The Slice, Issue 4 2023

2023 • ISSUE NO. 4

CHRONICLE The Slice

CONTENTS

PAGE 3 THE MAGAZINE TEAM Welcome to the Winter Edition

PAGE 4 DIVERSITY AND INCLUSION Opinion pieces: Inclusion and diversity in food, Diversity and neurodiversity and Inclusion and diversity in books

PAGE 10 POETRY COMPETITION YEARS 7-9 Refuge

The Slice

YEAR 8 & 9 MAGAZINE CLUB WINTER EDITION

The Slice A warm welcome from the magazine team to our termly magazine, Chronicle: The Slice, written by our dedicated and talented group of Year 8 and 9 students. 'Tis the season for tangled fairy lights and fruitcake disasters! However, amidst the merry chaos, this edition is unwrapping a different gift: a focus on diversity and inclusion.

From thought-provoking articles on cultural celebrations, to heartwarming poems celebrating uniqueness, our pages are an eclectic celebration of all things diverse and wonderful. In this edition you can also look forward to our recent National Poetry Day competition, which was an absolute feast of talent. With the theme of "Refuge," the entries beautifully complement our spotlight on diversity and inclusion. And the cherry on top? The entries from our winners and runners-up, whose breathtaking verses are proudly featured at the end of this publication. Grab a cup of cocoa and get ready for a journey through the vibrant tapestry of humanity!

We look forward to sharing more of our writing with you next term but, for the moment, may we wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year 2024!

PAGE THREE | INTRO

INCLUSION AND DIVERSITY IN FOOD WRITTEN BY: AMBER PYPER

Food is very important to everyone not just because we need it to survive, but because for many people food represents their religion, culture, diet, history, wealth and even identity.

People all around the world use certain foods to help celebrate an occasion. For example, The traditional Italian wedding cake is made from biscuits, Korean noodles are eaten because they represent longevity and South Korean people eat seaweed soup on birthdays.

PAGE FOUR| DIVERSITY AND INCLUSION

Is British food considered multicultural?

In Britain, the food is considered to be multicultural, this is due to migration and centuries of trading goods. People who have migrated to England in the past have shared new dishes and recipes from their country allowing the people in Britain to learn about others cultures, this has also made the food in England more diverse and now our food is a culinary patchwork of cultural traditions and tastes.

What does food have to do with inclusion?

For most people, the food they eat is a huge part of their culture, religion or background.

Learning about where somebody is from and what they eat can help that person to feel included. Also, sharing a favourite food with another shows a sense of connection and makes both people learn more about the world we live in and how different people live.

Have you ever felt different? You are! it's nothing to be ashamed of because everyone is different so technically speaking the only thing everybody has in common is that they are different (if that makes sense).

DIVERSITY AND NEURODIVERSITY WRITTEN BY: CHARLOTTE REITZ

It's a good thing that we are all different but sometimes it can be difficult to get people to understand you. This can be especially hard if you are neurodiverse (if you have: ADHD, Autism, OCD, dyslexia, dyspraxia, dysgraphia and Tourette's Syndrome etc) neurodiversity can affect people in lots of different ways and communication and socialising can be hard, but that is why it can be helpful for people to understand what you might struggle with so they can include you in things.

20% of the human population are neurodiverse so that is a lot of people but although sometimes supporting someone who is neurodiverse may be difficult they can be extremely intelligent and powerfully creative for example: Emma Watson - ADHD Bill Gates - dyslexia and ADHD Nikola Tesla - OCD Mozart - Professionals have diagnosed him with autism.

Neurodiversity can also be a gift as it helps us to think differently and see the world from a different perspective.

It's really interesting finding out about how different people see the world and learning about it can really improve social skills and change the way you see the world.

PAGE FIVE | DIVERSITY AND INCLUSION

INCLUSION AND DIVERSITY IN BOOKS WRITTEN BY: OLIVIA DAVISON

Many books nowadays include many diverse and inclusive themes! Books with autistic starring characters, books on LGBTQ+, books about race and gender, books about disabilities and more. This expands knowledge for readers and it can open eyes to situations and real life stories that do happen in the real world.

The Art of Being Normal Teen Daniel has always been an outsider bullied and picked on, called a freak by the school bully and only his two best friends know the actual truth: he wants to be a girl.

Meanwhile, new boy Leo Denton wants to be invisible. He keeps a low profile and be barely seen, but when Daniel is being picked on in the lunch line, Leo speaks up for Daniel (maybe a little too loud) landing him in trouble and all the students calling him things such as ‘crazy new boy’. They’re both just trying to navigate teen life and with a little help from each other maybe they can manage.

A Kind of Spark Addie is an autistic pre-teen. She knows exactly what she likes and who she is, which makes her character so interesting. She knows she thinks sharks are better than dolphins and she loves thesauruses. When she discovers witches in her town used to be unfairly hung she decides to take action. It’s a really nice story and very insightful as we see Addie’s experiences with autism and how it affects her.

