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Our Vision - At Wrawby St. Mary’s CE Primary School, we strive for a full life in mind, body, heart and spirit to plan, prosper and give hope and a future to all. We believe in a journey of education enabling every child to feel love, challenge and excitement as they access skills to build future pioneers and leaders. Our school is a beacon of hope and sign of the kingdom.

Class 4

Welcome to Class 4


5B     Miss Balderson

 6M     Mr Matthews 

Spring 1 - Information for Parents

Week Commencing June 19th


This week saw Class 4 take part in an orienteering event held at Sir John School in which children competed to complete courses in the quickest possible time not only against themselves, but against Year 5 and Year 6 children from local schools. To prepare for this event, we took part in an orienteering day at school on Tuesday to learn and practise the essential skills we would need. 

Week commencing June 5th


As part of our geography learning thinking about what the world will look like in 100 years time, Year 6 watched the video below before explaining how greenhouse gases create global warming.

What is the greenhouse effect? | Global Ideas

From droughts to monsoons and extreme weather patterns, climate change may be easy to see and feel, but the issues surrounding it are often far more complex. Global Ideas has come up with a series of films and infographics to answer some of the most pressing problems and explain certain climate concepts and solutions.

Week commencing May 15th


Year 6 have been learning how to write discussion texts based on whether children at Wrawby St Mary's should have to wear school uniform. After some heated debates, here a few examples of the writing that was produced:

Should Children at Wrawby St Mary’s Wear a School Uniform?


There is currently a lot of questioning on the attire worn to school globally. Is wearing a school uniform outdated and therefore in need for a change, or has it been longstanding for an important reason? In this text, I will be discussing both sides of this argument as a pupil of Wrawby St Mary’s Primary School.

Without doubt many people strongly believe that wearing a school uniform us essential due to potential bullying opportunities in the school environment. Brands, hobbies and latest fashion struggles can encourage bullying. Not having an expensive brand nor high quality materials could make you a prime target. In addition to this, hobbies shown by pieces of clothing might be laughed at by not being the latest fashion or ‘cool’. Making everyone equal by asking them to wear uniform can prevent these issues.

Supporters of this statement think it is more important to represent the school than your individuality. Is this true? Many may argue that wearing similar attire as your peers is most formal and tidy. This is in addition to setting a high standard for younger or new pupils who arrive at school. Without a doubt, don’t you want children to show exemplary qualities in and out of school? A main concern of schools worldwide is the issue of getting lost in public events. Having the logo clearly plastered on piece of clothing could help finding there was to their needed group or location if ever lost.

On the other hand, many would agree that expressing your personal interests has much greater value that looking uniform and smart, which could be achieved with your own clothes. Wearing stiff collars, many itchy materials and tight uniform might compromise working standards. How would you like to be forced to wear uncomfortable clothing for the length of your working day? Fashion is a big part in our daily lives and can express our creativity and freedom in the clothing we choose to wear. Why can’t pupils have this responsibility of freedom in fashion?

Moreover, the current financial crisis is an increasing factor of daily life. Paying for a uniform is an extra expense many can’t pay for. Shoes, ties, jumpers, skirts and trousers can cost a substantial amount. This is not including the extra cost of summer attire, physical education uniform and possibly a winter set of clothes. What is the point of buying unnecessary, expensive, uncomfortable clothes?

In conclusion, I think that both sides of this argument have negative and positives on the issue of wearing a school uniform. After considering both sides of the discussion, I believe pupils of Wrawby St Mary’s Primary School shouldn’t have to wear a school uniform due to the lack in creativity, extra expense of uniform and decrease in concentrate in learning.




Should Children at Wrawby St Mary’s Wear a School Uniform?


Many schools across the world expect the pupils to wear a uniform, but it has come to certain schools’ attention that it could be tie for a change. Within this discussion text, I will be talking about the two-sided argument of school uniforms and whether wearing them s outdated and old or if we should carry on the long-lasting trend of having to wear them.

Some people believe that students should be required to wear uniform as it represents their community and will keep them in a neat and tidy state which at school. Keeping presentable children is very important on school trips and religious events, especially when schools are trying to make a good impression.

Furthermore, if pupils are wearing a uniform it saves schools from the trouble of bullying situations and helps to stop any teasing or making fun, as students would be wearing the same clothes. If children arrive at school wearing ‘cheap’ or ‘outdated’ clothing, it could cause potential bullying, even if the child’s carer cannot afford better clothing.

On the other hand, having children constantly wear a school uniform may prevent them from having the chance to express their personalities with their clothing choices. For example, being able to wear their own clothes gives students a chance to show other pupils their styles and individuality.

An additional problem is that pupils should have a lot more clothing items at home, so why should carers have to buy an outfit just to wear at school? We can all agree that the cost of many things have risen due to inflation (uniforms included), so why do children have to wear one? Should we stop the rule of uniforms?

