Here’s a top-graded sample response with carefully incorporated points from

Passage A, rephrased in the student’s own words, and structured to hit all the
bullet points.

Sample Response
Summer work experience for young people …
During Andrew’s six-week placement at the electrical company, he encountered
several challenges typical of a newcomer in an industrial environment. Initially,
he struggled with the early start, unfamiliar routines, and the expectation to
observe rather than actively contribute in the coil-winding department. I had
hoped that this placement would give him a realistic insight into the demands of
factory work, encourage independence, and develop an appreciation of both the
skills required and the effort put in by the workforce. The experience was
certainly eye-opening, demonstrating to Andrew that a professional environment
requires patience, attention, and adaptability.
Staff treatment of Andrew varied considerably. The apprentices, slightly older
than Andrew, were initially dismissive, assuming he had little to offer. However,
once he began small tasks such as fetching coffee, he gradually observed their
camaraderie, private grievances, and methods for managing minor workplace
rules. The canteen staff responded with mild amusement to his unfamiliarity with
standard lunch options, yet treated him kindly. In the Accounts Department, the
clerk demonstrated strict adherence to company procedures, emphasising
punctuality and accountability, which initially intimidated Andrew but ultimately
taught him the importance of organisational discipline.
Through this experience, I gained valuable insights into the attitudes and
emotions of those who work at the company. Staff members display a
combination of diligence, loyalty, and occasional frustration, often navigating
informal systems to manage workloads. There is an underlying sense of solidarity
among apprentices, as well as a respect for hierarchy and procedure. I was
struck by the pride many take in their work, alongside the candid sharing of
concerns, such as discussions of potential strike action. Observing these
interactions provided Andrew with a nuanced understanding of both the human
and operational aspects of the company.
In conclusion, the placement successfully exposed Andrew to the realities of
industrial work, highlighted the importance of interpersonal skills and workplace
etiquette, and offered both him and myself a deeper appreciation of the
thoughts, feelings, and dynamics of the people who make the company function
effectively.
Word count: 322

Why this would earn top marks overall:

 Content: All bullet points addressed with reference to passage, in own
words.
  Structure: Logical paragraphs, clear progression from challenges → staff
treatment → insights → conclusion.
 Style: Formal, professional register suitable for a report; varied sentence
structures and vocabulary; precise phrasing.
 Analysis: Goes beyond description to reflect on learning, human
behaviour, and workplace dynamics.

Question
Imagine you are Dad from Passage A. The owner of the company wants to
introduce holiday work experience for more young people. You have been
asked to present a report to the owner of the company following your son’s
experience.
Write the report.

In your report you should comment on:

• the challenges faced by Andrew and what you hoped he would gain from his
six weeks at the factory
• how different staff members treated Andrew
• what you have learned about the thoughts and feelings of the people who
work at the company.

Base your report on what you have read in Passage A, but be careful to use your
own words. Address each of the three bullet points.
Begin your report, ‘Summer work experience for young people … ’
Write about 250 to 350 words.

Passage A: My First Job

The narrator is reflecting on his experiences as a 16-year-old student used to spending his
school holidays watching cricket on television. Instead, he is about to begin six weeks of
work experience in different sections of an electrical company.

Waking at 7:00 am was unpleasant. On the car journey, I was feeling too sorry for
myself for conversation.
The first few days I’d be working with the ‘grunts’ (officially called ‘apprentices’).
Most were just months older than me, but judged immediately I’d no skill of any
use to them. It turned out the factory owner had only agreed as a favour to Dad.
Other guys who’d asked for their kids to work there during school holidays had
been refused.
Dad ensured I was kitted out in fetching, lightest-blue overalls. Escorting me, he
skirted the factory floor to avoid dirtying his suit, but chatted and seemed to get
on with everyone from the grunts to the surliest darkest-blue-overall-clad
supervisor.
Initially, I’d be helping in the coil-winding department – by not getting in the way
and fetching coffee from the machine. I guessed they chatted more freely when I
was on a coffee-fetching run, but I did learn there was discontent amongst the
workforce, even talk of strike action. The morning dragged by. Eventually, Dad
turned up announcing lunchtime. Usually he took a packed lunch, but our
respective lethargy and stress that morning meant the sandwiches were still on
the kitchen table at home.
At the canteen, workers, already packed in like sardines, formed an overall sea of
blue. Dad navigated our way to the brown foodstuffs on offer. What would be my
‘something’ to accompany my chips? Wittily, I requested salad. Dad’s shoulders
sank. The canteen staff chuckled. Baked beans were duly slopped onto my plate.
As we ate, I gazed round, vowing silently never to work in industry. It wasn’t that
I thought myself above them, I just didn’t fit in yet.
After only 20 minutes, Dad said, ‘Andrew, we’d better get your card.’ Nodding
dumbly, I trailed blindly after him through a maze of corridors. Finally, we
reached the holiest place in the entire company, the Accounts Department,
occupied by The One with Absolute Power (the clerk who put together the pay
packets). Sufficiently important in the company, Dad was granted an audience. I
was told to not say anything stupid as we entered the sanctum. The One issued
my number, chiding me for not visiting her immediately after I’d arrived and
warning of perilous doom awaiting mortals who failed to clock in on time.
Dad took me to the clocking in machine to get my card stamped. Boards either
side of the machine, for ‘in’ and for ‘out’, allowed the powers-that-be to tell
which of their valued employees were not ‘in’ at any time and calculate their pay
accordingly. I asked Dad where his card was amongst the hundreds there: he
muttered almost inaudibly about not needing one.

Thankfully next day, despite differing opinions, it transpired we weren’t that late
arriving. I even had my sandwiches with me, I pointed out. Through gritted teeth,
Dad said he’d a meeting to get to.
I went to clock in and looked on the ‘out’ board – my card wasn’t there. Great, I’d
annoyed Dad; now I’d have to face the unbridled wrath of The One for losing my
card. I glanced forlornly at the ‘in’ board. Incredibly there was my card, time-
stamped at 8:28 that morning, along with all the others from my section. Each
said 8:28. These were punctual guys; all of them had checked in at 8:28
yesterday too.
I survived the morning. After lunch, I asked an older man about the time-stamp
curiosity. He looked at me quizzically, asking me to explain what I meant. I told
him about the identical times on the cards, including mine. He said not to worry,
asking if I’d mind going to get the coffees. Off I went.
Seconds later, I heard the older man tearing into someone – peering round the
coffee machine I saw it was the tallest grunt. He was almost in tears, surrounded
by others angry he’d messed up his turn, petrified I’d tell Dad, sure their scheme
for dodging lateness penalties had been discovered. Tallest Grunt had picked up
my card accidentally with the rest. I ambled back, giving them time to compose
themselves, and even got a ‘thanks’ as I delivered the coffee-brown sludge.
Unease remained all afternoon, intensifying as a junior clerk braved the factory
floor and smugly invited me to follow him, saying my help was needed.
My comrades panicked: I was a spy, they’d be sacked. Had they realised I was
‘needed’ to shift a delivery of tinned baked beans – Dad’s revenge no doubt –
they’d have relaxed sooner