Year: 2012

Posted in info, National Year of Reading

Spring issue 2012 – OUT NOW!

Posted on by Alphabet Soup

Ah, spring—it’s just around the corner. All you champion readers, writers and artists—keep an eye on your letterboxes. Our spring issue is hot off the press!

Alphabet Soup issue 16 (cover)

Here’s what you’ll find inside issue 16:

… and more!

Subscribe via our website (you can order single copies from the subscribe page, too). If  you’re in WA, check out one of our WA stockists—Westbooks (Victoria Park) and Zero to Ten (South Fremantle) who will have copies of the winter issue to sell you by the end of the week.

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Young Writers in Action: The Magic Flower

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The Magic Flower by Marie, 10, VIC

As they slowly arrived closer to the city, they started to calm down and forget about the bushfire. It suddenly hit Bailey. “What about the flower? What if it got burned in the bushfire?” she wondered to herself. The nerves started to come back.

“Mum,” she sighed. “What if the flower got burned in the bushfire?”

“Not the flower,” Mum said in a cheerful sort of voice. “That flower has been there for many, many years and it has survived many disasters.”

“Really?” Bailey asked.

“Yes the flower will be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Bailey is a little girl, who lives in a small village called Pringle. Her mum worked around the house, and her dad is a pilot so Bailey didn’t get to see her dad very often. Near by, just up on the hill, there was a magic flower you could wish on. The flower was a bright golden colour, which shines every time you make a wish. The smell was a lovely lavender scent. The stem was a beautiful bright green. The leaves were as bright as the sun, and at night they glitter liked stars.

One bright sunny morning Bailey went out to make her daily wish. She closed her eyes and held on to the flower very tight. As she was making her wish, she smelt something burning in the distance.

Suddenly she heard, “RUN RUN GET AWAY FROM THE FIRE.” Bailey was horrified. She sprinted down the hill and slammed the front door behind her. Her mum had heard about the fire. Bailey couldn’t decide what to take with her. Would she take her favourite teddy bear, would she take her favourite clothes or maybe even her comfy warm bed?

Bailey and her mum only had a few minutes to escape the bushfire. Bailey just grabbed her teddy bear and rushed to the car. Bailey’s mum was still in the house trying to quickly grab some photo frames and her car keys.

“Come on mum” Bailey sobbed. The door swung open and her mother came rushing out.

A few days later when it was safe enough they ventured back to the village. Bailey and her mum saw from the car window all the burned trees, all the black grass, most of the burned houses, the bushes with scent of burn. It was terrible. As they arrived closer and closer to their house, Bailey was getting very anxious. What if their house wasn’t there? Where would they live? Would they have any money to buy food or water?

They were so relieved to find that only their front fence was burned. Bailey was stressing about the flower. Bailey went off looking for the flower. The first place she looked was under her favourite gum tree. There it was in little burned pieces.

“It’s gone, it’s all gone. I am never going to find another flower like that again.” Tears ran down Bailey’s face. The tears dripped into the soil and suddenly, something magical happened … a new flower started to bloom. Bailey was relieved that the flower was alive and still magical. The stem still had that wonderful bright green colour, and that lovely lavender scent, and the leaves were still as bright as the sun.

A couple of months later, Bailey and her family moved back into the house. Bailey was glad that she still had her magic flower. Every day Bailey would go to the hill and give the flower water, and then she would make a wish.

Can you guess what that wish is?

–

This is one of a selection of stories we are featuring from Carey Baptist Grammar School in Victoria. Tune in on Monday  for the final great tale—it’s a scary one!

Posted in National Year of Reading, teachers' resources

Fabulous First Line Friday (24 August)

Posted on by Alphabet Soup

To celebrate the National Year of Reading, we are sharing some fabulous first lines from the books on our bookshelves. (Every Friday you’ll find another fabulous first line here on Soup Blog. Try to guess the book it’s from. Would you read on? Perhaps you can use it as a writing prompt … if it were your own first line, where would your story go from here?)

Now for today’s Fabulous First Line*:

Christopher’s mother did everything.

What do you think happens next? The title of the book is at the end of this post …

*For the purposes of Fabulous First Line Friday, we’re counting the first line as the first line of chapter 1 in any book. So if there is an introduction or an author’s note or something before chapter 1, we don’t count that bit …
The book is The Important Things by Peter Carnavas
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Young Writers in Action: Sofie

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Sofie by Ella, 10, VIC

She was a tiny golden cavoodle puppy; the quiet one out of the excited puppies on display. A beautiful fluffy coat and soft black padded paws.

I looked up at Dad. So did the puppy. He sighed. “All right!”