In conclusion, there are two clearly defined arguments that each have balanced points. Having considered both sides of the discussion, I believe that pupils should not have to wear a uniform, as they are uncomfortable, expensive and all the same.




Should Children at Wrawby St Mary’s Wear a School Uniform?


It is now extremely common for children in schools to wear a uniform, but at Wrawby St Mary’s there is a debate whether pupils should or should not wear a uniform. There are many reasons for and against and I will cover them both and say what I think later on in the report.

There is no doubt that some people believe that wearing a school uniform is outdated and should be changed. They would argue that children should wear their own clothes to reflect their personality and individuality. Children can also use their own clothes to show their creativity and enjoyment.

Another problem is mistaking people for others. This is a problem because you may never find the person you’re looking for due to the fact everyone looks the same. You could spend your entire break time looking for someone, but end up embarrassing yourself in front of many people by asking them if they are someone, but it turns out to be someone you don’t know.

The final reason thar wearing your own clothe is more comfortable than wearing school uniform which has many problems, such as itchy collars, tight trousers and super long ties. These are problems because children claim that if they are comfortable, they work harder and it is easier to concentrate.

On the other hand, some people think that they should wear a school uniform so it can represent the school on trips or residentials. This is important because you can be spotted when you get lost.

If all pupils wore the same clothes, there would be no stress over what you are going to wear the following day. In addition, this would leave you with only one choice of clothing making an easy choice of what to wear.

In conclusion, I personally believe that we should wear a uniform because it can decrease the chance of bullying. This is good because no-one wants their children to be bullied for not having your own clothes. Do you?




Should Children at Wrawby St Mary’s Wear a Uniform?


Some people are beginning to think that wearing a uniform in schools across the world is becoming outdated. Although presentable, it has been around in England since Victorian times. However, some schools don’t require you to wear uniform and you can wear what you want. In this discussion test, I will cover both sides to an argument on whether Wrawby St Mary’s CE Primary School should still wear the uniform. Let’s look deeper into this controversial issue.

Some people believe that wearing your own clothes rather than a school uniform, saves  money. At most schools, you are required to buy at least two types of uniform: a winter uniform, sports uniform and sometimes a summer uniform. When we have perfectly fitting clothes at home (that will last longer because they are not made to fit) is there any point buying a uniform that will last only a couple of months?

Furthermore, wearing your own clothes is more comfortable than tight, itchy uniform. With our own comfortable clothes, we will not fiddle around with Velcro, buttons, restricting ties and collars and annoying tights or socks which would provide a higher learning level. Surely you your child to so their very best?

On the other hand, wearing uniform can prevent bullying and can show equality through the school. With uniform, children will not compete over cheap or expensive clothes as some parents may not be able to afford the latest trend. Wearing the same clothes would decrease the chance of bullying and increase self-esteem and self-love. Surely you want your child to feel their best and be good at their learning?

It is also claimed that with a uniform we look smart and presentable and we would be recognised by the local community. When we have inspections or visitors/parents it gives an imprint on the school as behaviour is at its best. When we are impeccable (in looks and behaviour) parents might recommend the school to others so their children can come to a well-behaved school.

After careful consideration, both arguments have pros and cons to whether we should wear a uniform at Wrawby St Mary’s CE Primary School. Personally, I think we should, as behaviour is on top, it is smart and presentable and people recognise us all around. What do you think we should do?


Week commencing May 1st


To complete our learning about electricity in science, Year 6 were challenged to apply all of their newly found knowledge to answer the question: How can I make an electronic quiz board?


Below are the quiz boards that were created.

Week Commencing March 27th


Year 6 have been learning how to write flashback stories in English this term based on the short animation 'The Piano' which you can watch below.

The Piano by Aidan Gibbons

As part of our learning, the children were challenged to manipulate the grammatical structures when writing the story by changing from present tense to past tense and third person to first person to show the difference between the old man playing the piano in the now and when he went back in time recalling his memories.

Below are a few examples of the excellent pieces of writing created by the children.

The Piano

Imagine a pitch, black, spacious room. Nothing is there, but an old, grand piano. Sitting thoughtfully on a dull stool, a cantankerous, old man knows the only tune he is going to play. Before he begins reaching to play the first ivory key, the man closes his eyes, thinking about how the past eighty years will spill endlessly out from his delicate fingers. Fondly, his fingers dance along the magic keys, which open a forbidding box in his heart.

Suddenly, a cold hand is lovingly stroking the man’s hand. His best friend. His wife. His Jean is back. The amazing solo turns into an unstoppable duet. Their fingers walk gracefully along the keys as they imagine their love soaring like a shooting star.

I watched as our fingers met in the middle of the piano. Since she died, I haven’t thought of her. Our wrinkled, bony hands played our favourite, mournful tune. Jean, who I loved more than anything (even more than my favourite cup of tea mug), was looking at my grey, empty eyes. Locking eyes, we stared into each other’s haunted souls.

