VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Framework: writing about country…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 82.5%: If you were to condense all of Earth’s history into 24 hours, human existence would only span the time of 3…
If you were to condense all of Earth’s history into 24 hours, human existence would only span the time of 3 seconds.
1…2…3.
# # # #
I - ECOCENTRISM: a belief which suggests that all organisms hold equal value, essentially recognising nature as a balanced whole which humanity is only an aspect of.
Clarity. Beautiful Clarity.
A manifestation of one’s surroundings, amplified by her beauty. A celestial orb, floating through the emptiness of space, magnitude unfathomable by any consciousness, magnificence which can only begin to be appreciated.
Earth.
Our divine mother, our protector. Her magical presence, woven within our perceptions of this world. From her flourishing forests to her babbling brooks. From mighty mountains to gorgeous gorges. Her spectacle ceaselessly blessing her children merely through its own existence.
And despite all her beauty and power she selflessly provides for her own, whether it be food and water or shelter and habitats. Her service allows the species of this world to live another day.
Observing her inspires, inspires humility, inspires pride, inspires hope.
Through just being in her presence, I am aware of who I am, who I must become.
But there has been a shift. A change.
They call themselves homo-sapiens - wise men. Intelligent creatures, of the likes never seen before upon this great land. An uncanny ability of hyperawareness, cognition which exceeds the confines of instinctual action.
Their presence unsettles me, not through what they have done, but rather than what they can do.
II - DOMINIONISM: a worldview which suggests that humans hold the authority and have the moral right to utilise nature for the progression of its own needs.
Their innovative capacity knows no bounds. Utterly incredible does not begin to describe the feats which this species is achieving year after year. They bring to life what would have been considered sorcery mere centuries ago. Geniuses are born generation after generation, offering humanity unimaginable progression.
But there is a cost, there is always a cost.
The Earth suffers at the expense of their needs, they tear her limb from limb, harvest her organs, bleed her to death. All for their own selfish desires. They believe it is their right as inhabitants of this land to utilize her resources to the greatest degree.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: personal journey's
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 90%: 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑦ā (sea) When a friend or family member travels, Iranians prepare a tray with the Quran and a glass of…
𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑦ā (sea)
When a friend or family member travels, Iranians prepare a tray with the Quran and a glass of water. This traveller traditionally kisses and passes under the Quran three times for protection. One. Two. Three.
Then, as they leave, the remaining family members toss the water from the glass behind them.
A gesture to ensure their safe return.
Except, this time the water was below me. Not thrown. Synchronising with the waves, my body moved up and down and my nose acted like an on and off switch trying to block out the smell of algae musk while simultaneously providing my lungs with oxygen. I’m sure the weight of someone's arm was already restricting my ability to breathe anyway. The tide skiff forced us to overlap on top of each other, fighting for the same freedom. And spot I guess. The blue-ish green ocean became more than just patterns and volume—it was a mirror of uncertainty, of risk and hope swimming together.
Salt crusted on my skin like a memory I couldn't wash off. Being shrink-wrapped by the sea wasn’t what I had planned at the age of 10. I imagined finally letting go of the training wheels or moving up the entertainment ladder to experience PG rated movies. Five days at sea became my rhythm for survival: rocking, rising and falling. During these 120 hours I lost my childhood. My maturity rose above others my age, deeper than the Indian ocean my boat fought through. However, eating was the biggest wave we needed to surf over.
Eating was mechanical, and a survival task rather than a pleasure. Each bite chewed quickly, swallowed with hope rather than hunger. The smell of food mixes with the brine of the sea. Way different to the smell of rosewater back home and I could confidently conclude expired cheese smelt better.
The smell of decay rising.
Burning espand (wild rue seeds)
Iranian’s can be a bit superstitious, especially when it comes to being jinxed. So in order to avoid “evil eye,” we burn espand until they start to crackle and then wave the smoke over the heads of their loved ones while sending three salavat (blessings).
A wish that they’ll be guarded from harm and blessed with good fortune in their new journey.
Leaving behind my Iranian heritage and entering the land down under, I forced myself to let go of these traditions.
Finally stepping onto the “golden soil” of Australia, my casual sneakers switched to thongs and the immediate smell of sunscreen and slightly burnt sausages hit my permanently switched on nose. Thank god.
Overtime,
Saffron became chicken salt.
The weight of Persian rugs was traded for fluff and convenience.
What once needed a knock on the door now fits inside a notification bubble.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: TRIAL EXAM: Framework 4: writting…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 95%: Toxic societal expectations breed rules and regulations that govern the schoolyard. You do not sign up. You do…
Toxic societal expectations breed rules and regulations that govern the schoolyard. You do not sign up. You do not consent. Yet, you are shoved into the centre of a crowded arena, obligated to obey an invisible rulebook that you can sense but not quite see. Like most you will not be equipped with the necessary creativity required to face the pack of wolves that wander the halls these faceless bullies: the Power Brokers. This amalgamation of natural predators will attempt to drain the light from you. But imagine if there was a set of rules, a way to play the game, a way to pass through. Well you're in luck, even within this untamed jungle there exists an intricate framework that will assist you in your quest for survival.
