As a non english speaker, I have always been intimitated at EFL subject. Although my teachers are good at what they do, being in a tuition class or classroom, I always feel I'm behind of everyone, that my foundation is too bad.(maybe have to do with my teachers' laughing/shock when I don't recognise a vocabulary or I used an ambitious word in the wrong context) In the past, writing essays was my biggest fear! Not that I couldn't write properly in my own language, I guess Im just constantly intimidated by others' opinions. But after watching your videos, and learning from such a considerate teacher you are, I am building confidence that I can pass my exam as being guided patiently by you. (perhaps other non-native speakers can relate to my experience), just want to show our immense appreciation for haivng you with us! - from a Chinese student taking the exam this oct/nov series!
Hi, could you please grade this piece of work? My teacher never returns any of our work or assessments but I keep getting a B, I really don't know what to improve on TwT 5: write a narrative writing which includes the words, ‘…this could not be the present…’ Ashes and mirages spiralled up into the sky hanging in the atmosphere, gathering overhead as if embodying Death Reaper’s presence. Once unscathed with an array of blooming flowers, the landscape now lay barren and seemingly discarded, engulfed in flames which took with it whatever nature’s provisions left behind, in which life ceased to exist. Lingering amongst vision-enshrouding fumes were its acridity, which by now left the 86 unperturbed. Given the years they’d spent battling our enemies, on equally grotesque battlefields such as this one, of course anything other than that wasn’t to be expected of them. After all, no country will ever scoff at the notion of denying pigs human rights, will they? Blood trickling down ruptured skull, its staleness and tingling dense sensation was felt on my tongue through gritted teeth. Through the corner of my eye, I espied my subordinate clambering out of his Juggernaut with great difficulty, a pistol held in hand. Glistening under the minuscule amount of light provided by the impending flames, a hefty metallic battle machine equipped with mounted guns lay battered - the Juggernaut. On the once shiny ivory armour now barely preserved with chipped, matte coating, it displayed a faded mark of a headless skeleton figure with a shovel in hand - the Reaper. In my lightheadedness, through the wireless signal - the PARA-Raid, I pathetically muttered a few barely audible words to him. ‘Shin… are you… really going to do it?’ No reply came. A few gruelling seconds went by, as I heard heavy breathing on the other end. I peered in his direction. One look at his face and narrowed blood red eyes, and it was clear this wasn’t his first time. As much truth as this bold claim held, excruciating pain was evinced with every inch of his face. Just then I heard a faint murmur. ‘Take me with you… Undertaker.’ A gunshot was fired. Smoke spiralled out of his pistol’s muzzle as blood splattered across the ground. I watched blurry-eyed as Shin hacked a chunk of scrap metal out of another Juggernaut - the battle machine belonging to his comrade which he’d just shot dead. Just one second ago, it was his voice which I heard on the other end of the PARA-Raid. Just one second ago, he had been alive. Unfazed, Shin carved the comrade’s name out on the metal chunk - another grave, another comrade’s legacy he shall carry with him, along with the other 576 from the past five years of endless war. On the battlefield, he was known as ‘Undertaker - The Reaper’. And in this moment, it dawned on me. Over these five years, he was the only one to survive. Battle after battle, as his comrades died off right before him, being thrown onto the frontlines and locked out here by none other than their own country. Time and time again, he’d always been the only one left behind. Time and time again, as his skills and persistence skyrocketed, his ranks followed suit. And at some point, having become this squadron’s commander, he’d bore the responsibility which came with this treacherous role, up till this moment. As the lone able-bodied survivor, the lives of his other comrades had been left in his hands - in which he would put them out of their misery every time, without fail. As long as their language differ, their skin colour differ, their ancestors deemed to be of different tribes, they will be perceived as no more than pigs taking on the appearance of humans. By suppressing them, by treating them as cannon fodder, by slaughtering them, surely there is no issue per say with regards to human rights violations. And the moment every person of my race rationalised it, the moment all Albas deemed it as appropriate, the 86 never had a choice to begin with. Thus, for nine long years, they’d been locked out here, forced to fight, living every day as if it were their last, while the rest of us merely turned a blind eye, safe and sheltered while residing within the warmth of our walls. Over the past nine years, us Alba citizens had left all fighting responsibilities to the 86. And now that the majority of them had been wiped out, the Alba remain defenseless, naturally unable to fight but forced to, since our luxury of pushing the cost of war onto a race now no longer existing was gone. Hence our country began its descend towards destruction, which was none other than our own demise. Though of course this was no punishment, for when the invasion struck, no Alba died regretting their degradation and callousness. Most of them begrudged the incompetence of the 86, lamenting their innocence and untimely deaths. For sinners who knew not of their deeds, death was no punishment to them. If you win, you live. If you lose, you die. And the only way to win is to fight - this was all the 86 ever knew. Tears welled up in my eyes. This could not be the present, I thought. But it was - my country was just this shameless, this forlorn, nothing more than an arrogant populace ineradicable of incorrigibility. A lump formed within my throat as I felt a wail begging in desperation to be let out. Persistence persevered, and I clasped my hand over my mouth - for now wasn’t the time to succumb to my emotions. Or so I yearned to say, but it was simply because I had no right to cry. For up till this point in time, I had merely been a bystander - an oppressor oblivious towards my sins, and now forced to atone for it.
Love the link to the focus of the piece towards the end. Some really effective (and harrowing!) imagery used. I am not usually a fan of warfare narratives but this has been written particularly well and really brought me into each scene you described. A few errors but nothing major - this is an excellent piece. It seems top band material to me (although I haven't got the markscheme to hand atm)
Scrutinizing a little further, you have precise vocab for effect, sentence structures are varied, and the overall shape and structure is clearly thought out. Good job, my friend!
@@IGCSESUCCESS thats great, I'm really glad about that! Thank you so much for helping, this simple feedback has taught me more than the same teacher I've had for over two years ;'D
I wrote my IGCSE first language mock exam a while ago ..but I didn't do good at this one part..there was a few topics I could choose from for stories and I chose the topic 'the mirror' I thought of writing a horror and I ended up doing that but I didn't do it correct ..my teacher said I didn't write enough things that happens in the story and that its a lot like other horror stories..I know you said not to write a horror ..but I watched this after .. do you have any tips for me to make it better??
My problems are either I get into the story too much and exceed the word limit, or the topic is too stale for me to write a proper story, leaving me with 100 - 130 words😅
