📝 Writing Models — by Category

EATING HEALTHY FOOD LEADS TO A HEALTHY LIFE

What we put on our plates today shapes the body we live in tomorrow. Healthy food means fresh vegetables, fruits, whole grains, fish and pulses — the kind of meal that comes out of a kitchen, not a packet. Unhealthy food, by contrast, is what we get from deep fryers and snack shelves: high in sugar, salt and oil and low in real nutrition.

We should eat healthy food because our body is built from what we feed it. Vegetables give us vitamins; fish and pulses give us protein for growth; whole grains give us steady energy to study and play. A diet of fizzy drinks and short eats may taste good for a minute, but it leaves us tired, overweight and one day diabetic.

Eating well leads to a healthy life in three clear ways. First, our weight stays normal. Second, common illnesses such as flu and stomach pain become rare. Third, our mind stays sharp — we concentrate better in class and sleep better at night.

So let us choose the rice-and-curry plate over the burger, and the king coconut over the cola. Healthy eating is not a punishment; it is a kindness we do for our future self.

LET'S PROTECT OUR FORESTS

Good morning everyone.

Forests are far more than a backdrop in tourism brochures. They are giant air-conditioners that pull carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere, hold our soil in place during the monsoon, and shelter every wild creature from the elephant down to the giant squirrel. Without forests, the rains would not fall on time and the rivers would not run clean.

Yet we are losing them quickly. Every year, hundreds of acres of forest in Sri Lanka are cleared for chena cultivation, illegal logging and new buildings. Forest fires — some accidental, others started deliberately — destroy what took a hundred years to grow. When the trees vanish, the rainfall pattern changes, the temperature rises, and the elephants come into the villages because their home is gone.

The answer is in three steps. First, plant trees — every school, every temple, every home garden can give space to a sapling. Second, support the Forest Department and the small NGOs that replant Sinharaja and Wilpattu. Third, change the way we shop: choose recycled paper, refuse furniture from suspect timber, and ask before every purchase, "Did this come from a forest?"

Our forests are not just ours. They belong to children not yet born. Let us protect them. Thank you.

THE EFFECTS OF USING POLYTHENE

Good morning, teachers and friends.

If you walk down any Sri Lankan town today, you will see polythene almost everywhere — wrapping the chicken in the butcher's, carrying mother's vegetables, even floating in the Kelani river. We use it because it is cheap, light and waterproof. But that same cheapness is destroying our island.

A single polythene bag takes between 500 and 1000 years to break down. In that time, it does not disappear — it splits into tiny plastic pieces that fish swallow, that block our drains and cause floods, and that release poisonous gases when burnt. Last year a wild elephant in Habarana died with eight kilograms of polythene in its stomach. That is one statistic; there are thousands more.

What can we do? Three simple steps. First, refuse a polythene bag at every shop — carry a cloth bag in your school bag. Second, refuse 'lunch sheets' in tuition; ask the shop to wrap food in banana leaf or paper. Third, talk about it: at home, at the temple, at the cricket match. Change spreads faster than we think.

Our grandparents lived perfectly well without polythene. So can we. Thank you.

SOURCES OF INFORMATION

A generation ago, knowing something meant going to the library, opening a thick book and turning pages. Today my younger sister can ask her phone the capital of Burkina Faso and have it before the kettle has boiled. So how should a Sri Lankan student in 2026 use the many sources of information available?

First, the newspaper. Read one a day — paper or digital — for news of the world and the country. The editorial column trains your opinion writing.

Second, the dictionary. Even a small one carries spelling, pronunciation, word class and example sentences. The online ones add audio so you finally learn that 'epitome' is spoken "i-pi-tuh-mee".

Third, the textbook. It may look old-fashioned, but it gives you the complete syllabus that an exam tests. No web page is yet that organised.

Fourth, Wikipedia and reliable web pages. Useful for quick orientation, but always follow the sources listed at the bottom — they are the real authority.

No single source is enough. The wise student becomes a kind of detective — comparing a news report with a textbook chapter and a Wikipedia article before taking any 'fact' as final. In this age of information, the real skill is judgement.

THE IMPORTANCE OF LEARNING ENGLISH IN THE MODERN WORLD

Good morning teachers and friends.