Rule #1- Choose Your Alliances Wisely
From the beginning of school, a choice must be made— a choice that cannot be undone without consequence. The early stages of school foster a raging struggle for power and superiority. You will be blind to it at first, choosing a small group of fun friends and making
lasting memories at your best friend’s house, let’s call him John. ‘Race you to the top!’ he’d yell breathless with laughter as you both thunder up the stairs, collapsing in a heap of giggles at the summit. He was always able to create the best games; they were wonderful. ‘We’ll always be mates, yeah?’ you say between gulps of air, and he’d nod with promise.
But inevitably your illusion of free choice begins to unravel. First, watchful eyes, a nudge of your books. Then, the mocking imitation of your voice, laughter morphing into threat, your belongings shifted just enough to remind you they are not truly yours.
Like the ocean’s ceaseless battering of stone, pieces of you will be chipped away, slowly and relentlessly. It seems John wasn’t the right choice for you, your new alliances await.
Rule #2: You Must Earn Respect
Leaving behind the comfort and familiarity of your closest friends is necessary to earn respect. Understand that the essence of creativity lies not in the absence of fear but in stepping forward despite it. You begin to become familiar with the point system they use, a pyramid of schemes and lies, where only the most vicious rise.
THE POINT SYSTEM!
Decension
Extending academic assistance to a peer?
(You’ve marked yourself as a tool, expect more people to use you.) -500 points
Earning high marks through visible effort? (Effort is struggle, struggle shows weakness.) -1000
Associating with those beneath the hierarchy?
(Social positioning is fragile. Proximity to irrelevance is the fastest route to reinheriting it.) -2000
Ascension
Publicly diminishing someone's dignity with a well timed joke?
(To trample on someone else is to assert your own supperiority) +2000
Mocking authority without fear of consequence?
(The ultimate showcase of untouchability. Power is proven by bending rules.) +5000
Eroding someone's confidence over time until they no longer recognise themselves?
(True influence is subtle, deliberate, irreversible and untraceable.) +10,000
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Passage of time
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 85%: The Passage of Time To those waiting in triage. To spend time in a triage is to be sorted and organised,…
The Passage of Time
To those waiting in triage.
To spend time in a triage is to be sorted and organised, objects, occurrences, and injuries can all be organised by urgency. But it could also mean to wait. Waiting for an outcome that may sometimes be painful. It can mean waiting for fate, watching time stand beside you, silent and unhurried.
On a day like any other, my mum collapsed.
My healthy and joyful mum, who was the spring of life in my home, revitalising any room she was in. The same loving mother I had always had, was in a deep slumber, the floor resembling her death bed.
Time felt a blur, hours ticked by like minutes. The rush to the hospital and the emergency room felt like seconds. The patients wandering in and out moved like ramped ambulances lining up and on hold, serving as a sign of what my life was about to become. Slowly, I was placed in triage. A triage of waiting for results, anticipating treatments and appointments, waiting for fate to take its long-drawn-out, unpredictable course.
But this wasn’t the first time I felt stuck in triage.
Back then, in 2021, when I was thirteen and about to embark on a new leaf of my life. High School.
My school was one where the overwhelming Caucasian community was welcoming yet guarded; Where being different meant being a minority, Where the beliefs of the many morally outweighed the truth of one.
In the mirror at home, instead of seeing white Caucasian pigments, my golden olive undertone met my gaze. Instead of prominent, large, round eyes, I saw almond-like epicanthic fold eyes.
At school I was like Greg Heffley dodging the Cheese Touch, doing everything I could to avoid standing out. I laughed at jokes that hurt and softened those parts of my identity just to blend in. Like Greg ditching Rowley to seem cool, I distanced myself from my culture, thinking it could make me more likable. But no matter how hard I tried, I still felt like an outsider.
‘Trying to fit in’ had become second nature, reflexively.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: create a personal journey piece based…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 75%: The faint sound of the call to prayer drifts into her ears from a nearby mosque and sends the reminder that…
The faint sound of the call to prayer drifts into her ears from a nearby mosque and sends the reminder that it's time to pray. She rises from the cafe table and starts heading to the mosque with her friends. On the way, she is reminded of her parents and how different life was for them in Australia when they started to be more practising as muslims.
From hour long drives to find halal meats to being looked at with quiet suspicion by strangers around them. Her parents only became practicing muslims after their marriage which made it harder for them to change their ‘normal’ western style lifestyles they were already living. It was a hard and difficult decision but they both knew it was what they wanted, the struggle to adapt their islamic practices into their daily life like growing a beard or putting on the hijab to let their faith reshape the rhythm of their everyday life.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Underneath we are all the same
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 70%: United We Stand Over time, the human race has created many conflicts and confrontations which have best to…
United We Stand
Over time, the human race has created many conflicts and confrontations which have best to separate us as a cohesive whole. Civil war, sexism, homophobia and racism being some of the most notable. The issue of racism is a particularly perplexing one, as it revolves around the idea of hating another person simply due to the colour of their skin, when underneath that skin we are all the same. To further grasp the effects of racism and how it can tear apart lives and communities, the Australian Football League can be analysed as a case study, more specifically Indigenous player Adam Goodes.
