BAROMETER THE
WETHERBY SENIOR SCHOOL WEEKLY OCTOBER 29th 2018 | WEEK 7
WSS CELEBRATES NATIONAL POETRY DAY!
FROM THE HEADMASTER
Saludos cordiales, I hope that the return to school and the sudden change in the weather has not proved too much of a shock to the system for your sons. They all appear to be in good spirits and I am pleased to hear that so many of them were able to make the most of the two weeks to travel, try new things or just relax. Please make sure that your son has a coat with him as it gets colder – I know it is not always easy to get teenagers into coats – but I watched several boys get caught in a shower yesterday and I am sure it was not much fun sitting soaked in lesson 4. Last night was the formal opening of the Sixth Form Centre and it was a pleasure to welcome the Year 12 boys, their parents, APG directors and other APG Heads to the School. The boys have embraced the Sixth Form and it was interesting to hear Sean and Oli talk about their experiences and what
they have enjoyed about making the step up. There is a lot going on for them with Mandarin, Ceramics, Coding and other things making up the A Level + course, boys embarking on Young Enterprise and our first trip to a Model United Nations conference next term. Tonight is a night that a number of the parents have worked long and hard for – Havana Nights – the charity fundraiser. There are a number of auction lots available and bidding has already started online (www. wetherbysenior-auction. co.uk) with more lots available on the night. Tickets can still be purchased through Parent Pay. Enjoy this week’s edition which showcases the boys’ creativity, and that of the staff, with a selection of their poetry. I look forward to seeing you at our events later in the term: the Senior Play, Frankenstein, on 6th & 7th December and the Christmas
Concert on 12th December. Until then, in honour of Havana Nights…. Esperemos verlos esta noche disfrutando de nuestra Fiesta Habanera,
WEEK B MONDAY
WEEKLY DIARY 05.11.18
Artist in Residence Even (Afternoon Club) Talk for Sixth Form Boys - Jamie Jewitt - ‘Ctrl, Alt, Delete - The Effect of Social Media’ at Francis Holland School, Regents Park 15:00 Year 8 Parents Evening, Hannah House 17:30-19:30
TUESDAY
06.11.18
Years 9-12 Pupil and Parent talk about life at Falmouth Art and Design Collage, Art Room, Hannah House 18:00-19:00
WEDNESDAY
07.11.18
Football U12/13 WSS ABCD v Eaton Square (H) 2.30pm Football 1st XI v Chobham Academy (A) 2.30pm Rugby Development Squad WSS U16/17 vs ASL (H) 14:45
THURSDAY
08.11.18
GCSE Drama: Devised Module Showing of Work’ 6pm Rugby WSS U14 XV vs UCS (A) 14:40
FRIDAY
09.11.18
SATURDAY
10.11.17
SUNDAY
11.11.17
Remebrance Assembly at Hinde Street Methodist Church 15:15-15:45
WETHERBY SENIOR SCHOOL WATER BOTTLE
Please ensure all uniform, games kit and equipment is clearly named.
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IMPORTANT NOTICES
MONDAY
TUESDAY
WEDNESDAY
Soup: Courgette
Soup: Minestrone
Soup: Tomato
Main: Roasted vegetable spaghetti sauce
Main: BBQ chicken drumsticks
Main: Pork/chicken sausages
Meat Free: Vegetable and cheese pizza
Meat Free: Warm cauliflower couscous
To Go With: Vegetable cous cous, sweetcorn, sweet potato wedges
To Go With: Caramelised onions, mashed potatoes, steamed green beans, gravy
Dessert: Sticky toffee pudding
Dessert: Jelly bowls with whipped cream
THURSDAY
FRIDAY
EVERY DAY
Soup: Mushroom
Soup: Chicken Noodle
Main: Beef Lasagne
Main: Fish fingers (gluten free) or steamed fish with garlic & lemon
Meat Free: Baked potatoes To Go With: Garlic & parsley spaghetti pasta, courgette spirals, garlic bread, sweetcorn, tuna mayo, baked beans Dessert: Chocolate mousse
Meat Free: Tomato, courgette, aubergine lasagne
Meat Free: Farfalle pasta, grilled peppers & basil
To Go With: Grilled mixed vegetables, sautéed aubergine with salsa verde & goat’s cheese, carrot rounds
To Go With: Chips, garden peas, mushy peas, tartare sauce
Dessert: Eton Mess
Dessert: Chocolate fudge brownies
Freshly Made Bread Homemade Salads Vegetable Crudités With Hummus Sandwich & Wrap Selection Meat & Cheese Platters Fresh Fruit
MENU
