-declining landslide that we call a government. She came unarmed and unwaivering to any signs of defeat. After an hour or so, Livvy was forcefully dragged away from the protest and beaten to death by Officer Jaxon Hayes. Her life taken, while her rights were oppressed and stripped away from her. A cruel, intrepid act of injustice stricken upon an innocent woman.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: what we carry
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 65%: Mother The first time I held you, I said his name. I didn’t mean to. It escaped like a sigh in winter - seen…
Mother
The first time I held you, I said his name. I didn’t mean to. It escaped like a sigh in winter - seen for an instant, then gone.
You blinked, but it felt like a flinch. Or maybe it was me.
We had chosen Elias months before, when everything still looked possible on the ultrasound screen. I stitched it into a tiny blanket we never used. When the bleeding began, I folded that blanket away and shut the drawer. We told no one except each other.
Then you came, six months later, quiet and furious. The nurse wrapped you in a fresh hospital sheet and asked for a name. My mouth remembered before my mind caught up. Elias.
It felt like I was keeping a promise, even though no one had asked me to.
You were your own child. And yet, every time I wrote your name on school forms, I saw the ghost handwriting over mine. Each birthday cake felt like lighting candles for someone who never arrived.
Father
I painted the nursery twice.
The first time, I rolled pale blue onto the walls, a colour we had both agreed on. We bought a crib second-hand, sanded it, and joked about splinters. I left a small pencil mark on the skirting board: 32 weeks.
After we lost him, I painted over the blue with off-white. Practical, I told myself. A neutral canvas.
When you came, we never spoke about the colour again. We just moved you in. Your mother whispered your name like a secret she had been holding in her mouth for too long. I didn’t say it at all. I called you “champ,” “kid,” anything but Elias.
One night, when you laughed, it sounded like the echo of a heartbeat we heard once on a monitor that went silent too soon. So, that night I took down the ultrasound photo we had kept tucked behind the clock. But the rectangle of dust stayed. I didn't tell your mother.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: VCAA SECTION C 2023 NHT
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 60%: SECTION C VCAA NHT 2023 Responding to listeners' concern about the fast fashion crisis or Gabrielle Arcy's…
SECTION C VCAA NHT 2023
Responding to listeners' concern about the fast fashion crisis or Gabrielle Arcy's podcast episode on garment gab, raises awareness about the environmental and economic impacts of fast fashion. She oscillates between an outraged and urgent tone as she hopes to encourage listeners interested in pressing issues in the textile industry, to adopt alternative shopping options to fast fashion, to combat the impacts of the fashion industry. Aptly supporting her podcast transcript is an edited photo of a "fashionista" standing on a mountain of landfill.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Title: The power within us all…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 85%: Hi everyone, Thank you for allowing me to quickly speak today in your AFL board meeting, sorry for the late…
Hi everyone,
Thank you for allowing me to quickly speak today in your AFL board meeting, sorry for the late notice. As a former player and current coach, I’d like to bring to the table an issue that I know we are all more than aware of. I want to put into perspective what it is like for these AFLW athletes to be treated differently to the AFL every single day. I think it is fair to say the AFL has had their time of being ahead of the women’s game. These men are handed full time contracts, pristine facilities and access to whatever stadium they want, whenever they want. It’s time we start investing into AFLW and stop continuously investing into the men’s game when it doesn’t need it, it’s only making the gender gap bigger, not bridging it.