Adam Goodes was a highly decorated and respected star of the game, having two Brownlow medals and two premiership victories with his club the Sydney Swans to his name. However, Goodes’ illustrious career was sadly overshadowed by a racism ordeal which unfortunately ended his time in the sport. This particular saga was initiated by a young Collingwood supporter calling out from the crowd and labelling Goodes as an “Ape”. Goodes famously called out this behaviour to a nearby security guard and soon after he left the field as he was too distraught to continue with the match. This stand interrupted some of the racism which lived deep in the sport, however, it also forced the countless fans of the AFL along with all others who had seen the moment somewhere in the media to take a moment of introspection and understand where they stood in the spectrum of racism. Sadly, many people realised in this moment that they were being challenged in their views of the world which caused them to retaliate, united, but standing for all the wrong reasons. This mass retaliation was seen throughout the remainder of Goodes’ career. People claiming that he was a ‘sook’ or that the girl was ‘just a kid, she didn’t know any better’ were commonly reported and promoted in the media. Many believed that Goodes would just sit there and take the backlash and step down from his fight like others had done before, but this could not have been any further from what happened.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: relate to country
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 85%: Host: Welcome to …, a podcast presented by Red Cross Australia’s initiative, Support for Asylum Seekers in…
Host:
Welcome to …, a podcast presented by Red Cross Australia’s initiative, Support for Asylum Seekers in Australia.
Tonight, we listen to three stories, not isolated, but connected, exploring how culture, voice, and memory shape what it means to belong.
We begin with Farah, who takes us back to the moment Australia first became her possible home.
Farah (creative):
I was nine when I pressed my cheek against that magical window. The glass hummed cold against my skin, as if the sky itself breathed. Below, clouds peeled back to reveal a land of copper and violet, Uluru, a sleeping giant, ancient and steady, its silence older than memory.
Sydney arrived in waves; salt, sunlight, wind, and cicadas. The air smelled of sea and asphalt, sharp with eucalyptus and rain. Eucalypts stood like watchful flames, lorikeets streaked the sky with green and fire, and kangaroos grazed at the edges of suburbs, their ears twitching at passing cars. Heat shimmered over sandstone paths, ants carried golden dust along fallen wattle petals, and fruit bats whispered from fig trees as stars pricked the night.
Somalia was different. Its earth beat red and restless, dust clinging to bare feet, goats bleating through sun and spice. There, the heat cracked and hissed; here, it rolled and murmured like a tide. Both lands demanded respect, one through its harshness, the other through its quiet pull.
Yet this new country spoke in echoes of home, the red of Uluru recalling Somalia’s soil, the wind through gum leaves humming the same patient rhythm of life. Two skies folded into one heartbeat. Between magpies’ cries and the hush of waves, I felt it listening. Australia whispered: you can belong here too.
Host:
Next up, Dinesh! Your experience reminds us that even when you arrive, you can be made to feel like you are just ‘passing through’.
Dinesh (informative)
When I arrived in 1999 by boat, Australia’s migration system was still finding its balance, welcoming new citizens while expecting assimilation. Many migrants, like me, came with qualifications unrecognised, forced into underqualified work, stacking shelves, driving taxis, cleaning offices, waiting for a chance to prove ourselves.
Discrimination wasn’t always direct, but it was persistent. Questions like “Where are you really from?” reminded us that for some, we would always be seen as visitors, that our belonging could never be taken for granted.
Language barriers added to the challenge. Even fluent speakers stumbled over slang or workplace nuances,
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Creating text - Play
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 70%: The Chalk Line Morning light fractured through the blinds, carving pale stripes across the living room floor.…
The Chalk Line
Morning light fractured through the blinds, carving pale stripes across the living room floor. They looked almost like chalk lines — uneven, fading, waiting to be crossed.
Mia stood at the sink, watching her daughter in the backyard. The little girl spun barefoot in the grass, laughter spilling into the air — pure, unrestrained.
“Come play with me, Mum!”
The words landed softly, tugging at something deep within her — something she hadn’t touched in years.
She smiled faintly. “In a minute, sweetheart.”
But she didn’t move.
xxxx
There was a time when play came easily.
When she was ten, summer days stretched endlessly — the driveway covered in hopscotch grids and castles traced in chalk. Her brother, Tom, would shout, “Bet you can’t beat me!” and she’d leap across the squares, hair flying, knees scraped.
Their mother would call from the kitchen window, apron dusted with flour. “Dinner time!”
“Five more minutes!” Mia would yell back. Her mother always gave her those five minutes.
Those minutes were freedom — sunlight and laughter stitched into something sacred.
Now, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d lost track of time.
xxxx
The kettle hissed. The clock blinked 7:30. There were emails waiting, laundry half-folded, lunchboxes drying by the sink.
“Mum! Draw with me!” her daughter called again.
Mia glanced out. A box of chalk lay open on the concrete — pink, blue, yellow — colours that once stained her own fingers.