CELEBRATING POETRY WEEK IN ENGLISH Miss Kirk writes… The English Department are thrilled to feature in this week’s Barometer and to share just some of what has been going on within our classrooms over the past few days… Inspired by Halloween and National Poetry Day before half-term, Year 9 and 10 have exercised their creativity through producing gothic poems in a range of poetic forms. Year 10, about to commence their study of Macbeth, were eager to showcase how well they already knew the play through their holiday reading and I have been impressed by the ability of many to extract key quotations for their acrostic poetry. Year 7 and 8 took the opportunity in their first lesson back to reflect on the novels studied before half-term: The Outsiders and Of Mice and Men. Miss Tooze and Mr Chidell were both delighted to witness the boys’ enthusiasm at returning to these classics and had to reassure the boys that studying Henry V and Much Ado About Nothing this half-term will be just as fun! Higher up the school, our Year 12 boys demonstrated their maturity in producing moving pieces related to themes explored during their study of American Literature, predominantly in Grapes of Wrath and The Great Gatsby.
Very much inspired by the department’s celebration of poetry this week, Miss Ridley and Mr Lawrence have both shared their favourite poems, accompanied by critical appreciations of them, which I hope you enjoy. Finally, it would not have been an English-themed Barometer without our annual Staff Haiku Competition! From Halloween to Politics to Killing Eve, the Wetherby staff have succeeded in maintaining their reputation as a varied, poetically talented and highly creative bunch. If you would like to join in and send me your own haiku, I’d love to read it and promise to reply solely in haiku form…
THE OUTSIDERS A description inspired by the abandoned church in Chapter 5 of the novel by Alexander F. Eerily, wind crept through the shattered aging windows into the silent, abandoned church. It was full of splintered wood, rotting on the cold stone floor. Huge pillars stood by the edges like grand oak trees, slowly crumbling into dust. The once majestic velvet curtains had been scattered with holes from moths and vines crept up the cream pillars like snakes waiting to catch their meal. Odious condensation dripped from the carefully painted roof, looming over the rest of the great church. Overgrown foliage bristled between the dark stone.
‘Sunset’ by Enzo T Seduced by its beauty Under the never-ending horizon Night plunges the earth into darkness Soon it will return Endless possibility of a rising sun Till morning light, I know it will come back
A description inspired by the abandoned church in Chapter 5 of the novel by Niam S I took another footstep. Darkness floated around me and the silence pierced through my eyes. The halftorn walls glanced at me in anger and everlasting pieces of paper covered the magnificent, daunting church. The clock ticked on. Last bits of cobwebs hung on tight, about to break and fall gently to the ground. Shattered windows stood at the back of the church, innocently.
OF MICE AND MEN HAIKUS
Friends are there for you; When you are in a bad place, They make it better. (Ed H)
Mr Chidell’s Year 8 class has recently finished reading John Steinbeck’s most famous novella: Of Mice and Men. After a discussion about the ethical implications raised by the story’s dramatic climax, boys were asked to write haikus (short poems, originating in Japan, traditionally of three lines and seventeen syllables) about the book’s themes, its plot, or its setting. Here are some of the best from the class.
Two friends are dreaming Coming to a strange old place. It all goes downhill. (Dan R) In the olden days We’d sit by the riverside. Those days are finished. (James U)
We shall start as friends Then we shall work together But you will die first! (Max K)
A special friendship; Two very special people; Both share the same dream. (Raphael L) Both workers on a Path of destiny. Beware! Not every path’s paved. (Ramzi K)
Two friends go to farm. One of them kills a lady. Everyone freaks out! (Andrew H)
Two friends have been fired; They find a farm to work at. One shoots the other. (Isaac E)
YEAR 9 NARRATIVE OPENINGS Miss Ridley’s Year 9 students are just about to complete their study of Gothic Literature, and are set to produce their own Gothic narrative, using any of the texts they’ve looked at as inspiration. Ranging from Dracula and Frankenstein to The Picture of Dorian Gray and The Yellow Wallpaper, from the looks of these example narrative openings, Miss Ridley is going to have a very spooky and grotesque Halloween week, indeed!
