Grandad's Couch
Our grandad adores his new couch. The old, red, torn one goes out, the brand-new, avocado-green one comes in wrapped in plastic, slippery like arctic ice, not coming off for a week. You hear a lion-like roar from him, his face a shade of red as the cat tries to strike when the plastic comes off. Protective blankets engulf the couch from head to toe like a warm campfire on a cold winter’s night.
About this resource
Series: School Journal Level 3 June 2022
Topics: ākonga writing, ancestors, family, grandparents, humour, poetry, student writing, tūpuna
Grandad's Couch
Words by Lucas Yee
Illustrations by Lisa Baudry
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School Journal Level 3 June 2022
Inside this School Journal there are two articles (Sapasui - It’s hard to get wrong and The Pā That Matawhero Built), one play (The Great-great-greatest), one piece of student writing (Grandad’s Couch), one biography (Princess Iwa), one poem (Deoxyribonucleic Acid), and two stories (The Story of Mau...
1 of 8Sapasui - It's hard to get wrong!
Carlos Vakalaloma has lots of interests. He likes playing rugby (he’s a prop) and doing jigsaw puzzles (the old-school kind with up to a thousand pieces).
2 of 8The Pā That Matawhero Built
When people visit Pakeke o Whirikoka, the pā Matawhero Lloyd built, they enter a world that existed hundreds of years ago … Pakeke o Whirikoka is in Whatatutu, a small kāinga north of Gisborne.
3 of 8The Great-great-greatest
Confusion reigns in the storage room at the Chinese Association.
4 of 8Princess Iwa
Meet the young woman from Bluff who shared her culture on the world stage.
5 of 8Deoxyribonucleic Acid
I look at my dad’s chin. His chins. Are those chins in my future?
6 of 8The Story of Mauao
This story is for Kihi Ngatai, the great chief of Ngāi Te Rangi and Ngāti Ranginui. He passed away on 1 August 2021 at the age of ninety-one. Kihi loved his maunga. He walked around it three times a week. Toni Rolleston-Cummins shares the story with Kihi’s blessing.
7 of 8Sunday Hero
There are too many keys in Grandma’s tin … When I got home from football, Oma was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. “Are you making soup?” I asked. Oma looked at the celery. “Yes.” “Green soup?” “Yes.” She put down the knife and waited. I was confusing her, but I’d started now.
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