Preparing GCSE English Literature Unseen Poetry

For many English Literature exams at GCSE, there’s a requirement to respond to unseen poetry. Most students do really well on this, and examiner reports say the responses are fresh and interesting. Nevertheless, it does instill a great deal of fear in the hearts of many candidates and the following four posts are designed to help you get your head around some of the most challenging poems ever written in order to help you revise and prepare for the unseen poetry questions.

There are three main things you’ll need to look at when responding to poetry: form, structure and language.

Most of you are fine with the language bit. You can spot similes at fifty paces; you know how to write about metaphors, and pathetic fallacy doesn’t phase you.

But many students really struggle when it comes to writing about form and structure. So the following posts are designed to look at three poems that will really develop your response to these two aspects of poetry.

Let’s define our terms first, though, so that we know what we’re dealing with.


How it’s set out on the page; line length, syllables, rhythm (metre) rhyme, what words are on what line, number of lines, sonnet, couplets, three lines, quatrains, regularity of the number of lines in a verse/stanza, capitals (or lack of) main punctuation at the end of lines or stanzas (, . , .  / , , , . / ; : ; . )  phrase splits and the way the words fall on each line, which ideas are linked within the line or stanza and which are separate, caesura, enjambment.

Form is what makes it a poem and not prose. Why does it look the way it does? What decisions has the poet made about what he has put on one line and what on another? Why this form?

When I approach a poem, I start first by identification of what’s there. Sometimes, if I don’t know where to start, I identify everything I can see.

When I’ve identified and can describe what the poet is doing with the form of the poem, then I start narrowing down. What’s unusual? What’s interesting? What links with the ideas in the poem? What supports the ideas in the poem?

Because I might be able to say 200 things about the form of the poem, but I can’t write 200 things in one paragraph in a short exam essay. Maximum, I’m looking for is a single paragraph on aspects of form and how they link to the ideas in the poem.

One thing we have to do, though, is step away from comments about how the poem LOOKS LIKE something. Really. Time to put those comments behind us.

Please don’t tell me the poem looks like blah blah thing in the poem.

I don’t know why students do this.

Ok, I kind of do. There’s a branch of poetry called ‘Concrete Poetry’, also known as ‘shape poetry’ or ‘pattern poetry’ where the poets wrote in shapes that reflected the content.

George Herbert’s The Altar is an example of this. Another of his poems, Easter Wings,  also does this:

It would be, then, perfectly reasonable to say you need to turn this poem on its side and then it looks like a pair of wings. I’m guessing angel wings on account of the fact that a)I’ve never seen an angel so I don’t know and b) they look like butterfly wings to me, but the poem isn’t really about butterflies.

But… BUT….

There are so few poems like this in the English language that you shouldn’t have to resort to comments like ‘If you turn the poem on its side, it looks like…’

And if you come across a poem that IS a Concrete poem, you’ll probably know.

Don’t be tempted to say anything about turning poems on their side or what the poem looks like. I hate this and most of the time it’s not at all what you say it is – your comment could be applied to thousands of other poems that look the same as the one you’ve got.

Pattern poems absolutely exist. Mostly, you’ll know that’s what you’ve got.

Do you see?

You’ll generally know without having to puzzle over it. I promise.

So now I’ve said ‘Don’t say the poems look like…’ where does that leave you? What can you say?

To start, we’re going to have a look at one of my favourite weird poems and think about form. I’m going to tell you what I see – all of it – and describe the form. Then I’m going to narrow down and think about what’s useful. Then I’ll think about what relates to the content and what I want to put in my single paragraph about the big idea.

And I’m starting with one that will REALLY make you think.

It gets worse, I must admit, but by the time you’ve read and thought about these poems in this series, you’ll be so happy to write about form that you’ll realise that you can do anything once you’ve tackled the meaningless and the complicated. The poems you’ll get in the exam will never, ever be this hard. So if you can happily write about the form in the poems that are coming up, nothing will ever be that difficult in the exam.

So let’s have a look at our first unseen poem: Ezra Pound’s brief “On a Station in the Metro” written in 1907

Yes, this is all of it.

Yes, it’s a poem. Well, at least those who know more than I do say it is. You might want to use this as a starting point to consider what makes ‘a poem’ – what the things we need to make a poem?

For me, I’m going to say: it’s not a play. It doesn’t have characters. That said, some plays are composed in poetry, like the early plays. It’s also not narrative.

In fact, it’s form that makes this a poem at all. Form is the very thing that makes something ‘not prose’. Cutting things up and putting them on the lines you want them to go on is the very essence of poetry. But you can have some very interesting discussions about ‘what is a poem?’ using this as a staple. It makes for some very interesting discussion.

So, let’s look at that form and I’ll tell you all the things I can see. You may see more, and that’s great – leave me your thoughts in the comments if you like.

Just a reminder… this is what I’m asking myself:

How it’s set out on the page; line length, syllables, rhythm (metre) rhyme, what words are on what line, number of lines, sonnet, couplets, three lines, quatrains, regularity of the number of lines in a verse/stanza, capitals (or lack of) main punctuation at the end of lines or stanzas (, . , .  / , , , . / ; : ; . )  phrase splits and the way the words fall on each line, which ideas are linked within the line or stanza and which are separate, caesura, enjambment.

Eighteen interesting things about the form:

  1. It’s a couplet.
  2. There are two lines.
  3. One line is longer than the other.
  4. The second line is shorter.
  5. There’s a title.
  6. The title tells us where it takes place.
  7. The first line has 12 syllables.
  8. The second line has 7 syllables.
  9. It reminds me a bit of a haiku (will come back to that later)
  10. There’s something rhythmic about the last words.
  11. ‘Crowd’ and ‘Bough’ have a ‘ow’ sound. Not rhyme, but assonance.
  12. Both lines contain an entire phrase.
  13. Neither idea or line has a verb.
  14. It’s a bit like a short list of two timeless things without those verbs.
  15. I really, really, really want to talk about that semi-colon.
  16. The semi-colon turns these into two linked ideas.
  17. It’s a pivot, a mirror, a turning point, a volta (that’s structure, I know).
  18. If you take the poem’s title as a line in the poem, you’ve got 7 – 12 – 7.

Now I know myself. I think I could easily write about the relevance of at least ten of those things. But I have about 12 minutes to write one section on form and it’s not possible.

From there, I have two options. One is to group them for an overall impression. There is, for instance, quite a lot of balance in those two lines – something even in the cadence. Not perfect, slightly offset by the length, but the ‘crowd’ and ‘bough’ are pleasant and smooth, long vowel sounds, mellifluous even, and they help create a sense of balance. The fact there is one statement on each line, neither with a verb. That semi-colon. The parallel monosyllables of ‘in the crowd’ and ‘wet, black bough’ which both have two short vowels and then a long vowel to finish. I could talk about why Ezra Pound does so much to make it neat and balanced.

Or I can drill down into one specific thing. Like the semi-colon for instance.

But Ezra Pound is long since dead and I can’t ask him what he meant by this poem. That means that everything I say about it is speculation, hypothesis, theory. An educated guess. So I can’t say ‘Pound did this because…’, only ‘The effect this has on the reader is…’, or ‘this makes us think that…’ and so on. Because I do know what people think about it. And whilst I may say ‘the reader’ or ‘we/us’, what I mean is ‘me’. I mean how could you possibly think otherwise?

Oh, okay. You do. That’s great. All I’m asking you to do is explain then to me and justify why you think this way about it. I write sometimes as if there is only one way to take a poem, when this is so untrue. You take from it what you like. As long as you can justify it, you’re on solid ground. That’s not to say that anything goes – it’s doesn’t. There are reasonable, rational evaluations, and there are crazy notions that don’t bear any real weighing up and fall apart under scrutiny.

For instance, let’s look at those two lines.

You might think ‘metro’… metros have two platforms. The two lines are like the platforms. So you could write “The two lines could represent the two platforms in a metro station”

And that might very well be true, except for the fact that one of those lines is shorter, and platforms are usually of fairly equal length. Also, lots of stations have more than one track, and some have only one.

You might as well say, “the poem looks like an equals sign”, or “the poem looks like a parallel line” or “the poem is like a double-yellow line” or “the poem is like metro train tracks”

Even if these things were true, would they add to the meaning?

So what IS worth commenting on?

For me, the couplet. The two lines seem very neat. In fact, you could also consider the title to be a third line I guess, in which case it would be even more like a haiku.

It’s at this point knowing some of the context for Pound is helpful, but in the unseen question, you don’t have any of that. I did want to explain a bit about the haiku statement, because no doubt, you’re scratching your head saying, “Really? But it’s two lines!”

If you knew that Ezra Pound was very interested in Japanese poetry (and also in Dante’s famous poem, Inferno, about hell) and you knew that he was interested in those neat little moments of Japanese poetry, then you can see why I might say this.