Shivering in desperation, Adrian’s emaciated body – clothed in damp rags – lay silently on the dank marble floor. Clawing of nearby rats on the wooden skirting boards echoed eerily throughout the house. A maid’s incomprehensible murmurs could be heard from the basement kitchen. Adrian let out a moan. I heaved the heavy oak door closed and attached the golden latch to it. No escape. Not for Adrian. Another moan escaped his dry and feeble lips. I remember a time, long ago, when Adrian’s cheeks were rosier than the pinkest of sweet roses, and his smile exposed gleaming white teeth. His lithe body could achieve the greatest of sporting feats, and his bright mind delivered definitions and facts more detailed than an encyclopaedia. But this was a long time ago. Long before he met me. Long before I took him to his first opium den.
As I turned, I caught my reflection in a shattered mirror. Distorted as it was, the view which met my eyes was dazzling: sparkling, fresh, cerulean eyes curtained by thick, lustrous blueblack eyelashes, which fluttered provocatively, met my gaze. My skin was a thick, creamy canvas, punctured with protruding, plump, red lips which were as neatly defined as an artist’s precise brush strokes. No wonder women fell at my feet; I was an Adonis. If only they knew what vulgar and satanic ugliness lay deep in my soul…
In a minute hamlet on the outskirts of a large, robust city teeming with people, pollution and noise, there lived an elderly, wise and intriguing man. Wrinkled and shrivelled, his skin looked like tracing paper stretched tightly over an uneven and knobbly surface. Covered in raw rashes, his cheeks were constantly ablaze; bright, burnt-orange sores throbbed and oozed. So very angered by his unappealing appearance – children would squirm in the streets and hide their faces under their mothers’ thick, fluffy winter coats – this elderly, wise and intriguing man decided to create something: something even more grotesque than himself. A monster.
A raven harshly cawed its foreboding trill on a night when the whole sky was illuminated by the full, mottled moon. Stepping over broken branches and next to sharp briars, I peered into the bright night atmosphere and my blood cooled at the tremble of a not-so-distant wool howl. Again, it howled! To my left, the ominous woods stood; a sea of intertwined, skeletal limbs were grasping at me. To my right, a lit, dirt path appeared to lead to a large, impressive mansion. It was three of four storeys tall from where I stood, and completely smothered in emerald-green ivy that cascaded onto the snakelike driveway. Nervously but speedily treading up the path, my camel-brown coat caught on the dark, prickly thorns that grew taller than beanstalks on either side. They consumed the narrow pathway as I edged closer and closer to the steely-black gate. When reaching up to the ring the silver bell, I winced; crimson blood soaked through a tear in my coat and slid down my forearm.
YEAR 9 GOTHIC POEMS Year 9 spent last halfterm studying the Gothic genre: from ‘Dracula’ and ‘Frankenstein’ to ‘The Shining’! This week they combined their knowledge of the Gothic with National Poetry Day and Halloween to create some spooky poems!
A step. And a step once more. One more small enthusiastic, brisk movement. Confused, I was rooted to the floor. What would I do? The darkness was tangible, it had changed quickly and sharply. It now crept upon us with venom and danger Hot and red. Due to this early death, we couldn’t move far. What will happen to me, paralysed in bed? A jolt. And a jolt once more. A human was struck near to me, it caused pain worldwide. Bewildered. I attempted to aid my poor, weak friend To no avail. Tragedy had struck. A deep roar. I looked to the ground, with alarm in my mind. My best friend lay dead on the ground. What had he done to deserve this terrible horror? Jack, I will kill your murderer, by being a slaughterer.
The world has gone silent, has there been a wipe out? What could I do, alone with no materials? I questioned my safety. Run, run, run as far as you possibly can. To get away from this terror is to achieve life’s aims. As I arrived at my new homeland, I felt suddenly more warm. I made the best decision of my life to move. My brain feels safer, calmer, more at ease. At last I can rest. The clouds turn in, it suddenly starts to rain. Out of the blue, I am hurt and bleeding, to the point of… Theo W.
From dust they rise From hills they despise A long time before A falling leaf. They are ready with their razor teeth. Nosily, noisily They chomp, chomp on everything Until there is Nothing. A stranger A mother A brother They chomp. Always ready to chomp, chomp, chomp.