English is no longer the language of one country — it is the working language of the world. Two-thirds of all websites are in English. Every international job interview uses it. Every airline announcement, every container ship's manifest, every WHO health update is written in it first. The Sri Lankan student who masters English does not just earn a higher mark on the O/L paper — she unlocks the world.

Firstly, English is the language of higher studies. Almost every Sri Lankan university lectures in it. Every research paper is written in it. The student weak in English will struggle no matter how brilliant her science is.

Secondly, English opens jobs. The IT engineer in Colombo, the receptionist in Galle, the tourist guide in Kandy — all of them earn more if they speak fluent English. The same skill makes overseas employment possible.

Thirdly, English enables a global friendship. The pen pal in Korea, the YouTube channel from Kenya, the novel from England — all become close when you speak the common language.

Four years of daily practice now gives you forty years of advantage later. Start tonight. Thank you.

COMPUTERS: DO WE NEED THEM?

A generation ago, computers were giant machines kept behind closed doors in banks and laboratories. Today they sit on our desks, in our schoolbags and even in our pockets. So do we really need them? My honest answer is yes — but only when we use them wisely.

Computers are a window to the whole world's knowledge. A student in a small Sri Lankan village can read the same encyclopedia as a student in London, watch a science experiment on YouTube and join a free online course. For our parents, computers make life easier. They book train tickets, pay electricity bills and send money to relatives abroad in minutes — work that used to take a whole day.

But every good thing has its dark side. Spending hours in front of a screen damages our eyes and weakens our backs. Many young people get so addicted to games and social media that they forget to study, sleep or talk to their families. The blue light keeps us awake at night, and the constant scrolling steals our peace of mind.

The answer, then, is balance. We need computers, but they must serve us — not the other way around.

WHY WE SHOULD WELCOME CHALLENGES

Good morning everyone.

There is a comfortable lie that some Sri Lankan students tell themselves every day: 'I am not the type for public speaking.' 'Maths just isn't my thing.' 'I'll never speak English well.' We dress fear up as personality and call the case closed.

Dr. Heartsill Wilson, the poet, would shake his head. 'Blessed is the man indeed, who in this life can find / a purpose that can fill his days / and goals to fill his mind!'

Firstly, challenges are the only place that growth lives. The first sentence of English you struggle to say is the one that earns you the second one easily. Comfort, by contrast, hands you nothing new.

Secondly, the discomfort itself is short. The longest possible debate speech is seven minutes; an A-level paper is three hours. Three hours of brave study can change a whole decade.

Thirdly, the world rewards those who try. Universities, employers, even the prefects' panel — every door we want is opened only by the courage to knock.

So welcome the next challenge that arrives. Don't run from it. Don't avoid it. Stand up, sweaty palms and all, and meet it. Your future self is watching. Thank you.

MOTHER TERESA — A LIFE OF GIVING

The woman the world came to know as Mother Teresa was born Agnes Gonxha Bojaxhiu in 1910, in a small village in present-day North Macedonia. The youngest of three children of a grocer, she was raised by a deeply religious mother who often shared the family's evening meal with the poor of the neighbourhood. At eighteen Agnes left for Ireland to join the Sisters of Loreto, and a year later sailed to Calcutta to teach in a convent school.

For seventeen years she taught the daughters of the wealthy, but she could not forget the poverty just outside the convent walls. In 1948 she stepped out and founded the Missionaries of Charity. She set up the first home for the dying in a deserted Hindu temple. The world thought it was a foolish experiment. Mother Teresa simply kept washing the wounds of strangers.

The obstacle she overcame was not poverty or even her own ill health; it was being constantly told that the work was 'too small to change anything'. She replied, "We can do no great things — only small things with great love."

That one sentence is why I find her inspiring. Success, she shows us, is measured in how much love we leave behind.

WHY HARD WORK MATTERS MORE THAN TALENT

Good morning everyone.

We live in a world that loves to praise talent. The crowd cheers the boy who can suddenly bowl at 130 kph at fifteen. We tell ourselves, 'He is gifted'. But the next morning, while the crowd is asleep, that boy is at the nets alone before sunrise. The 'gift' is only a small part of his story. The longer part — the one nobody films — is hard work.

