5E's Victorian newspaper report: Jim's escape from the workhouse

We have been continuing to look at newspaper reports in Year 5 this week. We have just finished writing a newspaper article based on Jim's dramatic escape from the workhouse. Below is Alfie's report:

Rogue orphan escapes death-trap workhouse

By Alfred Washington

During the late hours of Saturday, an impoverished orphan, supposedly named Jim Jarvis, escaped from the most spacious workhouse in London.

Immediately the Matron reported that: “Although lots of labourers escape, they always get caught and whipped. However, Jim was not caught!” she bellowed, ad added: “I never liked him.”

Last night, we can only imagine the the walking igloo rolled down the littered, frozen, ice-rink streets of London, given that this the month had been a chilling November of shuddering bodies.

On the other hand, in the workhouse, it appears to be a megladon with the amount of body parts being lost because of the machines. The workhouse is like a death trap.

Furthermore, another concern has arisen: why was Jim so enamoured to leave the only building in which he could eat and lie on a bed ? That is a question you have to answer! Send a letter to 9 Vicarage Way in London to try and guess.

Meanwhile, we hope the eternal future will enfold good luck for the young lad. We will keep you updated whatever the weather brings to us.  

5E's Workhouse Poetry

In Year 5, this week we wrote atmospheric Victorian poetry about the workhouse. Below is Leo's entry from 5E. 

In the workhouse of despair,

Where the rags that scratch are what you wear,

A petrifying place you can scream,

It’s as punishable as it seems.

Horror, terror, screeches and shouts,

The workhouse of heart broken glares,

Not difficult to find, they’re certainty not rare,

The cops will find you, so take care,

Where you hide…

Original Victorian Story from Daneel in 5E

This week in Literacy, Year 5 have been adapting Street Child to create our own Victorian stories. Below is Daneel's beginning. What will happen next? How will he feel in the workhouse?

On one desolate day, Didbia Prosper, who was lingering near a famous footbal shop, and was looking at an significant ball which cost 20 pounds, instead of trying to buy the ball, he actually stole it! Although it was very expensive, it was an artificial ball. 

At the end of the day, Didbia traipsed home with the ball. Then, he had suddenly discovered that his ma had died! His dad was finding it incredibly hard to look after him and his son. Would they cope for long? Before long, time had gone by and the time was: 20:00! 

Suddenly and unexpectedly, a policeman arrived at their tattered house. He announced to Didbia and his father: “I have been stooped by an old man, who told me that he had seen a mysterious boy holding a blue ball." The policeman pointed his finger of suspicion at Dibbia. "I know it was you! Come on, we‘re going to the workhouse to so that you can pay for what you have DONE! If you do not go, there will be serious consequences!" 

A letter from a Victorian Workhouse

Wednesday, 10 September 1810

Hackney, London

Dear Matron,

I am writing this letter as a plea for you to consider letting me leave this miserable workhouse. It is like hell on earth. Although I should be grateful that you have put a shelter over my head, I cannot spend another sleepless night of fear and terror here. As the cold, misty nights turn into long, bleak days, I regularly question how long it has been since I arrived through the doors of this soul-destroying prison. Maybe it has been a month. Maybe a year. It feels like a lifetime. If I stay much longer my future is doomed.

The workhouse is unbearable. Every time tears flood my eyes, I get whipped with a belt. It is like lightening striking my body. The food is horrendous, even the thought of it makes me heave. I am living in a nightmare, the fear and terror flooding my mind like the deep, dark, Atlantic Ocean.

I am only in the workhouse because my beloved family have all deceased. Living on the rough, bustling streets of London, without a penny to my name, I had no other choice but to steal. I was ravenous. One single waft of the sweet smelling bread from the bakery. I could not resist! My stomach was crying out, wild with hunger! Unfortunately, one day I was caught by the bobbies and forced into this treacherous workhouse.

I beg you, with all my heart, to take your time to consider letting me leave. I am asking in desperation. Please let me walk to freedom so I can hear the cries of the city again.