But you don’t have to know he was interested in Japanese poetry to see that this is a very simple, singular, timeless moment. Just looking at the ‘haiku’ page on Wikipedia, you can see it’s about the ‘juxtaposition of two images’. Does this poem do that? I think it does – the apparition of the faces and the petals. Haiku have a ‘turning word’, a pivot. Does the punctuation at the end of the line do that? I would argue that it does. Plus, different variations of this poem have different punctuation at the end of the line – which alters the meaning in interesting ways once you know what semi-colons and colons do, but a semi-colon is a joining thing. It says the ideas are connected. Second thing in common with a haiku. Also, a haiku may have a reference to a season. I think you could make the argument that the petals are evocative of spring, since spring is when most trees blossom, unlike flowers which may have flowers at other times of the year. A final thing is that haiku should be everyday kind of events, which seeing people on the metro station undoubtedly is.

It doesn’t have the three lines of a haiku, or the syllabic patterns, which is why I’m saying this is ‘like’ a haiku rather than it is a haiku. But the point would be about what haiku DO. They capture a moment. They capture everyday events or occurrences and make poetry out of the mundane.

Couplet or haiku, that’s what I think this poem is doing. It makes you reflect on the world around you.

So what can I say in my one paragraph about the form of this poem? Let’s have a go:

In a Station of the Metro is a brief, two-line couplet. In itself, the couplet is complete and neat. Like the moments when waiting for a metro train, it’s brief and fleeting, just as those thoughts and impressions you get about the people who are waiting. It’s a fragment, a flash of a thought, like the couplet has captured that brief thought. Because it’s so brief, it helps us understand the brevity of the moment, yet also that it was complete in itself. The ‘apparition of the faces’ is made to seem like a short, transitory, fleeting thought. It’s a stark, simple image that is reinforced by the stark, simple form. Although it may not have much in common with Japanese haiku in terms of form (unless you consider the title to be a third line), it has some features in common such as the ‘volta’ or turning point, and the way that it captures a single moment or thought. The simplicity is deceptive: we end up doing as much thinking about it as we would for a longer poem, but at the same time, when we read it, we too experience the same transitory and fleeting moment as the poet does.

As you can see, I’m trying to move on from describing the poem and into evaluation. I say that it’s complete and neat, which is more of a judgement than “it has two lines” and then I go on to spend the rest of my paragraph explaining what the effect is. I’m not saying “Pound wants us to think” or trying to explain what I think Pound is doing. I don’t know. He’s dead. I can’t ask him. Even if I could he may not have replied. But I can say what we think when we read it. What I hope you can also see is that I’ve got three mini-descriptions and then three comments that explain my thoughts about that.

Now if I can say something sensible about two lines (yes, I’m aware of the irony that my commentary on form is longer than the actual poem) and if you have some ideas too about why it’s two lines and why you think it’s so simple, then you’re a long way on to making comments on a poem that is FREAKISHLY unique. If you can comment on this, then you can comment on longer things for sure.

That brings us to a very simple thing to consider, no matter what poem you’re looking at:

Is the poem brief and neat? If so, why do you think that is?

Is the poem waxing lyrical and dedicating hundreds of lines to the topic? Why do you think that is?

And how much of the poem is dedicated to one single idea?

Next time, I’m going to have a brief look at another freakishly unique poem and think about other aspects of form that might help you analyse poems in the exam. After all, if you can have a SENSIBLE thought about this ^^^^^^^ poem, you can have sensible thoughts about much less complex ideas without resorting to painful comments like “it looks like train tracks”.


Revise AQA GCSE English Language Paper 2 Question 3

This post is part of a series on AQA GCSE English Language Paper 2 to help you revise each question and prepare for your exams. You’ll also find posts on Question 1 and Question 2. If you are looking for materials on Paper 1 or the writing sections, you can find those by clicking here.

Essentially, Question 3 on Paper 2, also known as ‘the language question’ is similar not only in style but also in markscheme to Question 2 on Paper 1, also a ‘language’ question. Like that question, it was dogged by poor preparation and an over-reliance on subject terminology at the cost of evaluation. This question is worth more marks, and so there are some small but subtle differences that you might want to focus on.

How you prepare is exactly the same as you would for paper 1, and so a lot of the advice is going to be the same.

Let’s start by looking at the question.

So as you can see, it tells you to look at one specific source text, and refers to the lines you’ll need to stay within (on the two ‘live’ papers, at least – the last is from the specimen paper). It starts with how does [writer] use language to… 

After that, there are subtle differences which are dependent, I’d guess, on the purpose of the source.

The question is worth 12 marks, so look to spend between 12 and 15 minutes on it. I would be looking to write three developed paragraphs in that time.

The reason it asks you to stay within the lines is that the best and richest language use will be focused on those lines, so it is an attempt to help you, not hinder you. Don’t try to be smart and work outside the lines given. Put a box around the lines and make sure you stick to them.

Now let’s look at how you’re being assessed: what is it that you need to do in the exam to gain marks?

As you may know, there are four levels. These don’t mean grades. It’s meaningless to tell you ‘this is how you’ll get Grade 9’, because it depends on the year, the cohort, the test, maths, statistical analysis and analysis of standards which are waaaaay above most people’s tolerance for waffle. Roughly, though, you might want to think of it this way:

Level 1 = Grade 1 to somewhere in Grade 3
Level 2 = Somewhere in Grade 3 to Grade 4/5
Level 3 = Grade 5 to somewhere in Grade 7
Level 4 = Somewhere in Grade 7 to Grade 9

Like I say elsewhere though, that is absolutely my spin on it. You don’t get a grade for the question. You get a grade for the total mark across both papers. So I can’t tell you how to get Grade 9 on this question, and neither can anyone else. If they say they can, they are most probably a charlatan and a rogue!

But I can tell you how to get Level 1 (1-3 marks) or Level 2 (4-6 marks) and so on.

Let’s look at the assessment features for Level 1, right at the lowest end.

Now, like Paper 1, these bullets are not equally weighted. The first is the most important and it decides whether you come in at 1, 4, 7 or 10 marks. One comment could mean you’re 1 mark or you’re 10 marks depending on the quality of it.

If you make a simple comment, you’re Level 1, an attempted comment, you’re Level 2, a clear comment you’re Level 3 and a perceptive comment, you’re Level 4. It’s why you can write 4 sides and still be 3 marks, or write 1 side and be 12 marks. It all depends on the quality of what you write.

So, your comment is much of everything.

Why do so many candidates fail to get out of Level 1? Almost 20% of June 2017’s marks were 1, 2 or 3.

First, because they make such general, waffly comments that could apply to literally any text ever committed to paper. It makes you want to read on. It hooks the reader. It tantalises the reader. It engages the reader. It baffles the reader. It arouses the reader’s curiosity. You can be as fancy as you like, but if you really mean ‘it makes us want to read on’, you’re going to get stuck at 3 marks.

Second, because identifying synaesthesia, asyndetic listing, synecdoche or hyperbole isn’t what’s being assessed here. You could spot zoomorphism at twenty paces and still not get out of Level 1. Even if you’re right. And most people aren’t. To misquote TS Eliot, the naming of words is a difficult matter. It also won’t lead you to twelve marks. There is no hierarchy of language features. Nowhere in the markscheme is anaphora marked more highly than ‘the writer describes’.

This is straight from the examiners’ report, which is now in the public domain. So you don’t just have to take my word for it.

So how do you go about preparing for this question?

A lot of it is actually in the things you do before you answer. That comes down to your identification of ‘juicy’ bits of the text to explore. Believe it or not, given all those words, better candidates rely time and time again on a very narrow bank of useful quotations. They won’t mean to select from such a limited range, but by and large, candidates at the top end have unconsciously focused in on the exact same kind of quotes.

A lot of how you can prepare is in doing a double read through.

First, put a box around the given lines.

Then take a highlighter or pencil and underline absolutely everything that is interesting to you. You don’t need to be selective or precise. This is a lot how middle grade students read – they think everything is useful. It stops you focusing in on random things or things just from the beginning.

Don’t think about language features at this point. I promise you that if you go looking for similes or zoomorphism, you won’t do as well as you would with this method.

So once you’ve underlined everything that could be useful, it’s time to think like the most successful students do: narrow down and focus in on three or four really, really interesting bits. By and large, you’re looking for single words or short phrases, not huge chunks. It’s also generally true that the longer your quote, the fewer marks you’ll get. I want to see you focus in on a small number of words.

I’ll show you how here:

A year ago, he was a sleepy ball of scrunched-up flesh, but is now determinedly his own person. I can see everyone in him – me, my wife, my parents – yet he’s already separate from all of us. He’s giddy and silly. He’s a show-off, albeit one who’s irrationally terrified of my dad. He loves running up to people and waiting for them to twang his lips like a ruler on a table. When he gets tired and barks gibberish in the middle of the room, he throws his entire body into it, like he’s trying to shove the noise up a hill.

With every tiny developmentevery new step he takes, every new tooth and sound and reaction that comes along to ambush us – we’re confronted with a slightly different child.

Photos of him taken in the summer seem like dispatches from a million years ago. Photos of him taken last week seem like a different boy. He’s blasting ahead as far as he can. He’s leaving milestone after milestone in his wake and tiny parts of me along with them.