Firstly, talent is a head start, not a finish line. The world's best cricket academies are full of boys who once bowled at 130 kph. Only those who kept turning up at 5 a.m. for ten more years became Lasith Malinga.

Secondly, hard work builds character. The student who memorises ten irregular verbs every night learns more than verbs — she learns the patience that will see her through Advanced Levels, university, and her first job.

Thirdly, hard work is fair. Talent is given to a lucky few. Hard work is open to everyone, every day.

As Tim Notke once said, 'Hard work beats talent when talent doesn't work hard.'

So let us stop wishing for talent and start showing up. Thank you.

WHY WE SHOULD BRING BACK TRADITIONAL SRI LANKAN GRAINS

Good morning everyone.

My grandmother grew up on five grains — rice, kurakkan, meneri, thanahal and mung. Her generation rarely had diabetes, heart disease or obesity. My generation eats two — rice and wheat — and one in five Sri Lankans is now pre-diabetic by forty. The grains we forgot are the medicine we need.

Firstly, traditional grains are nutritional powerhouses. Kurakkan has three times the iron of rice and ten times the calcium. Meneri is rich in B vitamins. They are slow-release energy — exactly what a growing student needs.

Secondly, growing them protects our farmers. These grains thrive in the dry zone with rainfall a paddy crop would die in. Bringing them back creates jobs in Anuradhapura, Hambantota and Vavuniya without expensive irrigation.

Thirdly, the recipes already exist. Kurakkan rotti, meneri kanji, thanahal kiribath — every grandmother in the country remembers them. The young chefs of Colombo just need to put them back on their menus.

Let us ask for kurakkan rotti at every bakery this month. Let us cook one traditional grain meal a week at home. Our grandparents lived longer on these grains. So can we. Thank you.

THE BUS HAD BEEN MOVING FOR TWO HOURS WHEN SUDDENLY...

The bus had been moving for two hours when suddenly the engine made a long, tired groan and went silent in the middle of the Habarana jungle road. The driver pulled to the side. He climbed down, opened the bonnet and frowned at something we could not see. Forty of us, on our way to the Sigiriya school trip, looked at one another in growing worry.

It was already 11 a.m. and the sun was sharp. A few children began to whine. Mrs. Perera, our class teacher, stood up at the front and clapped her hands twice. 'Right — let's not waste the morning. Out, everyone. Bring your water bottles.' Within minutes she had us walking single-file along the shaded edge of the road, counting the species of trees we could see.

Half an hour later the driver waved his cap. The fault had been a loose radiator hose; he had wrapped it with a piece of cloth and a wire. We climbed back in, cheering, and the bus rolled on.

We reached Sigiriya by one. The rock looked even more beautiful for having been so nearly missed. Sometimes, I learned that day, the trouble on the way is the part of the trip you remember most.

AS I APPROACHED THE DESERTED HOUSE AT THE END OF THE ROAD I SAW...

As I approached the deserted house at the end of the road I saw a curtain move on the upstairs window. There was no wind that night. I told myself it was a stray cat, and I almost believed me.

The gate hung open. Tall, wet grass slapped my legs as I walked up the path. The brass knocker was still warm under my fingertips, as though someone had recently used it. I knocked. Nobody answered. I knocked again, harder. The door swung inwards by itself.

A hall ran the length of the house, and at the far end a single oil lamp stood on a dust-free table. Beside the lamp lay a child's drawing — a family of stick figures under a kite, signed at the bottom in a careful adult hand: 'For my son, on his sixth birthday, 13.04.1965.' Today's date. The sixtieth anniversary, to the day.

I looked up. The curtain on the upstairs window was moving again, and now I could hear something — soft, distant, unmistakably a child laughing.

I took a step back. I would tell my friends in the morning what I had seen. But I knew, even then, that nobody who has heard that laugh ever tells.

MY DREAM CAREER

When people ask what I want to be when I grow up, I no longer say 'engineer' just to sound clever. I say paediatrician — a doctor for children — because for the last three years I have been quietly testing the answer against my own life.

Three reasons keep pulling me towards it. First, my love of biology. The day Mrs. Wijesinghe explained the human heart with two halves of a cricket ball, I went home and read the whole chapter twice. Second, my comfort around children. I am the eldest of three; my little brother trusts me with his bumps and his secrets. Third, my grandmother. Every time someone in our lane gets a fever, she is at the door with hot kanji and a calm word — and I want to do the same on a wider scale.