So ten minutes later we were getting instructed on how to take care of our puppy. It seemed to be taking a long time, I thought. Just then, the storeroom door opened and a lady carried my puppy out and gave her to me (we had been told it was a female) just as we were presented with an ownership form.

“Is it all right to sign it in the name of a child?” Dad asked. My heart skipped a beat. Could I really officially own this living hot water bottle?

“Sure,” the woman behind the counter said. I felt like I was in a dream as I signed the form. I looked down at the bundle in my arms. She really was adorable.

~

We were finally home. “Sofie hasn’t made a sound yet,” I thought as I jumped out of the car. I carried her out to the deck (she was going to be an entirely outside dog) and put her down.

“I’m going to call her Sofie,” I told my parents as they appeared, Dad carrying her kennel.

“Good name,” Dad nodded. Sofie slowly took a step.

Then another.

Next thing we knew she was rushing around like a headless chicken.

Dad went inside. He came out with his Magpies scarf and threw it to Sofie. Sofie sniffed it for a moment, then grabbed it in her mouth and ran around with it.

She was very tired when we put her to bed that night with a squeaky koala, a mini squishy soccer ball and a second-hand Magpies scarf.

~

I looked at my clock. 6am. Late enough. I quickly dressed and went out to the backyard. Sofie met me as soon as I was out the door. I took her down to the lawn, sat down, took her onto my lap and cuddled her. Ten minutes later I noticed she was asleep.

~

I fed Sofie and checked her water bowl was full. Then I had to go to school. I hated leaving her.

I got back from school. I played with Sofie for a couple of hours. In another few hours Dad got home from work. I noticed he looked a little grim. I thought he must have had a bad day at work—that was, until he and Mum exchanged looks. Then I knew something was up. They ushered me into the lounge room and started to talk.

I had to give Sofie away because of my stupid allergy to dogs which was previously unknown. Dad had sent out emails earlier that day advertising her. I could choose where she went.

I listened as Dad described the emails. Then, I looked at him. “I’ve decided.”

~

My heart sank as a car pulled up outside our house and an excited looking boy jumped out, soon followed by his mum. “At least she’s going to the best place,” I told myself as the doorbell rang. Sofie’s new owners appeared. Dad and I gave them a big cardboard box full of all Sofie’s things. The boy gave me a beautiful letter saying thank you.

Then it was time.

The boy carried her out to the car and put her into her cage, squeaking a pink rubber seal. “Looks like they have already bought her toys,” I thought as Sofie started chewing it.

I took a final look at her. “Goodbye Sofie,” I whispered. Then she was gone. I tried hard not to cry, only just succeeding.

I would never see her again.

—

This is one of a selection of stories we are featuring from Carey Baptist Grammar School in Victoria over the next week. Tune in tomorrow for another great tale!

Posted in competitions

Winter Writing Comp winners! (2012)

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Congratulations to the three winners from our 2012 winter story-writing competition.

UNDER 7s WINNER—Finn Canham

The Great Escape

One day there was a fluffy rabbit called Caramel. He saw the most fattest and juiciest orange carrot!

He came up with a plan. The plan was that he dug 1 metre down. Then he put his plan into action. But there was a rock, if he went around it he would lose his path so he dug up but there was a rock. He had to go backwards and dig up.

He ran over to the orange carrot and he realised it was so big that he couldn’t carry it home so he ate half of it. Then it was the size of two orange carrots. That was good because the rest of his family was two other rabbits. Caramel was the only baby they had.

He carried it back down the burrow and went home. Then they enjoyed their lunch, it was orange carrot soup.

—

UNDER 9s WINNER—Celine Ng

The Desk

I am waiting in anticipation for the classroom door to open. It’s the start of 2012 and I’m starting Grade 4. My ex-best friends are hanging out with Belinda. Since we had a fight in Grade 2, they have been ignoring me. My new teacher comes into the classroom.

“Sorry class, I left the key to the classroom in the staff room!”

Yes, Mr Brown’s class. He is the funniest teacher in the whole school. I’m crossing my fingers that I have a great desk. Back in Grade 2, I scribbled in my desk but my teacher caught me. I closed my desk and gave my most innocent smile. When I opened it, the scribble had disappeared! Believe me, it’s creepy!

The best bit is hunting for your desk at the start of the year. My teachers always place our nametags on the desk to let us know where we are sitting. I open my orange desk and guess what I saw? That’s right, I saw the scribble I made in Year 2. How queer. The teachers must have misplaced the desk when they were cleaned at the end of last year! I sigh thinking of the times I had in Year 2. Sitting at my old desk has made me nostalgic. If only I was wiser back then. If only I could send my young self a message to wise up. I sigh again and wrote myself a note:

Dear Bonnie,

You might not believe this, but I am actually you 2 years older. I remember having trouble with friends in Year 2; so, if you have any trouble, feel free to ask me for advice!