For years she’d been tracing her own invisible chalk line — between what needed to be done and what was
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: At what cost "if not now, when?" -…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 80%: Indonesia’s corruption must be stopped There is no cost we should have to settle for Amidst the gun violence,…
Indonesia’s corruption must be stopped
There is no cost we should have to settle for
Amidst the gun violence, the bombings and the countless lives destroyed by the hands of corrupt political ‘leaders’, it's no wonder why Indonesians are protesting in hope to restore the country to the beautiful nation they dream of.
I am eternally grateful to my parents who migrated from Indonesia and decided to leave the only home they’ve ever known and start anew in a foreign country. Their sacrifice led to countless opportunities for me and my sister to experience life without having to worry about terrorist attacks in the streets, our safety going to school or getting sick from just sucking in the highly polluted air. Living in Australia, I know that I will graduate high school and I know I will go to university, I will get a diploma and I will have a sustainable job and I will provide the same opportunities for my own children. However back home in the streets of Jakarta, for most kids, this dream is so unattainable they would be lucky to even complete middle school. And so every time I visit the country my heart breaks for the countless individuals sleeping on the streets, having no food or proper roofing over their heads. The one thing you have to know about Indonesia is that the rich get richer and the poor are kept so far down below, you’d think we were in a different country. The stark difference between the fashionable elitists and those living in the slums will leave you stunned as it did to countless Indonesians. Enraged for having been made a fool from the poor governance of their so called “elected” leaders, many have decided to take a stance and fight for their well-deserved rights. The system has suppressed them for way too long.
Google tells us that a government is a group of people who make and enforce laws for the benefit of a country, state or community. They do not take from their hard working citizens and disperse the goods of the country for themselves. They do not ignore and openly support the economic rift between the upper wealthy and those in poverty. The government of Indonesia which has promised time and time again to protect, support and serve their people has robbed them clean.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: FRAMEWORK OF IDEAS: country. TITLE:…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 70%: ➼ They say, "country remembers". Not in words, but in symphonic sound and the weight of humming air. ➼ As I…
➼ They say, "country remembers". Not in words, but in symphonic sound and the weight of humming air.
➼ As I trudged on, creating deep footprints on tenacious soil, I felt like I was 8 again, sauntering through the jungle that was Hulu Langat.
➼ Precious memories, from the tap of my childhood, trickled into my brain: grabbing durians from tall trees during the day, afraid of monsters hiding behind them at night, cowering under my silk-thin blanket when the thunderstorms flashed the shadows of those monsters.
➼ "My country," I thought out loud, "my life".
➼ GRRRRMMMBBBLLL... This humming, grey air turned into the oh-so-familiar scent of impending rain; deeply aromatic, yet laced with a melancholy that clung, like memory itself, to my skin.
➼ 20 now, I still smiled at every blooming orchid, and banana hanging desperately on a tree that made the Malaysian countryside uniquely beautiful.
➼ A sudden curious scent engulfed me, imploring me closer to a particular banana tree.
➼ Its colour was deeper than the rest. Richer.
➼ Just as I used to, I jumped on the closest branch - my broad, uncertain hands almost crushing the thin branch.
➼ Hoisting my body upward was a clumsy effort, lacking the easy grace I remembered.
➼ The distinct memory, from my old life, of grabbing spiky durians from tall, menacing trees further lit my smile, however. It motivated me to get my now pudgy frame up and standing on the next branch up.
➼ I almost slipped. Though nobody was around to see, embarrassment washed over me as I had gotten my white T-shirt stuck to a nearby branch.
➼ A sudden lurch. Peeling away my tee from the rough branch, I felt it unstick from my sweat-filled back. It was a warm feeling. Nostalgic.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: FRAMEWORK OF IDEAS: country. TITLE:…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 72.5%: They say, "country remembers". Not in words. But in aromatic scent, symphonic sound and the weight of humming…
They say, "country remembers". Not in words. But in aromatic scent, symphonic sound and the weight of humming air.
As I trudged on, creating deep footprints in fresh mud, I felt like I was eight again, sauntering through the jungle that was Hulu Langat. Distinct, precious memories from the clouds of my childhood drizzled into my brain: grabbing durians from tall trees during the day, afraid of monsters hiding behind them at night, cowering under my silk-thin blanket when the thunderstorms flashed the shadows of those monsters.
Twenty now, I still smiled at every blooming orchid, and durian hanging desperately on a tree that made the Malaysian countryside uniquely beautiful.
A curious scent engulfed me, imploring me closer to a particular durian tree. Its colour was deeper than the rest. Richer. Without hesitation, I jumped on the first branch, my hands, now broader and less certain, almost crushing the thin branch. Hoisting my body upward was a clumsy effort, lacking the easy grace I remembered.
The distinct memory, from my old life, of grabbing spiky durians from tall, menacing trees further lit my smile. It motivated me to get my now pudgy frame up and standing on the next branch up.
I almost slipped. Though nobody was around to see, embarrassment washed over me as I had gotten my white T-shirt stuck to a nearby branch. I laughed. Peeling away my tee from the rough branch, I felt it unstick from my sweat-filled back. It was a warm feeling. Nostalgic. The blazing sun, and still humidity, used to make my singlet kiss my back as a kid. This type of weather was all I knew for nine whole years. A clear feeling of belonging filled me, as I jumped off, not wanting to injure myself.
