Y6E The Invisible Story Analyse L5

Analyse Lesson 5

Sentence Accuracy

Sentence Accuracy

Quick Build: single-clause sentence

Verb

find

Who/What

others

Sentence

Others find their story.

Add Detail: adverbs

Perhaps

___________

others will find their story.

Re-read

Build

Drag the adverbs to alter how likely the event is to happen.

Perhaps

___________

Maybe

_________

Surely

_________

Check

others will find their story.

___________________________________________________________________________

My turn to write the sentence.

Listen to my writer's voice.

Let me hide it!Now your turn.

Your turn to write a sentence.

Write?

Dictate?

Adapt/Extend?

Combine?

Fix?

Use your Sentence Checker

Sentence time over! Click to move on.

Quick Build: single-clause sentence

Verb

remain

Subject

books

Sentence

Books remain a mystery.

Add Detail: colon for independent clauses

Most of the books remain a mystery to me: I can't see the words on their pages.

________________________________

_______________________________________

Re-read

Build

Insert the colon between the two independent clauses, expanding the information given.

Check

Most of the books remain a mystery to me I can't see the words on their pages.

___________________________________________________________________________

My turn to write the sentence.

Listen to my writer's voice.

Let me hide it!Now your turn.

Your turn to write a sentence.

Write?

Dictate?

Adapt/Extend?

Combine?

Fix?

Use your Sentence Checker

Sentence time over! Click to move on.

Let's take a quick look at how the Example Text is presented and the features it has

The Example Text has...

Title

Paragraph

Present and past tense

Personification

First person

Text structure

Features

The Book’s Story

Silently, I lie on the shelf, hidden between well-read, vibrant books with glossy covers and eye-catching titles. The vast, ancient library is still, except for the occasional flicker of sunlight stretching through the shutters like fingers reaching for the pages. Muted laughter and whispers drift between the endless, towering shelves. Children, full of curiosity, wander in and out, choosing stories that shout their names with every turn of the page. Awkwardly, I wait, gathering dust in the dim corner where the unwanted, forgotten stories sleep.

Title

Present and past tense

Paragraph

First person

Personification

Click on Click off

Can I find and discuss Writer’s Knowledge 1-4 in the Example Text?

Writer's Knowledge

Hyphens for clarity

Synonyms and Antonyms

Linking ideas

Dashes to join clauses

Let's work in:

Stations

Pairs

Groups

Memorize the positions

Synonyms and Antonyms

Let me show you

Sort the words into either synonyms or antonyms for the word 'shout'

Antonyms

Synonyms

murmur

cry

yell

whisper

holler

mumble

mutter

bellow

Check

Synonyms and Antonyms

Let's find and discuss

Silently, I lie on the shelf, hidden between well-read, vibrant books with glossy covers and eye-catching titles. The vast, ancient library is still, except for the occasional flicker of sunlight stretching through the shutters like fingers reaching for the pages. Muted laughter and whispers drift between the endless, towering shelves. Children, full of curiosity, wander in and out, choosing stories that shout their names with every turn of the page. Awkwardly, I wait, gathering dust in the dim corner where the unwanted, forgotten stories sleep.

Replace?

Remove?

Feel

Imagine

Reveal

Your Turn: Which paragraphs will you look at?

Synonyms and Antonyms

Imagine Feel Replace? Remove?

Reveal

Writer's Knowledge

Hyphens for clarity

Synonyms and Antonyms

Linking ideas

Dashes to join clauses

Hyphens for clarity

Let me show you

Add the hyphens to make the meaning of each sentence clear.

I lie on the shelf, hidden between well read, vibrant books.

Something flickered inside me: a well buried feeling.

A pianist finding the keys to a long forgotten song.

Reveal

Hyphens for clarity

Let's find and discuss

One day, she arrived: a quiet girl with tentative, searching hands and thoughtful eyes. Her hands caressed the spines of the books like a pianist finding the keys to a long-forgotten song. Unlike the others, she didn’t rush past: she reached for me gently, as if I was precious. Her fingers paused on my cover – hesitant yet determined, she traced each ridge as if decoding a secret only she could uncover. Carefully, she opened me. Her fingertips moved deliberately over the raised dots: left to right, row by row, top to bottom. I held my breath. For the first time, I was being read – I wasn’t just opened but understood.

Feel

Imagine

Replace?

Remove?

Reveal

Your Turn: Which paragraphs will you look at?

Hyphens for clarity

Imagine Feel Replace? Remove?

Reveal

Writer's Knowledge

Hyphens for clarity

Synonyms and Antonyms

Linking ideas

Dashes to join clauses

Let me show you

Linking ideas

Cohesive Challenge!

Cohesive devices Tool Box

Subject References

Repetition

Time Adverbials

Reveal

Linking ideas

Let's find and discuss

I’m not like the others: I never have been. My cover is colourless and unassuming, and my pages appear blank to most eyes. No vivid illustrations dance on my pages and no bold letters fill the whiteness. I am an unfamiliar puzzle of braille bumps – my words are waiting to be touched, waiting for fingers to find them, waiting for someone who knows. It’s hard not to feel invisible while being constantly ignored and endlessly overlooked as if I have nothing to say. Day after day, I hear whispers suggesting that I’m unfinished or empty: very few can read my language.