Signed: Bonnie from Grade 4.

I shut my desk thinking how silly I am trying to write to my 7-year-old self. After I have prepared my stationery for the day, I open my desk to retrieve my book to read and I am flabbergasted by what I see. The letter that I wrote to my old self has disappeared and in replacement is a reply with my 7-year-old writing, big and messy.

Dear Bonnie,

I made a mistake. Now my friends don’t like me anymore. I was trying to have fun and when Emma was about to sit down, I took her chair away. She fell and started crying. Help me think of a way to make up for that joke.

Love Bonnie.

Hmm … I have to help young Bonnie think something to repair our friendship again.

Dear Bonnie,

Write a sorry letter to them or make a sorry card. Otherwise they might hate you for not saying sorry.

Love Bonnie.

After news session in class, I go back to my desk and find another note:

Dear Bonnie,

Thanks for all your help. Cassie, Emma and I are best friends again.

Love Bonnie.

Emma and Cassie run towards me and give me a big bear hug. They hold my hands and for the first time in a long time, I feel popular.

—

UNDER 12s WINNER: Ellie Rose Fisher

Shipwreck

The sun’s strong, amber fingers found their way through the skylight, onto the cheek of the sleeping girl. Elizabeth Fleckfeather stirred and opened her sea green eyes. She could hear the sea churning and birds singing their songs to the morning, see her room—a jumble of books, socks and swimming awards—feel the warmth of the sun on her cheek and smell salt and books by her bedside.

Elizabeth sprang out of bed and to her dressing table. She scraped her hair into a scruffy bun, pulled on her moss green swimming costume and woke her dog, Rosie, from her wickerwork basket. The girl and her dog sprinted downstairs to the back door, where she unlatched the handle and pushed.

A wave of fresh, salty sea air came through the door and greeted the girl. Elizabeth thought she would never tire of that smell, salty and fresh of the sea. She skipped down the gravel path, flanked by silver birch and olive trees, her dog running silently at her heels.

She came to the dunes, took the rabbit track she wanted and found herself on a rocky cliff top. She went down the rivulets the rain had made in the rock; all the way down to the beach. There the sun sparkled on the water as if it were made of crystal and the sand of crushed diamonds. Elizabeth dived into the ocean. The sea was so very cold and the girl shivered in delight as it penetrated her skin—it was a lovely sensation and one she would never, ever tire of.

Elizabeth swam deeper and deeper into the sea, nearer and nearer to the old shipwreck. She’d heard tales of the old shipwreck—that it was haunted, the sailors’ bones were still down there, that it had the power to suck you under the water. Elizabeth had always disregarded these tales and dived near the old wreck every day. This day was no exception.

The wreck was slimy with seaweed and algae and was covered with lichen and moss. Shells like coils of toothpaste and white paint flecked the ship, which was crumbling apart at the planks. Small crabs and other creatures scuttled in and out of the port holes—glass now gone from age and sea water.

Elizabeth dived into the wreck, under the deck, swimming through curtains of tiny, bright orange fish and dodging several long wavy black eels—deeper than she had ever been before.

Below deck it was gloomy and she could only see a few centimetres ahead of her, so it was not very surprising what happened next.

Elizabeth was just about to leave the murky depths, when it happened. There came an ominous whooshing sound from the corner, where a large hole rotted. Elizabeth looked over her shoulder and the sight that met her eyes made her scream. Water filled her mouth and she was sucked into the hole—out of this world.

—

Well done Finn, Celine and Ellie Rose! These three talented writers have received a certificate and a $20 book voucher.

If you’d like to enter our spring writing competition (or the 2012 design-a-cover competition), check out the competitions page on our website. Good luck!

 

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Young Writers in Action: The Building Challenge!

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The Building Challenge by Christopher L, 10, VIC

I am hammering away and staring at John at the same time. He is way ahead of me and I don’t think I can do this.

I am Robert Trevor, I am 18 and today is the day of the Melbourne Building Competition. The warehouse is boiling, and because it is so big one fan doesn’t make much difference.

I had always hated John; we have had a huge rivalry ever since we’d met in primary school. We have been in about 10 building competitions against each other. I had won most of them, except for the time where I had accidentally clonked myself on the head with a hammer. I had to be admitted to hospital for a brain scan, which left John in the winning position. John’s family were very supportive of him so were very happy with his win. His family showed atrocious sportsmanship, they didn’t even say sorry to my family for cheering when I hit myself on the head. John’s family had always been very loud cheerers and they always boasted about that incident.

This time I am going to win no matter what. I am going to take this opportunity and use it well.

My heart is pumping and I wish they would just press the buzzer to start the competition.