As you can see, there’s quite a lot there on my first go-through. Lots of those bits are interesting.

When I narrow down, you can see what I’ll focus on:

A year ago, he was a sleepy ball of scrunched-up flesh, but is now determinedly his own person. I can see everyone in him – me, my wife, my parents – yet he’s already separate from all of us. He’s giddy and silly. He’s a show-off, albeit one who’s irrationally terrified of my dad. He loves running up to people and waiting for them to twang his lips like a ruler on a table. When he gets tired and barks gibberish in the middle of the room, he throws his entire body into it, like he’s trying to shove the noise up a hill.

With every tiny developmentevery new step he takes, every new tooth and sound and reaction that comes along to ambush us – we’re confronted with a slightly different child.

Photos of him taken in the summer seem like dispatches from a million years ago. Photos of him taken last week seem like a different boy. He’s blasting ahead as far as he can. He’s leaving milestone after milestone in his wake and tiny parts of me along with them.

Whilst I could happily have explored everything I’ve underlined, I’ve got to be more careful than that. Better candidates hone in on things, selecting. They are judicious and wise about their quotes. That requires elimination of the crappy quotes.

Once I’ve got my quotes, I’m ready to start answering.

I’m going to start with the words of the question, give a little away about what the writer is trying to show, use my quote, mention the language feature if I know it and then try to put it into my own words and explain the effect. Just like Q2 on this paper and on Paper 1, I’m going to use some of the following starters to get me going on my explanation:

  • it suggests that
  • it makes us think
  • it is designed to
  • it gives the impression that
  • it could be that
  • it may indicate that
  • it sounds as if
  • it seems
  • it’s described as
  • this indicates that
  • this could be associated with
  • this may be
  • this is shown to be
  • this shows
  • the writer hints that
  • this adds a sense of
  • we can assume that
  • the writer could be
  • it’s as if
  • the writer purposely
  • this allows the reader to

Let’s put that all together:

The writer describes how his son has changed, saying he “was a sleepy ball of scrunched up flesh” but “is now determinedly his own person”, with the tense change highlighting what he once was and  how he now is. It’s the way he described his son as having been a “ball of scrunched-up flesh” that is most interesting, with the “flesh” sounding like he’s almost not even alive or human, that he was unrecognisable even as a human being, but as he has grown older he is described as being “determinedly his own person”, which shows how he has grown up not just physically but developmentally, becoming “determined” which could suggest he is strong-minded or stubborn, certainly that he is has become an individual – and that he is almost driven to be individual – rather than that unidentifiable “ball” of “flesh” he once was. It sounds as if the writer is both proud and a little scared of how single-minded and obstinate his son is at being “his own person”. 

Those words were actually very juicy indeed, looking back on them! I certainly could tie it in easily to the next bit about his son throwing “his entire body” into barking “gibberish”.

If I want to take it further, I’d certainly look at that quote, as well as the sense of being “confronted by” the changes, which make the parents seem passive and powerless, like the changes are sometimes incomprehensible, sometimes amusing and sometimes terrifyingly fast, as well as a little heart-breaking, since the writer finishes by saying he leaves a little piece of himself behind with each milestone.

If I have to summarise:

  1. Use the reading time well to outline the broad brushstrokes and narrow in on the right details that give you plenty to discuss. This double-layer reading allows you to sift and synthesise, prioritising the important and weeding out the less relevant or less useful.
  2. Remember that effect is everything. Your comment on the effect of language is what puts you in a level.
  3. Use subject terminology appropriately and carefully, but do not use it to have a feature-led approach.

Next time, a look at Question 4 on Paper 2 to complete the series. Don’t forget, you can always find the full index here.


Advice and revision for AQA GCSE English Language Paper 2 Question 2

Following on from the previous post about Question 1 on AQA’s GCSE English Language Paper 2 Question 1, this time I’m looking at Paper 2 Question 2 to give you a few revision tips and hints for the exam.

Let’s have a look at the question first of all.

This is June 2017

and here is November 2017

As you can see, some things change and some things don’t. Let’s look at the ones that don’t.

First, it says You need to refer to Source A and Source B for this question. 

That gives you your first indication of the marking. This is a question asking you to handle two different sources of information.

What follows is then a statement that focuses you in on a small part of both texts and tells you the focus point for those differences.

You’d do well to underline the subject and the focus point as this will help you narrow in on what to look for. After all, this question is actually asking you to look at a very small part of the text.

So I know I need to look for stuff generally to do with ‘the boys’ in both texts, and specifically ‘how they spend their time playing’. This second statement tells me how to narrow down and where to look.

The third bit has some bits the same Use details from both sources to write a summary of the differences/different and then it repeats the subject ‘boy’ and the focus ‘activities’ and ‘enjoyed’.

So, it’s telling you in two different ways what to focus in on.

The final thing the question tells us is that it’s worth 8 marks. That means I need to spend about ten minutes on it. I won’t need extra paper and I don’t need to write three paragraphs or find four differences or any nonsense like that.

What I do next is locate everything to do with what the boy does in Source A. I underline all of it. This is a technique that I call ‘broad brushstrokes’ and whilst it means a double read-through, it really does help get to the ‘right’ quotes. So often teachers find that students who hit the top grades are really picking from a very small range of quotes available to them, whereas lower down the grades, it’s more hit and miss. Using broad brushstrokes helps you focus in and then narrow down.

Already you can see there is not much to work with – and that’s fine.

I do the same with source B and underline absolutely everything that the boy in Source B seems to enjoy doing.

Then I go back to Source A, having Source B fresh in my head, and focus in on the points that are connected or come under a bigger idea. For instance, both sources refer to the boys making noise, or their relationship with adults, enjoying contact with parents.

So I underline once again and pick out a few pairs of things that are different.

‘he throws his entire body into … bark[ing] gibberish’ vs ‘a habit of whistling’ and ‘pop guns’, ‘a hearty shout, a shrill whistle, the crack of little whips’

and then I do the same with another difference:

‘rests his head on my shoulder whenever he gets tired’ vs ‘holding his hand in mine’

But when I think about it, it’s the boy in Source A who initiates contact whereas the boy in Source B doesn’t. He bounds ‘away to school’ with ‘nimble feet’.

So now I’ve got some differences and some quotes, I’m ready to look at the markscheme and what it is I need to do.

Like other parts of the markscheme, there are three parts to this question. They are also not equally weighted.

The first bullet point is about the differences between the two texts.

The second is about your use of textual detail.

The third is about inferring meaning from what this tells us.

Some comment then from the principal examiner’s report that will help you understand what’s being assessed and what’s not…

This question is testing your ability to synthesise, as is Question 4. That’s crucial. You absolutely need to find those differences and bring them together. You are looking for connecting points. Weaker responses will mostly be making a connection and giving a quote, whereas better responses will be inferring meaning. You also need to remember that the focus of this question is very narrow – the boys and their activities – and so you’ll need to only look for those things and write about those things. You also need to make sure you aren’t mentioning language features. That’s Question 3 and can’t be marked here. It may be the very best language analysis that has ever existed, but it’s like you’ve started writing chemical formulations rather than answering about inferences relating to a specific focus. It may be the best chemistry that has ever existed but it’s not what the examiner is looking for. Also, don’t write more than you are being asked for. Two paragraphs is more than enough for 8 marks. Unless you have incredibly large handwriting, you don’t need extra paper to respond to this task.

Before we start writing, then, some final words from the examiner’s report, which is now in the public domain:

Students still aren’t moving past 4 marks on average though, which means you have a bit of work to do to make a clear inference.

We’re going to look at how you make those clear inferences today.

So, I had my quotes in response to the June 2017 question above:

I’ve decided that I don’t think I will look at the way they seek out parents as it’s not about how they play. I will however look at the fact the second boy in Source B plays loads more with toys and things, compared to Source A where the boy seems to rely on human interaction.

I’m going to follow the guidance from the examiners’ report and start with a difference, a quote, some inferences, then contrast, more quotes, more inference.

In Source A, the boy seems to enjoy making a lot of noise, as he ‘throws his entire body’ into ‘bark[ing] gibberish’ which suggests that he is so enthusiastic about this shouting that he does it whole-heartedly and without any reserve or hesitation. However, in Source B, whilst the boy also seemed to enjoy making noise as a child, as he had a ‘a habit of whistling’ and his mother mentions a number of noisy toys or behaviours such as ‘pop guns’, ‘a hearty shout, a shrill whistle, the crack of little whips’, it seems that he has a wider range of noises. Also, it may be that the ‘barking gibberish’ is related more to the fact that the younger child in Source A is ‘tired’ rather than actually enjoying it. It could be frustration rather than pleasure which is causing this behaviour. 

So here, I was trying to follow a loose formula …

a) In Source A [subject & focus from question] and make a point, followed by a quote.

b) Explain quote and make inference about what it means or suggests.

c) Contrast with Source B [using subject & focus from question] and make another point, followed by a second quote.

d) Explain quote and make inference about what it means or suggests and how that’s different from Source A.

e) Add an ‘also’ and take it further, explain the difference more deeply or give reasons for the difference.