The road will be long. It demands an A in Biology at A-level, six years of MBBS, four more years of paediatric specialisation. I will graduate, by my count, at twenty-eight.

But every child I send home with a smile instead of a fever will be one more reason this was the right choice. The right career, I have learnt, is the one that meets the work of your life.

AFTER THE EXAM

Rasini: Now the exam is over. What's next? Have you planned anything to do?
Mevan : Yes, I have a lot of plans. First, I am going to sleep for a week!
Rasini: (laughs) So am I. What about after that?
Mevan : I want to learn to drive. My father has promised me lessons.
Rasini: That's a great idea. By December you will have your licence.
Mevan : Exactly. And you?
Rasini: I want to do a one-month course in spoken English at the British Council. I always feel shy when foreigners speak to me at temples.
Mevan : Neither did I have the courage before, but the speech competition cured me. You should join too.
Rasini: I will think about it. By the way, have you decided on the A/L stream?
Mevan : Bio Science. I want to be a doctor like my mother.
Rasini: Wow! Then I should call you Doctor Mevan from now on.
Mevan : Not yet — six more years of study! What about you?
Rasini: Commerce. My grandfather has a small business in Pettah and I want to grow it into a chain of shops by the time I am thirty.
Mevan : So you will be busy too! Best of luck, Rasini.
Rasini: Thanks, Mevan. You too.

SPORTS AS AN IMPORTANT PART OF A STUDENT'S LIFE

Good morning, teachers and friends.

Walk past our school on any afternoon at four and you will hear it before you see it — the thud of a leather ball on a willow bat, the squeak of trainers on the netball court, the umpire's whistle. Sport is not a side dish in our school calendar; it is the main course.

Firstly, sport teaches us things textbooks cannot. On the cricket field a batsman learns patience: he can wait an hour for the right ball. On the netball court a wing attack learns to think for the team, not for herself. In a 1500-metre race, a runner learns that the last 200 metres are won in the first 1300.

Secondly, sport keeps us healthy. Doctors say a student who plays 45 minutes of sport four days a week sleeps better, eats better and concentrates better in class. Daily PE is cheaper than any vitamin.

Thirdly, sport builds friendships across grades, religions and abilities. A First-XV cricket team is the closest brotherhood many of us will ever know.

So step out of the air-conditioned classroom and join a team. Trophy or no trophy, you will become a better student — and a better person. Thank you.

THE NATURAL BEAUTY OF SRI LANKA

Marco Polo once called Sri Lanka 'the finest island of its size in the world'. Seven centuries later, the title still fits — and the truth behind it is more striking than the slogan.

Our natural beauty rests on three pillars. First, five climate zones in 65,610 square kilometres. From the rain-soaked cloud forests of Sinharaja to the dry-zone plains of Yala, from the surf at Mirissa to the tea-covered slopes of Nuwara Eliya, no two districts feel the same.

Second, biodiversity. Sri Lanka shelters elephants, leopards, blue whales, sloth bears, more than 400 species of birds, the world's only known living descendant of the Bodhi tree, and dozens of endemic frogs and butterflies found nowhere else.

Third, our oceans. The reefs at Pigeon Island, the surf at Arugam Bay, the migratory blue whales of Mirissa — all within a half-day train ride.

But beauty has a cost we are increasingly failing to pay. Plastic litters our beaches. Deforestation creeps up the hills. Coral bleaches every year. If we do not act, our grandchildren will inherit only photographs of what we had.

Let us protect our natural beauty — not because it is ours, but because it is irreplaceable.

IF I WERE THE MINISTER OF EDUCATION

Good morning everyone.

If I were the Minister of Education tomorrow morning, I would not start with big speeches. I would start with three small but real changes that every student in this country would feel.

Firstly, I would make English speaking — not just English reading — a compulsory daily subject. Every classroom from Grade 1 would have at least fifteen minutes a day of pair-talk in English. By the end of O-Levels, no Sri Lankan child would be afraid to ask a tourist for directions.

Secondly, I would re-design our school day. Classes would start at 8.30 a.m. instead of 7.30 — sleep research is very clear that teenagers learn nothing before eight. The half-hour we'd save in the evening would go to a compulsory hour of sports or music. A healthy mind and body deserve a slot on the timetable.

