- In Defence of Human Rights -

Coketown 

Coketown

    

Child Labour

Young workers

During the Industrial Revolution period, many factory owners believed that the only way they could make a            

profit was to work the mill-hands for long hours and pay them very low 

wages. 

Charles Dickens, the famous writer who campaigned to stop the use of boys as chimney sweeps, described this industrial life in such a vivid way that we can easily imagine ourselves living in those days.

After reading Dickens' s text, Coketown, from his well-known book, Hard Times, students were asked to picture themselves as one of the workers, from one of those factories, and describe their day: 

17th January 1789

I can barely write today. My hands are so wounded and deeply hurt that I can hardly grab the pencil. However, as I promised mom to write everyday, I’ll do it.

Today is my 11^th birthday. It wasn’t a very special day; actually, it was a very ordinary one. I heard some “happy birthday” but not very enthusiastic ones… Still, I was able to make it through today a bit easier.

I have lost the sense of time. I can only tell the day went by because it is time to have lunch (if you can call it lunch!). Due to the smoke and pollution, I haven’t seen the sunlight for three days.

At the very end of the day, as I walk home from the mill, I feel nothing. My head is almost exploding because of the weakness I feel. My hands and arms are warm and hurt by the strength I had to use today. My back is curved because I can’t stand straight. My stomach is aching because there’s been nothing in it for a long time. My legs are numb because of the long distance I have walked today. My mind is sad and helpless as one thought crosses my mind:

“How will anyone be happy living like this?”

by Marta Sassetti, 12º5A

Dear Diary,

I´m stuck in here and I wouldn´t mind the fact of everyday being like one another if those days were exciting. I wouldn´t mind to live here if everyone weren´t so unhappy and boring.

People say our town has the colours of a savage face... Oh, I would give the world to be that savage right now. Run out of here, live free in the jungle, have the excitement of discovering the new land and see the mountains through my cabin. I could have a river in my backyard and the blue sky as a roof. What a wonderful world!

But here I am, dreaming again, late for work again, stuck in the factory so that others can have money and achieve success, producing things I will never be able to buy...

Black and red is all I see, and yet I know the globe is full of other colours...

Maybe I´ll run, maybe I´ll live my own dream or maybe I´ll live here until the last day of my life with no hope and no expectations.

by Catarina Araújo, 12º2

Just got home from another full working day…

I looked in the mirror and asked why? Why me? Why am I not the rich one? Then I stopped. Oh, I’m really going crazy! Never mind … back to the beginning.

Another day at work with the same old problems. I just can’t do that job anymore. When I think of my work place, what comes to my mind is the filthy smoke filling up my lungs as if I’m being chocked. Furthermore the strident sound of the machines which my ears can hear no more or they will be unwilling to hear by the end of the week. All I can see is my money and health going down the drains with this job.

I do the same work for six days, in the same place, at the same time. On Sunday, I’m lucky! Although God said it was a day to rest, he thought I was too special to do so, and so it was. Every Sunday, I drive my boss to church so that he can clean all of his sins even though he will never be able to clear all of them due to their high number.

What a fortunate life I have! Don’t you think?

by Constança Azevedo Gomes, 12º2