ROBERT MARK, an English teacher at Phuket's British International School, was so impressed with a piece of coursework recently submitted by one of his Thai students that he felt moved to share it with the press as an inspiring example of wonderful student achievement.

Students in Year 11 at British International School were recently assigned a piece of non-fiction travel writing as part of their IGCSE coursework. One student, 16-year-old Popthum Lawtongku, created an account of his rock climbing expedition in Koh Yao Yai.

''I was inspired to write the account after witnessing the stunning scenery of the island, and by overcoming one of my greatest fears,'' said Popthum.

In conquering one of his greatest fears, Popthum also mastered the art of writing beautiful copy.

Teacher Robert recalls the moment he received the assignment: ''I was impressed right away with his storytelling skills; how it begins with a suspenseful scene on the cliff. (A cliffhanger at the beginning!)

''He describes the action and his feelings in such a way as to make the readers feel as though they were right there struggling along with him. He also incorporates the literary techniques taught in the course, particularly the concept of 'theme' and stylistic devices such as simile and personification.

''The pacing, the plot, the style and tone all combine for what I think is an amazingly sophisticated piece of writing for one so relatively young.''

The Ledge opens dramatically - ''With one blistering hand clinging for dear life . . . '' and keeps this exhilarating style throughout captivating the reader line by line.

British International School is so proud of Popthum's efforts that with his kind permission they would like to share the story in its entirety with a wider audience. Read on for this wise piece of work from this rising literary star:


The Ledge

By Popthum Lawtongku

WITH ONE blistering hand clinging for dear life, I cautiously reached up with my trembling other, and caught a protruding rock just wide enough for one finger-joint to hold. Groaning, I managed to pull myself up just enough to raise my foot onto the small rocky protrusion, previously beyond reach.

I stood up on the one foot and looked up. Directly above, a ledge large enough to sit on looked down mockingly - in a tone of challenge. ''I'm going to beat you,'' I thought. With two more steps, the ledge was in reach. I was overcome with joy, and that was when I made the worst mistake possible; I lunged at the ledge with both hands, grabbing its very tip, thinking I had a hold good enough to heave me over. The effect was immediate. I lost my balance, my body arched back, my grip on the rock unwillingly slipped, and I fell backwards, losing my footing.

Sheer fear shot through my spine like a bullet. Any urge to scream was ripped from my brain, it felt like an icy rock had dropped in my stomach. In a split second I was plummeting down to Earth; my vision blurring, my hair whipping suddenly, my insides twisting violently. To my relief, I was abruptly stopped (in what seemed ages) by the rope, masterfully tied to the top of the limestone wall by our mentor, Sak. Earlier, I had found the idea of having a single rope tied to my harness supporting my whole body quite absurd.

Hanging limply by the rope that I was starting to trust and get accustomed to, I examined myself for any injuries. I received several cuts and scrapes on my knees and legs from the fall, which were slowly bleeding. Besides the cuts and my quivering hands, no other harm was done. Bits and pieces of a cracked rock went tumbling down, making small echoing noises as they hit the wall. I hung silent for a moment, watching them. Someone yelled up asking if I was all right. I yelled down that I was okay. Looking down at my belayer friend, Non below (the person who holds my rope and constantly gives it a tug as I climb up), I couldn't help noticing that I was probably about twenty meters above ground. A sudden surge of panic rose through me, but it quickly dissipated. My faith in the rope was building - something I never thought could happen.

The last time I looked out to sea, it was from a boat. This time, hanging high besides a great limestone crag, a whole new panorama was granted to me. The turquoise mass of Koh Yao's water was sparkling with thousands of diamonds, lit by the radiant beams of a dazzling sun. A thin line of green trees on the narrow plateau below was all that was needed to complete this brilliant picture. It wasn't solely the components of the scene that made me stop and stare, it was also the angle from which I was watching it. ''How many people have seen anything like this?'' I wondered as I tried to reach out towards the sea with my hand, grasping nothing but air.

Time was passing by, and I had to reach the top. I looked up. The ledge was there, higher up this time. I quickly shoved my hand into the chalk pouch loosely hanging at the back of my harness, and started to feel my way up the wall, trying to find a handhold. Finding ledges and indents in the walls when you're actually on it is a lot harder than it seems when you're looking at it from afar.

Once I found a small hole I could cling to, I pushed with my legs, swinging back and forth, trying to get closer to a foothold directly where my knee was. Once my fingers met the rock however, a sudden realisation struck - they had no energy left. Nor did my arms. They were painfully sore, and with my legs growing numb, I could not go on. But how could I simply give up? I gave my legs a push, my fingers a tug, trying to hang on the wall, but to no avail. Grunting hard, I gathered any strength left, and dug my fingers in the hollow rock and kicked with my legs, giving me a few centimeters rise. All that helped me stay up was my rope. Not my legs or arms. I felt like a ragged limp doll, helpless, worn out, stuck. The ledge was still above me. I could not reach it. I had to go down.

I yelled down to Non to start letting out some rope from his belay (the lock which secures the rope to the belayer) as I made myself perpendicular to the wall. Constantly jumping, I bounced down the crag, one of the joys of rock climbing. It felt like playing on a descending swing, which started sixty feet up. Reaching solid ground, my legs gave way and I fell into a dusty heap of rope and earth.

Back in the long-tailed boat in which we came, I examined and treated my cuts and bruises. My feet had deep purplish red lines all around, an ordinary consequence of using the special rock climbing shoes. They use the principle that small surface areas are able to hold onto the rock better than larger ones - making them extremely tight. My whole body felt weakened. My hands were still trembling, and my legs felt like jelly. The helmet saved me from knocking my head against the wall many times. I was thankful.

By the third day of climbing crags all over Koh Yao, I finally accomplished more than five crag routes, improving both my technique and physique. I learned an important point - strength will come from the legs, not the arms or fingers. Using fingers to pull yourself up would just be wasting energy. Some walls were harder than the one I first climbed, some a lot easier. This was a brand new experience, which presented one of the toughest physical challenges I've ever encountered. On the last day of the trip, I was able to reach the ledge from my very first climb. Standing on it, I managed to smile victoriously, whispering to the rock and to my fear: ''I beat you.''