Thirdly, I would protect free education by giving teachers what they need: a living wage, proper training every two years, and laptops to mark online. Good teachers are the cheapest revolution any country can buy.

These three changes would not need crores of rupees. They need only determination — and the belief that our children are worth it. Thank you.

ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES OF STUDYING IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY

More Sri Lankan students cross oceans for higher studies every year than ever before. Going abroad to study sounds glamorous, but it comes with real costs. Both sides deserve a fair look.

The advantages are real. Foreign universities often have better laboratories, larger libraries and lecturers who are leaders in their field. Sitting in a class with students from Korea, Kenya and Canada teaches you more about the world than any geography textbook can. Living away from parents builds independence — you learn to cook your own dinner, manage your own bills and solve your own problems. Most degrees from reputable foreign universities also open doors in the global job market.

The disadvantages, however, are also serious. The biggest is missing family. A grandfather's seventy-fifth birthday or a younger sister's wedding from 8,000 kilometres away leaves a wound that no scholarship can heal. The climate can be cruel — Sri Lankan students in Canada speak of suffering through their first –20°C winter. Costs are high, and a part-time job often eats into study time. Finally, many bright graduates never return, draining the country of the very talent it had invested in.

The best path, I believe, is to study abroad, gather knowledge — and bring it home.

THREE HABITS THAT CHANGED MY YEAR

Last January I was a middle-of-the-pack student. By December I had won the inter-house essay prize, broken the school 800-m record and scored my best-ever term test. The change owed nothing to a new tutor or a new app — only to three small habits I made non-negotiable.

First, I left my phone in the kitchen at 9 p.m. The blue light was robbing me of an hour's deep sleep every night. After two weeks of waking up genuinely rested, my morning class concentration trebled.

Second, I started a daily reading log. One page of an English book — any book — before breakfast. By April I was reading novels for fun; by June my essay marks had visibly climbed.

Third, I went for a thirty-minute run four mornings a week. Doctors say exercise sharpens memory, but what struck me first was the calm. The boy who used to lose his temper at his little brother became someone who could laugh at the mess he made.

None of these habits cost a rupee. None took more than thirty minutes a day. But together they produced the best year of my life so far — and a useful blueprint for next year.

SRI LANKA — THE PEARL OF THE INDIAN OCEAN

Named by Marco Polo 'the finest island of its size in the world', Sri Lanka has worn the title 'pearl of the Indian Ocean' for seven centuries — and the truth is hidden behind that pretty phrase.

Firstly, we are unusually rich in nature. Five climate zones, two monsoons and 65,610 square kilometres of land sustain elephants, leopards, blue whales, more than 400 bird species and the world's only known living descendant of the Bodhi tree. No island the size of Ireland matches that.

Secondly, we are rich in culture. Eight UNESCO World Heritage Sites — from the 5th-century Sigiriya frescoes to the 16th-century Galle Fort — sit on a single bus map. Three of the world's great religions live next door to one another on Galle Road.

Thirdly, we are rich in people. Sinhalese, Tamils, Muslims and Burghers speak two official languages plus a friendly English. The 'smile' that tourists notice first is not a slogan; it is a real national habit.

But a pearl needs an oyster to keep it polished. We are losing forests, defacing temples, throwing plastic into the ocean. If we do not protect our pearl, no future generation will see it shine.

WHY I WILL STAY IN SRI LANKA AFTER MY DEGREE

Good morning everyone.

This week three of my classmates have told me they will leave for Australia the moment they graduate. I am here this morning to tell you why I will not.

Firstly, this country fed me. The taxes of my neighbours bought my school uniform, the chalk on the blackboard and the laboratories I will use at university. Walking out the day I have collected my degree would be a kind of theft.

Secondly, the country needs me here more than anywhere else needs me. The ratio of doctors to patients in rural Sri Lanka is one to four thousand. In New York the same ratio is one to two hundred. Where would you rather your skill matter?

Thirdly, the opportunities at home are coming — but they will come only if our brightest students stay to build them. Every IT start-up in Colombo, every new specialist hospital in Anuradhapura, every clean industry in Hambantota needs people who refused to leave.