Yours Sincerely,

Spinly

Thomas, 5C

Letter to Matron from Aarthy in 5E

Still following our theme of Street Child, in Year 5 we have been writing persuasive letters to the strict Matron of a workhouse, asking for her permission to leave. We spent time thinking of imaginative scenarios as to why our character had been forced to enter the workhouse. 

Below is Aarthy's letter from 5E:

Work house

                                                        Room number 56

                                                                   Floor 2

                                                                HA3 ODW

                                                  Friday May 22^nd 1849

Dear Matron,

               I am writing to you in the hope that you can let me go; you should because I am your favourite girl, Alice Kulan.

Firstly, when I wake up EVERY morning I breathe the cold, disgusting air and it’s like I am in prison or an ogre’s home which has just been bogey bombed! So as to survive, I have to force myself to eat the horrible but slightly nourishing food.

After all those reasons, you should and must let me get out of this sickening, ghastly place. If my dear, tender, mother were here there would be no point in asking you to let me go because I will rather stay here with her, however now she has unfortunately and miserably died. When you let me go, I will be set free and you…..will be a hero to all the other children who are trapped here, too. 

So, I beg you, please, please let me go!

Yours sincerely,

Alice Kulan

Street Child Narrative

In Year 5 we have adapted Street Child slightly to create our own original version. From 5E, here is Yeganeh's start of her story. Can you see what aspect she has changed?

Unfortunate, infant Jim Jarvis was using the last of his energy to purchase a marvellous, attractive meat pie with his last shilling. Rambling amongst the crowd, he was trying not to touch the delicious morsel until arriving home.

Ma tenderly lay on the rough, pathetic bed like a broken twig. Her pale glow drowns in the blacked out room. Emily, terrified with fear of her mother's impending death, approached her mother. Louise, petrified of dying in starvation, her face lit up as soon as she witnessed the odour of the meat pie wafting through the formidable door.

Jim, Emily and Louise greedily scoffed their meat pie down to stop guilt gulping up the three of them. A trio of crumbles were left on the floor for the next morning. All hope was shattered. Their shillings were now extinct, like dinosaurs. What will happen to them next?

Sun shines outside yet neither Jim nor Louise nor Emily were awoken by it due to the fact that their room was heavily blacked out. Ma woke to the rustlings of street children outside. "Will I one day be living outside amongst them?" Jim wondered to himself.

Silently, the doorknob turned. Outside was a vexed person, who was known as Mr Spink, the house owner, standing as still as a stick. 

"Time's up!" Screeched the ogre. He waited. He picked up the purse. "It was an honest rent. It was only one shilling!".

A few seconds later, Jim found himself telling the truth. 

"Save it, sonny! Out with you all. NOW!". Mr Spink wandered around and picked up Louise's boots and threw them out. 

Petrified about their troubled and uncertain future, the children's heavily fatigued mother led the desolate way towards the land of her second to last hope: Rosie's house. As soon as the door opened, Rosie was filled with joy.

"Long time no see!". 

Narrative Writing

L.I. To use the features of narrative writing.


As the busy people bustled around the nippy street, Jim Jarvis dashed to the bakery for a delectable chocolate cake. His feet were numb with cold but he didn't care. He kept on dodging through the industrious crowds. Very soon, he arrived at the bakery. His shilling was as hot as coal in his clammy fist.
"Mrs Hodder! Mrs Hodder, where are you? I've got a shilling to buy a cake! It's Ma's last one, so make it big!" called Jim from the front room. Subsequently, the baker ambled in. She was a short, stout woman with wispy hair. She tottered back into the back room, then after about ten seconds, she came back with a ginormous chocolate cake, oozing with a melted chocolate filling. Jim darted back home clutching the cake to his chest, the palatable smell invading his nose.


After a while, he arrived home. His sisters, Lizzie and Emily, had their backs turned on him.
"I've got the cake, I've got the cake!" sang Jim mockingly.
"Shush! Ma's asleep," Lizzie and Emily snapped.
"But she's been sleeping for three days!" Jim protested. He was getting more and more distraught about his ma by the second.
"Be quiet and eat your cake, Jim," scolded Emily.
"What about Ma?" enquired Jim.
"She ain't eatin' no more," replied Lizzie.
"But-" started Jim.
"Shut your pie-hole and eat, Jim!" yelled Emily and Lizzie. The children tried to savour it but it grew cold before they could finish it. In front of the warmth of the hearth, they drifted off to sleep.


