PSLE Composition – A Crime you were involved in

The examinations are over and holidays are near! Another school year is almost done. My 2018 classes are now well underway and I have been getting to know my new students (and their grasp of the Paper2 components) in the month of October. As November begins, I have started work on the Writing component. Who will develop a profound interest in writing? Who will develop into  beautiful creative writers? I’m excited to see what the future holds 🙂

The first composition done last week is on the theme of Crime. Pictures and Model (from my P6 2017 student) below:

Illustration:

Composition. Theme: A Crime & Situational Writing

Impatiently I tapped my foot on the white, tiled floor of the mall. Honestly, who on earth could spend an entire hour looking at, of all things, antiques? Well, there was only one answer: Mum. So far, only mum had bothered to step into this cramped, run-down antique shop. Everybody else barely cast a glance at it as they walked by. Why or why had I agreed to let mum drag me on a shopping spree after school? We had more important things to do after all.            

Suddenly, I heard it. A small sneeze coming from behind me. I turned around in curiousity. There stood a young, scruffy-looking boy, his t-shirt faded and worn, his jeans hanging past his ankles. For some reason, his dark eyes were staring hard at me in a mixture of fear and horror. He looked like he desperately regretted sneezing. But why?            

Before you could say Jack Robinsons, his little hand had stretched out towards mine and reached back. By the time I blinked in surprise, he had already turned on his heels and ran. Only when I felt the emptiness in my hand, did I realise that the black, leather wallet previously in my hand, was missing!            

“Thief!” I yelled in panic, tearing after him. I thought of all the money in that black wallet. It was all Mum’s money. Mum had handed it to me for safekeeping before she had started browsing around the antique shop. Frantically, I remembered how mum had scrimped and saved to amass all the money in that wallet. It was supposed to pay for grandmother’s hospital fees. Grandmother had just had a surgery after falling down the stairs and breaking her hip bone. We were supposed to pay the bill after going to the mall. My parents would hit the roof if they knew that their hard-earned money had been stolen. I would be in deep trouble!            

At that thought, I ran even faster. Finally, my years of blood and sweat on the school track team were paying off. By then, I was only a couple of metres behind the thief. I snarled, reaching out to grab the back of his t-shirt…            

Bam! The elevator doors slammed shut, a hair’s breadth away from my nose. I blinked in astonishment. That lucky thief! He had been so fortunate to run into an closing elevator. I felt like screaming in frustration but I would not give up. Quickly, I turned to the pair of doors right beside the elevators. A sign on them read: These stairs are to be used only in case of emergency.            

Without hesitation, I charged through them. This counted as an emergency right? I flew down the stairs, just in time to see the thief stroll out of the elevator with a smug smile, the black wallet clutched in one hand. Upon seeing me, his eyes grew wide in terror, just as I gave him a flying tackle. Quickly, I snatched the wallet from his grasp. I looked back at his face to glower at him. Much to my surprise, his eyes were brimming with tears.            

“S- sorry..,” he sniffled, “my siblings are hungry s- so I had no choice.”            

With a jolt, I realised who he was. I had overheard a neighbour talking about him with mum the other day. Apparently, his mother had died when he was young and his father had passed away in a recent car crash. As the eldest in the family, he had to take care of his four younger siblings. Even though being a thief was not the best and brightest way to do so, my heart went out to him.            

I told him that I would not report him to the police and advised him to seek help from others. As I watched him nod his head in remorse, I dug into my pocket for my own wallet. “Here,” I said, pressing a wad of notes into his palm. He looked up at me in utter shock, before giving me a watery smile. I had just given him my pocket money for the next two weeks yet I felt a warm glow in my heart. As I walked away, I hoped that he had learnt from his crime and would turn over a new leaf.