The Freedom Writers Diary - Erin Gruwell [15]
I knew all of the guys who were there the day the boy died. The dead boy was a bit older than I was. I didn’t talk to him much because he was a bully and he intimidated me. He would pick fights with the younger kids in the neighborhood. I almost got into a fight with him myself, but luckily, he walked away. Even though he was a bully, he didn’t deserve to die, especially because he was just playing around.
Freshman Year Spring 1995
Entry 2. Ms. Gruwell
Dear Diary,
Ahh, I’m so frustrated! This entire semester has been one ordeal after another, from race riots to walkouts. But I don’t know if I’m more frustrated with the students or the system. Although they’re a pain, they’re just kids. But adults created the system. The system separates them and then they’re stereotyped as “basic,” but in reality, they’re anything but basic. In many ways they’re extraordinary. But even though the labels have changed over the years—from “bonehead,” to “remedial,” to “basic”—the effects are still the same. It’s almost like these kids are scarred from the get-go. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that if you tell kids they’re stupid—directly or indirectly—sooner or later they start to believe it.
It’s almost comical how stubborn they are. But so am I. So I guess what goes around comes around, right? My karma is coming back to haunt me. Even Sharaud, who’s now a cocky senior, says, “That freshman class of yours is bad, Ms. G.” They’re testing me every step of the way. They hate reading, and getting them to write is out of the question. And homework? Please! It’s totally unacceptable to be a “schoolboy.” So to avoid the stigma, one kid even turns in his homework wadded in a ball because he’d get beat up for carrying a folder.
It’s amazing how different I was as a freshman. Looking back, I guess I would be considered a kiss-ass. But these kids would rather kick my ass than kiss it. Believe me, there are no apples on my desk, and even if there were, they’d probably have razor blades in them.
Even though a lot of people have given up on them, I refuse to believe they’re a lost cause. Judging by the turnout at “Back to School Night,” it makes me wonder if some of the parents have thrown up their hands as well.
Even though their reading scores don’t indicate that they’re “smart” in the conventional sense, it’s amazing how savvy they are. They’re a walking encyclopedia when it comes to pop culture, quoting the lines from their favorite movies verbatim or reciting every lyric from the latest rap CD. But when I ask them what a dangling modifier is, they say, “Dangle this.” Actually, even I hate dangling modifiers.
I think the key is to build on what they already know. I’ve been trying to pick stories they can relate to and then challenge them to bring the story to life. We just finished reading a story about a kid living in the projects who had to deal with peer pressure and gangs. Some of them admitted that this was the first novel they’d ever read from cover to cover. They loved the book so much, I suggested we make a little movie. Since Boys ’n the Hood is a realistic portrayal of their environment, I thought making a movie would give them the opportunity to emulate John Singleton. When I gave them creative license, they surpassed my expectations. They wrote a script, made scenery, brought in props, and even held the camera. The kids said it was “Da bomb!” As a reward, I took a handful of them to see the documentary Hoop Dreams, because both the book and the movie deal with what it’s like to grow up in an urban community.
I read that John Singleton has a new film coming out examining racial issues. If I can hang in there until June, maybe I’ll take the whole class to see it. They’re out of control in my classroom, so I can just imagine them in a movie theater. I don’t know if I would be able to handle them all by myself. But maybe I won’t have