Autobiography of a pencil for class 5. Autobiography of a Pencil 2022-11-04
Autobiography of a pencil for class 5 Rating:
Hello! Here is an essay about the autobiography of a pencil:
I am a pencil, a simple writing instrument made of wood and graphite. My journey began in a forest where a tree was cut down and made into wooden slats. These slats were then sent to a pencil factory where they were shaped and polished into the form that you see me in today.
At the factory, I was paired with a core of graphite, which is what allows me to write and draw. I was then painted with a coating of lacquer to protect me and make me look nice. Finally, I was packaged and sent to a store where I was bought and put to use.
Throughout my life, I have been used to write countless notes, letters, and essays. I have helped students complete their homework and professionals write important documents. I have even been used to draw pictures and create works of art.
As a pencil, I am a simple tool, but I have the power to communicate ideas and express creativity. I am proud to be a part of so many people's lives and to help them record their thoughts and ideas on paper.
Despite all the use I have had, I am still in good condition. I may need to be sharpened from time to time, but as long as I am treated with care, I can last for a long time.
In conclusion, I am a pencil, a humble but important writing instrument. I have been through many stages to become the tool that I am today, and I am grateful to be able to be a part of so many people's lives.
Autobiography of a Pencil
It was cold and damp. Ravi used to make me scream and listen to me crying. Children learnt through media were a medium for their knowledge. He was greeted by his daughter Maya. This is how I try to spread human imagination and thoughts from one generation to another. In that shop I met so many friends like pen, rubber and eraser.
I was born in the big factory of the city. He throws me at walls. One day was lucky for me as Ravi placed me somewhere. It always made me proud that GOD has created me into such a useful thing. Thus, Culture and Art of human are so much dependent on me. I lived a happy life after I get into a nice teachers life.
Then he forgets about me. Autobiography of a Pencil Amidst the clattering noises of the machines in a pencil factory, I emerged. She quietly slipped me into her pocket and tossed me out of the window when nobody was watching. . After my packing was done I was transferred to a lorry and the driver took me to the stationary shop.
He always takes care that my body does not get scratched. She only sharped me when it was needed and it made me young again. The garbage collector who was pulling the cart noticed my shining body in the pile of rubbish and picked me up. I must have done any sin in my life which is the reason I got Ravi as my master. I have great power to show human mind and heart on paper. I got rid of Ravi who was one of the naughtiest kids I met in my life.
But hey this is not the end of the life. Soon I was joined by other pencils that also belonged to the same limited-edition collection. Then I read the writing stamped on me. I fulfilled the sole purpose of my life i. A few days later, I found myself along with others stacked neatly in the shelf of a very popular stationary store. Maya was not a bit like Leona. When night came, I fell into an uneasy sleep only to be woken up by the rumbling of a cart.
We were so happy and proud of ourselves. The teacher took me and used me very carefully and decently. I have special qualities which are different from my friend pen is that I can write underwater and in zero gravity as well. I was quite excited and was looking forward to this journey. I am very fond of my owner. I ate some dried grass and drank water from a puddle.
In the meantime, I was purchased by a famous painter from this shop and I am staying with him. Then they p acked me to different colour papers. He carefully dusted me and put me into his coat pocket. The shop was very beautiful and was always crowded. Every morning she used me with a cup of tea and checked his English papers. I don't know where I was born as I am in this shop as long as I remember. His desk is organized and clean.
Finally, I found a loving home and a kind friend. I was a light and hope of education. One or two trim and I will be dead. As I Iay on the worktable, I overheard two workers talking to themselves. Ravi my owner bought me finally one day. My name is Atlas.
My outer body is black and my name is written on it but what is in the name. The painter finds pleasure in drawing with me. People sharp me to make me look sharp so I can write clear. Suddenly the expression on her face changed when she saw me. The little girl carefully opened out the wrapper and the box and she was really pleased to see what was inside.
After a while, some workers picked us up and packed us in boxes of 10. I am happy and do my best to help him finish his work on time. The painter gets so much money and fame as I help him to draw with. I heard from the shopkeeper that I was born in a factory. I can watch human passing by. He uses me to draw many paintings of people and its surroundings.