Slipping from his mind once again, a single tear rolls down his face as he weeps silently. With a gentle kiss of goodbye, she is gone and the unstoppable duet becomes a melancholy solo once again. The music took a swift change as another mind movie being to form in his darkening mind. Being alone nearly all the time with the decrepit heirloom reminds him of traumatic moments from his life. This moment is no different.

I was ready. It was now or never. With another check to make sure I had everything, my dear wife kissed me goodbye so I could go to battle.

Running… Running… Running… Men everywhere. Injured and lifeless. The gunshots rumbled across the war-soaked battlefield. Why am I here? I should be at home with my family. I should be with my piano. I began to run to my friend who was leant against the crumbling wall, both of us looking into each other’s piercing eyes. We will get through this together. Before I gave the nod of approval, we gave each other a weak smile which seemed to stop time.

Bang! Bang! James! Lying flat, writhing on the cold, hard ground. A constant flow of blood running like a fast-flowing stream. Quivering, I ran as fast as I cold. I felt like I was walking for the first time. Since he was dying slowly, I carefully picked him up, but it was too late… He’d left his soul behind. His life. His everything.

I find myself thinking back to the days when I would dream of being in the cavalry.

My loving, caring grandfather gave me a blue, corrugated box. I fumbled over the silky ribbon; eventually it opened. It was a handmade hobby horse. It was all I had ever wished for. It was so real, the sound of it galloping around the piano.

Except it is real. The old man’s grandson is on the exact same hobby horse riding around the exact same piano. It is unreal. Hearing his grandad playing the final notes, he gently puts the hobby horse down and hops on to the piano stool. He hits the final note which rings clearly through the room and reminds them of the patterns of life. Life, love and death.


The Piano

Picture a room: a dark, spacious room with a tall, proudly standing grand piano at the far end. Sitting alone and silent, an old man at the piano is allowing himself to shed a tear as he begins waiting to play the tune he still loves. As he is sitting with his fingers ready, a single note plays, which begins the melody. Passionately, his fingers dance across the ivory keys, recreating a loving memory. His wrinkling, fragile fingers spent the past eighty years of his life playing this exact melody. As his memories are coming back to him, he is about to shed a tear, but he pushes through and keeps playing.

Suddenly, a familiar scent to begins to make its way towards the old man’s memory. “Shara. Could it be?” the old man mumbles to himself.

As I sat there alone and silent, I could sense her – Shara – my beloved wife, who wanted to recreate our duet. Without warning, she appeared and I watched her graceful fingers glide across keys to join me in our delicate duet. Then Shara leaned in to give me a kiss as her time playing the piano had ended.

As the old man’s wife is slowly fading away, the beautiful duet becomes a soul-taking solo. Continuously playing the piano, the old man feels upset being alone, which brings to mind another memory from a long time ago that starts with his wife re-appearing and softly kissing him on the cheek as he goes to war as a medic.

The battlefield was like an orchestra of loud, horrifying noises and the ear-splitting sounds of gunfire and non-stop explosions. Suddenly, I found myself and my best friend, Bobby, hiding restlessly behind a wall of a fallen house. There was no time. We had to fight back. I gave him the signal. He went. A deafening shriek rang through the air followed by a flash. Bobby! He lay motionless on the ground. I scooped him up in my arms. “Go now; save yourself,” he whimpered.

Now, sitting at his piano, slowing the melody down, the old man thinks about how he survived, but Bobby didn’t. How he came home, but Bobby didn’t. The old man thinks about when he and Bobby are growing up wanting to be soldiers. Then the music speeds up to a more jolly tune.

I found my thoughts drifting back to that day. That day so long ago when I received a gift. A gift from my grandfather, in an enormous blue box and a rose red ribbon closing the top. I opened it: it was the hobby horse. The hobby horse that my grandson rides around the piano this very day.

Except it isn’t a memory. It is real. He looks up and sees his grandson sitting at the piano with him. They look at each other and the grandson plays the final, sweet note.


The Piano

Picture a room: a quiet, pleasant room, where a man is sitting and playing his memory-making piano. Playing along with the music is simple for him; the feeling follows his heart. As the old man is playing his piano blissfully, he is reflecting on the calming piece of music. Dreamily, his fingers are gliding across the ivory keys, casting a movie of memories upon him. The old man’s pale, grey eyes are piercing his soul, as one lonely tear is trickling down his cheek. Remembering his past, the old man wipes his tear, still playing his grand piano.

All of a sudden, a familiar scent begins to crawl over to the old man. A new memory appears, transforming him dramatically. The music taking a turn too. Creeping over, his wife’s spirit comes into his piercing eyeshot. Her long, bony fingers are dancing over the keys, blessing each piece of magical music.