Listen to this, AFL players on average receive a salary of 459 000 AUD, in comparison to AFLW players who on average earn 80 000 AUD, these men are getting paid almost 6 times more than the men. This is not okay, us women are forced to work overtime, part time contracts mean early morning trainings, 8-hour workdays at our second job and then straight back to the club for a main training session. Yet this sport continuous to treat them secondary. Do you genuinely think this is fair on them? Not only is the gender pay gap an issue in itself here, but alone these women are not earning enough to rise with the line of inflation. I want to put this into perspective for you, the average person spends around $5000 on the basic costs and living alone in an apartment, but they only make on average $1500 per week, it’s so clearly not sustainable for these female athletes. You are putting them under both financial and emotion stress, that is not healthy for their wellbeing and only restricts their ability to perform at a high standard. The gap at hand is so much more than a number, you are handling the men’s resources like no other, yet you can’t even let the AFLW grand final be played at Marvel Stadium. A stadium where your men’s players play every single week, with no questions asked. Why is that? Because you’re not willing to take a leap of faith and take a risk. These women have played their part, they have invested far beyond necessary, and in return, you as the board of AFL need to do the same.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: play, title: time to play
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 70%: If time travel were possible, most adults would probably use it to correct mistakes — to fix, restore, or redo.…
If time travel were possible, most adults would probably use it to correct mistakes — to fix, restore, or redo. But children, if handed the same machine, would simply play with time: leap from past to future, experiment with paradoxes, or visit a day twice just to see what changes. That difference says something profound. As adults, we treat time as a resource to be managed; as children, we treat it as a landscape to explore. Perhaps this is why, when the responsibilities of adulthood harden around us, we begin to forget how to play. The question, then, is not whether adults can play, but whether we can afford not to.
On one hand, play is far more than a childhood pastime — it is a fundamental human instinct that continues to shape creativity, empathy, and wellbeing throughout life. Psychologists from Freud to Stuart Brown have argued that play is essential to cognitive flexibility: it allows the mind to rehearse possibilities without consequence. In adulthood, this manifests not in games of make-believe, but in imaginative risk-taking — a scientist tinkering with a hypothesis, a designer sketching without a plan, or a parent inventing a bedtime story that makes a child laugh. In each case, play becomes a mental time machine, allowing us to step outside the strict present and explore alternative futures. When we play, we loosen the grip of the clock and rediscover curiosity, the engine of innovation. Many modern workplaces recognise this; the world’s most inventive companies build spaces for “creative play” precisely because unstructured thought often leads to structured breakthroughs.
However, proponents of the opposing view argue that adulthood requires focus and productivity rather than playfulness. Life’s obligations — careers, bills, families — compress time into schedules and deadlines. Within such constraints, play can appear frivolous, even self-indulgent. An engineer who daydreams too long may miss a deadline; a parent absorbed in hobbies may seem to neglect their responsibilities. In this view, maturity demands control: the ability to delay gratification, to replace whimsy with discipline. Where a child can afford to “lose track of time,” an adult must measure it carefully, lest opportunities or security slip away. For many, play belongs to leisure, not to life’s serious business.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: play, title: time to play
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 72.5%: Time travel may be impossible, but imagination allows us to bend the rules of time every day. For many…
Time travel may be impossible, but imagination allows us to bend the rules of time every day. For many adults, though, imagination — and its close companion, play — is left behind in childhood, stored away with forgotten toys. Yet, as life becomes busier and more structured, the question arises: is play still essential for adults, or merely a nostalgic indulgence?
On one hand, play appears vital for maintaining creativity and mental health in adulthood. Psychologists often argue that play fuels innovation by encouraging risk-free experimentation — the same spirit that allows a scientist to test new ideas or an artist to explore without fear of failure. In this sense, play becomes a kind of time travel: a return to the freedom of youth, when time was elastic and curiosity endless. Many workplaces now incorporate “playful thinking” sessions precisely because they understand that imagination, not rigidity, sparks progress.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: play, title: time to play
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 75%: If I could travel through time, I wouldn’t visit the future or the past — I’d linger in the moments in between.…
If I could travel through time, I wouldn’t visit the future or the past — I’d linger in the moments in between. The pauses between heartbeats, the flicker between decisions, the seconds before you realise you’ve just created something wonderful. That, to me, is where play lives — in the timeless spaces where imagination takes control.
Time travel is the ultimate act of play. It’s the fantasy of stepping outside the rules — bending physics, rewriting outcomes, exploring “what ifs.” But isn’t that what we do every time we play? When children turn cardboard boxes into spaceships, when writers resurrect the dead with words, when gamers pause the apocalypse to save a digital friend — all of us, in our own small ways, are travellers in time. We blur the line between what is and what could be.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: The title is "Every voice is…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 87.5%: Every voice is important: "I'm not really political" because you can afford to be. Protest has always been…
Every voice is important: "I'm not really political" because you can afford to be.
