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1 Non-fiction Sleep

2 Poetry Wynken, Blynken and Nod

3 Fiction Operation Cooperation

Year 6 English Reading PiXL Paper A

Paper

National curriculum tests

Key Stage 2

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SleepWakey, wakey! Have you any idea how long you’ve been asleep? Do you know what happens

when you are asleep? What are dreams? And why do we need to sleep in the first place?

For something that you never really think about when you’re actually doing it, sleeping raises a

number of intriguing questions. Let’s see if we can put some of them to bed.

What is sleep?

When you are sleeping, your body is

resting – so much so that nearly all

of your muscles relax, except for the

ones which control your vital functions,

like breathing and blood circulation.

What’s more, your brain takes a

break and you slip into a state of

unconsciousness. That doesn’t mean

that you’re completely dead to the

world: even though you’re able to shut

out most of what’s going on around

you, your body can still respond to

some stimulation, like cold, bright

light or your mum shouting that you’re

going to be late for school.

How long have you been asleep?

Three years. Probably closer to four. That’s

assuming you’re older than nine but less

than twelve. Throughout their lives, humans

spend about a third of their time asleep. In our

early years, however, we need significantly

more sleep. This table shows you just how

much you are supposed to get, according to

the National Sleep Foundation in the United

States.

So if we take the middle value for your age

and say you need ten hours sleep per night,

and you need to get up at 7.30am to be ready

for school, you really ought to be asleep by

9.30pm. That’s not just your parents being

mean, that’s what the boffins say.

Age Hours’ sleep

recommended

0-3 months 14-17

4-11 months 12-15

1-2 years 11-14

3-5 years 10-13

6-13 years 9-11

14-17 years 8-10

18-64 years 7-9

65 and over 7-8

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Why is it important?

Houses, cars, computers – almost everything needs maintenance if it’s going to keep

working properly. The same is true of most animals, including humans. Sleep gives our

bodies the chance to grow, whether it’s our bones, our nerves or our muscles. Wounds and

injuries seem to heal more quickly when we’re asleep. What’s more, our brains appear to

use periods of sleep to sort out their filing systems and free-up more working memory. So

if you try telling someone you don’t need to go to bed, you’re not thinking straight – maybe

you haven’t had enough sleep!

Sleep Doctors

Sleep isn’t just useful for self-repairs. If you ever have

a major operation, the chances are that you will be put

to ‘sleep’, using special drugs called anaesthetics.

Although we are not totally clear how they work, these

chemicals are able to put us to sleep so deeply that

we are completely unaware the surgeons are hard at

work, putting us back together again.

It’s a very skilled and important job, which is why

there are highly trained specialist doctors who are

responsible for ‘putting us under’. These anaesthetists precisely measure the quantities of

anaesthetic each patient is given. They then monitor the body signals carefully throughout

the operation to make sure the patient remains safely oblivious. Finally, once the operation

is complete, they carefully return the patient to the land of the living.

Sweet dreams

Once you’ve drifted off, your sleep doesn’t remain at a constant level until you wake up.

Scientists have discovered that there are different stages of sleep which repeat in a cycle

throughout the night. The main differences are between deep sleep and a more shallow

type of sleep known as R.E.M. because of the Rapid Eye Movements that happen beneath

your closed eye-lids.

It is during R.E.M. sleep that most of our dreaming occurs. Although they can seem

remarkably real, dreams are entirely made up by your brain. We don’t know for sure, but

some researchers have suggested that they are caused by brain cells pinging out random

signals. The brain being the brain, it then strings these disjointed thoughts into a narrative

in an attempt to make sense of them. The resulting story is often rather bizarre, which is

possibly why people throughout history have tried to interpret them as hidden desires,

messages from gods or even predictions of future events.

Even though some people protest that they never dream, the fact is that we all do – typically

five or six times a night. The problem, however, is that we tend to forget most of them.

Nevertheless, if you would like to remember more of your dreams, you can train yourself to

do so. Try keeping a notebook beside your bed and, as soon as you wake up, jot down any

dreams you can remember. With practice, you should find that you can recall two, three or

more dreams every night. But remember, don’t take them too seriously – unless you dream

about becoming an anaesthetist!

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Wynken, Blynken and Nod

Eugene Field (September 2, 1850 – November 4, 1895) was an American writer, most famous for his

collection of classic children’s poetry. He began his career as a journalist, shortly after marrying his

wife, with whom he had eight children. It is believed that many of his poems were inspired to entertain

his many offspring! The characters in this poem symbolise very specific things – can you guess what

they are?

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night

Sailed off in a wooden shoe,—

Sailed on a river of crystal light

Into a sea of dew.

“Where are you going, and what do you wish?”

The old moon asked the three.

“We have come to fish for the herring-fish

That live in this beautiful sea;

Nets of silver and gold have we,”

Said Wynken,

Blynken,

And Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,

As they rocked in the wooden shoe;

And the wind that sped them all night long

Ruffled the waves of dew;

The little stars were the herring-fish

That lived in the beautiful sea.

“Now cast your nets wherever you wish,—

Never afraid are we!”

So cried the stars to the fishermen three,

Wynken,

Blynken,

And Nod.