Our duet was beautiful. I loved every second of it; I’m sure my lovely Lisa did too. My eyes locked with hers and we stared into each other’s brightly lit eyes. Weeping tears, we both sang the beautiful tune, hugging each other. I pulled away from my beautiful wife. Suddenly, she was gone. As she kissed me goodbye, I began to imagine a new, happy memory and suddenly, the duet was transformed to a solo.

As the feeling of emptiness begins to consume him, the old man starts to remember the day he went to war as a medic. The battlefield is an orchestra of gun shots and horrifying screams in his buzzing ears. Memories of leaving his comforting home begin to flood back to the old man. Memories of leaving her. Heading off to was, the old man hopes that he and his brother will be safe.

I crept behind the wall I gave him the signal. I killed him. I killed my only brother. Once I had nodded towards his worried face, my only brother turned and shot: missed. An ear-splitting BANG! rang through my shaken head, breaking my warm soul as I picked him up, sobbing into his blood-spilling wound.

Remembering his past, the old man thinks about what happened when he was at war. He thinks about how he moved on, but his brother didn’t. How he turned grey, but his brother didn’t.

Changing the tune, his majestic grand piano continues to play beautiful music: this time a more joyful song. The old man’s mind flicks through his selection of memories, finally choosing a very special one.

As my father reached over, I, as a young boy, crossed my fingers, hoping for one thing. It was a hobby horse. A hobby horse my own grandfather crafted by hand. I leaped onto it, my face blanketed by my beaming smile; happiness enveloped me. I always played on that. Always.

Now, his own plays on it. Dear Timmy. The little boy crawls off the horse, clambering onto the cramped piano stool. Once again, the duet continues. The old man grins at little Tommy as he strokes the last key, casting happiness upon them both. The once past has now become the present.


The Piano

Picture a room: a desolate, dull room with a majestic grand piano cast in the centre with a single spotlight shining down upon it, contrasting with the rest of the room. Sitting down on a dusty, ancient chair, an old man’s fingers are slowly reaching out to the keys. As he is laying his wrinkly, old fingers on the keys, the piano is opening a chamber of memories. Passionately, his fingers dance across the ivory key like there is no tomorrow as sorrowful memories race through his head. His dull, grey eyes fill with tears as he thinks about his wife. The tune sounds so cheerful, but the story behind it says otherwise.

Suddenly, a familiar odour travels his way: his wife’s perfume. He feels a gentle nudge against his shoulders as thoughts are racing through his head, questioning if it is real. Surely it is.

Slowly, the solo became a duet as I watched her elegant fingers dance across the keys, playing the tune we always used to when we were young. In the back of my mind, I know she’s not really there, but the feeling of company after so many years makes me feel wanted. I saw her hand reaching out to mine as she faded away. She leant closer to me and kissed me on the cheek. However, I didn’t feel anything. The duet now went back to a solo.

The feeling of being alone brings him to another life changing memory which starts with another kiss by his beloved wife before he goes to was as a medic.

Running away from true reality, memories jumped around in his head. Sounds came to my ears, not nice ones, loud, traumatizing one: gunshots, shouting of pain, bombs and much more. The battlefield was an orchestra of a terrifying racket.

We didn’t have much time left. It was now or never. My best friend, Jake, gave me a promising look, waiting for the signal, trusting my judgement. I nodded. He ran out from the wall of safety into the open. He was exposed to all the other life there. Boom! An ear-splitting bang shook the field.

I sprinted over to help him as he laid motionless on the floor. Desperately, I prayed that he would stay with me. I help him tighter than ever before, wishing I never let him go out. His mouth began to open. He mumbled, “Run. Run for your life before it’s too late. Leave me behind.”

A single tear fell from my eyes, landing on his pale, emotionless face. His colourful, storytelling eyes faded into grey dull ones as he left me: forever. Why now? Why him? I though to myself as I ran.

Now, sitting at the piano, the melody slows down whilst he is thinking about his childhood with Jake. How they used to dream about becoming soldiers. Little did they know they wouldn’t be coming home together His fingers create a more jolly rhythm as he thinks about another childhood memory.

There I was, kneeling on the carpet beside the wooden fireplace with my father standing in front of me. He had a big, blue box with a purple ribbon tied around it in his hands. I sat there, so excited to open it. He laid it down in front of me. I stared at it for a bit. I wanted to make this special moment last for longer. I slowly took the lid off and saw that it was a hobby horse that my grandad had made me! I rode around the same room with the same piano for hours.

The sound of horses’ hooves clattering races around his mind, becoming very realistic. He looks around, thinking it was in real life. He is no longer alone. His grandson is playing in the hobby horse just like he used to do. Carefully, the grandson places the toy down and joins his grandad on the stool. He curiously listens for a minute, then reaches out to play the last, sweet note. They look at each other and give a heart-warming smile. The song is coming to a stop and a new duet is starting to blossom.


Following this, the children were challenged to write a new flashback independently, this time as the old lady telling the story of how she met her husband.