PAGE SIX | DIVERSITY AND INCLUSION

Am I Normal Yet? A sixteen year old girl called Evie starts fresh at a new college and no one there knows her history of OCD or GAD (Generalised Anxiety Disorder).

Her medication has been reduced and she’s finally going out, meeting people and making real friends, experiencing new things. Just hopefully no one finds out.

Wonder A boy called August Pullman was born with facial differences. He’s always wanted to be an astronaut - then no one could see his face. He could just jump around in space. Now, August is entering the 5th grade into a mainstream school for the first time. As the year goes on, he realises some people are only his friends because the teacher asked them to be nice and August wonders if he’ll ever have friends that actually want to be his friends. Or will he stay a freak forever? This book is about how August manages his disability and how he copes with the real world and the truth about making friends and the brutal fact that some people might not like you for what you look like.

Coming to England This is a true story written by Floella Benjamin.

As a girl, she grew up in Trinidad, but then one day her father and mother decided it was better to move to England for more money and better jobs. First, Floella’s dad leaves to find a job and get settled, then the mother and Floella’s two youngest siblings leave and Floella and her sister are sent to live with another family and her other brothers are sent to live with a different family as well. Finally, Floella and her brothers and sister are told they can now come to England. They reunite with their mother, father and two younger siblings. At first, it’s exciting, but pretty soon Floella realises that life in England isn’t as nice as it was made out to be.

PAGE SEVEN | DIVERSITY AND INCLUSION

NO TWO SNOWFLAKES ARE THE SAME WRITTEN BY: MEERA MUDUNKOTUWE

No two snowflakes are the same, No two people are the same, Nothing on this earth is the same, No two human minds are the same, No two mountains are the same, No two petals are the same.

Nothing on this earth is the same.

So why are we fighting differences?

We need to make the most of the world's magnificence.

This isn’t a one man effort though, We can’t afford to be slow.

Why are we fighting bliss, The animals aren’t fighting this, So be pro - diversity, Improving our world together.

PAGE EIGHT | DIVERSITY AND INCLUSION

YOU AND I ARE NOT THE SAME. WRITTEN BY: CHARLOTTE REITZ

You say you and I are the same Because you know my name Not the war inside my brain Not why I don't want to hold your hand Not how hard I try to make you understand Not how I see the bacteria multiplying rushing up my arms Not how when you brush against me my head fills with wailing alarms Not why I tap the table more than others do Because otherwise bad things will happen to me and you Not the compulsions I have to obey Not how many times I've screamed at the thoughts to stay away Not how I try to act normal for you Not the cleaning I have to do Not how suddenly the obsessions came Not how You and I are not the same Not how hard it is to be A teenager with OCD.

PAGE NINE | DIVERSITY AND INCLUSION

WHY DOES PERFECT MEAN BORING? WRITTEN BY: OLIVIA DAVISON

Look at up the sky and see the stars, all different sizes, There’s shooting stars, and if you look a little closer, You see there’s multiple dozens of types of stars, But everyone looks up at them, And smiles the same, Why isn’t it like that with humans?

Everyone looks different just like stars, But somehow if anyone is weird, Or they stand out ‘too much’ They’re irregular.

Why does perfect mean boring?

And why, for years and years, Have people faced discrimination for their race, Aren’t differences something to embrace?

Why weren’t women allowed to vote?

Why is she ‘special’ because she’s ADHD? And why is he weird because he’s OCD? Is there anyone particular reason, Why people have these prejudices?

We’re humans, we’re supposed to be civil, I’ll never understand why we can’t all just be, Be our own stars, our own selves, Shine in the sky like they do, Spreading their bright light throughout the universe.

So, tell me why, why does perfect mean boring?

PAGE NINE | DIVERSITY AND INCLUSION

YOU KNOW THE COLOUR OF MY SKIN YOU DON’T KNOW MY STORY WRITTEN BY: CHARLOTTE REITZ

You know I tremble when someone mentions the sea You don’t know how the waves crashed and churned as we escaped You don’t know how some of us didn’t survive the journey You know I cry when I see a plane You don’t know how they coated the deep, red sky back where I’m from You don’t know how they dropped bombs, setting fires that shot through the city like a bullet of destruction You know I can’t speak English very well You don’t know how hard It is with so many words swarming my head You don’t know how many sentences are chained in my throat screaming to be let out You know my family is struggling You don’t know how we lost everything just for the chance we might survive So before you laugh at me for talking differently, acting differently, and looking different, just remember...

You know the colour of my skin.

You don’t know my story

PAGE NINE | DIVERSITY AND INCLUSION

REFUGE Poetry Competition Years 7-9

PAGE TEN | POETRY COMPETITION

FIRST PLACE My Safe Place - Haania Nisar In my home, or in my bed, I feel safe just not my shed.

I play with my cat, and give him treats.

But sometimes he’s picky on what he eats.

I love my toys, some soft and some hairy, I hug them tight when I see something scary.

I have a lock on my room, and a lock in my heart, but there’s only one thing to free it apart.

Happiness is the thing I love the most, whether I’m sad or whether I’m not.

