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Autobiography - creative writing.

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Introduction

GCSE English Coursework Autobiography "Mistress teacher," - the words would normally conjure up the image of a lady, a teacher. If my memory serves me well, the portrait of the person who took care of me and my sister in our preschool years was not what you'd call "a lady", or a teacher. She was a woman, though, and she did teach us. That autumn morning my mother introduced a new character to me and my sister's lives. The lady was in her late fifties, with blonde long hair and an evilly wrinkled face. Her smile looked mean, as if all we were was merely another bridge to her financial stability. Her name? She didn't have any, maybe because it was too silly or degrading to her severe notoriety as "Mistress teacher". That was what we called her, or at least what we had to call her. I will be forever grateful to her for teaching me how to read, write, speak and sing. ...read more.

Middle

It was far from a onetime thing and from that day on, my routine changed drastically and it wasn't for the better. I used to have milk with cocoa for breakfast every day and Mistress teacher kindly offered to prepare it for me before I'd get out of bed. One time, though, it wasn't milk that she gave me. I remember that weird, threatening liquid I had to drink: it was white, clear, purple and brown at the same time; the purple and brown bits were chasing each other around in a circle, forming a tornado of unhappy cocoa. It didn't taste as horrible as it looked, but it surely wasn't anything nutritious. Days later I realised that what Mistress teacher had given me was water with cocoa, not poisonous, obviously, but far from my ideal breakfast. I never complained and tried my best to please her, even in the most ridiculous of situations. Our daily schedule was made up of "teaching time" and... ...read more.

Conclusion

Then we had to do a "joint kneeling procedure", both of us would kneel in front of her and recite the little standardised poem. Although not very tempted to visit our street, summer came eventually and strawberries were brought to our fridge against their will by our mother. Strawberries! Everyone loves strawberries. Excitedly, Mistress teacher served a bowl full of strawberries, all covered in sugar and whipped cream. We joined in the happy moment and everything was just fine, almost fun. She left in the afternoon and nothing ridiculous had happened. "Children, come here!" my mum shouted in an angry tone. "Come over here, I say," she insisted. "Can anyone tell me what on earth this is?" she said pointing at the ceiling. My sister and I looked up, just to discover a huge strawberry smashed on the ceiling. "We didn't do this! Why would we smash a strawberry on the wall?", "Who was it then?" mum asked, genuinely confused. After four minutes of thinking, one answer came to light and we all shouted the well known name of "Mistress teacher!" ?? ?? ?? ?? ...read more.

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Here's what a teacher thought of this essay

4 star(s)

There is some good description in this piece but there needs to be more of it to ensure the reader is interested throughout.
The ending also needs to have more of a purpose and link to the beginning as it is the final thought you are leaving with the reader and therefore needs to be strong.

4 Stars

Marked by teacher Laura Gater 10/10/2013

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