Here a few examples of the stories they told:

The Piano: Spin Off

As the old woman sits at her upright piano, she gently caresses the ivory keys with her hands. The gentle aroma of love drifts through the air; the beautiful melody playing never-endingly. Whilst the man watches her, he feels a wisp of heart-warming joy deep inside him.

I remembered it clearly: the day we met. We went to university together and had the same piano classes. On my first day, I was put in the same class as him; nerves enveloped my overridden mind as I saw the beaming faces of the other students. My partner was, of course, him.

Eventually, we became really good friends and even shared a dorm together. We loved to play the piano together, especially the majestic grand piano my father gave to me.

The old man and woman sit playing their piano together, love floating in the clean air of the empty stage room.



The Piano: Spin Off

The old woman is playing on the majestic, grand piano alone as the room fills with a familiar, joyful song. Her fingers dance across the keys as the piano lets out a beautiful, heart-warming melody. Special memories play like a movie in her head as she begins the never-ending, melancholy tune. It sounds like a spring morning when the is sun is shining bright and everyone is in a good mood. As she pays the song her and her husband always used to, it reminds her about the day they met at university.

It was a sunny day when I was walking through the park when a very handsome man caught my eye. My heart skipped a beat. I went up to have a chat with him because he looked lonely and we went to the same dorm. We sat there for ages, chatting. I could have sat there for ever: he was so funny, caring and kind. Since it was my second day there, he offered to show me around as he took my hand. My stomach and heart were flying! It just felt so right being with him. Later that night, we went to a party and ended up sleeping in his dorm room.

After a few months of being friends, he asked me out at a little café at the end of our street. I was ecstatic! Of course, I said yes. That day, we went to a shopping centre and found a public piano. Surprisingly, he knew how to play the piano. We played for ages, my heart racing still and mind jumping. I loved spending time with him forever but, little did I know, I would. He puts his arm around me and it felt real, very real.

So real that it was. The old man and woman sit playing for a while and the piano finally comes to a close. They give each other a heart-warming look with a loving smile.




The Piano: Spin Off

As the old lady sits at her majestic, grand piano, her fingers gently caress the keys and the room is filled with a familiar, joyful song. The piano, which was being played by the elegant woman, shone like a diamond under the spotlight. She plays as if it is the biggest competition in the world.

Whilst she is playing, she notices a specific smell. Something has interfered with her mind: her husband! Suddenly, her thoughts come to one day: her most special day – the day they met.

My brain could remember it so clearly, it was a glass. It was an extremely important spring morning for me – probably for my husband, too. In the evening, I was going to play in one of the biggest piano concerts in the world.

At the start of the afternoon, I sat backstage with all the other pianists, including my husband. Waiting, we all sat at a piano, practising for our big day. An hour went by and the two people left were him and me. It was his turn: I tried to say good luck, but he was already on stage playing the tune I was playing currently. I could hear a loud roar coming from the crowd. At first it was a beautiful noise, but after fifteens seconds it got so exasperating. He finished. It was my turn.

“Good luck,” he said sweetly. That spurred me on. Although my heart was pumping as quick as a clock, I performed like never before. At the end I ended up in tears of joy. After, my husband and I got together.

Sadly, her brain couldn’t remember anymore. One thing she could remember was that it was the best day ever!

 The old lady sits at the piano and is joined by her husband and he plays the final note, her face reflecting how much she loves him.




The Piano: Spin Off

As the old lady sits at her majestic grand piano, her fingers gently caress the keys and the room is filled with a familiar, joyful song. Sitting there playing the joyful melody, the old lady’s fragile fingers begin to speed up the tempo. Passionately, her graceful fingertips start to remember that wonderful tune: the tune that her and her husband still play.

Suddenly, the room goes frosty; the old lady is transported back into one of her best memories.

There I was, the place where I found the love of my life. The piano was there: the piano where I met my beloved Tom. I Walked over and sat at the piano stool and began getting ready to play the tune. There he was, walking over to me, wanting to relay the same tune. They sat for three minutes talking and playing their beloved piece. The old lady instantly fell in love with him.


Week Commencing March 20th


This week in DT, Class 4 were challenged with the task to build the tallest tower they could... using only one sheet of A4 paper and a pair of scissors. No glue. No tape. No fixing devices whatsoever. Here are some of the successful outcomes:

The three tallest towers built were...

Week Commencing March 6th


This week, Year 6 were fortunate to spend an afternoon with staff from Baysgarth School to learn about, and get their hands on, one of their Green Power Kit cars.


The children learnt about the importance of working together as a team, with each person's role being equally important to ensure success, as they recreated a pit stop to change drivers... well as learning about the different parts of the kit car...

...and finishing the afternoon with an opportunity to consolidate learning from our electricity lessons by recreating circuits to show how the components of the kit cars all work together...

Week Commencing February 27th


This week in science, Year 6 were investigating how to make bulbs shine brighter, buzzers sound louder and motors turn quicker by constructing circuits and testing out their hypotheses.