The countryside walk continued, each step a quiet
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Personal Journey being lost
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 70%: The question followed me everywhere. At school, it was the first thing teachers asked. At family dinners, it…
The question followed me everywhere.
At school, it was the first thing teachers asked. At family dinners, it floated between mouthfuls of food. At parties, it arrived before hello.
“So, what are you doing next year?”
Each time, I smiled too quickly and gave an answer that sounded rehearsed. “Law, maybe. Or engineering.”
People nodded approvingly. That was the kind of answer they liked — confident, ambitious, safe.
But each time I said it, a small part of me went quiet.
At home, the noise was louder.
Mum had printed out university rankings and stuck them to the fridge like motivational posters.
Dad dropped hints about “stable careers” and “good starting salaries.”
Even my older brother, who was halfway through his business degree, liked to remind me that “the real world doesn’t wait for indecision.”
I nodded through it all, my smile thin as glass.
In my room, I stared at the blank spaces on my university preference list. The cursor blinked on my laptop like it was mocking me.
Choose something.
Choose now.
Choose right.
My heart thudded against my ribs like it was trying to escape.
That night, I heard my parents talking in the kitchen.
“He’s too anxious. We just need to push him a bit,” Mum whispered.
“Pushing won’t help,” Dad said. “He needs direction.”
The words stung. They were talking about me, not to me.
I lay awake until the walls seemed to hum with every thought I couldn’t quiet.
By morning, the house felt heavier.
Mum called me into the dining room. The table was covered in brochures.
“I think you should apply for law,” she said. “You’re good at English. You like to argue.”
“I don’t like arguing,” I muttered.
“You’re just scared of the workload,” Dad added, sipping his coffee.
“I’m not scared—”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Mum snapped. “All your friends have already applied. You can’t just drift forever, Alex.”
Her voice echoed through me like feedback from a speaker.
Something inside me cracked.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: this creative is on the overall topic…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 87.5%: As a lifesaver, you share the beauty of being at the beach, absorbing the fresh aromas of the ocean — and…
As a lifesaver, you share the beauty of being at the beach, absorbing the fresh aromas of the ocean — and through standing in the sand, you embrace a sense of freedom and equilibrium. We learn to read the waves, to spot the riptides that can drag swimmers out to sea, and to conserve energy by swimming parallel to the shore rather than fighting against the current. But no amount of training could prepare me for the unrelenting pressures of school. The harder I swim, the stronger the current pulls, stifling my ability to explore the vastness of life beyond the classroom walls. The ocean is vast, unpredictable, and relentless — just like the academic world students navigate daily. Education, an institution meant to empower and foster growth, has become an undertow that drags students down in a persistent tide of expectations, making self-discovery nearly impossible. Students are not simply learning — we are surviving, measured not by our passions or creativity, but by our capacity to endure. The system, rigid and uncompromising, rewards conformity over curiosity and productivity over purpose, forcing us to sacrifice individuality for the sake of arbitrary academic success.
At the heart of this issue lies the suffocating weight of academic expectations. We are encouraged — if not compelled — to dedicate ourselves to subjects we neither enjoy nor excel in, merely to fulfil curriculum requirements. The school system preaches the importance of a “well-rounded” education, yet it often disregards individuality in pursuit of a standardised ideal. True discovery, however, arises not from rigidity but from curiosity, experimentation, and play. Play allows us to explore strengths, uncover passions, and develop a sense of purpose beyond grades and rankings. Yet the relentless pursuit of academic success has stripped away this essential freedom, leaving little room for organic exploration. Instead of fostering growth through trial and error, the system treats time spent outside of structured learning as wasted. We learn to equate worth with numbers — percentages and rankings — rather than creativity, resilience, or originality. In doing so, school transforms learning into a formulaic process of memorisation rather than a journey of discovery. And so, we silence our passions, set aside our interests, and push through the monotony, convinced this is the only way forward.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: The Power of Listening Stimulus:…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 85%: “Silence can be an act of injustice.” These words echo through history, reminding us that silence is never…
“Silence can be an act of injustice.” These words echo through history, reminding us that silence is never neutral—it is the quiet rhythm through which oppression endures. Martin Luther King Jr. warned that “in the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” Injustice does not rely only on cruelty; it depends on apathy, on the refusal to hear. In a world deafened by division and noise, the act of listening has become radical—the bridge between protest and transformation. Protest is not only the courage to speak but the moral willingness to listen. When listening fails, injustice festers. The true measure of protest, therefore, lies not in how loudly it shouts, but in how deeply it is heard.
Body 1 — Silence as the Enabler of Injustice
Silence does not preserve peace; it cements cruelty. In Kurt Vonnegut’s Harrison Bergeron, citizens are bound by “handicaps” in pursuit of equality. Pain becomes “part of [him],” a chilling image of how injustice thrives once suffering feels ordinary. Vonnegut exposes how silence protects comfort rather than truth—how fear of disruption outweighs moral duty. The parents’ numb acceptance of their son’s execution mirrors a society so desensitised that atrocity becomes routine.
