VCE · Text Response
Text Response: Using the poem 'The Applicant' by Sylvia…
VCE Text Response essay scoring 90%: Within a world that defines ‘stiff’ roles for women and men, ‘The Applicant’ by Sylvia Plath challenges and…
Within a world that defines ‘stiff’ roles for women and men, ‘The Applicant’ by Sylvia Plath challenges and dismantles the rigid societal gender expectations forced onto both women and men. Published alongside other feminist works in an feminist poetry anthology , 'The Applicant' explores Plath’s psychological landscape of marital expectations which is explored in broader themes of patriarchal disruption of female independence.
Plath challenges gender expectations by highlighting the dehumanisation of women and men in this system. Plath’s speaker probes whether the presumed applicant has ‘rubber breasts or a rubber crotch’. The connotation of the word rubber brings a sense of manufactured inauthenticity. Using it to describe the most vulnerable parts of a person’s body strips the applicant of their humanity. Thus the speaker dehumanises the applicant by insinuating that the female or masculine body is inorganic, and fake without a marital partner. Furthermore, the speaker uses an interrogative tone when speaking to the applicant; this creates emotional tension, prompting the reader to feel defensive. The transactional, interview-like structure naturally puts the applicant in a place of subordination, amplifying the control Plath’s speaker has over the applicant’s gender norms. Therefore, Plath satirises the consumerist ideology’s pressure for a perfect gendered body only to ironically criticize when women and men rely on artificial replacements of their sexuality.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: We are only truly ourselves when we play
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 85%: Botswana: Fireworks In Botswana, we are only truly ourselves when we play against the dark brooding skyline…
Botswana: Fireworks
In Botswana, we are only truly ourselves when we play against the dark brooding skyline exploding with the warm, bright colors of New Year’s Eve fireworks. In the sense of wonder produced by the mingling of electric hues and sharp red sparks in the sky I am a child. The ignition of my optimistic and curious heart enlivens me. The streets spill over with masses of people and fill them to the brim with the raw rhythm and cadence of community. To each the potent uniqueness of soul. Loud bangs of fireworks are interspaced with the low grumble of speakers. The year’s arrival: 2013. From plastered home to plastered home, from clay backyard to clay backyard, the inspiration and authenticity sparked by the bright light of tradition illuminating the unknown expanse of the night. The dusty scent of the roads and the lingering smell of gunpowder serving as a carriage for the wonder of a community. Fireworks allow us to be our true selves as they irradiate our sky. Fireworks are play.
Botswana: Church
Church is all my Sundays in Botswana and the game of charades. I am truly myself as I play out my role, dressed to please in my Sunday best. My grandma provides the prompts while the church members act as judges. The cold, dull walls of the establishment function as a backdrop for my weekly masquerade. The pictorial windows watch as I navigate the routine compliments. How strong I’d become; How big I’d grown to be. Every time I manufacture a smile on my face the grins of the faces of the stained-glass windows grow as if entertained by my act. Week by week I become more myself inside my disguise, better at this song and dance. It’s slow and monotonous tempo makes the entire experience feel like I am living to another tune. I hide my child-like spark like a puppet: for me, going to church is a performance.
Mildura: Afternoons
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Title : This is me Stimulus: Life…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 77.5%: This is me I stood out. From the moment we landed I felt like a cow in a herd of sheep. An anomaly in land…
This is me
I stood out. From the moment we landed I felt like a cow in a herd of sheep. An anomaly in land that refused to accept me. When we went outside they stared. Their eyes fixated - gaze relentless - carrying a sense of spite words could not describe. Every step I took , my sandals would squeak on the tiles as if they knew I wasn't meant for this country.
Maybe I needed shoes to be like everyone else.
I would often open my mouth to speak but the taste of sweet cherry blossoms and a warm friendly welcome never kissed my tastebuds. Rather the air was a bitter. A hostile breeze that slapped me.Its coldness chastising me for even trying to seek its benevolence.
So I decided to cower.
This is me. A mess. A puzzle half completed. The other half strewn within the confines of the box. The edges of my pieces sharp, serrated and jagged. In this country they simply didn't fit
Within days I had learned to resent school. Mother said it was a sanctuary for learning.
Lies.
It was a dangerous battleground for "aliens" like me. An environment where embarrassment was a bullet, fired at me during every possible instant. It stung. Piercing my skin and burrowing deep into my flesh until it become a part of who I was.
When teachers tried to call my name it always got stuck in their throat. What left their lips, a mess of syllables blurred behind a heavy accent, until it felt like my name no longer belonged to me.Just a 6 letter sound used to grab my attention. Like a shadow. No depth. No meaning.