Artist Study: L.S. Lowry


To complete our learning, we combined our shading skills with a Lowry-esque cityscape pencil drawing to produce some very impressive pieces of art.


In English, Year 6 have been writing non-chronological reports about an animal of their choice which has links to our science learning from last term on classification. Below are a few examples of their work, showcasing the key features of this genre of writing.



Giraffes, who are such bright animals, are the tallest mammals known to the world and are very significant creatures.


Reaching an overall height of around 18 feet (5.5 metres), giraffe’s legs and necks are very long whereas their bodies, manes and horns are short. Their coats are pale buff in colour and have reddish-brown patches. Giraffe’s horns (ossicones) are covered in a thick layer of skin and their tails are tufted.


A giraffe’s diet revolves around plants and vegetation, this means they are herbivores. These graceful creatures eat leaves, seeds, buds, tree branches and occasionally grass, but their favourites are the leaves of acacia and mimosia trees. In fact, academic research has shown that giraffes can eat up to 85% of new acacia shoots.


An adult female giraffe will give birth to its baby after being pregnant for 15 months. Once a baby (calf) is born, they depend on their mother for protection and food and will drink their mother’s milk for none to ten months. A calf can weigh up to 150 pounds and stands up to 6 feet tall. Young giraffes will have matured fully between three to five years and will start mating at around seven years old. Aging does not take time for giraffes as calves grow around 1 inch per week.


Overall, giraffe’s have been declared vulnerable, indicating that they are under risk of becoming extinct in the wild. There are now around 68,000 of them, as the number of giraffes has decreased dramatically (by up to 40%) in the past three decades.




Monkeys are tailed primates and are mammals. There are over 200 species of monkeys.


They inhabit grassland and most live in tropical forests and in troupes consisting of several family with young and either one male (mandrils, langurs) or several males (baboons, macaques).


Monkeys are omnivores so they eat plants and meat. They eat things such as insects, small animals and bird eggs.


Monkeys walks on all fours but can stand upright. They have big brains. They have flat faces with big muzzles (noses) and use their hands to do tasks. Monkeys leap from limb to limb while they travel among trees.

Types of Monkeys

Probiscus monkeys have webbed feet and hands. Mandrils are extremely colourful. Black howlers have a different coat colour to monkeys. Japanese macaques can survive the icy winters. Guinea baboons eat fruits, roots, tubers, grass, seeds and leaves. Golden lion tamarins move quadrupedal through the trees and can spring and leap between branches and vines.

Life Cycle

There are 3 stages. First stage is gestation (4 to 8 months), second is infanthood (1 to 2 years) and the last stage is adulthood (10 to 50 years). Mothers given birth to between 1 to 3 babies at a time.




The Orca (Orcinus Orca) is the largest member of the dolphin family, also known as the killer whale or wolf of the sea.


The Orca has black and white skin with 2-metre-long dorsal fin and 9.5 metre log body. Behind its dorsal fin it has a grey patch called a saddle or cape. On top of its head, it has a blowhole where it breaths. This dolphin is toothed.

Diet and Hunting

The Orca has a wide range of food which it eats from, including other whales, seals, fish, squid and walruses. They catch seals with coordinated attacks where they use calls to knock them off ice by creating waves. Also, they beach themselves to catch seal pups on the shore. When they see a shoal of fish, they stun the fish with powerful tail strikes and then eat them.


The killer whale lives worldwide and near shallow waters and the shore. In the winter, it migrates to the top of the Pacific. As a result of this, they have to migrate back where they have their babies.

Life Cycle

Female orcas can live up to 90 years and male live up to 60 years.


Orcas have adapted to swim 45kph to catch food easier and have been living in pods for better survival.

Fun Facts

  • Orcas are nearly the same size as a bus
  • Killer whales are actually dolphins
  • Their babies are called calves


Orcas are at LC (least concern) which means there are lots of them left. When they’re in captivity, they are trained to perform in shows to entertain people.


Howler Monkeys


Howler monkeys are mammals and are part of the monkey family (tail prime apes).


They live in eastern Bolivia, southern Brazil and Paraguay. They mostly spend their time in the canopy layer in rainforests.


Howler monkeys have a very short diet containing: fruit, seeds, nuts, leaves, flowers and flower buds. When in captivity, they are fed boiled eggs, which means they are omnivores. The y can be eaten by humans in Bolivian jungles.


Male howlers are black, but when born they are blonde for 2 years, whereas females are blonde their whole life. Most howlers are in groups of 3 to 20, mainly made up of males because only they can howl. Fully grown howlers have a height of 60 – 65cm (around 20 inches). They weigh 15 to 20 pounds (2 stone).

Life Cycle

Because howler monkeys are mammals, they have the same life cycle as other mammals: give birth to live young, growth and then decline, which means to let the animal explore the world by itself. Male howlers have a life span of 15 to 20 years. Female howlers have a life span of 25 years.