This moral dormancy reappears in real life. The 1964 Kitty Genovese murder, where neighbours allegedly watched without intervening, became a symbol of the bystander effect—the belief that someone else will act. Silence becomes the language of fear, excusing inaction while sustaining violence. Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel, who witnessed humanity’s darkest quiet, warned that “silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.” Similarly, social reformer Jane Addams asserted that “action indeed is the sole medium of expression for ethics.” Their words remind us that morality is measured not by conviction but by courage. Silence may feel safe, but it shelters cruelty—it is complicity disguised as caution.
Body 2 — Listening as Collective Power
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Section B: Crafting texts Framework:…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 60%: It's Time
It's Time
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Title: Listen Theme: writing about…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 80%: Context/Introduction: On the 16th of April 2025, groups of countless, defiant Australians attended a march…
Context/Introduction:
On the 16th of April 2025, groups of countless, defiant Australians attended a march through one of Australia’s busiest cities calling for government intervention in Australia’s housing affordability crisis that is threatening our nation.
The struggle for housing in Australia has taped shut the dreams of many Australians, but when will our government listen?
Young Australian’s, low to middle income earners, renters, retirees, and many more are being priced out of the market and the dream of home ownership is slipping away.
Protestors Declaration of Intent:
Protestors in Melbourne caused disruption to spread awareness on the issues responsible for this crisis. Such as skyrocketing demand for entry level housing due to population growth from a natural increase of births minus deaths and a record level of overseas immigration, as well as low interest rates as when borrowing is cheaper, housing demand increases, and a lack of affordable housing being built. The result of this is a housing market that benefits the wealthy, leaving much of the population in uncertainty.
This crisis did not take shape overnight, it’s the result of decades of policy choices, ;market shifts and a slow erosion of housing being a basic right. For years we have had our voice taped shut, but now the tape is being torn away, We, as Australians are speaking out louder and more urgently than ever, demanding that our government listens to us.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Flamewoine. willy about protest •…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 90%: The city has gone quiet. Only the echoes of our chants linger in the streets- a pulse fading into the darkness.…
The city has gone quiet. Only the echoes of our chants linger in the streets- a pulse fading into the darkness. The air still tastes of smoke and rain. Somewhere, a siren wails once, then dies.
I should be asleep. My voice is torn. My feet ache, soles crusted from the dust and blistered from the march. Yet my mind refuses the mercy of rest. Protest never really ends- it just changes shape. In daylight it roars through megaphones. At night it whispers in the questions you cannot silence.
Today we filled the streets again- thousands of us. Bound by anger and hope. Our breath fogging in the cold, cardboard signs beating against the wind. For a heartbeat, it felt as if the world would shift beneath our feet. Then came the jeers, the smirks, the headlines asking why we bother. They call it noise. I call it proof that we are still alive.
No one warns you that protest is not only defiance- its devotion. It is loving something enough to be hated for it, it is carrying the flame that warms and burns in the same breath. Every step forward costs a piece of yourself; your ease, your safety, your silence. Yet still we persist. Because to stop is to accept a world that refuses to change.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: this is an expository essay
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 77.5%: Protest - expository Many people see protests as frustrating or disruptive, getting in the way of everyday…
Protest - expository
Many people see protests as frustrating or disruptive, getting in the way of everyday life. However, these acts of courage are often what drive progress in society. As Martin Niemöller once said, “They came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out… Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak out.” His words show the danger of staying silent in the face of injustice. If we allow those in power to take away the rights of one group at a time, eventually no one will be safe. True change happens only when people unite to stand up for what is right, even if their views differ. When institutions fail to protect justice, or even cause harm themselves, it is the courage of ordinary people that exposes corruption and sparks reform. Protests become successful when they lead to genuine change in how people think and how societies work.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: At what cost?
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 70%: TITLE: AT WHAT COST? Ayubowan, Vannakum, Assalamu Alaikum. I stand here today not as a politician, but as a…
TITLE: AT WHAT COST?
Ayubowan, Vannakum, Assalamu Alaikum.
I stand here today not as a politician, but as a farmer. My name is Ranil, and I am a man who wakes up before the sun, digs through dry soil, and works until his hands split open. But this year, everything changed. Crops that once fed my village now rot in the fields. My children go to bed hungry. My neighbours have nothing left. All because of another reckless decision made by the Rajapaksa government, who want to fill their pockets, rather than protect ours. I look at the faces before me, tired, angry, unbroken, and I see parts of myself in all of you. I see the part that hates the corruption, greed, and leaders who have drained this land until nothing, but dust remains. I see the part of us that yearns for a new government, and I believe that we should let it speak for us today.
Because if the Rajapaksas tear apart our homes, our villages, and our families, then I ask you, at what cost will we stay silent?
My brothers and sisters,
Last month, the Rajapaksa government banned chemical fertilisers overnight, without a plan, without care. I, and many farmers around the country, were left with dying crops, and no food to eat. You would think such a government would sacrifice some of their funding to help us survive. No, they didn’t. Instead, they live in comfort while we scrape the dirt for what’s left. And this cruelty doesn’t end at our farms. It reaches every hospital and every home. Take a walk through any pharmacy and you’ll see it, shelves bare, mothers crying over their children suffering in beds because there’s no insulin, no antibiotics, not even cheap painkillers. All while these so-called leaders borrow recklessly from other countries, waste our tax money and place us in a massive debt of over eighty-six billion dollars. Every child born in this country will have to inherit this struggle, given to them without choice.