I wanted to tell them they were pronouncing it wrong. Maybe I could reclaim what should have been mine. But I knew my mumbled English would go unheard. Drowned out amongst the tormenting laughs of other kids.
I chose silence.
During lunch I would sit at a table far from the other students. A stray animal on the side of the road. Unwanted and unregarded. As my thermos lid creaked open heads turned and voices would grow louder. While the tasty fragrant aromas of my mother's rice suffused through the air they pinched their noses. A smell too pungent for them to consider. They shot glances. It felt like a thousand judgmental eyes watched me. Their disdain and disgust, clinging to my skin.
I couldn't understand
At first I clung to mother. Her soft words were like an anchor, always there for me. Yet this time it was different. Her response less comforting than usual. Her voice dim , her drooping eyes set behind patches of skin so dark, as if she hadn't slept for days. Lifeless and exhausted from her new job.
I wanted to scold her for bringing me along with her to a nation so unforgiving. Yet the spiteful words sat heavy in my throat.
Stinging me each second they stayed. I quickly swallowed them back. Instead I figured that the nation only favoured the beautiful, the fair skinned, the natives.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Playing with the Rules. Stimulus= You…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 75%: Playing with the Rules We are told the world is a playground- a vast arena where constraints are defined by…
Playing with the Rules
We are told the world is a playground- a vast arena where constraints are defined by personal boundaries and liberty is a swing waiting for anyone brave enough to jump at the chance.
This may feel like the reality for our suppressed inner child who is still itching to conquer the football field or impress on the dancefloor with the moves they worked hours to memorise.
This is however abruptly stripped from us as we enter the all - important world of the teenage years.
As teenagers, we live in the same society we did when we were children, now only we are defined by our ‘performance’ rather than accepted and free to decide who we are. This society is a stage that has been built for us where we are confined to ‘lines’ and directions that society deems essential to achieve the esteemed goal: fitting in.
This predicament is increasingly seeping its way into the normalities of growing up and I refuse to watch it happen. I come here to argue the necessity in subverting ‘Performance’ of teenage life. I want to inspire you to continue your journey in conquering the footy field or to finally reveal the dance moves and return to the freedoms of play that have built the forces that society aims to subdue.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Power is a Double-Edged Sword
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 87.5%: Power is a Double-Edged Sword When I think of ‘power’, I usually picture it as control. The loudest person in…
Power is a Double-Edged Sword
When I think of ‘power’, I usually picture it as control. The loudest person in the room, the richest billionaire, or the one who makes their own rules. But the power I found was never something you could see. It quietly lived on Skype calls on a 2008 Toshiba, voice messages over Facebook Messenger, and in the relationships I carried with me over seas.
I never thought of myself as very powerful. I didn’t have the confidence to dominate a room or influence change. But what I lacked in the usual definition of power, I discovered in a new perspective - the power to connect. In Cambodia, love feels warm and constant, like the sun that never stops shining, and the temperature that’s always 32 degrees. Family means shared meals eaten in hammocks, loud and laughter-filled conversations, and the comfort of knowing you’re surrounded with love. In Australia, friendships gave me never-ending support communicated in “Do you wanna hangout?”s, growing up together, and teaching me to always reach for my full potential. My heart learned how to belong in two places at once.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Journeys: Destination Unknown
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 95%: Destination Unknown To go through a door is to change. Whether to enter or to leave, no threshold is crossed…
Destination Unknown
To go through a door is to change. Whether to enter or to leave, no threshold is crossed untouched.
Simple, sleek white and sturdy, there was once such a door. Its surface gleamed with untouched pride. It stood between carpet and mahogany, silently guarding a small room beyond. For a time, the pristine boundary was unused - with nothing but light and dust to welcome in. Then, one solemn winter night, the frame trembled, not because of the biting cold - it was sturdy after all - but beneath the thin cries of a newborn child.
That was the first true crossing.
Three figures entered: two weary, one impossibly small. Moonlight clung to their shoulders, as the hinge of the frame twisted hesitantly for the first time. The taller pair moved as if carrying fragile treasures - urgently, carefully. They laid the child in the room beyond, and for hours, a house once empty, was filled with restless footsteps, murmured comforts, and the rhythm of lives learning themselves anew.
The nights that followed were long. The child’s cries rose sharp and sudden, and each time the handle turned, the door yielded grudgingly. It opened to half-slept parents with tired eyes and gentle hands. It opened to lullabies sung off-key. It opened to soft whispered promises that no child could ever understand. But slowly, their exhaustion settled into the grain of the wood. The steadfast hinge began to welcome its tenants.