Reveal

Replace?

Remove?

Feel

Imagine

Your Turn: Which paragraphs will you look at?

Linking ideas

Imagine Feel Replace? Remove?

Reveal

Writer's Knowledge

Hyphens for clarity

Synonyms and Antonyms

Linking ideas

Dashes to join clauses

Dashes to join clauses

Let me show you

Add dashes to join two independent clauses.

I was being read I wasn’t just opened but understood.

My story always existed it was tucked away safely.

I am a puzzle of braille bumps my words are waiting to be touched.

Reveal

Dashes to join clauses

Let's find and discuss

I’m not like the others: I never have been. My cover is colourless and unassuming, and my pages appear blank to most eyes. No vivid illustrations dance on my pages and no bold letters fill the whiteness. I am an unfamiliar puzzle of braille bumps – my words are waiting to be touched, waiting for fingers to find them, waiting for someone who knows. It’s hard not to feel invisible while being constantly ignored and endlessly overlooked as if I have nothing to say. Day after day, I hear whispers suggesting that I’m unfinished or empty: very few can read my language.

Replace?

Remove?

Feel

Imagine

Reveal

Your Turn: Which paragraphs will you look at?

Dashes to join clauses

Imagine Feel Replace? Remove?

Reveal

Question Quiz Time

Secret Selector

Team Competition

How will we answer our questions today?

Vote

ThumbsUp

ThinkPair Share

Bob Up

Tick Me

Which one is the antonym for ‘vibrant’?

A bold

B radiant

C dull

D bright

Check

Odd One Out

Which one does not need a hyphen to make the meaning clear?

B long-forgotten

A man-eating

D faded-away

C eye-catching

True or False?

Cohesive devices help to link ideas within and across paragraphs.

True

False

Which One's Right?

Which one shows dashes used to join clauses correctly?

A. I am an unfamiliar puzzle – of braille bumps my words are waiting to be touched.

B. I am an unfamiliar puzzle of braille bumps – my words are waiting to be touched.

C. I am an unfamiliar puzzle of braille bumps my words are waiting – to be touched.

D. I am an unfamiliar puzzle of braille bumps my words – are waiting to be touched.

Can I find and discuss Writer’s Knowledge 1-4 in the Example Text?

CEW

Handwriting

Writing Effects

Spelling

Ideas

Other...

Feedback: Who did what well?

Silently, I lie on the shelf, hidden between well-read, vibrant books with glossy covers and eye-catching titles. The vast, ancient library is still, except for the occasional flicker of sunlight stretching through the shutters like fingers reaching for the pages. Muted laughter and whispers drift between the endless, towering shelves. Children, full of curiosity, wander in and out, choosing stories that shout their names with every turn of the page. Awkwardly, I wait, gathering dust in the dim corner where the unwanted, forgotten stories sleep.

murmur

whisper

cry

yell

mumble

mutter

bellow

holler

I was being read - I wasn’t just opened but understood.

My story always existed - it was tucked away safely.

I am a puzzle of braille bumps - my words are waiting to be touched.

I used to believe I was invisible: now I appreciate that I was simply unread. My story always existed – it was tucked safely between the pages waiting for the right reader to awaken it. Confidently, I lie on the shelf, not hidden between the well-read, vibrant books with glossy covers and eye-catching titles – but chosen. No longer lost in the shadows, but belonging, and waiting to be read over and over again.

Something flickered inside me: a well-buried feeling of being known. For too long, my story had waited desperately in the silence, and now it was finally being brought to life. My joy was reflected in the girl’s face as she journeyed through the tale. Her laughter filled the spacious, echoing chambers of the library. Laughter filled my heart. In that moment, my doubts about being different faded away like shadows retreating at dawn. I may not tell my story like the other books, but she needed me just as I needed her. That was enough: I was enough.

I lie on the shelf, hidden between well-read, vibrant books.

Something flickered inside me: a well-buried feeling.

A pianist finding the keys to a long-forgotten song.

I used to believe I was invisible: now I appreciate that I was simply unread. My story always existed – it was tucked safely between the pages waiting for the right reader to awaken it. Confidently, I lie on the shelf, not hidden between the well-read, vibrant books with glossy covers and eye-catching titles – but chosen. No longer lost in the shadows, but belonging, and waiting to be read over and over again.

I’m not like the others: I never have been. My cover is colourless and unassuming, and my pages appear blank to most eyes. No vivid illustrations dance on my pages and no bold letters fill the whiteness. I am an unfamiliar puzzle of braille bumps – my words are waiting to be touched, waiting for fingers to find them, waiting for someone who knows. It’s hard not to feel invisible while being constantly ignored and endlessly overlooked as if I have nothing to say. Day after day, I hear whispers suggesting that I’m unfinished or empty: very few can read my language.

I used to believe I was invisible: now I appreciate that I was simply unread. My story always existed – it was tucked safely between the pages waiting for the right reader to awaken it. Confidently, I lie on the shelf, not hidden between the well-read, vibrant books with glossy covers and eye-catching titles – but chosen. No longer lost in the shadows, but belonging, and waiting to be read over and over again.