The next morning, Jim was abruptly woken up by the sound of a slamming door. It was none other than the volatile Mr Spink.
"Annie Jarvis! Where's your rent money? I bet you've gone and wasted or hidden it, haven't you? Hang on, forget that, have you been eating cake?" snarled Mr Spink.


By Haddy, 5G

Street Child - Diary Entry

In Year 5 we have been reading 'Street Child' by Berlie Doherty. We have written diary entries from Jim Jarvis, a Victorian child, who has suffered a series of unfortunate events and is now being forced to live in the workhouse. 

This is an entry from Juvan in 5E.


Friday, 3rd January 1873

Dear Diary,

                  As the days quickly passed by, Ma whispered to leave because she was too ill to sleep in the crooked bed. But the saddest thing is that I can’t see my stricken sisters again although they were a bit annoying. Also I feel very sorry for my mother because she’s sick…

                 So, I know that she has to be respected with… LOVE! So, I will earn 5 shillings for my mum by working so very hard. Even though I’m very stricken, I’ll still try hard to earn a shilling! But, as I walked to the coin factory, I accidentally breathed in carbon dioxide…

From Jim.

Street Child - Diary entry

In Year 5 we have been reading 'Street Child' by Berlie Doherty. We have written diary entries from Jim Jarvis, a Victorian child, who has suffered a series of unfortunate events and is now being forced to live in the workhouse. 

Thursday, 18^th December 1865

Pimlico, London

Dear my cherished and beloved diary,

            I am exceptionally distraught. Terror surrounds my soul like a pack of ravenous wolves. My hope is slowly deceasing and transforming into horror and fear. Happiness has been trapped with long lost memories, desperate to return. Unfortunately, we have been evicted from our only shelter. Why was our landlord so heartless and cruel? Will we ever escape this misery?

            Standing outside the workhouse doors, I was petrified. My legs were like jelly, uncontrollably shaking. All joyful memories of times with my father and sisters are now locked away in my heart. Is this the end? Will my feeble body be able to survive the treacherous, hard workhouse conditions? As I think of my doomed future, I fill with dread. Are all of the terrifying stories true? It is really going to be hell on earth?

            The wailings of the mad people and the yelps of the innocent orphans being whipped fill my ears. I can hear the scraping of cutlery as starving children eat every last scrap of food off their plates. The innocent and frightened faces stare at me through the barred windows as the colossal iron gates get whipped in the wind like the poor, innocent orphans.

            If I survive tonight I will write to you tomorrow diary,

                                                           

                                                 Jim Jarvis

Josie, 5C

L.I.To write a diary entry

                                                                                                                           18th September 1895

Dear Diary,
                   I've had the most terrible day ever!
It all started yesterday when I was given Ma's last shilling. It was brilliant (well I thought it was anyway) and I dashed all the way to the meat pudding shop. When I reached the shop I had to barge my way through the crowd of hungry boys and skinny dogs.

I charged into the warm inside of the shop, clutching the coin in my hand so that the metal grew warm. Mrs Hodder bit into the coin to make sure it was real and then I asked her for the biggest juiciest pie she had. Eventually it was ready and she took it from the oven, handed it to me and I was off, darting through the crowd. All of the boys and dogs chased after me but I lost them in the dark, shadowy alleys and soon I was home. I was very tempted to eat it all myself but I know my sisters would have been angry so I didn't.

We shared the pie out and it was delicious. I thought it was all fine to have pie but the next morning I realised why it wasn't such a good thing...

I was half asleep when suddenly the door slammed open waking everyone up with a jump. It was Mr Spink asking for his rent for the tiny room we all lived in. When he realised we'd spent Ma's last shilling on a pie he made us leave. We packed our things (I only had two) and then left. I'm not sure what's going to happen now. I'm scared.

From,

Jim

By James, 5G