Look what I do for SPM essay questions! Maxine calls my writing 'Hallmark'. Ah well. I like.

(Ouch! Way too many words. Ask me for a Word document if you're that interested.)

Question 4 – Write a story ending with 'She was the happiest person on Earth.'

The building was shabby, nondescript. The paint was peeling off the walls. She took a deep breath, pushed open the door and walked in. A mob of children rushed at her feet, grasping and tugging at her skirt, almost pulling her over. She knelt and fended them off, laughing. Their enthusiasm was infectious as a babble of voices assaulted her ears. 'Jie jie! Look at my picture!' One cried, waving a bright, multi-coloured piece of paper in her eyes where not one splash of colour was within the lines. She alternately praised and teased them, ruffling their hair and smiling at the sparkling eyes.

The first time she had come to Annfield Orphanage, they had hung back, eyeing her warily and making no effort to approach. She had cajoled and even bribed them with toys and candy, but it had taken many repeated visits for them to accept her as one of their own. They were too used to being abandoned; trust did not come easily to them. Annfield Orphanage housed young children from the ages of two to six, after which the children were sent to boarding school. Seventeen-year-old Anne had been volunteering there for six months.

Today, she stayed with the children for a while more before she was whisked off to help in the kitchen and then the bathrooms and the bedrooms. There was much to do at Annfield Orphanage; they relied on meagre handouts from the government and unreliable public donations to keep themselves up and running. Anne was a regular and knew what had to be done. She was a great help at the orphanage and she was much treasured and liked by the orphanage's permanent staff.

'Anne!' called a warm voice. Its owner suited her voice exactly: warm, kindly and just a bit plumb, Mrs. Choo had founded and ran the orphanage. Anne was immensely fond of her. Mrs. Choo was like a grandmother to all the children in the orphanage, but Anne admired her perseverance, her unshaking desire to help and do good in the world. Mrs. Choo had come with a request; she wanted Anne to take over a teaching post in the orphanage for a while before they hired a new one. She would teach the children basic English before they were transferred to schools.

Pleased, Anne walked into the room of six-year-olds. She had come to know most of them in the six-month stint as a volunteer. She sang the alphabet song with them and soon the room was filled with excited voices as they attempted to best each other by singing at the speed of bullet trains. Anne loved to see the children happy. Stepping inside the orphanage had always been difficult. She hated that the children lived in poor conditions, hated that they were crowded together in tiny rooms, hated that they had not enough food to eat. She hated that life had treated the children unfairly. Making the laugh was the only way to make them, and her, forget.

In the crowd of noisy children around her, she almost didn't notice a boy sitting among them who had his mouth clamped shut and his eyes turned to the ground. He seemed to be bigger than the rest of the group. She directed the children to stop singing and start writing letters on pieces of paper. The children plopped down on the floor with pencils in their hands and their faces tight with concentration.

She walked among them, observing. Almost all of the children were writing well-formed letters; their former teacher had taught them well. The boy, though, was gripping his pencil and writing what could only be described as squiggles. Mrs. Choo looked in and whispered to Anne that he had learning problems and had been sent back by his school as they could not teach him. He was nine years old and could neither read nor write. He spoke rarely.

Anne resolved to help him. She came back for their weekly English lessons, teaching the children and more importantly, making them laugh. The boy was withdrawn but she stood by him to guide him, dragging him into her activities with the rest of the class. She handed him paper and paint; the wild splashes of red and yellow seemed to speak of unexpressed anger and frustration. Undeterred, she took his hand to help him write, then sat with him and read to him.

Weeks passed. As she stepped into the door, he joined the excited welcoming group. He tugged at her sleeve. 'Jie jie, I want to show you something.' He had a piece of paper and a pencil in hand. Writing with an intent, almost fierce expression on the face, stroke by stroke, he wrote his name in childish but unmistakable letters. A.D.A.M. He looked up at her, his eyes bright. He smiled.

And right then, right there, she was absolutely certain. She was the happiest person on Earth.