Making inferences is the tough bit. You’ve really got to think about what it suggests or what it means. I like the following phrases for doing this:

  • it suggests that
  • it makes us think
  • it is designed to
  • it gives the impression that
  • it could be that
  • it may indicate that
  • it sounds as if
  • it seems
  • it’s described as
  • this indicates that
  • this could be associated with
  • this may be
  • this is shown to be
  • this shows
  • the writer hints that
  • this adds a sense of
  • we can assume that
  • the writer could be
  • it’s as if
  • the writer purposely
  • this allows the reader to

These are all really useful ways to explain or draw an inference from the text. Pick four or five that you feel comfortable with, and keep using them!

Next up, revision tips for Paper 2 Question 3.

Don’t forget you can find links to all my free material on 8700 AQA GCSE English Language Paper 1 and Paper 2 here. All you could ever need, and more.

AQA GCSE English Language Paper 2 Question 1 revision

If you’re revising for AQA GCSE English Language, you’re probably not spending much time on Question 1, although it’s definitely worth a quick look and a bit of revision.

You can find guidance on Paper 1 Question 1 here. They are different in some ways although they are assessing the same skill. If you ask me, Paper 1 Q1 is harder. Most people get three or four marks on both questions, though. They’re both designed to ease you into the paper and so they shouldn’t be too terrifying. Paper 1 Q1 can be a little bit harder because you’re not given the phrases, so there’s more potential to go wrong – to pick quotes or details from the wrong part of the passage or to make a poor inference – but Q1 on paper 2 presents challenges of its own.

Let’s look at a sample question, from June 2017.

First, you’re asked to look at a bigger section than Paper 1, so there is more reading to do. That means it can take you a little longer than you might expect.

Second, most of the problems on this question come from not following the guidance given you. It tells you to shade the circle if you think it’s true. If you make a mistake there are things you need to do, but shading a circle for the true statements is your first thing.

That looks like this:

It doesn’t really matter if you colour in the lines. It matters if you use black (you should) and that’s all you need to do.

But over 10% of June 2017 students did other things instead…

Like this:

Now AQA aren’t going to fail you for doing this (although SHADE THE CIRCLE is simple advice) but you can see the problem of this script – and I’ve chosen a font that is a bit indecipherable. For most people T or F are quite distinguishable, but if that horizontal line though the F is not very long or clear, then it could be a T. And this is an examiner headache. Examiners aren’t paid to peer at your scruffy handwriting and try to work out if you’ve done an F or a T. That’s why it says SHADE THE CIRCLE. That way, we don’t need courses in Advanced Graphology to decipher your hieroglyphics.

So shade the circle. Don’t. Do. Anything. Else. Just shade the circle.

That said, it looks like far fewer students made that mistake from June to November if you read the examiners’ reports (available online) but it’s worth remembering.

Now if you are anything like me, you are fraught with uncertainty and doubt. Does the statement mean exactly this? Is it a trick? Will I fail the whole paper if I get this wrong?

To help you more, there’s a rough sequence to the statements

It’s not like you have go hunting back and forward around the text. So if you are of an anxious disposition, you can always highlight the text as I have done.

You may also then want to write T or F IN PENCIL down next to the letters before you shade the circle in pen and rub out the T or F so as not to leave any doubt. If you’re not sure, you can always use a question mark.

So do this:

And this:

Before you do this:

Although that may take you a ridiculous amount of time for what is just a 4 mark question. 5 minutes max.

This is an easy question, but don’t be hasty. There are some inferences you’ll need to make. Some are straight deductions. Sometimes they swap a ‘has’ in the text for a ‘has not’ in the answer, or use loose antonyms like ‘quite hard’ and ‘easy’ in the text and answer booklet. Sometimes they’re just rephrased. But don’t overthink it. It’s not that tough, honest!

Next up, a look at Question 2 on Paper 2


An analysis of the context of War Photographer by Carol Ann Duffy

It’s not often I spend a full post on context, but I think this will cover much about the role of the artist in documenting history, warfare and tragedy, as well as thinking about the role of patriotism in the Power and Conflict poetry, so it seemed like a worthwhile detour. It picks up on aspects of power & conflict from OzymandiasMy Last DuchessCharge of the Light Brigade and War Photographer.

Images of conflict have been around practically as long as art and conflict have co-existed. If we think about why art exists – and I’m going to take poetry as a part of that – some of it is wishful thinking, visualisation or creative imaginings. Some is record-keeping: it is a narrative designed to document significant events. Some of it is planning. Some of it is celebratory, designed to celebrate this or that god. Art can tell stories or express a truth, just as poetry can. It can imitate reality or can even inspire reality.

We first come across art in Ozymandias: the sculpture of the long-dead king. The statue is at once a symbol of his might and power – or at least Ozymandias’s own thoughts about how big and mighty he is. Lots of that early art is very good at capturing “Look how great I am!”

Much of that ancient Egyptian art is about preservation of the past and it reflects the beliefs and values of those who commissioned it (by which I mean the people who paid for it or commanded that it be built). Just because Ozymandias thought he was an unholy terror who should make other kings tremble in their togas doesn’t mean the sculptor did. That said, it’s the traveller’s opinion that the sculptor captured “those passions” and emotions very well. Egyptians were also very good at using size to show value. I am big therefore I am important. And the bigger my stuff is, the more important I am.

Art also starts to indicate wealth. If you have an empire that can employ artisans, sculptors and musicians, then you were an empire who was doing pretty well. By the time words came along and ways of preserving events on paper, civilisation had already got pretty good at documenting things and exaggerating their own importance, especially if you were the victor.

Lots of early art was commissioned. Much of it was a way of remembering or memorialising events or as offerings, or even as a way to mark graves. Sometimes they represented an idea or an ideal. In that way, we’re already seeing the early commemoration that art (and poetry) can be, as well as a way of representing an ideal.

So you go from the ‘Look how absolutely marvellous I am!’ to the ‘Look how rich I am!’ to the ‘Here’s an idea in a statue form’ kind of stuff.

And then you’ve the obligatory ‘Look how many people we quite literally trampled on!’ stuff.

Not to denigrate the Romans, but I’m pretty sure they added very little to the genre. No offence to any Roman or anyone who has spent their life in pursuit of understanding the Romans. A huge generalisation, I know, but the Romans weren’t great at artistic innovation.

What happened next in Western art is the rise of Christianity and religious art. This reflected the kind of Europe-wide changes going on and in turn influenced what happened with the Renaissance – the birth of what we may consider to be ‘real’ art. Religious art didn’t contribute much to the artistic representation of warfare, so you have almost a thousand years where the West had very little in terms of either empires or full-on takeovers. Between the Scandinavian Vikings – not particularly known for their military art history or their contributions to literature – and the Church, more focused on buildings and religious art, surprisingly little happened in the world of Art & Literature in Europe after the fall of the Roman Empire and the rise of the Renaissance.

Where the Romans might not have added much value to the history of art, the Renaissance certainly did. All those big names you may know, from Michelangelo to Leonardo Da Vinci, Botticelli and Raphael. What made it happen comes down again to money, and we move from the artistic world of Ozymandias to the world of My Last Duchess. Because of Italy’s (and more specifically Florence’s) structure, it meant that there were a number of rich merchant families who’d profited hugely from Italy’s central position in the Mediterrenean and who could turn to that good old tradition of employing minions to churn out stuff that made them look cultured. Not a world different from the Kardashians really. Have money but no talent? Hire talent and show off to your friends. And what happened in Florence was then copied by lots of other city states in what we now call Italy. Poetry changed. Music changed. Art changed. And then Italy exported. The Renaissance found a home in France and in England.

Nothing much changed with art when you get down to it though.

Have more money than sense? Get someone to paint a portrait of you so everyone will know how marvellous you were when you’re dead.

Want to leave a legacy behind? Find an architect, a sculptor or an artist and get them to commemorate stuff for you. Build an enormous statue. In fact, think bigger. Build a castle. Build a church. Build a university!

Art didn’t deviate much from its original purposes: commemorate, remember, preserve; show off, boast, brag and posture; imagine perfect ideals to which we can all aspire; frighten your competitors and see off your rivals.

Post-Renaissance Europe didn’t change much. The Dutch masters liked to paint naval battles and you start to find artists who actually specialised in battle scenes or in naval battles. It’s the first time war gave artists a job to do. But guess what? Those Italian merchant families also paid for a lot of the specialist art too. Who pays for military art is always interesting.

So you get the general images of victors vanquishing their enemies, trampling them underfoot (and which gives rise to some discussion for Checkin Out Me History) and that continues at a happy pace throughout the European wars from the 1600s right up to Napoleon in the 1800s.

The Napoleonic Wars changed the way conflict was depicted no end. You start to get bloody scenes of loss that are much more realistic and less about bragging and looking marvellous in battle dress. You also find some paintings by “the vanquished” – the nations who lost or who lost heavily.