And still, they tell us to wait. To trust them. To be patient. But we’ve been patient long enough.
This fight isn’t new to us, and our ancestors have shown past
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: This is mine
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 85%: To Woodside Energy, Please adhere to my cries. My farm is located in rural Australia, where kangaroos hop…
To Woodside Energy,
Please adhere to my cries.
My farm is located in rural Australia, where kangaroos hop freely, trees sway in the wind, and the beautiful red sand glistens in the sunlight.
The environment is perfect, it's majestic, it's everything you’d want Australia to be…
Except now the ecosystem is at risk of destruction; in fact, the entire environment is.
Those kangaroos which once hopped freely have begun to drop, the trees which would gush stand still and wilt like roses, whilst the red sand has become grey with despair.
With the destruction of my land, I would even go as far as to say I envy those in war…
Not because the destruction is worse or that death is better than a destroyed land, but it’s because they can fight for their country.
They say the pen is mightier than the sword, yet your company is an industry giant, one that funds government because of the substantial profits it generates, one that is immune to us common folk. So, this letter strives to enact a change from within, to persuade your corrupted minds to put Australia first.
Your recent campaign, “Oil's big future in the rural” has brought nothing but death and destruction.
Your big oil drills, which not only pollute the air but also the quiet atmosphere, have been detrimental to my land's ability to thrive, bringing nothing but hardships to me and farmers alike.
These drills spread dust and smoke, killing our trees, and mutilating our animals from the inside out. But the sand… the foundation of our land is being harmed the most.
The symbol of rural Australia is the bright red sand, a symbol so iconic that almost all paintings of Australia have an interpretation of this sand.
But if you looked down from your big corporation tower and really peered into the lives of us common folk, then you would see the disparity that these drills have brought to Australia’s iconic sand.
These drills leak oil over the sand, and the smoke and gas seep into the sand, giving it a dark and ghastly aura.
The sand, which once glistened, is now in its late stages of death… those days of stardom in the Australian limelight are over, its stardom now being nothing but nostalgic.
My Australia, which is my identity, is beginning to fade into obscurity… My own identity of belonging and who I am is lost as the land on which I’ve grown up is destroyed.
So why should my land be ruined? Why should my animals die?
Well, this is all because of greed and corporate profits.
Your recent financial reports have revealed you profited “4.8 million” in the past month, with
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Title: The truth Stimuli 1 - ‘Freedom…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 82.5%: As news broke out that the government’s new social media ban was being implemented. This was a “where were…
As news broke out that the government’s new social media ban was being implemented. This was a “where were you when this happened” moment. I reach home, open the gates, and hear my brother crying. Crying because he isn’t able to watch YouTube Kids anymore. Like how does a 10-year-old watching his YouTube Kids videos affect the government? I don’t get it. Those cries were like an alarm for me, like something had awoken inside me to go out and fight for my country back. My beloved Nepal. This ban was the tipping point, it was time for the truth to come out, for the outside world to learn about the hidden corruption of the Nepalese government.
Within a matter of hours, a protest was established for the 8th of September. They labelled this “The Gen Z protest”. In 2 days’, time, we will fight for what we’ve been yearning for and what the people of this nation of previous generations have been yearning for but didn’t get. A future of opportunity.
It’s the night before the protest. I’m about to doze off ahead of the day I have tomorrow, and suddenly certain footsteps I recognise immediately start making their way down the stairs. It was my grandma, the person who has witnessed this country fall back in a steeper decline from since she was my age. She knew this protest was the one chance we had at change and the last chance she had to able to see her country rise.
My Grandma leans across the table and whimpers to me “freedom lies in being bold”.
I can tell how much she is relying on the movement tomorrow, and how much she wants me to be present in the revolution, despite my Mum worrying for my life asking me to stay home tomorrow, but I know that if we don’t capitalise on tomorrow, we will forever lose our chance to rid us of this corrupt government.
As the sun comes up, I head out, but by the time I get to the city centre, hundreds of people already speaking up. They want this change as much as I do. As much as my grandma does. Seeing the nepo children of the politicians of this country breaks all of our hearts for the people who work tirelessly each day just to not be able to eat at night because their wages aren’t high enough. Why can’t we live like them? What have they done to deserve all those western world luxuries? The search for the answers to these questions led to where we are today.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Title - Right to rebel Stimulus- Image…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 65%: Luke sat anxiously in the hall, waiting for the Principal to take to the lectern. There was clearly an anxious…
Luke sat anxiously in the hall, waiting for the Principal to take to the lectern. There was clearly an anxious vibe in the hall, and the nervous whispers and tense atmosphere around the room reflected that. Despite the students having exercised their right to rebel last week by attending a climate change protest in the city, clearly the school hadn’t appreciated it, and as a result the whole year 12 cohort sat waiting for what the Principal had to say. The lighting was dark and minimal around the room, and Luke could see many students nervously twiddling their thumbs and tapping their feet on the hard wooden floor. The whispers gradually died down as the Principal took the stage. He had a commanding presence, standing at over six feet tall. He wore a neat suit, and wisps of grey hair adorned his head like a crown. There was near silence in the room as he began speaking.
