I was lucky enough to be in a brilliant year 8 History lesson, looking at the Industrial Revolution.  Here are the four best diary entries from the class:

 

Adam Barlow

Feb 7^th 1831

We are here, finally. We survived the horrific boat trip from Ireland unlike Timmy and his parents. There is a factory that is looking for work so that shouldn’t be a problem but I have heard stories, terrible ones. Many people say that the factories are horrific: long days, dust filled rooms, some have even said that the overseers will do anything to get you to work faster, they will even put a nail through your ear.

Feb 10^th 1831

I have been working in the factory for only 2 days and I am beginning to think that the rumours were spread by overseers to make the place seem better. This is hell! The skin of my fingers is almost gone and I am aching all over. Why did I come here?

 

Matthew Wheelton

 December 24^th 1823

My hands shivered as I once again had to endure an icy blast of wind; the woolly jacket that was once my father’s is the only thing keeping me alive at this moment in time. I again heard a wail from my 5 day old sister, who I saw was wrapped in our one blanket, and walked over lifting her softly, sitting down on our wooden stool and delicately placing her into my lap. As she buried her tiny head into the soft blanket I saw her smile at me, we had named her ‘Hope’ because after my father died we lost hope and was drowned even deeper into poverty. The day she was born was the best and worst of my life because that was also the day my mother died.

I want to start a new life in America and plan to fulfil my mother’s dream.

 

Ben 8S4

 January 1837

The nights were freezing here. We sleep in rows but tonight we are huddling together like penguins in the pole. I try to sleep, but the echoing of the dirty water, dripping from the metallic pipes above is keeping me conscious. My legs are still throbbing with pain from yesterday’s shift. I’m not allowed to write my diary during working hours, or I get the cane. I hear the sounds of the new arrivals below the thin floor I rest on, manipulated to do hard labour.

 January 21^st 1837

Just had my lunch. Awful. It seems the only thing properly living is the Bolognese. I hear kids manning the machines on night hours. I think of mother every day. If only I could see her one more time but the raging waves and dreadful conditions on the journey to Manhattan from Ireland, took her away.

 

Addison Kennedy

December 26^th 1824

Christmas passed by slowly. No food. No presents. The murmur and shivers were all that could be heard. A few blocks down Me and my broken family could hear the joyous sound of carols and laughter. A long day at the mill longly awaits me! Two hours work is enough to break the strongest man. I’ve lost brothers and sisters to the sinister, man eating machines. Small children wait outside houses for the smallest ration of food. Family members come home with deep cuts and aching bruises and sob for hours on end whilst the overseers and owners give no sign of remorse or emotion. I’ve only been in America for 2 months but it feels like a lifetime, the food passes by in seconds, every day is the same. The journey to here took 22 days from Ireland. I was one of the lucky few who did.

I came here expecting to be given a world of opportunities but I was given a mattress and 12 hours of hell a day. My pay is only $1.55 a day which to my family is the King’s riches. One day, maybe I will be given a second chance in this country of broken hopes and dreams.