Soon, everyone was at it. The Spanish were depicting how Napoleon’s troops sliced and diced them – in scenes reminiscent of Macbeth with the carving of passages through battlefields:

Art takes on two roles here: commemoration of the successes and victories, portraying the soldiers as glorious and noble when faced by swarthy adversaries, and depictions of the realities of war – the lootings, plunderings and such like. You can loosely term these as ‘propaganda’. Two sides of the same coin: glorification of war vs the realities of war.

Want to make your enemies look like immoral sadists? Get someone to paint a picture of it.

1824 brings a major change in depiction of war with a four-metre-long frieze of Greek citizens in the aftermath of an attack from the Ottoman empire forces painted by Eugène Delacroix.

The invention and development of photography as an art form changed things a little. First, we all know that art isn’t real. Nobody sat around posing for their painting after they’d been stabbed on the battlefield. Art is construction. It is about representation, and how the artist (or the patron/country/organisation bankrolling it) wants you to see things. It’s a staged mise-en-scène, theatre designed to evoke emotions, designed to bolster beliefs.

Photography was more ‘real’ – or at least it offered the opportunity to be so. You can’t depict (well, you couldn’t as easily in the days before Photoshop) things that weren’t there. You can stage it, certainly, but photography is instant and easily portable. Some of Great Britain’s Victorian wars started to make use of an employed photographer – not least because lots of those battles were in faraway places like China and India, Prussia and Crimea. Mr & Mrs Joe Bloggs had no way of knowing how the war was going. It wasn’t like you could just step outside your door and see with your own eyes.

An 1862 photograph from the American Civil War.

War photography, then, less good at the ‘glorious’ and ‘noble’ and pretty good at revealing the horrors or realities of war. Not much of a shock that people’s views about war and death began to change around the same time. Hard to say if this was influenced by images that captured the realities of war but it’s pretty hard to imagine soldiers as fine, strong, heroic victors when you’re looking at photos of them with their heads and limbs blown off.

By the time we get to the Crimean War, and Charge of the Light Brigade, war photography was a well-established genre. The more portable and accessible cameras became, the less of an artist you needed to be to use them. Still, some of the most powerful and most moving images of war have come from professional war photojournalists.

We move then into considering the role of a photographer, or a photojournalist. What is it that they are doing? For some, they are clearly there – paid for – to capture material that can be used as propaganda for either side. Whether they’re showing the atrocities of the enemies or glorifying acts of bravery, much is designed as propaganda.

Some are there to present the realities of war or conflict Even that comes with a ‘why?, a ‘who for?’

Often that can be something as simple as ‘to raise awareness of what’s happening’ or ‘to show people what’s going on’, but there is the knowledge that the ‘right’ image can change things for good.

What they are, though, is trapped behind a camera with a job to do. Your job is to document and to preserve, maybe to raise awareness.

Just as a side note, by the way, this is clearly a topic that interests me. I love photography and did a lot of hours in darkrooms in my youth. I even have a full darkroom kit, though I haven’t used it in ten years or so. Photoshop takes the fun out of chemicals and hanging around in darkrooms. I’m also the photographer for the animal shelter where I’m a trustee. It’s my job to photograph things that happen, so I’m more than aware of the power of the photo. I don’t, for instance, take adoption photos of our dogs with the kennels in them. Whilst getting a bleeding-heart adoption might be okay for some, it’s not ethical for me. I don’t want people to adopt a dog because they feel sorry or guilty. That way is a way to massive problems. It’s also manipulative and cynical. I don’t share photos of wounds or where I’ve had to document the condition in which animals arrive. Those photos are to document impartially and they go to court to help the judge decide what should happen in abuse or neglect cases.

But taking those photos can be hard, and you’ll often find me weeping. I have to take photos of wounds, of starving animals, of animals near death, or even animals who have died. I have to catch them at their worst without being emotional about it or trying to do anything other than be impartial.

That can be hard when you want to punch an owner in the face and you want to take a dog home with you because it’s clearly suffered so much.

And I have NOT to intervene. If I see maggots in ears, I can’t stop to clean them out. I just photograph them and move on to the next thing to photograph. In fact, if I start cleaning and treating the dogs, it stops me doing my other jobs. Sometimes, it is horribly emotional and I have to stop.

And I’m just talking about animals in a shelter, not children in a warzone.

Sometimes you’ve got to consider the ‘greater good’ and forget trying to help at all, knowing that you can help more by sharing.

Sometimes, with humans, you have to photograph them or document them, take their stories, when they are at their very worst. You have to remain impartial, and that means not intervening.

But that is very hard and you have to try to compartmentalise. The camera becomes almost like a protective bubble that stops you seeing things first hand. The camera protects you and acts as a buffer or a barrier between what you’re doing and what you’re seeing. It’s like you lift that camera up and you have a job to do.

Video comes into this too. When I was 10 or 11 or so, the BBC showed video of what was happening in Africa – the same footage that inspired huge interventions for famine relief such as Live Aid and Band Aid, Comic Relief and so on. You know, when you capture these things, that you are having more of an impact by sharing than you can ever have by intervening.

1984 changed everything for me.

If you ever have the chance to read Michael Buerk, Kate Adie or George Alagiah writing about reporting on war or catastrophe, it’ll really give you such a good insight into their roles and how they feel about it. George Alagiah, in particular, in A Passage to Africa in the old Edexcel IGCSE anthology, writes much more emotionally about his feelings about documenting tragedy. He writes about how ‘ghoulish’ he felt, preying on the tragedy of others to ‘make news’ (which is often profitable, too, don’t forget). He writes too about how he felt innoculated against what was happening – how he came to feel impassive and unemotional because he’d seen it so many times. You become habituated to it and almost immune. Seeing it that often, not being able to do anything practical and knowing you are hunting for that ‘one’ image that will sell papers can turn you into a hardened cynic.

He says, “The search for the shocking is like the craving for a drug: you require heavier and more frequent doses the longer you’re at it. Pictures that stun the editors one day are written off as the same old stuff the next. This sounds callous, but it is just a fact of life. It’s how we collect and compile the images that so move people in the comfort of their sitting rooms back home.”

I think that is probably the best explanation of the feelings behind being a journalist or photojournalist. It’s your job to ‘move’ the people back home, but they too become immune to the images so that you are constantly searching for something more shocking, more horrible.

You can read the full extract here and I would recommend it since it describes in detail how it is to be caught up in a tragedy.

Of course, these are not about warzones.

War photographers and journalists have a good deal of power, although they too must realise they need to search for more and more shocking images to get the reader to feel anything at all.

I want to finish by talking about what you HOPE will happen…. and a story about an image that changed things for many of my friends.

It’s the photo of Alan Kurdi, a Syrian boy dead on a beach in Turkey.

He drowned in 2015 as his family attempted to escape war in Syria. The family were refugees hoping to find safety in Europe.

Now there is always hostility towards refugees. I can’t begin to unpick that. We rich, civilised Europeans in our safe and secure countries, with our spare bedrooms and our shiny cars, our iphones and our First World Problems feel righteously irritated that some other people – whose skin is different than ours or who wear different clothes than we do – want to save their children so much that they’ll uproot them from everything they’ve ever known and take them to a place of uncertainty, where the only thing they can do is put all their pride and dignity aside and ask for shelter from strangers who hate them. You go anyway, leaving everything behind that you can’t carry – your past, your present, your souvenirs, your photos, your family – even though you may have already had asylum applications turned down, hoping against hope that you will find safety there.

I think many of us who do care had a rude wake-up call with that photograph. It reminded us horribly of the brutal truth of what was – and is – happening. On the day the photo hit the news, many of my friends here in France decided to do something huge and positive – to do what they could. Some went up to the migrant and refugee camps in Calais, Dunkirk and Paris to see what was needed and what could be done. Three years on and their efforts still roll on. That photo changed their lives forever. It reminded us of our responsibilities. It reminded us that we are all “one body” and all those things the Inspector says in An Inspector Calls. Donations surged. Practical help surged. A few politicians here and there started making noise about it. And that photo, slowly, changed views. It changed hearts and minds. It changed political policy. Even the refugee-hating Daily Mail recognised how powerful the image was at painting an image of the human costs of the war in Syria. It comes to something when you can make a scurrilous, inflamatory rag like the Daily Mail take a step back and have a little sympathy.

The photo was highly debated. Some commentators thought it was manipulative – that there’s something ethically wrong with showing photos of dead children on beaches for whatever purpose that may be. You might think so too. A lot of people find images such as this disgusting and manipulative, or sick. Personally, I think there’s nothing wrong with the truth. Do refugees die in attempts to get to safety? Certainly they do. If you can’t stomach the reality, then you need to get involved and change reality.

I don’t know what your feelings about such photographs are. Personally, I see a huge value in them. We shouldn’t live in ivory towers protected from the reality of the world around us. Sure, I skip past some – we’re now into the seventh year of conflict in Syria and little has changed. The photographs dry up as does people’s interest. When you tap into people’s emotions, you have to understand how hard it is to remain emotional. It’s hard to be angry or frustrated or sad at the same intensity. But you can change beliefs and values, and that’s what I guess most photojournalists or photographers would aspire to do.