The trees swayed in the breeze, The leaves falling with ease, The moon;s bright glow, Made the pavement shine so, The owls in the trees, Sung a song to make the ears light up with cease, But the howls of hounds, Made even the stray rats pounce, For the wolves moved at a pace never seen That the villagers screamed. Danny B.
Danny S.
Haunted Halloween is indeed true, With skeletons dancing to a tune And children’s cries snuffed out soon. Under a red blood moon, A hooded figure wonders the night To give an unruly fright. Indeed Halloween is haunted, So heed my warning and hope you’re not wanted!
Halloween is here, so you must prepare. Toilet paper being thrown everywhere, Little kids are scattered on your streets, Begging and annoying you asking for your sweets. The worst part of all of this is, we’re not even on vacation. So thank you very much, America, for this rubbish celebration.
Ramtin L.
Ahmed A.
The groaning ghosts, The howling wolves, The devils of hell, All demons of the night. The gruesome witches, The disgusting monsters, The hounds of death, All demons of the night. The wailing banshees, The blood-sucking vampires, The zombies of the grave, All demons of the night. Zachary G.
YEAR 10: OH HORROR! AVAUT AND QUIT MY SIGHT! Miss Kirk writes… This week, Year 10 are commencing their study of Shakespeare’s ‘Scottish Play’ (Macbeth!), which has felt particularly apt during this bitingly chilly Halloween week. Inspired by an array of different poetic forms, from haikus to acrostics, or responding to the language of the play, the boys have produced a creative range of work.
Th’ attempt and not the deed confounds us” Renown and grace is dead” After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well” Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead are but as pictures” Ere the bat hath flown his cloistered flight… there shall be done a deed of dreadful note” Do you not hope your children shall be kings?” Your royal father's murder’d" Leo M Masterfully told by the bard, Acted out in playhouses, Crafted for a royal and his guard, Bloodcurdling and full of red blouses, Empty of honesty or similar regard, This is a timeless piece, Historians thus love it and use it for the GCSE.
Emile V S
M a c b e t h
acbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! Beware Macduff!
ll the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand
ome, let me clutch thee
e bloody, bold, and resolute
ye of newt and toe of frog
here 's daggers in men's smiles over through the fog and filthy air by Alex P-T.
A PERSONAL RESPONSE TO AMERICAN LITERATURE Miss Kirk writes… Fruitless striving for the ‘American Dream’. Vacuous hedonistic living. Characters barren of spirituality. The ‘lost’ souls of a post-war generation. The violent pace of the Roaring 20s. The catastrophic crash of the 1930s. Modernism. Romanticism. Women. Race. Class. Violence. American Literature. Tasked with the challenge of providing a personal response to the themes explored so far in their study of The Great Gatsby and Grapes of Wrath, this week Year 12 put pen to paper to produce the following. Fitzgerald and Steinbeck would be impressed, I think...
This man came from nothing, nobody knew his name. Grew up impoverished and hungry for more. The refusal of his fate sparked his godly rise. Strive, strength, determination and luck meant the biggest prize, Until no money… became too much money. Suddenly hundreds of uninvited people came to his parties. His wealth was for her, his parties were for her, His world was for her, his life was for her. Yet, nothing she did was for him. Actually, what she did was cause his young death. But nobody came to his funeral, apart from two He went disregarded in the cruel times of the Roaring Twenties. That is the tragic story of Gatsby. The Great Gatsby.
The Working Man
Sean M.
And he carries on.
Man follows the trail of work, his route hazy and the horizon distant. Plodding across the land: They said profit was for the persistent. Man contracts man for his labour, blood, muscles, nerves and thought solidify. Building the wealth of the land: They said his own prosperity would multiply. Man begins to wonder where the journey will end, each day becomes a typical mist. The heart deserts the land. They said he would not be dismissed. Man feels a resentment within. It ferments, brews, smoulders... Vexation be damned. Man carries on.
Talal H.