Howler monkeys have 3 adaptations: hands, feet and tail. Their tail supports their body and acts like a fifth hand. Their feet help them balance on high branches. Their hands help them to reach high areas and to grab things.


Howler monkeys are considered the loudest land animal (140 decibels). They are also the biggest monkey in the world. Only males howl, which is why groups are mainly males. Their tails are a sixth sense.


Over the previous half term, Year 6 have been learning all about the circulatory system in Science. This included learning about the parts of the heart; researching and explaining the functions of the heart, blood vessels and the blood; investigating which exercise is the best for the body and exploring the impact diet, exercise and drugs have on the body.


Below are some insights into the work that the children produced.

Over the past few weeks, Year 6 have been working hard in English writing a narrative based on the animation Lighthouse, which you can watch by clicking on the link below.

Here are a few examples of the fantastic stories we have produced.

The Lighthouse

One stormy night when the waves were crashing and the moon’s beaming light hid behind the mysterious fog; cheers of joy filled the air from singing villagers. Every time they would cheer when the strong, endless light in the lighthouse passed by. In the lighthouse was an old man sat at his old, crumbling desk, determined to finish his never-ending paperwork, whilst grunting at the loud, annoying villages.

When, all of a sudden, there was a loud bang and all the candles and lights blew out. Panicking, the lighthouse keeper slammed the window shut and limped up the stairs.

Whilst glaring at the broken engine, the old man rushed towards it to check what was wrong. Confused, he picked up his toolbox and made his way up the creaking stairs. “Maybe I will find the answer in the bulb room,” he thought.

Once he had reached the bulb room, he zoomed his way towards it and placed his toolbox behind him. Whilst he was concentrating on fixing the bulb, without thinking, he picked it up and… Crash!

The old man gazed around himself in horror because thousands of pieces of sharp glass surrounded him. He lay looking at the crumbled, old toolbox when he heard a loud ear-aching beep coming from a boat out at sea. He stared out the window horrified because the boat was coming towards the sharp rocks that lay below the lighthouse.

As he stood there, his mind raced. “How am I going to save this boat?” he thought. He could feel his heart slamming against his chest. Unless… He turned his head to glare at the village beaming with light. It was up to him. Awkwardly, he stumbled to his feet and began to run down the unstable stairs. The stairs seemed endless, but this was the least of his problem. “How am I going to help the boat?”

Finally, the door was in sight. He darted towards it. If only he was more civil to the villagers before. He was now at the door, swallowing on the spit in his mouth. He flung the door open and didn’t believe what he was seeing.

In disbelief, he gasped. Flocks of villagers walked up their lanterns beaming with light. Their smiles shone more than the lanterns. At that moment, he said a little vow to always be kind to others. The old man led one row to the top row of the lighthouse and, soon enough, there was enough light to reach the boat.

That night, the lighthouse keeper was the proudest man in the village. As he stood up proud, the boat gave a beep of thankyou and he took this time to reflect.


The Lighthouse

The clouds hid the moon every now and again. The waves were crashing on a cliff where a lighthouse was shining, guarding the land like a sentry.

The villagers were cheering in the pub while drinking. Back in the lighthouse, an old man was writing with his quill. His table was old and faded. Then he heard the villager’s happiness and slammed the old window then the endless circle of light vanished.

The man sprinted up the stairs. He stopped for a few seconds to get his toolbox and to look at the machinery. He ran like a lightning bolt up another set of stairs. When he was up the stairs, he put his toolbox behind him and looked through the hatch. He didn’t find anything wrong with it, so he picked it up. Suddenly, he stepped back and fell over the toolbox and it shattered into a million pieces.

The man looked at the shattered bulb in disbelief that he had broken the endless circle of light that he had worked so hard to keep safe. Now his mind was racing with what to do. He ran down the stairs at the speed of light and opened the door. Then he saw the villagers and they barged in with glowing smiles standing shoulder to shoulder.

The light was so bright that it travelled to the boat and the captain gave one last honk of thanks and turned.


The Lighthouse

As the wispy, grey clouds covered the lonely, ancient moon, ferocious, vast waves crashed against the towering cliff side far below. A dingy lighthouse stood illuminating the sea ahead. Inside the lighthouse, a grumpy old man sat and groaned for the villager’s ear piercing cheers echoed round the room.

The keeper of the beacon of light slammed the rusty window shut and continued with his piles of paperwork. Suddenly, the darkness shattered the beams of light. He stumbled off his tattered chair while the villagers gasped and fell in silence. Urgently, he grabbed the toolbox and back breaking journey up the creaky stairs. Nervously, he examined the vast, loud machine, which stuttered as he attempted to find the terrible problem. He took a deep breath. The machine was okay.