Happiness is really a lot.

SECOND PLACE A Place to Call Home - Ruby Degale

YEAR 7 THIRD PLACE In My Own World - Liberty Mongon I’m in my own world Not a single sound I’m in a lost story with no one around I’m by myself Not a moment to lose I’m a different person In different shoes I’m safe I’m alone No criticisms No one to moan Lost in a story Lost in a rhyme Reading it slowly Taking my time I am safe ...

Running ...

Looking ...

Searching ...

For a place to call home, for a shelter from the storms we call war, I want to flee, I want to escape, but to me it seems impossible.

Finally a random stranger shows kindness to us, I wonder what it will be like to finally have a home again To be wanted To be loved.

Resting ...

Found ...

At peace ...

Finally a place to call home, a shelter from all the storms I’ve fled, I’ve escaped.

Impossible is just a kind of possible ...

PAGE ELEVEN | POETRY COMPETITION

YEAR 8 FIRST PLACE Oh No – Rebecca Cousins Oh no it’s here it’s my foe.

So cold and miserable, away I must go.

I fetched some essentials put them in a bag to escape these times, freezing and sad.

Come on! We must be quick as we flee!

Let’s find somewhere with tropical seas.

It’s much too early for horrendous storms.

I do love the winter but this weather’s a war Prepared to sprint I open the door.

Raindrops, hail, winds, down pour.

I made it to the car. It’s dangerous to drive.

I don’t know if I’ll make it out of here alive.

By some crazy miracle I survived the journey.

I feel the sun on my face, it’s been far far too long.

I cannot believe all the things I can see.

So very different from where I have come from ...

THIRD PLACE Family – Kaira Nagpal Safety is key.

Family, that’s where I should be, The storm blows around me, Coldness, chilly, freezing and bitter, Warmth I seek, Warmth I need.

No animal’s No life.

Nothing surrounds me, only the coldness of the sky, and only the leaves that have fallen from the now bald trees.

The flying leaves lead.

The frozen grass stays still.

But finally shelter I see.

Family That’s where I should be.

PAGE TWELVE | POETRY COMPETITION

SECOND PLACE I Hate the Way – Mathilda Croft I hate the way the bombs go off, And the way I scream out loud.

I hate the way no one else is here, Only buried in the ground.

I hate the way I have to run, whenever I hear a fire.

I always have to seem to climb, Always getting higher.

I wish I didn’t have to watch The people getting killed.

But if I don’t, how will I know The dreams that are unfulfilled?

I wish my family had never died.

I really hope they know That my world crumbled down.

I really loved them so ...

I hate the way my blanket feels; Always scratching up my knees.

I hate the way the flowers are gone; There aren’t even any bees.

I hate the way I look, And the way I feel.

I know deep down in my heart I will never really heal ...

I really hope it’s over, I really hope it’s done.

But after everything that happened, I still won’t have a mum.

Even is they leave, I still won’t hear my family’s voices, only in the breeze ...

I know that now I’m safe, I know that now I’m fine, But inside I’m all alone.

This country isn’t mine.

I hate the way they look at me; They hate the way I talk.

I hate the way I have no one, And everyone just gawks.

I know that now I’m orphaned, I know I have no home.

But no matter what anyone says, I know I’m just alone ...

FIRST PLACE Goodbye - Sophia Wood It’s time to say goodbye I do not think I’m ready Maybe it won’t hurt Maybe I’ll be fine What would happen to my family What will happen when I die The birds will keep on chirping The clock will keep on ticking The world will keep on turning and I won’t be alive but when the darkness swallows me I know I will be ready for I will have myself and I’ll have said goodbye

THIRD PLACE Refuge - Lauren Lister Bent over huddled and cold, the icy air clings on to me, like a baby to their mother, trying to capture her body warmth, but there is none, not even under her coat, it’s all at home, where instead there are guns.

I look to the stars, like I do every night. praying to the father, that I might find the fight, inside of me to protect my children, who smile at me like nothing is wrong, I should be more like them I think to myself, look for the good in life and the will be dealt, by the father I pray to every night, that I could find the might to fight.

YEAR 9 SECOND PLACE On that road behind the house - Isla Keeping On that road behind that house Is where the kids would hang about: Some tall, Some small, Some kicking around a ball.

Walking in with cuts and bruises, Smiles so wide you can’t remove them.

Kids would play, Kids would sing, Kids would do almost everything ...

On that road behind that house Was the last time they would hang about.

No one tall, No one small, No one kicking around a ball.

No cuts, no bruises, No smiles so wide you can’t remove them.

No kids play, No kids sing, No kids that would do anything.

They’ve all grown up, They’ve all grown old, They’ve all got kids of their own ...

On that road behind the house Is where the kids would hang about: Some tall, Some small, Some kicking around a ball, Walking in with cuts and bruises, Smiles so wide you can’t removed them.

Kids would play, Kids would sing, Kids would do almost everything ...

Just like parents used to do.

PAGE THIRTEEN | POETRY COMPETITION

thank you for reading!