All night long their nets they threw

To the stars in the twinkling foam,—

Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,

Bringing the fishermen home:

‘Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed

As if it could not be;

And some folk thought ‘twas a dream they’d dreamed

Of sailing that beautiful sea;

But I shall name you the fishermen three:

Wynken,

Blynken,

And Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,

And Nod is a little head,

And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies

Is a wee one’s trundle-bed;

So shut your eyes while Mother sings

Of wonderful sights that be,

And you shall see the beautiful things

As you rock in the misty sea

Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:—

Wynken,

Blynken,

And Nod.

Eugene Field 1889

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An excerpt from “Operation Cooperate”

by Justine McFadden

Raf’s younger sister, Mina, has a serious medical condition. Throughout her life, she has had

regular visits to hospital, sometimes involving longer stays while she has had operations. With

no-one else to look after Raf, he has had to tag along with his parents while they visit their poorly

daughter. This time she is having a major operation, so Raf and his dad are staying in a parents’

‘hotel’ to be near the hospital.

It was after eight o’clock when they finally arrived. The man at reception wasn’t like the ones he

had seen on films. For a start, it seemed to take him a lifetime to look up from the book he was

reading and acknowledge the fact that Dad was standing there. Raf didn’t even warrant a look.

There were no smiles, no welcome, no ‘Have a great stay’, just a few mumbled instructions and

a rather sour demand for a £20 deposit for the key.

They lugged their cases across the foyer and

pressed the up button for the lift. While they

waited, Raf looked around. The receptionist

was nose-deep in his book again. The walls

were decorated a dismal light grey. A couple

of wishy-washy paintings clung to the walls.

A business-like sign declared: Parents’ Hotel,

St Faith’s Children’s Hospital Trust Charity.

‘Hmm,’ thought Raf, ‘Faith … Charity … not

much Hope.’

Four storeys later and they were shuffling down

a bright, featureless corridor, counting down

the numbers on the doors until they found

their own. After a few swipes of the electronic

card key, the light reluctantly turned from red

to green and Dad pushed the door open.

‘Well, it’s clean,’ said Dad.

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Raf would have liked to have thrown himself on to the

bed and feel the deep, soft bedclothes enfold him in a

cosy, slow-motion embrace like they did on the holiday

adverts. Fat chance. Plastic-covered waterproof duvets

were folded at the end of the twin beds, with fresh,

hard-boiled sheets and pillow cases piled up on top.

They were going to have to make their own beds.

Dad was flicking through a file that had been left on a

small table underneath the wall-mounted telly. ‘There’s

a kitchen down the corridor. Have a little explore and

see if you can find a fridge to put this in.’

Raf took the cool-bag of milk, cheese and a few other

basics and set off. He found a door with a small sign

marked ‘Room 410 Kitchen’ and pushed it open. A

harsh, bright light flickered on and revealed a clean,

spacious room with cupboards, work surfaces, hob,

sink and, yes, there was the fridge. It was almost

empty, apart from a couple of yoghurt pots, so there

was plenty of room.

At the far end of the kitchen was a door with a glass panel through which he could see a pale,

glimmering light competing with the warm glow of a single table lamp. He pushed through and

found a long room with toy boxes, a plastic play-house and bookshelves at the near end. At

the far end were a couple of large sofas in front of a wide-screen TV, which was showing an

animated film he’d seen before, loads of times.

Raf went back to tell Dad what he had found. Dad told him that he was to going to call Mum

and see how Mina was settling in on the ward, so could he entertain himself for a few minutes?

In other words, get lost.

He went back through the kitchen, stopping to peer into the cupboards. Cereal – boxes and

boxes of boring sorts. Tea, coffee, salt, pepper, yawn. Ah-ha! Biscuits – including an opened

packed of chocolate hobnobs. Raf checked that the coast was clear, then helped himself to a

couple. No one would notice.

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Back in the lounge, he was about to stuff them into his mouth when he noticed a figure curled

up on one of the sofas, gently bathed in the soft, blue-ish glow from the telly. Bother. He’d much

rather have been alone. But it might look odd if he walked straight back out again, so he hovered

around the other end of the room, not daring to scoff his loot yet.

There were boxes of dinosaurs, cars and other vehicles (most of which were scratched, dented

or broken), plastic plates and play food, and a few other toys he’d grown out of years ago. The

play house had a small plaque screwed on to it, claiming to be a gift from the Friends of St Faith’s

Children’s Hospital. Whose friends stuck notices on their presents as a constant reminder of

whom they were from?

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced again over towards the sofa. He thought the occupant

was probably about the same age as him, possibly a girl. No doubt she was in the same situation

as him – forced to hang around weird buildings while her parents fussed about someone else in

their family. He decided he really ought to talk to her if she was going to share the same ghastly

space as him. But first he’d better stuff down the biscuits, just in case they belonged to her or

her family.

Raf nipped back into the kitchen, shovelled the hobnobs into his mouth and crunched as quickly

as he could. He banged a couple of cupboard doors, opened and shut the fridge, then turned

on the tap for a few seconds, just to make it convincing. With a final gulp, he wiped his mouth

clean of incriminating crumbs and strolled back into the lounge, ‘drying’ his hands on his jeans.

She was gone. But the telly was still on, so he flopped down in front of the screen.

He shivered: it wasn’t nearly as warm here as in the kitchen or their room. His first thought

was an open window, but they were clearly shut. Maybe there was another door, letting in

a draught.

A chill ran down his spine. There was no other door.