Welcome To Poltair
Welcome to the Poltair School website. I hope that it provides you with a comprehensive introduction to our values, expectations and ways of working.
Get involved every day next week, bring in any spare change to donate to this worthwhile cause!
|Monday 27th||Tuesday 28th||Wednesday 29th||Thursday 30th||Friday 31st|
|Non Uniform Day|
|Breakfast Club||10p Song Requests|
|First Break||10p Song Requests|
|Lolly Stick Lucky Dip||Mystery Box||Lolly Stick Lucky Dip||Mystery Box||Lolly Stick Lucky Dip|
|Mystery Box Raffle Winner|
|Second Break||10p Song Requests||Red Nose Day Rave - Block 3|
|Lolly Stick Lucky Dip||Mystery Box||Lolly Stick Lucky Dip||Mystery Box|
|Assault Course||Krazy Kahoot|
A group of year nine students have been involved with the Story Republic Pit Paper Porcelain Project which is a creative writing project inspired by the history and landscape of the Wheal Martyn, as well as the artwork of Grayson Perry. Students spent a day at the Wheal Martyn site carrying out creative writing activities. Then, they spent a day in school working with a professional writer to create a piece of narrative writing or poetry inspired by this experience. Artists also came into school to work with the students to create some incredible works of art based on their creative writing pieces.
This project culminated in a celebration evening at the Wheal Martyn where parents, teachers and members of the public were invited to come along and view their children's outstanding work. During the evening we were treated to performances from members of Story Republic. Also, a number of the children involved, from a range of schools across the county, proudly shared their work by reading it aloud, including our very own Aaliyah Robinson-Pickford who did an amazing job! Overall, it was a fantastic evening and a great chance to showcase the talent that we have here at Poltair!
The students work will be on display at the Wheal Martyn over the next few weeks, so do feel free to pop in and have a look!
A rush of chilling wind stabbed into my body like daggers as I soared on the wind. My saffron eyes stung as I stared at the shadowy sky. Despite the icy pain, I tried to relax. After all, not everyone gets to live in the clouds. I have been drifting in the air for as long as I remember. I don't even know what it is like to touch the ground. From my countless adventures through the heavens, I have learned lots from the land below.
All of a sudden, a strong breeze flipped me so I faced the ground. Then, I gasped at what I saw. A gigantic white wasteland lay before me, like a wound in the Earth. Huge terraces of bare rock sloped down a colossal crater like a frozen waterfall, a fortress of pale stone.
Then, I was whisked away by a gust of glacial wind. As I plummeted backwards through the stormy sky, I wondered if the desolate land was a warning of a terrible future, destroyed by whatever monster could devastate the Earth like that.
Then, I was turned around and saw a sea of orange leaves cover the Earth, a blanket over the forest floor. Steadily, I drifted down from above. Maybe this was it! I was about to land!
As I fell, a leaf fell from an almost bare tree into a shimmering pool, sending ripples which distorted the reflected reality. Despite the interference, I was able to perceive myself in the reflection. I was just an ordinary, rusty leaf, fluttering in the air. This was outrageous! How could I, the adventurer of the skies and the silent watcher of the land, be such a simple thing as a leaf!? An ordinary leaf!!!!
As I wept inside, I drifted slowly towards the Earth. I wished I wasn't an ordinary leaf. I wished I was special.
Then, I landed softly onto the sea of leaves. Becoming one in a mass of millions, I settled in and accepted who I was. Yes, I am a rusty brown leaf, part of the billions that litter the world, but I am also The Drifter. I have ventured the globe and explored the heavens. Everyone is different; everyone is special.
The sound of chugging constantly filled the atmosphere as the soft, refreshing scent of nature surrounded the empty space.
Droplets of water slid off the rotating water wheel which generated a variety of elegant melodies.
Any man or woman would look miniscule compared to the titanic clay pit that rested above the beautiful landscape below.
The orange shades of rust covered the metal machinery like a ripped curtain Moss filled the small spaces in between.
The history of this silent sanctuary was like no other.Children as young as ten slaving away like stewards. Bal maidens working with them, hour after hour, year after year.Youth and mothers labouring together.