The buzzer vibrates and everyone sprints to their benches to see what they have to do. Today we have to build an outside veranda. When I go to get my planks of wood I trip over and am in excruciating pain, I have dislocated my pinky finger. I am in agony now and feel as if I am about to faint. Some of the nurses come over and see if I’m alright, one of the doctors comes over and pops it back into place. That gives me a searing pain worse than dislocating it did. At least I can continue working now. I haven’t got off to a good start. When I go back to my veranda I see John smiling and his parents laughing.

There are 10 minutes to go and I have already had four accidents (not including all the cuts and bruises I have). I can’t believe there are only 10 minutes to go and I am still putting in the last few planks of wood.

“10 seconds to go” should out the judges. I start to freak out. I quickly run and grab the last few pot plants.

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1, that’s it, time’s up, step away from your verandas.”

It’s judging time and as the judges come up to the veranda I am almost choking I am so nervous. They say they like my idea of a simple veranda but that maybe it is too simple. It’s time to find out who has won, they’re up to second and first place and there is only me and John left.

“In second place we have … Robert Trevor” I’ve been beaten again and then they call out, “and in first place we have … John Anderson.”

I tried, I tired my hardest. I have cuts and bruises all over my body. As I watch my nemesis John step up and take the winner’s prize I feel woeful. For the second time John has beaten me by one position.

I force a smile onto my face. It is part of the competition. I have to be pleased for the winner. I hobble over to congratulate him. I shake his hand vigorously and slap him on the back in a friendly way with the other hand. Then I go to have a look at his veranda. I run my hand over the rail, it is smooth. I look at the joins in the corners, they are outstandingly perfect. John’s work is good, better than mine. He deserves to win.

“This work is unbeatable,” I say to John.

“Thanks he says, and smiles at me.

Perhaps one day we might work together instead of against each other.

—

This is one of a selection of stories we are featuring from Carey Baptist Grammar School in Victoria over the next week. Tune in tomorrow for another great tale!

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Young Writers in Action: Mr Malgroot

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Mr Malgroot by Christopher Y, 10, Victoria

I stared at it. That gap in the fence tormented me. Just my luck Mom bought this house. Why am I complaining? Mr Malgroot lives next door! He is the meanest man in the neighbourhood!

Once, my best friend dared me to go in the gap leading to his house. He promised he’d give me a nickel for my trouble. He’s a good friend, and even gave me the money upfront! Holding tight to the nickel in my hand, I crawled through the small gap in the fence. Unfortunately, Mr Malgroot caught me, and confiscated my money! All that, and I didn’t get anything!

I sighed. I had to dare myself to do it, and I would prevail. I crawled through the small gap in the fence.

And that explains why I’m in the hospital with a broken leg.

—

This is one of a selection of stories we are featuring from Carey Baptist Grammar School in Victoria over the next week. Tune in tomorrow for another great tale!

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Coming soon: Young Writers in Action!

Posted on by Alphabet Soup

Over the next week, we will feature stories penned by year 4 students at Carey Baptist Grammer School in Victoria. Their teacher, Colleen, included a note to say that the students were asked to write the final paragraph of their story and use that as a starting point.

We look forward to sharing some fabulous tales with you. Check in on Tuesday for the first story—‘Mr Malgroot’!

Posted in info

Happy Book Week!

Posted on by Alphabet Soup

2012 Children’s Book Week is underway, and this week’s theme is Champions Read. (We know quite a few champions in that case—a lot of books get read around here!)

When I was at school, I loved dressing up for the Children’s Book Week parade. When I was six, my teacher came dressed as a pirate from Treasure Island. She made a giant octopus as part of her costume and I was terrified of it. It was the best Book Week costume ever!

Are you dressing up this year? Can you tell us about your costume, or is it a secret?

Happy Book Week!

~Rebecca Newman, Editor

Posted in National Year of Reading, teachers' resources

Fabulous First Line Friday (17 August)

Posted on by Alphabet Soup

To celebrate the National Year of Reading, we are sharing some fabulous first lines from the books on our bookshelves. (Every Friday you’ll find another fabulous first line here on Soup Blog. Try to guess the book it’s from. Would you read on? Perhaps you can use it as a writing prompt … if it were your own first line, where would your story go from here?)

Now for today’s Fabulous First Line*:

 

George and Ghost were friends, but George wasn’t sure he believed in Ghost any more.

 

Do you want to read on? The title of the book is at the end of this post …

 

*For the purposes of Fabulous First Line Friday, we’re counting the first line as the first line of chapter 1 in any book. So if there is an introduction or an author’s note or something before chapter 1, we don’t count that bit …
The book is George and Ghost by Catriona Hoy, ill. Cassia Thomas