Hear pounding, he ran to the top of the lighthouse. In a panic, he dropped the toolbox. The keeper stared into the glass housing and wondered what was happening. Without warning, a boat’s horn echoed round the charcoal sky. He heaved the massive bulb off its stone placement. All of a sudden, he tripped over his toolbox… The bulb shattered into hundreds of pieces. What am I going to do? He thought to himself.

Gazing down at the glowing village, he felt a glimpse of hope build inside of him. The man sprinted down the creaky, ancient, spiral staircase that didn’t seem to end. Thoughts started to race in his head; he had let everyone down.

Finally, he reached the elongated, wooden door and gasped for air. He flung the door open. Beaming at him were the kind, caring villagers striding up the huge hill each carrying lanterns. His heart filled with joy as these strangers had come as his saviour.

Moments later, villagers carpeted the cliff side, lighting up the rocky sea. He sighed as the ship had avoided the dangerous rocks.

“Thank you,” the lighthouse keeper sniffed.


The Lighthouse

Glowing beams of moonlight dappled the treacherous ocean below. It was a stormy night; the ragged, ominous clouds loomed over the starry night sky. A little above the sea was the significant lighthouse whose lamp shone like a laser to warn any oncoming ships of perilous rocks just beyond the cliff. Down in the village, the townspeople cheered and danced in the pub in time to the spinning, blinding light of the tower.

Inside the lighthouse, a cantankerous, old man was sitting at a wooden desk writing a letter on a piece of crumpled parchment. His pen scribbled away in the faint candlelight as the distant cheers of people travelled with the wind. Getting annoyed by the revellers, he slammed the window shut.

A few moments later, it blew open gain and the candle was extinguished. The village was in darkness. The cheering stopped. Confused, the lighthouse keeper leapt from his seat to see what had happened. He ran with his red, rusty toolbox up the decaying stairs to see the oily cogs frozen in time.

Heart pounding, he bundled up the spiral staircase to the lamp. The keeper arrived at the top and opened the light’s housing. As he clicked open the latch and peeked into the yellowing glass, a ship’s horn blared, shattering the silent night.

Mind racing, he immediately heaved the bulb up into his arms. If he was quick, he could fix it. He stepped back. He felt his feet leave the ground. It was over. He had tripped over the old, abandoned toolbox. CRASH! The light had broken into a million pieces. The lighthouse keeper felt hopeless. As if trying to be rude, the horn sounded once more. He had no other choice but to go asking for help.

He quickly ran down the never-ending, creaky stairs. The lighthouse keeper pushed his half-moon spectacles up as he sprinted past his desk, where the window was still open, and to the door. He couldn’t bear the thought of the ship crashing if nobody from the village helped. They were just strangers. Wishing he had been nicer, he opened the rotting door to see beaming torched and lanterns up the steep cliff.

After he guided the first group of people to the lowest platform, he took the second group up to highest platform, to where the light would have been. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they held their lights high and the ship turned to safety, away from the dangerous rock.

With a final blow of thanks from the ship, relief flooded the lighthouse keeper. He made his way back to the village to have a drink in the pub with his new friends.


The Lighthouse

One stormy night, thick, heavy clouds guarded the ominous moon. As the deep, dark blue sea crashed against the jagged rocks, joyful, loud villagers cheered in a pub. The dingy lighthouse towered over the village, its light illuminating the night sky as wind howled through the night.

Up in the sky-scraping lighthouse, a grumpy, old man sat at his wooden desk slaving away, daring to complete his endless paperwork. Due to the noise out in the depths of the village, he slammed his window shut. All of a sudden, his window swung open and his candle blew out. Bang! There was a bang coming from the top of the tower. Confused, he leapt out of his seat, ran up the endless flight of stairs, huffing and puffing. When he finally reached the top, he saw that the light had turned off…

“Oh no,” mumbled the keeper of the light. “OK. I will take the bulb to my desk and try to fix it.”

Without thinking, he picked up the bulb and took two unstable steps backwards and then, suddenly, he stumbled over the toolbox, landing hard on his back. Crash! Disaster struck. The light had shattered into a thousand pieces. Just then, the boat’s horn echoed through the night. The keeper’s heart skipped a beat. His hands got clammy. His breathing got heavier and heavier. He didn’t know what to do.

Awkwardly, he stood up and a thought came to mind. The staircase seemed to go on for ages and his worries were stacking on top of each other. Finally, he nervously swung open the door and there he saw something amazing: the whole village was climbing up the steep hill all carrying bright lanterns.

“Thank you! Thank you!” exclaimed the old man. “I am so grateful that I have such a loving village. Come in. Come in!”

Everyone came barging in, eager to save the boat from the treacherous rocks down below. As the ship quickly travelled to the island, the villagers lined up so they cut out the darkness of the night.

Still dumbstruck, the wrinkled man stood on the balcony tearing up. Luckily, the sailor saw this light and turned away, travelling to safety. The man stood proudly with his new friends from the village. He also learnt a lesson to socialise more.