OTHELLO PLAY REVIEW On October 8th, I saw the play ‘Othello’ at the Globe Theatre. This tragedy was written by William Shakespeare and was first performed in 1604. ‘Othello’ explores the themes of: jealousy, love, racial prejudice and manipulation. The play is set in Venice, until Othello leaves to Cyprus to fight against the invading Turks. Iago, the play’s antagonist, resents Othello as he chose Cassio to be lieutenant and not him. As a result, Iago attempts to ruin Othello’s life and high-ranking position as general. Iago pretends to support Othello in order to gain his trust, so that Othello will believe all the deceitful lies Iago tells. Iago knows that Othello’s hamartia is extreme jealousy, and so he convinces Othello that his beloved wife, Desdemona, is having an affair with Lieutenant Cassio. This is the spark, which causes Othello to go mad with jealousy, lose faith in Desdemona and it is the beginning of his gradual downfall. Iago uses the fact that Cassio had Desdemona’s handkerchief as a sign that they are having an affair, thus confirming Othello’s belief of his wife’s infidelity. Othello’s rage and hatred cause him to horrifically murder Desdemona by smothering her. Emilia, who is Iago’s wife (even though she resents the idea of being with him) realises what Iago has done and tells Othello the truth, as a result Iago
murders Emilia but is caught by two soldiers before he can escape. Othello cannot come to terms with what he has done, and so he stabs himself and dies. Iago is taken to Venice to be executed. The image of both Desdemona and Othello lying dead on stage illustrates the destructive impact of the conniving Iago and creates a poignant and sorrowful image. Shakespeare’s tragedy highlights the importance of trust, and the dangers of envy and suspicion. It is also important to know that Othello is supposedly a ‘moor’ (someone from North Africa) and so it addresses the idea of racial prejudice during the Jacobean era. Consequently, not all people support Othello’s marriage to Desdemona and
because he is a different race is also considered a factor of his downfall, due to all the racial prejudice he encounters. Mark Rylance, who played the role of Iago, excellently captures the essence of a cunning and horrible man. His terrific acting created both humour and dread among the audience, evoking a clear portrayal of an untrustworthy villain. Andre Holland played the role of Othello, and his great acting clearly showed his gradual fall from grace, from a once noble man to a man riddled with hate and jealousy. The ability to watch a Shakespearean tragedy, in Shakespeare’s Globe added to the momentous and terrific feeling. Sean M. Year 12
MR LAWRENCE’S FAVOURITE POEM
Mr Lawrence writes... One of my favourite poets is the American poet, Robert Frost, and one of his poems I like most of all is called A Leaf Treader. Frost describes gathering up fallen leaves in his New England home and stamping them into a mulch in the compost heap. A few years ago I wrote a guide to some of Robert Frost’s poems and this is a short essay on this poem taken from it. Don’t worry if you don’t want to read it but, as autumn sets well and truly in, read and enjoy the poem. A Leaf-Treader explores the conflicting emotions aroused by work. Like the ‘overtired’ poet of his poem After Apple Picking the older Frost is ‘autumn-tired’ from the outset of the poem. The same colloquial language is used to express powerful and perplexing feelings. After all, why should the poet feel preoccupied by ‘fear’? The act of treading leaves into a compost heap transcends the literal and becomes symbolic. The fraught tone of ‘God knows all the colour and form of leaves I have trodden on and mired’ hides a kind of conflict that the poet wrestles
with. The beauty of nature is destroyed by the poet’s attempts to maintain or assert order. He feels both guilty at the wilful destruction but also relieved that he has ‘safely trodden underfoot the leaves of another year’. The metaphor of the ‘leaves of another year’ also bring to mind the paths strewn with leaves of his best known poem, The Road Not Taken. The act of the treader is one that is both literal and symbolic as acknowledged in the rather self-conscious invocation of the last line. It is an attempt ‘to keep on top of ’ things as well as a ‘fierce’ desire to see ‘another year’ ‘safely trodden underfoot’. The seasons are inextricably linked to Frost’s poems about labour in quite complicated ways. The late summer brings a harvest but also toil, the fall brings the beauty of the leaves but also the sense of mortality and the necessity to gather the debris. Winter brings the snow as a negation of life whilst even spring has its own call to repair the ravages of the frost. Frost fears the onset of winter or death or his potential to be overwhelmed finally by a triumphing natural world that no amount of labour will
