Welcome to Charlton class!
Every accomplishment starts with the decision to try!





 Welcome to our new class blog.

Click on the links below to view the individual blog posts, or visit to see the whole blog!





 Our topics this year will be:
  • The Victorians.
  • Take control.
  • War and conflict.
  • Disasters and wonders. 
  • The World is your oyster.
  • Be a star!
Sir Bobby Charlton:

Robert "BobbyCharlton was born into a family of soccer players on October 11, 1937, in Ashington, Northumberland, England. He began playing football at a young age, and became a professional football player for Manchester United at the age of 15.



Sir Bobby Charlton, CBE is an English former football player, regarded as one of the greatest midfielders of all time, and an essential member of the England team who won the World Cup in 1966, the year he also won the Ballon d'Or.



Our aspirations for the year!





A poem inspired by 'The Toy Box'


A dolls life - by Grace

I am a lonely doll,
laying lifelessly under the bed,
my hair stood on end,
my life is a prison,
will I ever get played with?

I am an angry doll,
resting carelessly in a draw,
complete darkness surrounds me,
my owner has left me to die,
will I ever see day light?

I am a jealous doll,
watching from the shelf,
peering at the new toy that has replaced me,
raging like a bull,
will she ever get betrayed?

I am a hopeful doll,
dreaming from beside the bed,
praying to the toy gods,
I hear foot-steps,
am I about to be played with?



Here is a wonderful example of a flashback, based on 'The Piano'

A flashback

The cold air drifts in from the loft. As the attic door creaks open eerily, the elderly man carefully pulls down the ladder and enters the room of memories.

The withered being of a man starts to cough as the snow like dust fell around him. Suddenly, he came across a black hand-painted wooden box. The dust brushes away like nothing was there. Inside, a toy horse... a tear slowly drops from his eye. 

Splash, the puddles shook as the boy and his grandfather ran around the muddy garden. Pretending to reenact a battle from war. The two people had happiness in their eyes. They burst through the door of the house; running and laughing. Out of nowhere, the boy knocked over the fragile vase, smash. 

Smash, an old and expensive box of china falls of a shelf. The old man leaves and closes the loft door. He takes the horse and places it under the Christmas tree. This will be a great present. 

By Stephen


A war poem

England a memory, waves path the way ahead,

to battle for freedom,
Soldiers hiding their fear,
Shivering to the cold breeze,
land ahead, or new home from home.

The still seas hug the sand,
shattered men leap onto the beach,
boats imprisoned in a cage of golden dust,
trenches up ahead, their brothers in arms.

Our time to go up, or our time to die,
their souls are slaves to the Commanders whistle,
friends and foes drop one by one.
A sea of blood, married to the soil of no mans land.

Eyes glare aimlessly into the abyss,
screams echo through the wind,
guns cheer with each hit,
the lives a mere cost of war.

By Nathan








PE

Our PE days are Monday and Friday.
Don't be a llama! Bring your kit in!


Go to
https://www.activelearnprimary.co.uk/login?c=0



www.mathletics.co.uk