Friday, 9 November 2012


Here is a recent English assignment I have completed on perspectives and point of view. I basically had to write a story on one particular scene, then "translate" it into the perspective of another person, in this case my ICT teacher. Take a look:

My Perspective

I was young and new to my school. I was just like a sponge, ready to soak up new things and start new hobbies. I walked around the school, acting really skittish like a nervous wreck, and decided to step into a room. There were walls painted as white as a pearl with wallpaper gleaming like gold, carpets newly placed, colourful as a rainbow. There were endless rows of blank black computers, crying out to me to turn them on and unleash their powers harnessed under a shining new untouched monitor. Not a speck of dust lay on the keyboards and not a fingerprint was visible on the mice. As I stood at the door admiring this tempting scene, my eyes came to rest on a tall lady with curly hair of golden tresses. She welcomed me with open arms, and invited me to sit in front of one of the new machines that stood on what looked like a plank rampaged to a state of destroyed wood and peeling varnish. As I sat on the stool, creaking as if it was being squashed to smithereens, I was unable to control my arms and hands, as they gently came to rest on the mouse and keyboard. I must have been hypnotized by the excitement I had built up, as the lady with beaming eyes and a kind smile said “Turn it on, my dear”. Only then had I realised the computer was not even on. My hand slid under the table and reached for the button lost in the forest of thick wiring, and when I finally found it, gently pressed it. The screen burst out with life as I saw a blank screen of sea blue appear. I had never used anything like this before, so my eyes were glued on to the screen, my head edging toward the monitor like a peacock. When the computer finally booted up, the teacher guided me gracefully toward a icon of the head of a orange cat with eyes bulging out of its sockets and eyebrows floating just above, just like a halloween decoration. Underneath in neat white letters with a gray subtle shadow read “Scratch”.

The world around me gradually faded away and disappeared into space as I guided myself around. There were buttons everywhere, and so like any typical 9 year old boy, I was curious, therefore clicked everywhere like a maniac. I think I must have nearly caused the whole computer to crash down and burn, as the teacher grew increasingly concerned and anxious like a parent of ten hyper children. Finally, after a while of meaningless clicking, I was drawn into a small tool called “Paint”. There was a paint palette with colours as diverse as the people on Earth, paint brushes lined up neatly like a impatient class in assembly and a blank white space. But to me this was no blank white space, it was full of opportunity, and soon it had become a garden of colour.

My mind zoomed out again into the gleaming room to find to my surprise there were many other children round my age doing the same as I had done. Some were clicking away, storming into the computer like a elephant escaped from the zoo, some more calm and civilized, mind stuck to the program like glue. So with the reaffirmation that I was not alone, my mind clicked and a light bulb must have appeared above my head. My hands once again went out of control and I started getting to work. When I looked closer, I saw what looked like weird lego blocks sitting in formation. Staring at the colourful building blocks at were screaming to be chosen and pieced together with their counterparts, I slowly began the process of selecting the pieces to be used. The plain “building site” was as empty as an undeveloped field, quickly became a thriving city of multicoloured blocks of different shapes and sizes.

But soon a tear rolled down from my eye like a quiet rain drop. Break time was over and I had to return to my class. I unwillingly dragged my feet across the floor, scraping the mud of my shoes in the process, but I knew nothing would stop me going back to the computers of tranquility to continue my passion!

Teacher’s Perspective

That was my second year at the school where I met Marius, and thus decided to try something new. As always, many students frolicked through the ICT lab I had decorated with crisp white walls and sparkling gold wallpaper. The carpet had recently been replaced and looked spectacular, just like a palace. But one day in the first week of school, a boy of 9 years caught my attention. He was tall for his age, shoes polished and gleaming black, hair combed to look like a businessman and face beaming with excitement. I put on a wide smile as if he was taking my photograph, and waved like a ballerina to invite him in. I soon came to know him as Marius, and he was acting really skittish. He shuffled his feet as if something was holding him back, and sat himself down in front of one of the computers I had recently used my energy to clean so it gleamed in the midday sun like silver. By the way Marius looked, it was as if he had never seen a computer before. His eyes opened wide like a hawk, hands shaking slightly nervously as his hands came to rest on the sparkling mouse and spotless keyboard. A smile gradually surfaced on his face, just as if he had gotten all the candy he could eat. I gestured him to open a program I was learning too. It was called “Scratch” and the symbol was a bright orange cat with a line for a mouth, big eyes that I have to admit were quite creepy, and eyebrows levitating above.

I watched him from behind, and soon I was intrigued by his childish actions. His hands maneuvering the mouse at a pace as fast as a sprinter, and finger clicking down ever so often that made a sound like an insect. I truly was not actually very concerned, as from my observations, he would not do any harm to the computer, precious as a gem to me.

Soon, children of all ages started pouring in from all doors and plopping themselves in front of the computers. My heart sank like a rock in water as they covered the monitors in sweat with their greasy hands that had just been playing outside and going hyper al over my new carpets, now not as perfect as they were just 2 minutes before. But Marius still sat there, playing around with Scratch and learning by himself. I was very interesting to watch as he started learning about the fundamental elements of Scratch. What was a rampage and near destruction of the program, was now a child, as eager as a hungry lion, actually getting somewhere now.

In the distance, I heard the faint disappointing ring of a bell in the distance, and Marius stood up, and I could see a flash of sadness on his face, as if something had been stolen from him. As he walked out the door I got a reaffirmation that he would be back, his compassionate as a monk attitude and all.

1 comment:

  1. Thanks for the effort you put into this and for choosing to post it.