Task 1 Lines Flashcards
The Australian sun blazed overhead, but the warmth never reached me.” (Metaphor for emotional distance)t was the kind of heat that clung to skin, yet inside, I felt cold—like a ghost drifting through the gates of a school that wasn’t mine.
Their laughter cut through the air, sharp as broken glass.” (Symbolism for exclusion)
- The school uniform → Represents forced assimilation into Australian culture.
- A meal from their homeland → Represents identity and connection to their past.
- A scar or old wound → Symbolises lasting trauma from racist experiences.
“I used to believe that fitting in was the same as belonging. Now I know better.”
Internal monologue - “Maybe if I laugh along, they won’t see me as different. Maybe if I ignore it, it will stop.”
keep repeating this. Just another outsider.” → Reinforces the theme of exclusion.
VERY GOOD My lunchbox sat unopened in my lap, the rich spices of home curling into the air, met with wrinkled noses and whispered words.”
“The bell rang, sharp and commanding, like an unspoken order to blend in or be left behind.” (Metaphor for assimilation pressure)
“The classroom was a battlefield, my name the first casualty—twisted, mispronounced, a stranger to its own identity.”
REPITITION - “Different. My clothes were different. My lunch was different. My voice was different. And different meant alone.”
Oh my god, what is that smell?” a girl muttered, scrunching her nose.
“Ew, is that curry?” a boy across the table whispered, his voice dripping with mock horror.
More giggles. More whispers.
I froze, my fingers hovering over my spoon. My mouth went dry.
Back home, this meal was a feast, a love letter written in spice. Here, it was something to be ashamed of.
I snapped the lid shut, shoving the lunchbox back into my bag, my stomach twisting into knots. The others bit into their Vegemite sandwiches and fruit roll-ups without a second thought, effortlessly belonging to a world I didn’t know how to enter.
I forced a smile, pretending I wasn’t hungry. Pretending their words didn’t sting.
The bell rang, but I barely heard it. I was still trapped in that moment—still feeling their stares, their laughter clinging to me like an unwanted shadow.
My mum had smoothed my hair that morning, her hands lingering on my shoulders as she whispered, “Beta, just be yourself.” But what if myself wasn’t what they wanted?
By the time the mind is able to comprehend what has happened, the wounds of the heart are already too deep.
