Paper 2: Non-Fiction & Writing for Real Purposes

Both writers share an enthusiasm for travel, yet their perspectives differ significantly due to their historical contexts. The 19th-century writer in Text 1 presents travel as a transformative, almost spiritual experience, describing the Italian landscape as “a revelation that stirred the very foundations of my soul.” The noun “revelation” carries religious connotations, elevating travel beyond mere leisure into something profound and enlightening. This reflects the Romantic-era belief that exposure to nature and foreign cultures could enrich the inner self.

In contrast, the 21st-century writer in Text 2 adopts a more pragmatic and self-deprecating tone, admitting that “most of my so-called adventures involved getting lost and arguing over Google Maps.” The colloquial phrase “so-called adventures” undercuts the Romantic ideal, using humour to present travel as imperfect yet still valuable. Where Text 1’s writer seeks transcendence, Text 2’s writer finds value in the mundane and the human connection. Both, however, ultimately argue that travel expands one’s understanding of the world, even if they disagree on how.

Good morning, everyone. I want you to imagine something for me. Imagine walking through these corridors next September and hearing nothing. No choir rehearsals drifting through the hall. No paint-splattered Year 9s laughing on their way to the art block. No drumbeat from the music rooms that makes you tap your foot even when you are trying to concentrate on quadratic equations.

Silence. That is what this school will sound like if we allow art and music to be stripped from our curriculum.

Now, I understand the argument. Budgets are tight. Exam results matter. Universities want to see grades in maths and science and English. And yes, those subjects are important — nobody is denying that. But to suggest that art and music are luxuries we can afford to lose is not just short-sighted; it is fundamentally wrong.