That, or it’s a way to make a living. I can think of better ways to make a living as a photographer though, when you’ve got people who’ll pay thousands for a wedding photo package, or pictures of their newborn. One of my photographer friends does nothing but photograph the interiors of buildings. He makes a good living. Whilst the cynic in me would agree that for some it’s a ghoulish way to make a living, there’s got to be some deeper motivation there somewhere – some desire to change the hearts and minds of people in their comfy armchairs enjoying a pre-lunch beer.

Capturing conflict and power through artistic means – be that sculpture, art, photography or poetry – has changed significantly from those early epic celebrations of heroism and the use of art as a way of demonstrating power. We move from those huge statues in the desert and cryptic relics of powerful, long-dead civilisations, or brash attempts to show off to your future wife’s family, or recording feats of glory and strength in the face of adversity to seeing things from the perspective of the artist themselves: a way to leave their own legacy and make a difference that has a huge emotional cost and leaves them often in an ethical quandary.

Next up: structure and form in War Photographer

GCSE English Language Writing: Organisation and Links

This post is part of a series about AQA GCSE English Language Paper 2, focusing specifically on Question 5. I’ve been taking you through aspects of the mark out of 24 for content and organisation, specifically looking at appropriate register and form.

When awarding a mark for content and organisation, we have a number of things to consider in order to arrive at a mark. In fact, you wouldn’t believe the intricacies of the things that are considered.

No wonder my head hurts when I’m marking… and no wonder students forget things.

As you can see, we’re making decisions about all the aspects here. I’ve spent the last few posts looking at things that help you create the right register, as well as ticking a few boxes for structural features too. I’ve also looked at development, and ways you can extend your ideas.

Next up is organisation and linking: how you can reach the top marks. I’m specifically looking at three things: paragraphs & cohesion, discourse markers and links between ideas

I’ve separated these strands out for you:

There is one about links and ideas: how well the ideas are linked to each other, ranging from ‘not at all’ at the bottom to ‘really well’ at the top.

Then there’s a strand about how coherent your paragraphs are, ranging from ‘no paragraphs’ to ‘fluently linked paragraphs’

These two strands are what I’ll roughly term ‘links within paragraphs’ and ‘links between paragraphs’. We used to call these things cohesion and coherence, but I’ve not seen those terms for a while, and those are kind of vague and confusing words anyway. They both kind of mean similar things.

Links within paragraphs (what I’d call coherence) is the way the parts of a thing fit together as a whole. That could be, of course, at a whole-text level, about your whole thing, but it can also be on a paragraph by paragraph basis.

There is a very nice definition here:

Coherence is the bridges between words, sentences and paragraphs

What I’d call the glue or mortar between the pieces or ‘bricks’ that make up the ‘wall’ of an essay. They’re the things you do when you write that connect your ideas together.

So when I get some writing, I look at it and I think ‘how is this idea connected to the next/last?’ – ‘why does it need to come in this order?’

It’s the things you do that make your writing connected and that make it ‘flow’, or make it fluent. You see things in the markscheme about it being fluent, about it being integrated, about it being seamless.

Basically, at the bottom, ideas in paragraphs aren’t joined. At the top, ideas are joined in so many interesting ways that you are amazed by the beauty of that glue when you get out your red pen and look at it carefully.

I’m going to show you both ends of the scale: what writing looks like without any links and what it looks like with very secure links. I’m going to take an adapted task from Writing Connections (Pearson) that I wrote some years ago.

A national TV channel is planning a new programme called ‘Britain’s Got Heroes’, asking the public to nominate their favourite famous hero. Write a letter to the programme organisers in which you give your nomination and explain why you think your hero should be included in the programme.

What I’m going to look at first is some writing where the links are less than clear. You’ll see what I mean straight away.

Dear Sir or Madam,

He was born in Switzerland and is a tennis player. I am a student in Manchester. I will definitely be watching your programme. I am writing to you to nominate my hero Roger Federer. My brother likes Roger Federer and we agree that he is a very good sportsman. He has four children. He got to the quarter finals of Wimbledon in 2001. I really like tennis and so do a lot of other people in England. Roger Federer has a lot of determination. Many people like to watch Wimbledon in the summer. He does a lot of work for charity and he is married to tennis player. He has won many prestigious awards for his tennis playing. He is a very resilient person. I think he should be nominated for your award because he sets a good example.

He has had a very long career and he has a charitable foundation. They would like to see a tennis player win. Roger Federer has had a number of illnesses and injuries. I think it is really admirable when people can remain cool under pressure.

His best tennis year was in 2006 where he won many awards. He supports a lot of charities in South Africa. Tennis is very popular. Roger Federer has been playing tennis professionally for almost twenty years. He did a lot of work after the earthquake in Haiti to help raise funds for the people there.

Thank you for considering my nomination,


I had to really, really try to make this bad. As you can see though, it is a jumbled mess. Let’s start with paragraphs. Well, this has paragraphs. Does this person (me!) know how to use paragraphs? Well, it doesn’t look like it!

I’ve attempted paragraphs, but they’re still random and accidental.

Let’s think about those first and then move into the smaller bits.

What do paragraphs do? A paragraph is more than a bit of space before and after a block of writing. It’s about what’s in that block of writing as well. Let’s look at one of those paragraphs and I’ll tell you why it’s ‘random’…

He has had a very long career and he has a charitable foundation. They would like to see a tennis player win. Roger Federer has had a number of illnesses and injuries. I think it is really admirable when people can remain cool under pressure.

So… the first sentence is about his career AND his charitable foundation. Not really two linked ideas, but let’s see if either of those is picked up in the second sentence?

No. The second sentence is about how popular a tennis player would be as a winner (of what?) and who knows who ‘they’ are?

Are they picked up perhaps in the third sentence?

No. That’s about illness and injuries, not about his long career or his charities, or about why tennis is popular.

What about the fourth?

No. That’s about what the writer finds admirable.

Four completely unlinked sentences. Those ideas have no business being in the same paragraph as each other.

What else is wrong with it?

First, there’s no sense of who ‘he’ is. It’s usual at the beginning of a paragraph to re-state the name or something to make it clear who or what is being talked about. Pronouns are best left for later in the paragraph. There are also connectives like ‘and’ but there is no reason to link the first idea and the second. Then there’s another pronoun, but it’s not clear who ‘they’ are, except it might be referring back to someone outside the paragraph maybe? Again, pronouns are best used when it’s clear who is being referred to – and if in doubt, make sure they’re in the same paragraph. It would be nice to see his name used before the third sentence.

So how could anyone put this right?

The first is by having a plan for your middle paragraphs, and deciding on the order.

Let’s say I go with ‘Who I am – Who I’m nominating’, then I go with ‘information about Roger Federer’s tennis career’, then ‘information about his charitable work’, then finally I have ‘my reasons to nominate him’.

As I’ve said in other posts, three to four main ideas that are then expanded into paragraphs or sections is a good number to ensure detail and development as well as a range of ideas.

My plan doesn’t need to be much more complicated than that.

I will also decide in my plan which ideas are going to come to best explain why I’ve nominated him. Is his charitable work actually more important than his tennis? Or do you need to know about his personality through his tennis record to understand his charitable work?

Thinking about it, his charitable work sounds more like a quality for nominating a hero than playing tennis. He could play tennis and be an evil villain who keeps his millions locked up in a mansion with his seven wives, all of whom he beats.

Spending two minutes deciding on the main ideas I’m going to include and then deciding on the order those ideas would be best to go in will help me no end when it comes to writing in a clear and organised way.

To help me do this, some of the ways to develop my paragraphs are going to help. I think, once I’ve made my point, I might use a series of questions, and then some examples, a little explanation, maybe even some numbers to show just how generous he is. I’m remembering too that I’m writing to explain rather than to persuade, and so I may be more reasoned than I would be with a more pressing purpose.

Most people are surprised to learn just how much Roger has done to support disadvantaged children across the globe. Who, for instance, knows about his work in South Africa and Botswana, Namibia and Malawi? What about his donations to the victims of Hurricane Katrina? His involvement in Rally for Relief to support victims of the 2004 tsunami? Whilst his own charitable foundation focuses mainly on education, where he has changed the lives of almost a million children, he also regularly invites his allies and his on-court enemies to get involved in charitable events to raise funds for emergency relief around the world. It’s the fact that he does so much to widen the impact of his work and to ensure its sustainability that makes him such a good candidate for your programme: there are few philanthropists who rattle the collection bucket around their wealthy friends and supporters in order to get them involved too. 

So, this is my first attempt. Let’s look at those links. Red shows threads related to Roger Federer. Orange is to do with what people know about him. Green is good stuff he has done. Purple are things to do with his global presence. Bold is a development in the idea – that he gets his friends to join in and influences them too.