But children are ruthless in their growing. Life turned spontaneous and the wailing began to ease. In its place came laughter: bright, unsteady, then endless. Small feet pattered across the carpet. Sticky palms pressed against the paint. Toys struck the frame like thrown confessions. Often, the child would vanish into the room in tears and emerge smiling, transformed by nothing more than time. The door learned then that sorrow could be brief, and joy return without warning.
Years passed in fingerprints and height marks. Crayon scars hid behind the frame. Birthday ribbons brushed the hinges. Feverish nights returned now and then, but the old times of endless exhaustion would not return. The door opened for celebrations, for stories read beneath blankets, for being tucked in away from the dark. It opened for a family becoming itself.
Slowly, the footsteps changed. They grew heavier, faster, less certain of where they meant to land. The laughter came less easily. The room beyond filled with longer silences, with music just a little too loud, with the scratching of pens late into the night. Sometimes the child—child no longer—would pass through without a word, closing the door with careful restraint. And at other times, the door would jolt, and shudder beneath a violent slam.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Title: Open Stimulus: 'You have to…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 85%: Open- The ways of the game 31/12/25 The game of the century, the one that tears families and friends apart, the…
Open-
The ways of the game 31/12/25
The game of the century, the one that tears families and friends apart, the one where you are having screaming matches over the rules that are never truly clarified. The game that had over 151 million copies sold by 2023, created in 1971 by Merle Robbins with the purpose to bring those together. The game of UNO, a simple card game with a mountain of different versions allowing there many different ways to play. A game so recognisable by the simple colour pattern on the back that it is likely even your granny knows of it. The rules are interchangeable through households leading those to break the rules by accident. How is anyone supposed to know the rules when everyone plays differently? It isn’t your fault you broke the rule as without the intention of breaking the rules how are you ever supposed to break them. ‘You have to learn the rules if you want to break them’ that’s the way of the game.
Surely, everyone knows the basics, blue cards can be placed onto blue cards, yellow can be placed onto yellow and so on. That’s obvious, you must be able to understand that if you actually want to play the game. The black cards might slightly be harder to understand but there are only two types, some might have more, but this is only about the basic and first version of UNO. If you’re wanting me to explain my ways of playing the other versions feel free to comment down below, I’m always happy to help.
The colour changer -one of the black cards-, giving the player the ability to change to whatever colour they wish the only issue is no one is allowed to finish on a black card. The other black card is responsible for ripping families apart, the 4+. Forcing the player next in line to pick up 4 cards and skip their turn. The evil game changer that gives the player such a high advantage however it doesn’t just work by forcing the next player to pick up it also gives the original player the ability to change the colour. This power that this play has opens up many different opportunities like rain in the sky.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Creative Writing Framework: Protests…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 85%: A simple light show. That is all Charenpreet Singh and his wife had come for. On the 19th of July, 2024, they…
A simple light show. That is all Charenpreet Singh and his wife had come for. On the 19th of July, 2024, they had parked near Kintore Avenue in Adelaide, looking forward to an enjoyable date night. A young couple, a Friday night, lights in the sky. What followed was not a misunderstanding. A vehicle approached. Five men emerged. And before Charanpreet could utter a single word, they already had some for him. "Fuck off, Indian." The punches followed subsequently. He recounted this to reporters from his hospital bed the same night, his frantic wife by his side. I want you to hold that image. Not the blood. Not the hospital. But the moment before. A couple that had done nothing more than exist in a city that was supposed to be theirs too. Unfortunately, these five men had decided, long before that night, that it was not.
And I am here today to testify that they were wrong.
However, I am not here to talk about those five men in Adelaide, I'm here to call out the root cause of this anti-immigration hostility. For those of you who do not know me, my name is Ayaan Khanna. I am 17 years old and I was born in this country. but I have spent the better part of my life being told to leave it. It is not always violent. It is not always loud. Sometimes in our classrooms. Sometimes in schoolyards like the one outside that door.
"Go back to your country."
Perhaps you have heard it too. Perhaps you were the one laughing. I do not say that to shame you, nor do I say that to whine about it. I say that because this is precisely where an improved society can be formed. Not in Adelaide. Not in a courtroom. Here. Because the men that surrounded Charanpreet Singh that night did not just wake up with randomly inspired hatred. It was rehearsed. It was rehearsed in the thousands of small moments in classrooms, in comment sections, in every laugh that followed "go back to your country". That is what normalisation looks like. A laugh. A shrug. A silence that slowly indicates that something is acceptable.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Framework: Play
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 85%: Modern Play is no more than Engineered Addiction By Harvey Quinn Addiction, which can be defined as, “the…
Modern Play is no more than Engineered Addiction
By Harvey Quinn
Addiction, which can be defined as, “the condition of being unable to stop using or doing something as a habit, especially something harmful”, Oxford Dictionary. Addiction can take many forms in modern society, some of which include: Drugs and alcohol, gambling, nicotine, pornography. All of which trigger an animalistic response in the human brain under the reward system built over millions of years of evolution to keep humans alive. The irony is apparent, the system that was meant to preserve humanity and reward its achievements is ultimately one of the biggest issues of the modern era.