“Good morning students. I was most disappointed to see so many of you march out of here last Friday to attend a climate change protest in the city. Whilst I do understand that climate change is an important issue for many of you, you do not have the right to act the way you did last week. So let me begin by saying that if any such behaviour occurs again, it will be met with harsh punishment from the school board.”
Luke anxiously squirmed in his uncomfortable school chair. He looked around the room, and saw nothing but statues. Students robotically stared at the Principal, as if something would happen to them if they looked away. Surely this would now spell an end to the students second planned protest in a weeks time. Would anyone be willing to rebel now that the Principal has spoken? Luke felt uncomfortable sitting there and doing nothing, but how could he risk the punishment for standing up. He felt as if other students shared in his discomfort, but how could the cohort show that to the Principal. The Principal’s words cut back through Luke’s thoughts, evicting them back to the corners of his mind.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: creative writing on personal journeys…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 67.5%: There is a Pakistani proverb – "What the elders see sitting, the young can't see standing." I trailed behind…
There is a Pakistani proverb – "What the elders see sitting, the young can't see standing."
I trailed behind my father as he walked through the familiar streets of our neighbourhood, the evening air thick with the scent of jasmine and distant laughter from families gathered in their backyards. My hands were buried in my hoodie pockets, my footsteps slow and reluctant. As a fifteen-year-old growing up, I had little interest in these routine evening walks with my father. There were a dozen other places I’d rather be—at the mall with my friends, watching movies, or simply scrolling through my phone in peace. these outings, once avoidable, had now become a requirement.
I never truly valued my father’s presence.
He was a man of few words, someone who expressed love through gestures rather than speech. He worked tirelessly, ensuring that we never lacked anything, yet I resented how out of touch he seemed with my world. While my friends had parents who gave them freedom, mine clung to traditions I found restrictive. Family dinners were mandatory, my weekends were monitored, and the importance of respecting elders was drilled into me more times than I cared to count. I felt suffocated by the weight of these expectations, longing instead for the easy company of my friends who understood me better than my own family ever could.
I still remember the moment my frustration turned into indifference.
One evening, as we sat at the dinner table, my father tried to ask about my day. Distracted by a group chat buzzing on my phone, I barely looked up as I muttered a half-hearted response. When he pressed the question further, I sighed, exasperated. "Why do you even care? You don’t understand my life anyway." The room fell silent. My mother exchanged a glance with him, and for a
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: personal journey, skeleton piece
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 65%: Dear 13-year-old me, 28/10/25 We both know you feel out of place right now. It’s like you walk into school…
Dear 13-year-old me, 28/10/25
We both know you feel out of place right now. It’s like you walk into school after months and still feel like it’s a cold place, a foreign land, an unyielding world . Every day walking under the gloomy sky, you miss the warmth of the Indian sun shining bright on your face lighting up the whole terrain. You miss the tranquil smell coming from raindrops touching the rich land. You miss the lively atmosphere created by the diverse practices. Every day you feel like you're living a life that doesn’t belong to you — like you don't belong to it. And so, you know deep down that you don’t belong in this country.
As many other immigrants your age can relate to, going to a new school in a new country is always terrifying. The hallways filled with unfamiliar faces and unspoken rules; like there’s no end to the misery.Quickly, you realised it wasn’t like the Disney movies we watched as a child. You would never have bright blue eyes, the color of the summer sky. You would never have bright blonde hair, the colour of the morning sun.
You would never have your “happily ever after”.
I still remember the day when we first started school in Australia. You were timid and frightful, terrified of every new thing that was happening around you. You sat down next to unknown faces, trying to listen to the words that felt so familiar yet were unknown to you. You tried to replicate their accent as closely as you could. Conscious of every syllable that would come out of your mouth.
“Hi!”
“Hey.”
“How are you?”
“Good.”
The small talk was nothing but awkward. The disinterest on their faces was so blatantly apparent, it made you want to shut down. You assumed you were the only one who struggled. You never thought that other people could also feel as friendless and isolated. All you could think about was your yearning to fit in, your desire to be understood, and your fear of not belonging.
Months later, you learned their way. You made “friends”. You waved back at them in the morning. You sat next to them in class. You listened as they gossiped with each other during lunch. You waved goodbye as you started your long walk back home.
In reality, for months, their wave disguised their inability and unwillingness to learn our name. You sat with them in class in fear of being alone. You had lunch in silence, while comparing your untamed lion’s mane with their silk like golden hair . Your final wave hid your sigh of relief; grateful that the clock had hit 3:06pm.
Every day walking home you thought: maybe you were undeserving of the friendly affection you craved? Maybe it was time to give up and accept your fate? Maybe you weren’t worthy enough to build a connection. Unable to fit in. Unable to belong.
The thoughts of why you didn’t fit in haunted you. Every day. Every hour. Every minute, you spent trying to make sense of why this happens to people like you. Was it your personality? Was it your race? Or was it purely, you?
You convinced yourself you would never be anything but Indian.