Most people are surprised to learn just how much Roger has done to support disadvantaged children across the globe. Who, for instance, knows about his work in South Africa and Botswana, Namibia and Malawi? What about his donations to the victims of Hurricane Katrina? His involvement in Rally for Relief to support victims of the 2004 tsunami? Whilst his own charitable foundation focuses mainly on education, where he has changed the lives of almost a million children, he also regularly invites his allies and his on-court enemies to get involved in charitable events to raise funds for emergency relief around the world. It’s the fact that he does so much to widen the impact of his work and to ensure its sustainability that makes him such a good candidate for your programme: there are few philanthropists who rattle the collection bucket around their wealthy friends and supporters in order to get them involved too. 

That gives you a fairly good idea of some of the ways you can link ideas. It’s so much more than the occasional discourse marker or connective!

#1 Direct repetition. Some of this is probably something you missed, like ‘get involved’. You can do this much more subtly by keeping them fairly far apart, and modifying them slightly to make them less noticeable.

#2 Synonyms. These needn’t be single words. ‘Across the globe’ and ‘around the world’ work like that.

#3 Pronouns. This just means substituting ‘he’ for ‘Roger Federer’ as and where suitable, along with all the other variations on that.

#4 Reference chains. This is where you use a combination of synonyms, direct repetition and pronouns to refer to ideas. There aren’t many in the passage, but Roger Federer – the tennis ace – this generous sports star – he – my favourite sports personality – the Swiss tennis player and so on would be a reference chain. We use reference chains not only to secure links and avoid too much repetition, but also to build up bias.

#5 Lexical fields. There are two ways to build up a word group. One is through picking out one word – like support- and building up the other word classes around it. Support in this case is a noun: ‘the support he offers’, so I can use other words from the same family: to support, supporting, supported, supportive, supportively, supporter, and so on. The other type of lexical field I can use are ones in the same group, sort of like synonyms or linked words, but I can also think of the sense of the word. Do I mean support as in he is a foundation, something structural? Because I can imply that he’s a cornerstone, a foundation, that he’s created an infrastructure, that underpins things, picking out lots of words to do with building. Or I could also mean financial support, like aid. I like the idea of him building something, that he is creating something sustainable, that will last when he is gone.

#6 Anaphoric reference. This is just a posh way of saying referring back to ideas or words you’ve used before. You’ll use #1-5 to do this. You can also use deictic reference. And that’s a posh way for terms like this, those, these, here, there, then, now. It also includes pronouns too. It helps make writing strong and avoid repetition because you have to have already explained what ‘this’ is, so it’s making your subsequent sentences depend on the first, like its roots are in previous sentences and the idea grows from that base.

#7 Discourse markers. This is the exam board term for words and phrases that not only link forward and backwards, like so, then, and, next, consequently, moreover and so on, but also words and phrases that indicate what something is. Words and phrases like for example, for instance and such as indicate an example. Then you have ones that indicate comparison and contrast, like similarly and alternatively. You have ones that identify explanation, that identify something is additional, that indicate logical order or to introduce summary. In the real world, many of you may find these things called ‘connectives’ or ‘conjunctions’. Dr Ian McCormick in his book, The Art of Connection: The Social Life of Sentences’ (see I told you Pop Non-Fiction likes colons in titles) explains a lot more about how sentences connect, if you’re a complete language boffin and you wish for more. For normal mortals, however, you can find good lists of helpful connectives.

Just a note on those helpful connectives: please don’t stuff them into your writing. I’ve seen students using one every single sentence. Also, consider where you put them. They don’t always have to go at the beginning.

So, if I’m looking back at my first example and at the markscheme, I’m definitely ‘coherent’ in my second paragraph, but I don’t think I’m fluently linked. They’re also clear, connected ideas too. That leaves me room for polish. I’m going to use some of the things from my list of 7 types of linking devices to smarten up and tighten up my writing.

So let’s polish…

Most people are surprised to learn just how much Roger has done to support disadvantaged children across the globe. Who, for instance, knows about the financial aid he gave to the victims of Hurricane Katrina? Or his organisation of the Rally for Relief to offer economic support to victims of the 2004 tsunami? But it’s not just about the money. Through his connections and position as sports’s most well-known humanitarian, this compassionate tennis ace has founded a legacy that goes beyond cash donations. The Roger Federer Foundation has been pivotal in South Africa and Botswana, Namibia and Malawi in building an infrastructure for educational development that will impact generations to come. It has already changed the lives of almost a million children. Perhaps most commendable are his efforts to encourage others to contribute as well. He also regularly invites his allies and his on-court enemies to get involved in charitable events to raise funds for emergency relief around the world. It’s the fact that he does so much to widen the impact of his work and to ensure its sustainability that makes him such a good candidate for your programme: there are few philanthropists who rattle the collection bucket around their wealthy friends and supporters in order to get them to pitch in and participate too.

So I’ve made some small changes, including moving one idea further on in the paragraph. I thought, looking back at it that it should go: financial aid – building a sustainable foundation – involving his rich and famous friends. If I were starting from scratch completely, I’d probably go from financial aid to involving his friends and then to the wider foundation. It makes more sense in terms of logical argument. Himself – his circle – a wider, global network. But it was a bit late to tinker. I’ve tried to add in some phrases that mark an increase in importance of the ideas with perhaps most commendable. Some of the changes I’ve made are small, like adding an or before the second question just to make it a little more clear that it is a different idea. Some just add a bit more variety, like changing ‘get involved’ to pitch in and participate as well as encourage others to contribute. I’ve got a little bias in there as well with the reference to him as this compassionate tennis ace. I changed the bit about his charity to give it the full title – because when I looked at it, the Roger Federer Foundation also picks up on that idea of cornerstones, support and building. Maybe I picked that up by diffusion and it was kind of sitting in the back of my head waiting for me to notice it.

In being more conscious of how your sentences build on one another within a paragraph, and in trying to use those seven linking devices between paragraphs (especially between the opening and the ending), you’ll find your writing is much more tightly structured. Linking your ideas is SO MUCH MORE than simply using a random connective here and there. I told you that it was intricate, and readers notice these things. You may not have understood how they work exactly, but you know when it’s wrong (like in my random first attempt) or when it’s awkward or random. Making solid links within and between paragraphs will help you move up that ladder of assessment, but don’t leave it to chance. The best writers start each sentence picking up ideas from earlier in their writing and consider before they writer where they are going with an idea. I have the luxury of editing. You’ll be writing on paper in an exam. Whilst I had the ability to chop, cut, paste, edit and amend, you will be much more restricted. Even more important, then, that you consider those intricacies of organisation!

GCSE English Language Writing Types: Article

Last time, I was looking at what features make up a letter, trying to define the ineffable qualities of ‘letterness’ so that you aren’t relying on simply sticking an address at the beginning, along with a Dear Sir and hoping for the best. Today I’m looking at the qualities that make up an article – the conventions, style and register – so that you can make your writing sound more like an article.

Now this is one I have actual paid expertise in, as opposed to letter writing. I write regularly for a number of magazines and I can describe much more confidently the way that an article sounds. Back in my comfort zone.

To look at students’ articles, though, you’d think many people had only a vague grasp on the qualities of article writing. They have some thoughts about how it looks, but little idea about how to make it really sound like an article.

There may be a heading or title of a sort. Sometimes there are sub-headings. Occasionally, students write in columns (please don’t!) as if that gives it some semblance of an article. And very occasionally, students put a space in where a photo or illustration is supposed to go. Please don’t do that either.

And those visual features (well, some of them) are all well and good, but other than the headline, they aren’t particularly ‘article-y’. Some of them aren’t really even to do with writing. How do I mark something that is a box and says ‘Photo of Child Looking Sad Here?’

What you’re looking to do, then, is not try to replicate how articles LOOK, but how they SOUND. I’m taking articles to mean a) newspaper articles b) magazine articles and c) online articles.

Let’s have a look at a couple. If you haven’t come across Issuu yet, get across there. There are lots of magazines on there, both commercial and home-made. It’ll give you plenty of free resources for you to get to grips with how articles sound. Some of them, it must be said, are more photos and filler or adverts than they are content, so pick carefully. I’d have been cross, back in the day, to have spent 50p on my copy of Just Seventeen to find it filled with photographs.

By the way, although I like photographs, for this article I do not care about them. I care about the words. Think of it this way: I write my articles as a Word document. I send them off without pictures or columns. That’s the job of the designer to put all my words in a way that looks interesting. It’s my job to make them sound interesting.

So, let’s have a look:

Let’s see what we have…

We have a lovely big photograph and a column, sure. Nothing for you to emulate there. Then we have a title, “BY THE LAW OF THE JUNGLE”.

Headlines or titles are great. Something you should definitely try at home. Just as a tip, I leave a space for my headline and then I write it last. The reason is that I fixate on it and it takes me ages to decide, which is time I definitely don’t have. I let my brain work on it whilst I’m writing.

Often titles are kind of useless. By the way, in print media, your title can be much more cryptic. The photo grabs attention, not the headline or title. I don’t even know what this title means. But in non-print media, you’ll often find “Search Engine Optimised” titles which are much, much less cryptic. It’s their job to grab attention and people soon leave web pages where the title doesn’t match the content. Worse still, they never visit if the headline isn’t in some way helpful or promising. Web writers work to different rules, because they want headlines to pop up in search engines. If you want expert advice about web-based articles, you can do no better than checking out Darren Rowse’s site Problogger. It’s written for non-writers who are writing articles (aka blogs) for the web, and it’s so very, very useful for ideas. You’ll actually find some great tips on there for students writing articles, such as this one about openings, and this one about endings. I often find them readable, user-friendly and great for GCSE or A level writers when they’re about the actual writing, rather than the internet-y tech-y kind of stuff.