Modern corporations have hijacked the reward system. Mobile games, Pokies, Online gambling. All encourage reckless behavior, irrational, yet a system built to reward risky behavior influences humanity to just make “one more microtransaction” or “just one more spin” even “one more multi”. This isn’t the play evolution was built to reward, it is merely profit to an manipulative conglomerate. True play is creative, it is about exploration, learning and developing morals. Whereas modern play has been engineered to keep players hooked, it's no longer an escape, it's merely a cycle.
How does play become an addiction?
VCE · Text Response
Text Response: “The most important influence in Trevor’s…
VCE Text Response essay scoring 87.5%: In Born a Crime, Trevor Noah presents his childhood as one shaped by the oppressive structures of apartheid South…
In Born a Crime, Trevor Noah presents his childhood as one shaped by the oppressive structures of apartheid South Africa, yet ultimately transformed by the influence of his mother, Patricia. While systemic racism and social division play a significant role in shaping Noah’s experiences, it is his mother’s unwavering resilience, moral guidance, and defiance of societal norms that most profoundly shape his identity and worldview. Through her actions and beliefs, Patricia not only protects Trevor physically but equips him with the mindset and skills necessary to navigate a fractured society. Therefore, although external forces create the conditions of Noah’s upbringing, his mother remains the most important influence in his life.
Patricia’s defiance of apartheid laws establishes her as the primary force shaping Trevor’s existence from the very beginning. By choosing to have a mixed-race child in a society where this was illegal, she actively resists the system that seeks to control and categorise individuals. Trevor acknowledges this when he states, “I was born a crime,” highlighting that his very identity is a result of his mother’s rebellion. Her decision is not merely an act of defiance but one of intention; she refuses to accept the limitations imposed on her and instead creates her own path. This rebellious spirit becomes foundational to Trevor’s own outlook, teaching him to question authority and resist unjust systems. In this way, Patricia’s influence is not passive but deliberately shapes Trevor into someone capable of navigating and challenging the world around him.
VCE · Text Response
Text Response: No one acted selflessly in Oedipus the…
VCE Text Response essay scoring 67.5%: Performed at the festival of Dionysus in the backdrop of 5th century BCE Athens, Sophocles’ tragedy “Oedipus the…
Performed at the festival of Dionysus in the backdrop of 5th century BCE Athens, Sophocles’ tragedy “Oedipus the king” is a play drenched in the social context of society questioning the lengths to which people will go in sacrificing their own happiness and needs for others. Sophocles demonstrates that while people act selfishly in “Oedipus the king”, ultimately people in ancient Athens were forced to act selfishly as a way of protecting themselves and those that they love. Within the play, character’s willingness to put other’s needs before their own demonstrates the ability to display generosity and selflessness. Sophocles highlights the selfishness of characters, but also demonstrates the inability for people to be selfless, at a time where people had to put themselves first in order to survive. Thus, Sophocles urges Athenians to act in a self-sacrificing manner due to the consequences of selfishness not only for the individual but for all of society.
By highlighting those who act benevolently, Sophocles applauds those who remain selfless. Sophocles reiterates the recurring theme that “for a man to help others... that is the most noble work”. Sophocles contends that the highest trait that a man can exhibit is selflessness, to motivate those who have attended the Dionysus festival to have these qualities. He demonstrates that achieving high moral principles can only be attained by this ability to put other’s needs before your own. Oedipus exclaims that “not one is as sick as [him]” highlighting his need to bear the troubles of the world. Oedipus’ description of himself as being sicker than those with the “black Death”, highlights the immense adverse impact of him seeing his people suffer. In a selfless act, Oedipus as a leader gives his worry to the citizens of Thebes without looking for any personal gain. Oedipus, a powerful, wealthy leader could have selfishly ignored those suffering by the impacts of the plague as it didn’t affect him personally. However, instead Oedipus took on the burden of searching for the “heart of [the] corruption” for the benefit of his people. Sophocles uses Oedipus as a “great example”, to contend that despite flaws and through tribulations, the ultimate indicator of someone being a morally righteous person is their ability to empathise and help others.
