The Freedom Writers Diary - Erin Gruwell [21]
The prince is John Tu and the castle was this enormous hotel up in L.A.—the Century City Marriott. I wonder if the hotel Ms. Gruwell works at is as nice? There was crystal everywhere and the bathrooms even had real towels. There was no paper wads on the ceiling or ashes on the floor, and there was no stall doors missing like the bathrooms at school. Even the toilet paper felt good, unlike the sandpaper that could send students to the school nurse. I never knew going to the bathroom could be such an enjoyable experience!
But the bathroom was nothing compared to the dinner. There were more courses than O.J. has alibis. My napkin looked like a centerpiece and my food was too damn perfect to touch. The biggest treat of all was when John Tu sat at my table. Here was this man who had so much to say, but wanted us to do all the talking.
When I introduced myself to him, I was really nervous. Why would he pay attention to me? After all, no one, including my dad, ever has. Since my dad left, I’ve always felt shunned and that it was my fault. I’ve always felt like I don’t have anything important to say. But here was this man who actually paid attention to me. He wanted to know what I thought about the movie Higher Learning. Who was my favorite panelist? Which part did I like best about Farewell to Manzanar?
How could someone who doesn’t even know me be so interested in me? Here’s this gazillionaire treating me as if I’m belle of the ball, when my own dad is treating me like I don’t exist. John Tu gave me more attention in seven minutes than my dad has given in seven years.
As wonderful as everything was, when I got home, I realized I’m missing out on a lot—not the material stuff like the fancy chandeliers and the full-course meals, but bonding with a dad. In a weird way, I’m envious of his kids. They can keep the money, if I could have him as a dad. I hope they don’t take for granted all the little things he does, like say “Good morning” and “good night.” Or just asking about what they did in school that day. That would be the perfect Cinderella story for me—no glass slipper, just a “how was school today?”
Diary 23
Dear Diary,
I have learned so much my freshman year, and one important lesson I’ve learned is that people do change, because I did. It all started in the beginning of this year. I came back to school from my own little “three-week vacation” when Ms. Gruwell asked me, “Why have you been absent so much?” I didn’t know what to say. How could I answer? Should I lie and tell her I was sick or should I tell her I hate school and I was ditching? Ditching gave me power. When I ditched I was my own person. I could do anything I wanted to and not have to answer to anyone. Besides, when I was at school, nobody paid attention to me.
I told Ms. Gruwell, “Nobody cares about what I do, so why should I bother to come to school? Why should I waste my time when I have better things to do?” When I told her this, I could see the hurt in her eyes. “What ‘better things’ do you have to do?” she asked. This question was even harder to answer than the first. I didn’t do much except sit at my homie’s pad and smoke. That was all I did when I ditched—chilled and smoked. I told her, “I have family problems and I have to stay home and help out.” I chickened out. I couldn’t tell her what I really did. Then she asked me, “Is there anything I can do to help you? Should I call your house and talk to your parents?” I immediately said, “NO! They will get mad at me.” My mom obviously thought I was going to school. She had no idea that I had been ditching since the first day of class.
My mom has always pushed me to get an education because everyone else in my family has dropped out—everyone except her. The only reason why she graduated was because her mother pressured her. Now my mom is pressuring me to be like her. If Ms. Gruwell called my house and talked to my mom, she would freak. My mom would definitely think I’m a loser if she knew. Being a loser was the least of my problems.
My