You’ll find a lot of functional, searchable titles like ‘how to’ or ‘why you need to’ or ‘five ways to’ though – titles you don’t find in print media as regularly. I mean, just look how meaningless that ‘BY THE LAW OF THE JUNGLE’ is. They aren’t even in a jungle. Were that article online, it’d have a title like ’10 UNMISSABLE SIGHTS IN THE MASAI MARA’ or ‘WHAT TO DO IN THE MASAI MARA’

Okay, a little technical!

But I’m interested mainly in this bit:

The more you look at news, magazine and web articles, the more you notice these summary straplines and a ‘by A PERSON’

Some are long… some are short. Sometimes they’re in the form of a question. Sometimes they’re a statement. They’re usually at least a sentence, and more literary articles will have two or three sentences:

See? One that’s practically the opening of the text about Bangladesh, and a very simple summary for Mr Nick Baker there.

They summarise what the article is about and sometimes they say ‘A PERSON’ (in the 3rd person) and then a verb in the present tense:

Nick Baker reveals…
Carl Safina investigates…

And the more you look, the more you find!

They’re in print media like the ones above.

And they’re in web media like this one below:

To be fair, that’s ‘fake’ web media since online magazines and newspapers often have the same features and style as their printed siblings.

But that little summary strapline is a fabulous example of ‘articleness’.

And it has such a teachable format.

It summarises the whole of your article in one or two sentences, or acts as a little teaser for what’s to come in the article.

Then it has another sentence that introduces you in the 3rd person (even though you write it yourself) and then you have a present tense active verb summarising what you’re looking at or exploring or explaining in your article.

Let’s take the task from June 2017 for AQA:

‘Parents today are over-protective. They should let their children take part in
adventurous, even risky, activities to prepare them for later life.’

Write an article for a broadsheet newspaper in which you argue for or against
this statement

So, I’m going to leave the headline for a bit. For my plan, I’d have three or four big ideas and then develop them, but for my opening and ending, I want to make sure they’re really ‘article-y’.

AQA are vaguely helpful when it comes to guidance about stylistic features that may constitute a sort of articleness, saying that at a minimum, an article may have a headline and some paragraphs (because ‘normal’ writing doesn’t have paragraphs?!) Better articles may include:

 a clear/apt/original title
 a strapline
 subheadings
 an introductory (overview) paragraph
 effectively/fluently sequenced paragraphs.

So, let’s do that strapline and introductory paragraph…

For an argumentative article, I write three ideas. The first sums up the opposite view to the one I’m going to explore. The second summarises my view. The third is my ‘Emma Lee argues…’

Are our children coddled and cossetted? Pampered and at risk of being smothered? Without a sense of adventure or ability to take risks, the next generation are in danger of growing up filled with unresolved anxiety or, worse, constantly seeking thrills that put their lives in jeopardy. Emma Lee believes that parents’ attempts to protect their children are creating unnecessary problems.

You can see how that sort of thing establishes the sense of ‘articleness’. A couple of questions to engage the reader, a bit of a controversial summary statement and an outline of the ideas I would go on to explore.

But what about the ending?

Newspaper stories worked on a ‘bottom up’ editorial approach in the past, perhaps why so many of them seemed to drift into nothingness. Your editor would say, “Emma, I want 500 words”, so you’d write 500 words, only for them to chop off the last 100 as a bigger news story needed more space. When you write for magazines and newspapers that will go to print, you have to be conscious of the fact you may end up being asked to cut 200 words out. The order of your ideas was a pyramid hierarchy – start with the who-what-when-where and add the why and how. The rest was filler. Find some quotes. Possibly spend the last bit of your paragraph as a trailer for what might happen next. Making links between your paragraphs was pointless if you were going to have to chop out a full paragraph and then remove all the cohesive links to and from that paragraph.

The internet changed things though.

No longer would an editor ask you for a certain number of words. There might still be a sensible limit – some of the online content I write is around 1000 words. Some is less. But it’s less exacting than print.

Truth be told, in the past, articles fizzled out more often than they came to a kind of conclusion.

Today, we’re a little better at it. You may find things like a call to action. These are useful in print as well as online, and useful in all sorts of transactional writing as an ending. What do you want the reader to do? Where can they find out more?

You can see from this one that if you enjoyed the article about wolves, you might want to read the book.

You can also see the biography at the end. That crops up more often than you’d think. It is used across print and web-based articles as a way of giving you credentials and authority.

And another one. Can you see the call to action? You’ve got an imperative verb “See him…”

Even in printed media, we find ‘Find out more…’ sentence that has a hyperlink to a website.

Those things also happen on pseudo-printed media, like news story sites

I’d like to make a distinction though between news stories and articles in newspapers – what we may call editorials or opinion columns. Although news stories certainly have a bias – even from the very selection of news to share with you – editorials are different, so make sure you’re clear on the style differences between the two.

News stories tend to have that WHO – WHAT – WHEN – WHERE – WHY – HOW pyramiding, where they include a lot of that in their headline and in the first paragraph, where articles do not. News stories are much less personal – you’ll find few personal pronouns other than “he/she/it/they” – and certainly, you’ll never find an “I” or a “we”, but you will find them in news editorials/opinion articles.

You can see these four news stories give you some of those answers even in the headline. Who is involved? What happened? Where? When? (which is often implied that it’s recent, otherwise it wouldn’t really be newsworthy) with the ‘whys’ and ‘hows’ answered in the actual story. This is so we can ‘short-cut’ to articles that interest us. Editorials have no such requirement.

So, how am I going to end my own article for our fictional broadsheet newspaper?

  1. I’m going to have a summary of what I said that links back to my introductory paragraph/strapline, mentioning some words directly and some as synonyms. I want my main idea there.
  2. I’m going to include a call to action using imperatives, but gentle ones. I don’t want to alarm people!
  3. I’m going to include my editorial byline and biography that gives my expertise to comment on this situation, which I may very well make up!

Those bylines – the bit that says who wrote the article and gives some biographical information about the writer – are always tailored to the expertise you’re giving. So in one of my articles in a French Lifestyle magazine, where I write about language, my byline is about my language expertise or interest. In ones I write about things you can do with your children to keep them busy, it mentions my educational background. In ones I write about dog training, it mentions my work as trustee in an animal shelter. You don’t want your full CV on there – just the bits that make you enough of an expert to have an opinion.

So, I’m very specifically looking back at my opening:

Are our children coddled and cossetted? Pampered and at risk of being smothered? Without a sense of adventure or ability to take risks, the next generation are in danger of growing up filled with unresolved anxiety or, worse, constantly seeking thrills that put their lives in jeopardy. Emma Lee believes that parents’ attempts to protect their children are creating unnecessary problems.

And then I am very specifically going to answer those questions or pick up words and phrases from there (don’t forget, there will be a full article between, so it won’t look as horribly noticeable, and it should be both subtle enough not to hurt the examiner with my lack of skill, but noticeable enough that they realise I’ve done something there to link them up.

It’s time we give our children a little space, develop their sense of adventure and teach them to take calculated risks. Give your child a little leeway and you may find a happy solution to many of those childhood doubts and anxieties. 

Emma Lee is a child psychologist, author and writer. Find further guidance on her website 

I was going to finish with a question, “After all, what’s the worst that could happen?” but then that could possibly have repurcussions if parents let their children take risks and they end up in some terrible accident or with some permanent disfigurement after making home-made water cannons. But you can see my main advice tying into the opening paragraph about risk and adventure. You can see I mentioned problems in the introduction and I mention solutions in the conclusion. I also mentioned anxiety directly.

Those biographical bylines, by the way, seem to love pairs of experiences or triples. I could have just said I was a child psychologist, (completely made up – not something I’d do in the real world beyond GCSE English!) but I like the additionals.

For many of your tasks, being a teenager actually qualifies you to talk and to have a voice. Newspapers and magazines love hearing teenagers’ perspectives.

Were I a 16 year old student, I could write:

Emma Lee is in Year 11 at St Bernard’s High School, Woodbury. She is a member of her student council and a representative on the Parent Teacher Committee. 

Can you see how it’s back to that weird third person voice again? I don’t always write about myself in the third person, I promise!

Be aware that what comes in your article may have different purposes. You could be writing advice (like the photoshop ‘How To’ stuff) or you could be writing explanation. It could be persuasive or it could be argumentative. AQA say that there are four purposes you could be asked to write for: to explain, to advise/instruct, to persuade or to argue. All four are different, although there is crossover between them and you may find yourself using similar linguistic features in them, but you will need to understand how they are different and have some idea about what you can do to meet those different demands. I’ll be looking at linguistic features of those purposes in other posts.

Next up: speeches. How you can make your writing more speechy.