Protest has always been humanity’s loudest answer to silence. From the suffragettes demanding the right to vote, to the marches for Palestinian freedom at the State Library in the city, it has always been spreading like wildfire. These crucial moments remind us of the power it holds, and the necessity protest brings. It also reminds us of confronting those who choose to stay in a place of complacency. It reveals to us how silence is also a political act.
Growing up in an environment where speaking up was seen as an act of rebellion, I have been exposed to different cultural attitudes towards politics. So, when discussing human rights issues or recent political events with others, and someone responds with"
“I’m not really political”
It makes me realise just how privileged they are, and makes me wonder how they view and engage with the world around them.
We have this view of protest, thanks to social media and media coverage, that it is only loud. That it only consists of rallies in our city streets, violent clashes, or altercations between protesters and police. But protest isn't confined to the streets. It extends to the choices we make. And that is how change happens.
It happens in one gesture, such as what we choose to buy. In one person, such as who we choose to vote for. Or one moment at a time, such as what we choose to scroll past and ignore.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: The title - the truth Stimulus -…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 75%: HELP ME! HELP ME! A cry for help can break out like a dam – raw, urgent and impossible to ignore. Yet at times…
HELP ME! HELP ME! A cry for help can break out like a dam – raw, urgent and impossible to ignore. Yet at times help never comes. Many who suffer remain silent, paralysed not by weakness but by the weight of fear, shame and despair. The truth is that silence is not always chosen; sometimes it is forced upon us by a world that refuses to listen. Though I was not among those silenced, I have stood close enough to see how injustice renders speech almost impossible – how the cracks in that dam of silence begin to tremble before truth finally breaks through. And when it does, it comes not as destruction, but as release — a flood of courage that reshapes everything in its path. It begins with a lone voice, trembling but unyielding, and grows into a chorus that no force can contain.
As I speak before you sociologists – experts in the forces that bind us as a society – I do so not to recount my own oppression, but to reflect on a truth that I have witnessed in others: that one voice, brave enough to rise, can awaken many others; that protest transforms not only societies, but souls.
I grew up alongside a boy named Elijah — a quiet soul with eyes the colour of storm clouds and a voice so soft it seemed afraid of echoing. Every morning he would slip into the back of the classroom, his shoulders drawn inward as though trying to make himself invisible. The fluorescent lights flickered above us, washing the chipped desks and tired posters in a harsh, sterile glow. The teacher’s voice — sharp, impatient — would slice through the stillness: “Anyone? No one?” Around us, laughter scattered like pebbles against glass, but Elijah’s silence was heavier than any noise. Sometimes, he would lift his hand — hesitant, trembling — only to be met with the rustle of snickers or the teacher’s sigh of dismissal. I remember the faint flush that rose to his cheeks, the way his fingers would curl back into his sleeve as though retreating from the world. He once told me that the worst part wasn’t the laughter, but the way people looked through him — as though he were made of air. The walk home was always quiet; the crunch of gravel beneath our shoes filled the space where words should have been. When I asked why he didn’t fight back, he said softly, “What’s the point of shouting when no one wants to listen?”
Yet slowly, the cracks began to show in that wall of silence. Through small acts of courage, Elijah began to resist — lifting his head a little higher, meeting the gaze of those who mocked him, answering questions with a steady voice. These may appear to be minor gestures, but to him they were transformative. When Elijah raised his hand, voice quivering but steady, and the teacher finally called on him, the room stilled. I noticed a few classmates leaning forward, listening. In that pause — a classroom holding its breath — the power of one voice to ripple outward became
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Change The best way out is always…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 77.5%: change I think every kid should learn how to swim. That’s why my mother put me into swimming lessons as soon…
change
I think every kid should learn how to swim. That’s why my mother put me into swimming lessons as soon as I was in prep. It wasn’t so hard. I just had to keep afloat and breathe.
At a young age I learnt how to keep my head above water. I would tread and kick my legs till exhaustion. I remember the distinct taste of the raspberry flavoured lolly after my overpriced swimming lessons, a token of my achievement. The sweetness brought me relief, it was stale yet brought me joy. As I grew up, I continued to keep my head above the water. Not letting my nerves drown me, not school nor people. But inevitably I have known what it feels like to drown even before I stepped near the water. I had known the burning tightness swelling in my chest when my parents undermined my efforts. I had known the desperate voices I drowned out when my future wanted to be destined by anyone but myself. As a first-born daughter in an Asian household, an island of wealth and achievement waited before me before I knew how to swim across the vast ocean of expectation and pride.