VCE · Text Response
Text Response: : ‘What does ‘Sunset Boulevard’ have to…
VCE Text Response essay scoring 75%: The film contends that there is significant power in seeing reality. Wilder primarily explores this concept through…
The film contends that there is significant power in seeing reality. Wilder primarily explores this concept through his portrayal of Max as the director of Norma's illusory lifestyle. In dull lighting which reflects the eeriness of the disclosure, Max reveals to Joe that he had "made [Norma] a star" and thus is adamant that he "cannot let her be destroyed" by the reality of Hollywood's abandonment of her. Max is entitled to a sense of responsibility in protecting and supporting Norma as he recognises the harsh reality of her displacement which she refuses to confront. Through this, Wilder reveals how Max's greater understanding of Norma's emotional state acts a conduit for shaping and controlling Norma's illusion, whereby recognising reality grants individuals with psychological power over those entrapped within illusions. Exercising such power over Norma through “fan letters” and “feeding” her other “lies and lies” enables Max to fortify his
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Small acts, big wins
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 72.5%: The morning air bites at my skin, but it is nothing compared to the emptiness gnawing at my stomach. I grip…
The morning air bites at my skin, but it is nothing compared to the emptiness gnawing at my stomach. I grip the weightless basket, its bareness mocking me. The lack of bread tugs heavily at my chest. No food for me. No food for my children. Around me are women like myself. Angry, hungry and desperate for bread. Our voices are sharp and demanding. We have had enough of the increasing prices. A single loaf costs my 88% of my income. How am I meant to survive? We move as one, leaving the marketplace behind. Our footsteps grow louder with each step toward the Palace of Versailles. Fear flickers in my chest, but it is quickly consumed by pure determination. I ask myself, does marching make me free? Or will it fill my basket?
In October 1789, we marched twenty kilometers from Paris to Versailles. Thousands of women were gathered; poissardes, prostitutes, passers. We were not asking politely. We were armed with knives, pikes, swords, and muskets. While the King sat on his throne, plump and pampered, we walked. I am a poissarde. But I am also a woman with a voice that deserves to be heard. Tired, impatient, and muddy. Our scrawny figures swimming in our clothes. But that did not stop us. It felt like nothing could. No amount of rain, no amount of violence and no amount of garde nationale.
For one day, I was not a servant. I was a voice. A voice that was making a difference.
But the next morning, I returned to the marketplace. Desperation clinging like a shadow. I needed to sell fish. I needed to feed my kids. My husband called me “outspoken” and “radical”. But I wasn’t. I was sick of serving a system that belittled me. We wanted bread, but we did not win. Our society was constructed by an inherently sexist political system. We have always been ignored by the same system that was built for men, by men. The written constitutions declare that “men and born and remain free and equal in rights.” But what about us? The very women who have sustained our society yet remain unheard. Are we really making a difference?
That question followed me home, and it followed me across centuries. In September 2022, the dictator pulled at the strings. The very strings holding women tight had finally snapped. The death of an innocent woman acted as a catalyst to reshape society. Iranian women faced the bullets of an oppressive system. If you watch the footage, they’re not begging. They’re singing the same song.
Jin, jiyan, azadi.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Title: The republic of ash
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 87.5%: The Republic of Ash It was never meant to be like this. Growing up in the rolling hills of the lush Victorian…
The Republic of Ash
It was never meant to be like this. Growing up in the rolling hills of the lush Victorian countryside, my perception of farm life was idyllic. The uncoordinated newborn lambs made me laugh as I drove past on spring mornings on the way to school. My pet chickens pecked affectionately at me, taking great interest in my painted toenails as I walked amongst them scattering grain. Walking down the hill from my home I would have lengthy conversations with the cows in a nearby paddock. Their huge brown eyes reminded me of honey, and there was something sweet about being up close with such a large animal, I felt privileged. Little did I know that this glorious perception was nothing but a facade, a front for a much grimier, more terrifying reality.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Write a paragraph that explores a…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 95%: Sara stares blankly into the abyss. The rain patters constantly on the bus shelter. She sits on the bench…
Sara stares blankly into the abyss. The rain patters constantly on the bus shelter. She sits on the bench clutching her bag tightly. A hollow ache settles deep inside her. All her emotions are in a spiral. Her eyes well up. She fights them back to stop her eyes from looking puffy.
Just moments ago, her close friend rejects her indirectly by stating through text:
“I want to hang out with my friend group.” A text message. A claim that her presence is “weird” because of their year levels.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Finding your own path
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 100%: “Succeeding death, a choice between three paths is given to you. You are shown a short visualisation of the…
“Succeeding death, a choice between three paths is given to you. You are shown a short visualisation of the outcome each path provides, although it may leave out some details.”