tame? Maybe the reference to having ‘put forth too much strength’ voices the fears of an older man wondering how long his powers will last. The second verse has a retrospective quality that is tainted by fear. Perhaps it is a small reflection of Frost having lost ‘all measure of pace / And fixity in [his] joys’ (The Sound of Trees) in the sense that the beauty and ‘idle hours’ of the summer carry with them the unspoken threat of change (and of the work associated with autumn). The poet seems goaded by the leaves (if not in themselves then by their so obviously ephemeral quality). They can’t and won’t stay up there forever and their greenness cannot last – a fall must come. The leaves are personified as almost willing the change – if only to bring the poet to the ground with them – and ‘threatening under their breath’. Perhaps we should look to this sotto voce quality as importantly revealing the little voice at the back of the poet’s mind that whispers unwanted truths and subverts happiness. The ‘final place’ for the poet too will be ‘in earth’ after all. The tension of a poet seeking
to leave behind him a work (‘crop’, ‘harvest’?) that retains both ‘colour and form’ may inform this almost visionary or delusional sequence. The verse must outlive the seasons. A couple of lines from Frost’s early poem In Hardwood Groves find their echo here: ‘They must go down past things coming up / They must go down into the dark decayed’. The leaves harbour a malign intent? ‘And when they came it seemed with a will to carry me with them to death.’ The provisional quality of the phrases ‘I thought’ and ‘it seemed’ are reminders that the figurative association of vision can mean seeing things (i.e. illusions and tricks of the light) as well as seeing things as they are in a more profound and prophetic sense. This accounts for the wonderfully blunt penultimate line that sees Frost at his most powerfully truthful. The word ‘but’ casts away fancy and anchors the poem in fact. There was ‘no reason’ that the poet ‘had to go because they had to go’ and the temptation to self-indulgent fatalism of the first two lines is rejected in a moment of down to earth matter-of-fact. The
sensuous quality of the leaves as they ‘tapped’ at eyelids and ‘touched’ at lips emphasises the powerful draw of a poetic romanticism to the poet’s ‘strangely aching heart’. The ‘invitation to grief ’ is present in many of Frost’s poems but it is only an ‘invitation’ and not a foregone conclusion. The poet admits of ‘a fugitive in his heart’ that might seek to escape reality and become a ‘leaf ’ that can only submit to the imperative of nature. But he is not a leaf and a man must strive to overcome these feelings. Work has the capacity to answer the fears engendered by doubt as he acknowledges in the almost mannered and theatrical gathering of the strength (‘up my knee’ as an act of treading the leaves – literally too – as well as figuratively rising above his feelings) in the last line. The tone is of one steeling himself for more work in the face of the cold reward of ‘a year of snow’.
A Leaf Treader "I have been treading on leaves all day until I am autumntired. God knows all the colour and forms of leaves I have trodden on and mired. Perhaps I have put forth too much strength and been too fierce from fear. I have safely trodden underfoot the leaves of another year. All summer long they were overhead more lifted up than I; To come to their final place in earth they had to pass me by. All summer long I thought I heard them threatening under their breath, And when they came it seemed with a will to carry me with them to death. They spoke to the fugitive in my heart as if it were leaves to leaf; They tapped at my eyelids and touched my lips with an invitation to grief. But it was no reason I had to go because they had to go. Now up, my knee, to keep on top of another year of snow." Robert Frost
MISS RIDLEY’S FAVOURITE POEM Miss Ridley writes... Like other poems of hers, Maya Angelou’s ‘Caged Bird’ explores her own feelings of confinement – resulting from the racism and sexism she fell victim to. Here, through the presentation of an entrapped bird, symbolising Angelou herself, the reader is immersed in a simultaneously despairing and hopeful story. While the first stanza explores the freedom of a wild bird through the verbs ‘leaps’, ‘floats’, ‘dips’, and ‘dares’, the subsequent stanzas focus on the imprisoned bird and highlight the difficulty, for some, of achieving true
freedom. Instead of having autonomy and naming ‘the sky his own’, the trapped bird flounders in his ‘narrow cage’ with ‘clipped wings [and] tied feet.’ The reader, however, is alerted to the positivity of the poem by the confined bird’s ‘fearful trill’. Fright does not silence the bird, just like Angelou refused to let the oppression she suffered silence her. Depressing as it may seem that this bird ‘stands on the grave on dreams’, in reality the fact that he continues to ‘sing’ of ‘freedom’ reiterates Angelou’s inspirational resilience in the face of, to me, unimaginable cruelty and marginalisation.