My experience of growing up in an Asian household is not unique. Like a school of fish, those of a pressuring childhood swam along the currents of the fear of failure. Though I did not preform well academically, an abnormality from typical Asian stereotypes. But I was young, and the world beamed curiously at me whilst I would gaze out my school window, no mind to the numbers and letters on the whiteboard. So, when the clock struck six, the warmth of the blue lined swimming pool fostered where I became free.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: The idea of having human rights is a…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 72.5%: Ayubowan, Vannakum, Assalamu Alaikum. Today, I stand before you today, at this Aragalaya protest, not as a…
Ayubowan, Vannakum, Assalamu Alaikum.
Today, I stand before you today, at this Aragalaya protest, not as a politician, but as a hardworking farmer. My name is Ranil and I am a man who works from the crack of dawn to dusk, farming crop after crop until my hands split. But this year, that all changed when the Rajapaksa government made yet another reckless decision that threatened my life and the life of many farmers here today. As I look into the crowd, I see parts of me in all of you. I see the parts that are tired, hungry and unbroken, and I see the part that yearns for a new government. And I believe we should all let that part speak for us today as we stand before the Presidential house.
Because, unfortunately we have always had a government that deems our lives, our rights and our voices meaningless. And if we do not have respect in our country, then the only right we are spared is the right to fight for a new government, and fight to defend our brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, children and most importantly:
Ourselves.
My brothers and sisters,
Last month the Rajapaksa government banned chemical fertilisers overnight, with no warning + no respect for our right to grow our crops the best way possible. Many farmers around the country were left with dying crops, and no way to feed their families. You would think our farmers' union received funding to supply us with better fertiliser, but no! Our government officials feasted on imported goods while we were left to starve. They say we are a democratic nation, but what equality do we experience. To me, at least, if the Rajapaksa family eats while we scrape the dirt for what's left, perhaps the working class are treated as workers for the system, and not humans worthy of the basic human need to feed their children.
we plant. we water. we wait.
And what do they do? They take. They lie. They steal.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Protest Title: Time for Transformation
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 75%: Time for Transformation History is shaped not by those who accepted the status quo, but by those who recognized…
Time for Transformation
History is shaped not by those who accepted the status quo, but by those who recognized the need for transformation and dared to act. When injustice becomes a part of the system, silence is complicity; thus, change becomes not only necessary, but urgent. This urgency was echoed through the non-violent resistance of Mahatma Gandhi during the Salt March, the moral clarity of Martin Luther King Jr.'s civil rights activism, and the courageous uprisings of ordinary citizens during the Arab Spring. Each moment was born of injustice, galvanized by hope, and driven by a vision of a better future. While the contexts differed, the shared theme is clear: transformation begins when individuals unite with the belief that a better world is not only possible—but imperative.
In 1930, Mahatma Gandhi initiated a revolution not with violence, but with salt. The Salt March was more than a protest against British colonial rule in India—it was a symbolic stand against systemic oppression. The British monopoly on salt was not just an economic injustice; it was a daily reminder of India’s subjugation. Gandhi’s march to the Arabian Sea to make salt was a deliberate, peaceful defiance—a call for transformation that resonated through the villages of India and into the halls of British power. It demonstrated that transformation often begins with reclaiming agency over the small, everyday things. Gandhi knew that true change starts when people believe they deserve it. His actions were a spark that ignited a larger independence movement. In this way, the Salt March teaches us that transformation is not always sudden and violent—it can be quiet, persistent, and deeply symbolic.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Protest Stimulus: 'Indifference is a…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 75%: Where We Draw The Line Reports of another outbreaks of Racism, the contagious virus, has just been recorded…
Where We Draw The Line
Reports of another outbreaks of Racism, the contagious virus, has just been recorded within major Australian cities, including Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane. To which these cities are where Racism is most enedemic. It is becoming clear to identify those affected by this unusual disease, by which common symptoms include apathy, ignorance and motivation to spontaneously spread hate against different races through a verbal or physical manner. 'Racists' is the most common term used to identify those who have been unfortunately affect by this virus.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: “It does not matter how slowly you go…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 95%: Blue was the first colour I ever learned to feel. Not the soft blue of dawn or the fleeting shimmer of sunlight…
Blue was the first colour I ever learned to feel. Not the soft blue of dawn or the fleeting shimmer of sunlight on water, but a heavy, suffocating blue, pressing down on my chest like fog, relentless and inescapable. I thought it was the colour of failure. The colour of being too slow, too small, too late.