“Once you have made your choice, you cannot choose another. Choose wisely.”
Path 1: The Forgotten.
The grass transitions from a pale green to a deep blue while the trees gradually lose their leaves. You cannot see in front of you; a heavy fog slowly reveals the next scene within this ‘path’. Each step takes your soul through a journey of love and loss.
You are left wondering why.
“Spike!” an unfamiliar voice calls out, a ball slowly rolling to your feet.
“Remember? You promised to get the ball next round.” His innocent smile perks up into a slightly sinister grin.
He throws the ball further along the blue grass. Following the ball’s trajectory, the fog lifts, revealing a roadside.
“Oops, too far. I’ll get it, don’t worry Spike! You can get it next round.” He runs onto the road, briefly hesitating whether he should go find a new object to play with or not.
A sharp crack fills the air. You notice that silently, the ball has come rolling back to your feet, leaving a trail of red splatters behind it.
“How could you forget this?” A voice asks.
“This is the path of The Forgotten.”
Path 2: The Beginning
Your instincts guide you towards the middle path. The grass warms up in hue, transforming from a deep green to a bright yellow as the trees gradually phase out, allowing the sun to illuminate the space.
You see someone familiar, too familiar to be anyone but yourself. Perked up in a chair; hand up, ready to ask a question.
“If five dollars is a lot of money, why can’t I buy anything?” you ask, naïve to the weight of that question.
Taken aback, your teacher clears her throat, abruptly pacing away from your desk.
“Only the world knows the answer to that question.” She chuckles nervously, scuttling back to the centre of the class. You sit in your seat, still confused.
The path space shifts into a dull house; your parents are here.
VCE · Text Response
Text Response: ‘The text is a bleak portrayal of society,…
VCE Text Response essay scoring 70%: John Steinbeck’s novella Of Mice and Men is set in California, near Soledad, during the Great Depression portrays a…
John Steinbeck’s novella Of Mice and Men is set in California, near Soledad, during the Great Depression portrays a world where dreams are crushed and there is little hope that anything will get better. This world is plagued with poverty, and powerlessness, showing a desolate cycle of working hard but gaining nothing. This novella shows readers that friendship mostly fails to resolve problems like misogyny, racism, ageism and isolation that makes his characters powerless. Ultimately through Curley's wife and Candy Steinbeck presents the idea of how some people are systematically discriminated against. However there are small glints of hope that keep the characters going through the gruelling times of the Great Depression. Curley’s wife is a victim of misogyny, as her identity is completely defined by her relationship to Curley, Candy has to endure constant ageism as he is closing in on his due date in a world that values only those who can work. Furthermore Crooks is at the very bottom of the social hierarchy due to his race. He is looked down upon and cannot do anything but keep to himself. On the other hand George Milton and Lennie Small provide a solution to the lackluster environment of the Great Depression; they show that companionship can be an antidote to isolation and the cruel reality of this world.
VCE · Text Response
Text Response: “‘I am so happy,’ Constance said at last,…
VCE Text Response essay scoring 87.5%: Isolation in ‘We Have Always Lived in the Castle’ operates as antidote to the oppressive norms of an outside…
Isolation in ‘We Have Always Lived in the Castle’ operates as antidote to the oppressive norms of an outside world - not just physically, but ideologically. Against the backdrop of resurgent traditionalism in post-war America, Shirley Jacksons gothic novel proposes that the synthesis of new moral architecture is the only coherent response to systemic hostility. Within the story, Merricat’s isolated world is not merely a response to hostility - it is an intentional construction of a sovereign reality she has designed, and, through Merricat’s elliptical prose, readers are made complicit in her orchestrated isolation. Yet Jackson elevates the concept of a ‘hostile world’ further, suggesting that Merricat’s moral microcosm is not radical - but the only coherent system against a morally bankrupt society. Thus, ‘We Have Always Lived in the Castle’ is constructed as an unapologetic indictment of post-war social corruption - one that refuses reform in favour of total reinvention.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Title: What I Carried With Me Stimulus…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 72.5%: What I Carried With Me Like clockwork, I lock myself in the toilet with my only company being half empty…
What I Carried With Me
Like clockwork, I lock myself in the toilet with my only company being half empty curly hair products. I have remained loyal to my year 8 self; every Sunday, I sacrifice two hours of my time transforming the nest on my head into a bush of hydrangeas. Of course, this is easier said than done. You must begin with your hair dripping,the weight must be felt in the depths of your spine. Don’t concern yourself with the aching in your neck, it is an ode to this beautiful metamorphosis. Then, you must partition sections of your hair no matter how much it rebels against the rat tail comb. Following, you must apply a generous amount of product, curly cream then gel then mousse and oil to seal the deal. You must show each strand equal affection, do not let one section of your hair dry out.