Caged Bird by Maya Angelou A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing in the orange sun rays and dares to claim the sky. But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing. The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom. The free bird thinks of another breeze and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn and he names the sky his own. But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing. The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird
STAFF HAIKU COMPETITION Miss Kirk writes… Keeping with tradition, this week Wetherby staff have been challenged to produce a haiku: a poetic form where the first and last lines consist of 5 syllables and the middle line is formed of 7 syllables. Such poetic impulses were not reserved for those in the Arts- Science, Maths, PE and ICT departments all dusted off their quills and rose to the challenge. Here are a few of the English Department’s favourites, including the winning entries! Here is a selection of some of the English Department’s favourites… Mr Atkinson- Winner (Granny Smith’s head swung it..) Bobbing - only fun If the pail contains apples, not Granny Smith’s head Fiscal Phil’s budget Full of tricks and Tory treats Austerity gone? In Sleepy Hollow, Error at the post office “heads will roll” Said Crane Surely the ghouls and ghosts, on the night of Halloween, are scared of the living. When the boatman dies Will he be ferried across? Or stuck on the Styx? Scariest film ever? Saw? Scream? Halloween? The Ring? No, it’s Eat, Pray, Love.
Miss Webb (Runner Up) William H. Taft Was the fattest president. Got stuck in a bath. I once saw a rat Drink from a can with both hands Extraordinary Mr Chidell (Runner up) Pumpkin spice latte Caffeine abomination – I’ll have espresso. Five syllables and Then seven syllables more I still run out of – Waiku did you not Laiku my last two haiku? Go take a hike, you! Miss Mendes da costa The pumpkin is carved, The treats are laid out, but I Eat them all myself! Mr Kyles-Brown The Tribs: Walbrook Fleet Tyburn Effra Ravensbourne Serpentine Whitestone Mr Lawrence Ostensibly wise Yet bafflingly obtuse plus A non-sequitur Mr Bray Knocking at the door Go away frightful children I’m having my tea Miss Murray Shrill screams of children pain my ears. Is it lunchtime? No, it’s Halloween.
Miss Kirk Ah! Avaunt my sight! Spare me from such fearful sights! First day back: children. Miss Tooze I’m not really sure If I’ve got the hang of this But hope to improve. Miss Ridley A black silhouette Across a gleaming white moon Broomstick, pointed hat. Witches, monsters; what A bunch of Hocus Pocus, Have a happy Halloween Mr Avroutine This ghoul says my soul Is like a packet of sweets It is not that wrong. Mr Warner You will never guess Vassiliki hates haikus! ‘It’s just a sentence.’ Mrs Atkinson We write great haikus That is the Wetherby Way Hashtag Wetherby Miss Hoskins Dismal Halloween A tired ghostly student drifts Towards Hannah House
WSS PTA YEAR GROUP COORDINATOR & TRIB REP VOLUNTEERS To request email addresses of Year Group Coordinator and/ or Trib Reps, please contact WSS PTA on pta@wetherbysenior.co.ukÂ
Trib Representatives:
Year Group Coordinators:
7 Whitestone: Hellen Mwangi, Lisha Aquino Rooney
Year 7: Stephanie Vogel Year 8: Lauren Ricotta Year 9: Diane Brazier Rima Bajpai Year 10: Aurora Perli Larissa Piggott Testa Year 11: Karen Gillingwater Year 12: Monika Thacker Sule Cairaschi
Year 7 7 Serpentine: Tarina Shah
Year 8 8 Serpentine: Lia Kazi 8 Whitestone: Bettina Fornari Year 9 9 Walbrook: Rima Bajpai 9 Tyburn: Diane Brazier Year 10 10 Ravensboune: Michelle Byrnes 10 Fleet: Lisa Giles 10 Tyburn: Tracey Bower 10 Walbrook: Raffaella Bush
Year 11 11 Effra: Elena Abrahams, Karen Gillingwater 11 Fleet: Sule Cairaschi 11 Tyburn: Megan Holberton, Sofie von Graevenitz 11 Walbrook: Zina Hameed, Doroteia Elliott Year 12 12 Fleet: Sule Cairaschi 12 Tyburn: Monika Thacker 12 Walbrook: Serena Fianco
SPORTS NEWS
RUGBY U15B WSS vs Eaton Square 17-0 Man of the Match: Adam A-M and Stuart H
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