Silently, I lie on the shelf, hidden between well-read, vibrant books with glossy covers and eye-catching titles. The vast, ancient library is still, except for the occasional flicker of sunlight stretching through the shutters like fingers reaching for the pages. Muted laughter and whispers drift between the endless, towering shelves. Children, full of curiosity, wander in and out, choosing stories that shout their names with every turn of the page. Awkwardly, I wait, gathering dust in the dim corner where the unwanted, forgotten stories sleep.

I’m not like the others: I never have been. My cover is colourless and unassuming, and my pages appear blank to most eyes. No vivid illustrations dance on my pages and no bold letters fill the whiteness. I am an unfamiliar puzzle of braille bumps – my words are waiting to be touched, waiting for fingers to find them, waiting for someone who knows. It’s hard not to feel invisible while being constantly ignored and endlessly overlooked as if I have nothing to say. Day after day, I hear whispers suggesting that I’m unfinished or empty: very few can read my language.

Perhaps

___________

others will find their story.

Something flickered inside me: a well-buried feeling of being known. For too long, my story had waited desperately in the silence, and now it was finally being brought to life. My joy was reflected in the girl’s face as she journeyed through the tale. Her laughter filled the spacious, echoing chambers of the library. Laughter filled my heart. In that moment, my doubts about being different faded away like shadows retreating at dawn. I may not tell my story like the other books, but she needed me just as I needed her. That was enough: I was enough.

Something flickered inside me: a well-buried feeling of being known. For too long, my story had waited desperately in the silence, and now it was finally being brought to life. My joy was reflected in the girl’s face as she journeyed through the tale. Her laughter filled the spacious, echoing chambers of the library. Laughter filled my heart. In that moment, my doubts about being different faded away like shadows retreating at dawn. I may not tell my story like the other books, but she needed me just as I needed her. That was enough: I was enough.

I used to believe I was invisible: now I appreciate that I was simply unread. My story always existed – it was tucked safely between the pages waiting for the right reader to awaken it. Confidently, I lie on the shelf, not hidden between the well-read, vibrant books with glossy covers and eye-catching titles – but chosen. No longer lost in the shadows, but belonging, and waiting to be read over and over again.

Most of the books remain a mystery to me: I can't see the words on their pages.

________________________________

_______________________________________

Silently, I lie on the shelf, hidden between well-read, vibrant books with glossy covers and eye-catching titles. The vast, ancient library is still, except for the occasional flicker of sunlight stretching through the shutters like fingers reaching for the pages. Muted laughter and whispers drift between the endless, towering shelves. Children, full of curiosity, wander in and out, choosing stories that shout their names with every turn of the page. Awkwardly, I wait, gathering dust in the dim corner where the unwanted, forgotten stories sleep.

Something flickered inside me: a well-buried feeling of being known. For too long, my story had waited desperately in the silence, and now it was finally being brought to life. My joy was reflected in the girl’s face as she journeyed through the tale. Her laughter filled the spacious, echoing chambers of the library. Laughter filled my heart. In that moment, my doubts about being different faded away like shadows retreating at dawn. I may not tell my story like the other books, but she needed me just as I needed her. That was enough: I was enough.

One day, she arrived: a quiet girl with tentative, searching hands and thoughtful eyes. Her hands caressed the spines of the books like a pianist finding the keys to a long-forgotten song. Unlike the others, she didn’t rush past: she reached for me gently, as if I was precious. Her fingers paused on my cover – hesitant yet determined, she traced each ridge as if decoding a secret only she could uncover. Carefully, she opened me. Her fingertips moved deliberately over the raised dots: left to right, row by row, top to bottom. I held my breath. For the first time, I was being read – I wasn’t just opened but understood.

One day, she arrived: a quiet girl with tentative, searching hands and thoughtful eyes. Her hands caressed the spines of the books like a pianist finding the keys to a long-forgotten song. Unlike the others, she didn’t rush past: she reached for me gently, as if I was precious. Her fingers paused on my cover – hesitant yet determined, she traced each ridge as if decoding a secret only she could uncover. Carefully, she opened me. Her fingertips moved deliberately over the raised dots: left to right, row by row, top to bottom. I held my breath. For the first time, I was being read – I wasn’t just opened but understood.

One day, she arrived: a quiet girl with tentative, searching hands and thoughtful eyes. Her hands caressed the spines of the books like a pianist finding the keys to a long-forgotten song. Unlike the others, she didn’t rush past: she reached for me gently, as if I was precious. Her fingers paused on my cover – hesitant yet determined, she traced each ridge as if decoding a secret only she could uncover. Carefully, she opened me. Her fingertips moved deliberately over the raised dots: left to right, row by row, top to bottom. I held my breath. For the first time, I was being read – I wasn’t just opened but understood.

Which cohesive device are these examples of?

Day after day

Day after day (time adverbial)

Reveal

waiting… waiting… waiting… (repetition)

waiting… waiting… waiting…

Reveal

I lie on the shelf... (reference)

I lie on the shelf...

Reveal