And always remember, your hair is a synecdoche of someone greater, a teenage girl which can not be confined, a girl which remains true to her nature.
“Are you going to straighten your hair for Eid?”
The silence was the only response my mind could offer. Straighten…my hair? Why is my anatomy up for discussion in the first place? I knew my mother and I knew this demand was reframed into a question to conveniently avoid an argument. Yet still I wanted to push, I vowed to see how deep her disapproval of my DNA corrupted her mind.
“I don’t know…I might.”
“It looks better straightened.” She smiles in attempts to reconstruct any boundary she disintegrated. She comes closer, toiling with the strands. I let her, her genetics are responsible for it at the end of the day. As I look up I see her palms face open, she presses each palm to either side of my head. She then presses down, in attempts to suppress, in attempts to constrain, in attempts to rewire.
“You’re frizzing up my hair!” I pull away overwhelmed by her audacity.
“It is so messy!”
VCE · Text Response
Text Response: Discuss the poetry of Percy Bysshe Shelley.
VCE Text Response essay scoring 85%: Percy Bysshe Shelley was a male poet in the early 18th century who was evidently a radical, often writing about…
Percy Bysshe Shelley was a male poet in the early 18th century who was evidently a radical, often writing about major tyrannical leaders and events. Shelley's poetry suggests that he had a deep understanding of the true extent of the corruption engulfing the world, as seen in his poem 'Feelings Of A Republican On The Fall Of Bonaparte.' The poem emphasises Napoleon Bonaparte's tragic fall and his corrupt ideas and views about power using potent language such as 'Massacre', and 'Oblivion'. Shelley uses this language to explain Bonaparte's mind in a way that captures the pure sociopathic ideals that were occuring during Bonaparte's ruling.
Shelley mentions faith in a negative context, labelling it as, 'the foulest birth of Time', which indicates that having faith in people that are perceived as heroic can often lead to the demise of important morals and values of humanity.
A similar concept can be noticed in Shelley's poem 'England in 1819', a poem created after the Peterloo Massacre. Shelley describes the British monarch as 'despised', similar to Napoleon Bonaparte being seen as a tyrant. The idea that people born in royalty, 'neither see nor feel nor know,' sets a realistic view into the corruption of the British monarch in 1819; the King simply did not care about the civilians in his country, just cared for the power and glory of being King.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Destination Unknown
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 82.5%: I was speechless. The higher my gaze rose the further my heart dropped. Mount Kinabalu. Standing at over 4000…
I was speechless. The higher my gaze rose the further my heart dropped.
Mount Kinabalu. Standing at over 4000 meters tall is the tallest peak in Malaysia. My brain filled with emotions of fear and regret.
‘Why did I recommend this,’ I thought in the moment. Though, I am here now, there is no way to escape. I contemplated about my future arrival at my unknown destination.
The trek began hastily; each small insignificant step would guide me to the purposeful summit of tomorrow. One kilometre in, my legs sat still, unbothered, though my heart almost thumped out of my chest. Our guide was still leading while local workers were still passing. Everything was working out fine.
The following two kilometres were a breeze, as I ingested a cheap Malaysian muesli bar. I kept climbing and walking, pushing forward despite the second thoughts and doubts racing through my indecisive mind. The more steps I laid, the more elevation I gained, the closer that mountain tip was to piercing through my heart.
I reminisced about my old self, reading the guide with an ego. ‘Only 6kms day one? And only 10kms day two? Where’s the challenge?’ I truly dislike my own ignorance.
Though my legs began to ache, the dense, tropical rainforest became more apparent the higher we went. Orchids and mosses became common. The overhanging ferns were not helping, further compromising my legs. More local workers began passing by, smiles shining into the environment, working for almost illegal amounts of money, carrying the lodges food, water and waste. Damn. Why am I complaining? The more I pondered the smoother my steps became, the lighter my bag became, the more open my mind became.
The clearing, purposed for a food stop vaguely appeared ahead. Slowly the rainforest was being left in the past, the rocky and dirty terrain was overpowering the moss and native grasses. Past the food stop, the path grew wider, as did my vision. Ferns still hung over the edges of the steep path, although they are avoidable now. Our path’s incline has increased dramatically, the steps, now made from rock, became larger and more natural. My journey had now revealed itself but my destination remained unknown.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Destination Unknown
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 82.5%: I was speechless. The higher my gaze rose the further my heart dropped. Mount Kinabalu. Standing at over 4000…
I was speechless. The higher my gaze rose the further my heart dropped.