I will travel. I will study abroad if I can. But the country that grew me deserves my best years, not my leftovers. Stay with me. Together we are unstoppable. Thank you.

THE GREATEST MATCH I HAVE EVER WATCHED

I will not pretend to be neutral: the greatest match I have ever watched is Sri Lanka's victory over Australia in the 1996 Cricket World Cup final. I was not born when it happened, but my father has shown me the highlights so many times that I count the wickets in my sleep.

The night was Lahore, 17th March 1996. Australia batted first and the score had been climbing dangerously when off-spinner Aravinda de Silva took two wickets in one over. Australia made 241. Big — but not impossible.

Then came Sri Lanka's innings, and Aravinda de Silva again. He scored 107 not out, with five fours and not one foolish shot. He made it look easy. Arjuna Ranatunga hit the winning runs at 8.55 p.m. local time.

What makes the match the greatest for me is not the trophy. It is the quiet way it landed in a small island country that nobody outside cricket had heard of. Suddenly the brand of cricket changed worldwide — aggressive opening batsmen, spin in the middle overs. Sri Lanka had not just won a match; it had rewritten the textbook.

Thirty-one years later, every Sri Lankan boy with a bat still bats like Aravinda.

WHY KINDNESS MATTERS MORE THAN CLEVERNESS

We spend twelve years in school being graded mostly on cleverness — exam marks, ranks, prizes. Almost nothing on the report card measures kindness. And yet, twenty years later, I am told it is kindness, not cleverness, that decides whether we live a good life or a bitter one.

Firstly, kindness compounds. The cleverest student in our class wins a single prize once a year. The kind one earns the trust of fifty classmates every day for a decade. By twenty-eight, she has more loyal friends and better job offers than the cleverest student ever will.

Secondly, the world has enough clever people. Universities turn out thousands of brilliant graduates every year. Hospitals, courtrooms and offices are overflowing with them. What is short is the surgeon who pauses to comfort a frightened patient, the lawyer who calls a junior back to thank her, the teacher who remembers a shy student's birthday. Kindness, in the world of clever, is the rare currency.

Thirdly — and most importantly — kindness costs nothing. Cleverness needs tuition and luck. Kindness needs only attention. Any of us can begin tonight.

So by all means be clever. But never let it cost you your kindness.

UNITY IS STRENGTH — A FOLK STORY

An old farmer had four sons. They argued day and night and even came to blows over little things. Their fights brought sorrow to the farmer and worry to the neighbourhood. One evening, after a fierce quarrel, the father called all four of them and laid a bundle of four sticks on the table.

'Break this bundle,' he said.

The eldest son took the bundle, pressed it across his knee, twisted it and heaved at it. The bundle did not break. The second tried, then the third, then the youngest — none could break it.

Meanwhile, the youngest jeered at his brothers and thought they were very incompetent. He took one stick at a time and easily broke all of them.

The old father then smiled at his sons and said, 'Children, do you understand what happened? It is always easy to break the sticks one by one, but when they are bundled together, none of you could break them. In the same way, the four of you should always be together. No one will be able to hurt you then.'

The four brothers realised what their father was trying to teach them and forgot all their enmity. From that day onwards, they never fought with each other and lived together in peace and harmony.

Moral: Unity is strength.

FAILURE IS THE MOTHER OF SUCCESS

When the first results sheet of my Grade 10 term came home with three Cs, I locked myself in my room and cried for an hour. My grandfather knocked, opened the door, sat on the edge of my bed and said the line that changed me: 'Putha, failure is the mother of success.' I thought he was being polite. He was right.

Firstly, failure forces honest self-assessment. A pass mark lets us pretend we know everything; a fail mark forces us to ask, 'Which chapter did I avoid?' That question, asked honestly, becomes a study plan in itself.

Secondly, failure teaches resilience. The student who cries over three Cs and goes back to revise is becoming the adult who will cry over a rejected job application and still go back to write a better one. Resilience is the muscle no exam tests but every life rewards.

Thirdly, failure makes us kind. The boy who has been at the bottom of the class once will never laugh at the boy who is at the bottom of his. Failure is the quickest school of empathy.

So if you fail this week, don't waste the gift. Look it honestly in the eye, take the lesson, and keep walking. Real success grows there.