In Year 9, we ran the cross-country. Five kilometres of mud, grass, and humiliation. The whistle blew, and everyone surged forward like a river. I stumbled immediately. My lungs burned. My shoes filled with water. I was last. Every step felt like a betrayal of the expectations I could not meet. I wanted to stop. I wanted to sink into the grass and let the world go on without me.
But something — stubbornness, pride, perhaps a fragment of hope — urged me forward. I walked most of the way. When I crested the final hill, the field was empty except for one girl tying her shoelaces. She looked up and clapped. Once. Twice. It was not pity. It was recognition: slow does not mean weak. That quiet acknowledgement etched itself into me, a lesson I would carry silently for years.
Years later, I stand at a different kind of starting line: the hospital corridor outside my mother’s room. She has been sick for months, the kind of illness that rearranges a family, reshaping routines, rewriting expectations, bending hope into fragile, tentative shapes. I bring her sunlight, small stories, and the scent of jasmine from our backyard. I sit by her bedside, tracing the lines of her hands, memorising every detail of a life I cannot preserve.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Title: “Good things take time” Stim 1:…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 70%: Growing up I was always bullied as a child; everyone would make fun of my weight. The endless name calling,…
Growing up I was always bullied as a child; everyone would make fun of my weight. The endless name calling, “fatty”, “piggy”, “panda”, there were so many names that I got called however I could never recall all of them. These very words made me want to disappear from the world and hiding away for good. I was always displeased with the way I looked; it made me insecure.
My parents grew up poor, as they had to experience pol pot, pol pot was one of the many wars that Cambodia had faced, my father had to live through a war, living off grains of rice, wanting to eat more but physically could not afford it, their living standards were bare minimum all they got was rice grains to eat to survive for 3 years, and if they were lucky they would have gotten some meat.
I was privileged enough to have seconds of food while my mother and father could only scrape by to survive each day, wondering if they had enough food to last them.
Due to this I always grew up knowing to never leave a grain of rice in the bowl, my grandma was one of the many people that kept saying “you must finish all the food in your bowl before you can leave” I always listened to my grandma as she was always right, and she fed and raised my whole family, she was the sole reason that my mother was able to have my family, the sole reason why majority of the family had survived the war, she was the saviour of my mother’s side.
I was always called “Ah-Kmab”, A Cambodian word for fatty, this one phrase was something I despised the most. It was not only a word for humiliation but a word that had always made me insecure about my looks and affected my mental health.
Whenever my sisters would have left over food, the first thing that they would do is go to me, I was considered the “human vacuum” at first, I didn’t mind it as I thought it was funny however they were right. I basically ate anything that came to sight, I didn’t know when to stop and that resulted me into being overweight.
The bullying had started from year six all the way
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Title; change Stimulus; image of…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 77.5%: Dear intrigued readers, I was recently on Pinterest creating my 2026 vision when I came across the following…
Dear intrigued readers,
I was recently on Pinterest creating my 2026 vision when I came across the following image…Now, I know you're probably wondering what's so special about a couple of pebbles on water, well when I first saw it, it really got me thinking about not just my future, but also my past. With the new year fast approaching it all really hit me about how much is going to change. If you've been a long time reader, you would know I am steadily approaching the end of my high school years. Which, yes, I am absolutely ecstatic about, however I also can't help but feel a sort of dread and loss. I feel like this picture represents my life at the moment. As I've grown older, I've been leaping from pebble to pebble, from kinder to primary school, to high school, but what's next? That is the one thing I am totally unsure about.
Throughout my life, I've obviously experienced a lot of change. I've changed sports and friend groups and subjects and with the changes always comes the fear, of what happens if I slip up? Will I find myself in shallow water and easily be able to stand back up and get back on track, or will I instead be neck deep in the water, with no choice but to fling my limbs around hoping to somehow find my footing and get back up?