Mount Kinabalu. Standing at over 4000 meters tall is the tallest peak in Malaysia. My brain filled with emotions of fear and regret.
‘Why did I recommend this,’ I thought in the moment, but I am here now, there is no way to escape. I thought about my future arrival at my unknown destination.
The trek began hastily; each small insignificant step would guide me to the purposeful summit of tomorrow. One kilometre in, my legs sat still, unbothered, though my heart almost thumped out of my chest. Our guide was still leading while local workers were still passing, everything was working out fine.
The following two kilometres were a breeze, as I ingested a cheap Malaysian muesli bar. I kept climbing and walking, pushing forward despite the second thoughts and doubts racing through my indecisive mind. The more steps I laid, the more elevation I gained, the closer that mountain tip was to piercing through my heart.
I reminisced about my old self, reading the guide with an ego. ‘Only 6kms day one? And only 10kms day two? Where’s the challenge?’ I truly dislike my own ignorance.
Though my legs began to ache, the dense, tropical rainforest became more apparent the higher we went. Orchids and mosses became common. The overhanging ferns were not helping, further compromising my legs. More local workers began passing by, smiles shining into the environment, working for almost illegal amounts of money, carrying the lodges food, water and waste. Damn. Why am I complaining? The more I pondered the smoother my steps became, the lighter my bag became, the more open my mind became.
The clearing, purposed for a food stop vaguely appeared ahead. Slowly the rainforest was being left in the past, the rocky and dirty terrain was overpowering the moss and native grasses. Past the food stop, the path grew wider, as did my vision. Ferns still hung over the edges of the steep path, although they are avoidable now. Our path’s incline has increased dramatically, the steps, now made from rock, became larger and more natural. My journey had now revealed itself but my destination remained unknown.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Destination Unknown
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 80%: I was speechless. The higher my gaze rose the further my heart dropped. Mount Kinabalu. Standing at over 4000…
I was speechless. The higher my gaze rose the further my heart dropped.
Mount Kinabalu. Standing at over 4000 meters tall is the tallest peak in Malaysia. My brain filled with emotions of fear and regret.
‘Why did I recommend this,’ I thought in the moment. But I am here now, there is no way to escape. I thought about my future arrival at my unknown destination, difficulty of the hike
The trek began hastily; each small insignificant step would guide me to the purposeful summit of tomorrow. One kilometre in, my legs sat still, unbothered, though my heart almost thumped out of my chest. Our guide was still leading, local workers were still passing, everything was working out fine.
The following two kilometres were a breeze, as I ingested a cheap Malaysian muesli bar. I kept climbing and walking, pushing forward despite the second thoughts and doubts racing through my indecisive mind. The more steps I laid, the more elevation I gained, the closer that mountain tip was to piercing through my heart.
I reminisced about my old self, reading the guide with an ego. ‘Only 6kms day one? And only 10kms day two? Where’s the challenge?’ I truly dislike my own ignorance.
Though my legs began to ache, the dense, tropical rainforest became more apparent the higher we went. Orchids and mosses became common. The overhanging ferns were not helping, further compromising my legs. More local workers began passing by, smiles shining into the environment, working for almost illegal amounts of money, carrying the lodges food, water and waste. Damn. Why am I complaining? The more I pondered the smoother my steps became, the lighter my bag became, the more open my mind became.
The clearing, purposed for a food stop vaguely appeared ahead, slowly the rainforest was being left in the past, the rocky and dirty terrain was overpowering the moss and native grasses. Past the food stop, the path grew wider, as did my vision. Ferns still hung over the edges of the steep path, although they are avoidable now. Our path’s incline has increased dramatically, the steps, now made from rock, became larger and more natural. My journey had now revealed itself but my destination remained unknown.
VCE · Creative Response
Creative Response: Should every weekend be a 3-day…
VCE Creative Response essay scoring 85%: With the Christmas Holidays ending, school children and employees alike have one question for the government:…
With the Christmas Holidays ending, school children and employees alike have one question for the government: Why don’t we have a three day holiday? In theory, it seems like an easy implementation. Three day weekend means more relaxation, and who doesn’t want a little extra break in between the gruelling study hours and the monotonous click-clack of keyboards. On further thinking, however, the answer to most becomes a resounding no. This is because many are used to two day weekends, and a day of revenue lost per week is a lot in the business world, especially in the context of growing businesses.