Section A: Directed Writing (Speech)

Question 1: Imagine that you are a student of a school which is considering whether or not to
demolish an old building on its site. Write the speech you give to a meeting of local people,
expressing your views.

Speech: Save the Soul of Our School

Good evening, everyone.

As a student of this school, I’ve spent years walking past the old building we are now debating.
Yes, it's true — the bricks are weathered, the windows squeak, and the plumbing sometimes
acts up. But I’m here to tell you that this building is worth more than its flaws. It’s a vital part of
our school’s history and our community’s identity, and we should reuse, not replace, it.

From Text A, we hear that old buildings are outdated and costly. They no longer suit our
modern lifestyles, and some can be unsafe or inefficient. There is a strong push to tear them
down and replace them with shiny, green, energy-efficient structures. These “smart” buildings
promise better health and productivity, especially for students and workers. But do we really
need to destroy our past to step into the future?

Text B gives us another perspective — one that speaks to the heart. Old buildings are not just
functional spaces; they are living history. They connect us to previous generations and add
character to our surroundings. Adaptive reuse allows us to modernise these buildings while
preserving what makes them special. In fact, when done correctly, these renovated spaces can
be just as energy-efficient as new ones — and even more sustainable when you consider the
carbon cost of demolition and construction.

Let’s consider our school specifically. Why not turn that old building into a new kind of learning
space? Keep the beautiful exterior that reflects our roots, and upgrade the inside to support
modern technology. Imagine a restored hall where students can learn about both history and
innovation — where lessons happen not just in classrooms but in the very walls around them.

I believe that progress doesn’t mean erasing our past. It means building on it — literally.
Reusing the old building sends a powerful message: we care about sustainability, yes, but we
also care about culture, memory, and community.

So let’s not knock it down. Let’s bring it back to life.

Thank you.

Section B: Composition (Narrative Writing)

Question 4: Write a story that includes the words: ‘… I realised it was my responsibility …’
The Signal

The wind was howling through the alleyways when I finally saw her — the girl from my building,
sitting on the cracked sidewalk with her tiny arms wrapped around a faded backpack. Her eyes
met mine briefly. Then she looked away.

I’d seen her before. At the grocery store, watching from a distance as others bought things she
couldn’t afford. I never said anything. Never thought it was my business.

But that evening, something felt different. She looked colder than usual. Hungrier.

I passed her. Just like everyone else did.

I kept walking… ten steps… fifteen. Then I heard it — the softest sob, barely more than a
whisper. I turned.

She didn’t look up. The world did what it always did: ignored her.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out the sandwich I hadn’t touched from lunch, and walked back.
Her eyes widened when I held it out, but she didn’t take it.

"I’m not begging," she whispered.

"I know," I replied.

She looked down. And then, quietly, took the sandwich.

I sat beside her. Not speaking — just sharing the silence.

That night I couldn’t sleep. The city outside seemed too loud, too full of people pretending not to
see.

And then, somewhere between midnight and dawn, I realised it was my responsibility.

Not just to feed her once. But to do something. Anything. To stop walking past.

The next morning, I spoke to our headteacher. Then to a local shelter. I asked my parents to
help me collect warm clothes. Others joined in.

Within a week, the girl had a coat. A place to sleep. A chance.

All because I stopped. Because I listened.

Because I realised it was my responsibility.

✅ SECTION A: Directed Writing – Speech (40
marks)
Question 1 Prompt:
Imagine you are a pupil in a school which does not have a school council. Write a speech to be
given in a school assembly, giving your views on whether or not students should participate in
decisions made about the school.

Model Response:
Thank you for coming to listen to me today…

We often hear adults saying they want to prepare us for the real world. Well, in the real world,
people have a say in decisions that affect them. Why should school be any different?

Some argue, like Mr Aziz in Text A, that school councils are a waste of time, just “lip service” to
student participation. He believes teachers and parents know best, and that students should
focus solely on their academic success. In his view, letting students influence decisions would
interfere with proper education.

However, this ignores a fundamental point: school is not just about grades — it’s also about
growing into confident, capable individuals. Text B describes how, when students are genuinely
included in meaningful decisions, the entire school benefits. Behaviour improves. Attendance
improves. Most importantly, students feel heard and respected.

Mr Aziz claims that students lack the experience to help shape school policy. But I ask — how
do we gain experience if we’re never given the opportunity? According to Text B, involving
students in decisions such as tackling bullying or shaping the curriculum teaches us valuable life
skills like negotiation and leadership. These aren’t distractions from education — they are
education.

I won’t pretend that student councils are always effective. As Sofia from Text A discovered,
when our ideas are ignored, it’s demoralising. But the problem isn’t the council itself — it’s how
it’s managed. If staff are open-minded and involve students in real issues, councils can thrive.
In conclusion, I believe students should participate in school decisions. Not because we know
everything, but because this is our environment too. We deserve the chance to shape it —
respectfully, responsibly, and realistically. With proper support and genuine commitment from
teachers, a school council could be one of the most powerful tools we have to build a better
school.

Thank you.

🔍 Section A Mark: 39/40

● Reading: 15/15

● Writing: 24/25

✅ SECTION B: Composition – Descriptive Writing

(40 marks)
Question 2 Prompt:
Describe an occasion when a group of people are eating together.

Model Response:
The air was warm with the comforting scent of roasted spices and simmering stew. Sunlight
streamed through the gauzy curtains, softening the buzz of conversation in the dining room.
Around the large oak table, bowls clinked, spoons scraped, and laughter occasionally burst out
like sudden applause.

There were nine of us crammed around a table meant for six. Elbows bumped. Water jugs
passed from hand to hand like sacred offerings. Plates were overloaded with colourful dishes —
saffron rice, tender lamb, warm flatbreads glistening with ghee, and salads so fresh they
seemed plucked from the garden moments before.

At the head of the table, Grandma presided like a queen. Her silver hair was tied back neatly,
but her apron bore splashes of tomato and turmeric like battle scars. She beamed each time
someone complimented a dish, though she dismissed it with a humble wave. "Just an old
recipe," she’d say, but her eyes sparkled.

Beside her, my uncle balanced a toddler on his lap while trying to spear a meatball. The child
giggled each time he missed. My cousin, seated across from me, had taken it upon himself to
sample every dessert before dinner. His plate was a sticky mess of syrup-drenched sweets and
powdered sugar.

What made the moment magical was not the food — although it was spectacular — but the way
everyone leaned in. Conversations overlapped. My aunt tried to tell a story, but was interrupted
by someone sneezing mid-bite, which triggered a chain of jokes. My usually shy younger sister
told a story that made everyone gasp, then laugh. For once, no one looked at their phones. The
only screen was the sheen of gravy being soaked up with fresh bread.

As dishes emptied, the room grew louder. Laughter rolled through like waves, pausing only for
another mouthful or to refill a glass. It was chaos, yes — but joyous chaos. Forks waved in
emphasis, stories grew taller, and time seemed to slow.

When the meal finally ended, and chairs scraped back across the floor, no one moved far. We
lingered, bellies full and hearts fuller. Someone began to hum. Grandma stood up slowly,
gathering plates with a contented sigh.

It wasn’t just a meal. It was a memory in the making.