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ENGLISH WRITING CONTEST - And the WINNER is...

“Write a Christmas story or a Winter's tale! Be creative!" Dies waren einige der wenigen Vorgaben beim ENGLISH WRITING CONTEST der HAK Feldbach am 20. Dezember 2017. Die Schülerinnen und Schüler des 3. und 4. Jahrgangs konnten ihren Ideen freien Lauf lassen, bekamen anschließend Zeit, um diese Ideen zu sortieren und um wichtige Entscheidungen über Inhalt, Stil und Textsorte zu treffen. Individuell konnte jede/r im eigenen Tempo vorgehen und in einer angenehmen Atmosphäre einen Text verfassen. Die Schülerinnen und Schüler arbeiteten selbstständig, hatten jedoch die Möglichkeit, sich bei Fragen an die betreuenden Englisch-LehrerInnen zu wenden. Auch die diesjährige Englisch-Assistentin aus Amerika war an diesem Tag für sie da. Am frühen Nachmittag wurden die entstandenen Werke für den Wettbewerb eingereicht.

Am darauffolgenden Tag fanden sich die Schriftstücke ohne die Namen ihrer AutorInnen bei ihren ersten Lesern, der Jury, ein und wurden bewertet. Noten? – Nein!; Grammatik- oder Rechtschreibfehler? – Zählten nicht! Nach eigens für den Wettbewerb erstellten Kriterien (Originalität, Sprache und Gesamteindruck) mit Bewertungsskala wurde jeder Text von je gleich vielen Juroren aus dem Lehrerteam sowie aus den Abschlussklassen der HAK gelesen und erhielt Punkte, die für die Reihung entscheidend waren.

„And the winner is….“ hieß es dann am 22. Dezember 2017. Direktorin Edith Kohlmeier überreichte der Siegerin Lena Payer (4AK) eine Urkunde und den wohlverdienten Preis für ihre sehr gelungene Christmas story mit dem Titel „Cassandra the cup“. (Für Text auf "Weiterlesen" klicken!)

 Ex aequo auf Platz 2 landeten die Texte „Baby found in a stable“ von Stefan Hütter (4BK) und „Old cabin“ von Jakob Schöllauf (3AK).

Cassandra the cup

Sooo... hi guys… I’m Cassandra. It may seem a bit unusual to you but I’m a cup. Yes, you read right. A cup. To say it more precisely, a coffee cup, a really pretty one to be honest. I’m red with a white kind of flower pattern all over me. You probably don’t know why I’m telling you all this unnecessary stuff … well … you will probably need this basic information to understand the story I’m going to tell you. And yes, you read right again, I’m going to tell you a story today. The story of my first Christmas.

I came to my household about 8 months ago. They bought me in a little store for dishes in, I think, April. I was very happy when they bought me, I needed a bit of a change in my life. The cup next to me in the store was a good friend of mine, his name was Kurt the cup. For me, he was a good friend, you know, but he wanted a bit more, in fact, a serious relationship and I’m TOTALLY NOT INTO THAT so … okay I’m drifting away from my story. Back to the day my family bought me. They took me to their house, a nice house in the suburbs of London. Of course they have a big kitchen with a beautiful cupboard, that’s where I have lived a nice life for the last 8 months. Most of the time, Thomas, the father of the family drinks out of me, but sometimes Sally, their oldest daughter. There’s also a mother, Regina. Most of the time she’s the one who puts me in the dishwasher. I absolutely hate the dishwasher … but that’s another story. And then there are two more little kids, but they are just very loud and not important to me. You see, I’m living a very good life here. And there’s one thing which I was looking forward to since the day I have arrived here: Christmas! I have heard about it on the radio several times and I’ve seen a lot of things on TV (I love to watch TV with the other dishes if the family isn’t at home). “That Christmas-thing must be something beautiful”, I thought. But then there came the actual advent. It was not like I expected it to be. The whole family was completely stressed out. Thomas drank his coffee so quickly every day and in the evenings there was no time for tea. The children screamed louder, so Regina shouted even louder at them and that whole thing totally pissed me off. I thought that this time was very quiet, peaceful and full of love. At least it was like that on TV. So I survived the screaming, the hustle and bustle every day until Christmas Eve. But the last month was so stressful and loud that I wasn’t in Christmas mood at all. The Christmas spirit I had been looking forward to for so long was completely gone.

I spent the 24th of December in the cupboard. The whole family was away for the next two days. They celebrated Christmas in Brighton, where Regina’s parents lived. So all of us had nothing to do and a few very enthusiastic plates, cups, spoons, forks and knives organised a little Christmas party on the big dining table. At first, I didn’t want to go there but the other cups persuaded me. With the most not-festive-mood you’ve ever seen, I made my way to the kitchen table. All the dishes there were dancing to a song called “Last Christmas”, they were laughing and eating from the dirty plates which Regina forgot to put in the dishwasher before they left. Everybody seemed happy but no one talked about that story about the little child in the crib. I heard that story on the radio a few days ago and it was said that because of this story we celebrate Christmas. “If that Jesus was so important, why does no one talk about him?” I asked myself.

Suddenly someone was knocking on the big kitchen door. Some of us, including me, went there to see who it was. We opened the door and at first we just saw two shadows. Those shadows came a bit more closely and appeared to be pepper and an extremely pregnant salt. Pepper spoke “Hello! May we come in? We’re on a long journey to the next supermarket and don’t have a place to sleep.