Author: karen.foster

READ the information in the box below.
THINK about the people you care about.
WRITE about one person who has been important to you. Explain what
makes this person special.
Be sure to−
clearly state your central idea
organize your writing
develop your writing in detail
choose your words carefully
use correct spelling, capitalization, punctuation, grammar, and sentences

“Yay! We finally finished. Thank you so much for your help, Mike. I bet we’re gonna win 1st place in my project.”
My brother Mike is really nice. He helps me in almost everything. When I told him I needed to do a big project, he got so into it. Anyway, he is so nice and I don’t know why. He’s usually all grumpy and stuff. Now he’s helping me, and he makes me some delicious food.
Even though he’s nice, he can be kind of mean and rude. I tried to tell him I had to participate too, but he kept going. He said, “You’ll ruin your project if you do it.” Sometimes I want to watch a movie with him, but he says to leave him alone. How rude. I’m telling you, my brother can be nice sometimes.
I don’t really care if my brother is nice or rude to me. All I care about is that he’s my brother. I know my brother is special and important to me.
(This composition was handwritten on 22 lines.)

One sunny day I saw a sister and a brother standing close to a Apple
Tree. It reminded me of my special my little brother. He’s like the cherry to
my heart, the drop to my lung, the butter to my finger, and the tip of my
nail. But most of all he’s my little brother. I care for him he cares for me.
Let me tell you how he’s special to me.
“Wake up wake up!”, my brother yelled. When I opened my eyes my room
was sparking clean. “I cleaned your room for you while you were asleep,” he
said. I was just so thankful to have a brother that will clean for me. When
I got off the bed I saw everything put away. My clothes in my chest and
my shoes in the closet I saw everything put away.
Then my brother followed me into the kitchen. I got a glass of milk
and he did the same thing. I was so glad that he wanted to learn what I
was doing. He made me feel so special in my heart. I wanted to do more
stuff to teach him. He made me feel so alive it was so important to me.
I learned that people don’t have to give something huge for it to be
special. My little brother just gave me a clean room and a teacher to
teach him. My brother is special to me. He’s like the cherry to my heart.
(This composition was handwritten on 22 lines.)

My Dad is a very important man in my family. He is important
because he cares about me and would do anything for me. My father is
a hard worker he is also a great role modle to me. He teaches me how
to rebuild a car, broken pipe, a fan, door, and a broken chair. If I get
in truble he will always forgive me, but he will give me a punishment
for what I did. When I need help he is there like Superman to the
rescue. Say I need help with my math homework he will help me, even
if he has something important to do. When I don’t have time to do my
work like wash dishes, wash the dogs, set up dinner, and fold and wash
cloths, my dad will do it for me and that shows that he takes good
care of me. That’s why I love my Dad, and that’s why he is important
to me.
(This composition was handwritten on 18 lines.)

One person who is important or special in my life is my older sister,
Elizabeth. She is fantastically wonderful in very many different ways.
Whenever I need advice on something, I can talk to her and she’ll be very
helpful. If I’m ever upset, she will always try her best to cheer me up and
usually Elizabeth will at least make me grin or giggle. If I have homework or
need to study but I’m confused and don’t understand it, she will explain it
and teach it to me even though she normally has a stack of school work or
something else she needs to finish. Every once in a while, when I’m dying of
boredom, Elizabeth will do something fun with me like play a game or take me
to the mall to see a movie with her and some of her friends. If I ever
have a contest or competition, she’ll get me ready for it, cheer me on, and
afterwards congradulate me no matter if I won or not. My sister also
shares a lot of things with me. She’ll let me use her laptop if my computer
isn’t working, let me borrow her calculator or other school supplies, let me
use her extra chair, borrow one of her backpacks, she gives me any clothes
that she’s grown out of, and let’s me try some food that she made. Elizabeth
sort of goes with the flow even if something is bothering her. She is nice,
smart, considerate, helpful, caring, patient, and, above all, an awesome
sister!
(This composition was handwritten on 22 lines.)

Look at the picture below.
It takes talent to balance a basketball on your finger.
Write about a time when you discovered that you were good at something.
Be sure to−
write about a personal experience
organize your writing
develop your writing in detail
choose your words carefully
use correct spelling, capitalization, punctuation, grammar, and sentences

I learned how to ride a bicycle after being helped. One breezy
afternoon, I was blowing bubbles in my front yard, and a man on a bicycle
pedalled by. “Daddy, Daddy!” I cried. “I wanna try that!” “Okay. I’ll go get the bike and helmet,” he said, walking toward the side of the house, where we keep the bikes. Soon enough, there was a helmet strapped to my head, a bike beneath me, and a father beside me.
My legs began circling and I started rolling, my father jogging beside me ready to catch me if I tumble. Forgetting to turn, I skidded to a halt at the curb. A sharp pain stabbed my knee, and I felt something trickle down my leg. I stood up and limped back across the street, while my father rolled the bike next to me. “Maybe we should try again tomorrow,” he said gently. I nodded in agreement.
That night I dreamed I was a professional cyclist. I won every race I was a part of. Suddenly my wheel hit a rock and—my eyes jolted open. I tossed clean clothes on, rushed downstairs, had breakfast, and told my dad I was ready. I hopped back on the bike and started moving again, slowly my dad let go of my shoulders. I was doing it! I was riding a bike! I stopped and walked the bike back. I was proud of myself.
One weekend I even begged to go on a bike ride. He finally said yes and off we went.
(This composition was handwritten on 23 lines.)