The Freedom Writers Diary - Erin Gruwell [28]
Diary 30
Dear Diary,
“Four eyes,” “Blind as a bat,” or worse yet, “Coke bottle bitch” were the mean comments I heard all through my childhood. I would come home from elementary and middle school in tears every day because my classmates or even strangers would harass me. I even begged my mother to let me change schools because people made fun of me too much. Their ruthless comments shaped my personality and turned me into a shy, insecure, quiet girl. I was always alone because I was afraid of making friends and then finding out that they made fun of me behind my back.
Just recently, I was sitting in my science class, when I heard the girl sitting next to me making rude comments about my bad eyesight. I am very sensitive when it comes to my eyesight and somehow she sensed it. I tried to ignore her, but she started writing on my jacket. I got up and I said, “You know what, I’m fucking tired of this.” I couldn’t believe I said that, because I used to just brush off what people said. She said, “Shut up, you blind bitch.” When I heard her call me that name, I lost it. I slapped her! It was as if she represented all the kids throughout the years who had made fun of me. All of the anger that had built up in my heart throughout my childhood years was released at that moment. I was so furious that I blacked out. Literally! My mind went blank. My science teacher separated us and I was shaking uncontrollably. I don’t know what happened to me next.
When I told Ms. G about the fight, she told me about one of her students named Sharuad, who was teased because he had big lips. She said she found a mean drawing of his lips and it made her lose her cool. After yelling and screaming at the class, she said the incident woke her up and made her become a better teacher. Maybe this incident could make me a better person, too.
Diary 31
Dear Diary,
The bell rang and everybody walked into class. All the desks were up against the wall. There was a table full of plastic champagne glasses and bottles of apple cider all around the room. I thought, “What the hell is going on? Are we having a party?” I saw Ms. Gruwell waving her arms around like a crazy lady, but no one was reacting to her caffeine high. We all knew the effect caffeine had on Ms. Gruwell.
Throughout the class period, things began to change drastically. Ms. Gruwell stood on the desk and began to talk about “change.” I thought, “What is this lady trying to do?” What does she mean by “change”? Then people started crying. I thought to myself, “Why is everyone crying?” I didn’t understand.
Ms. Gruwell passed out books and bags from Barnes & Noble. When I saw the look on people’s faces, I felt like jumping up for joy. I wanted to start reading them at that very moment. I was so occupied with one of my new books that I missed the whole idea of what we were supposed to do with them. The book had never been opened and the pages smelled like a new car. I started reading Night by Elie Wiesel, and I can’t wait to get started on The Wave by Todd Strasser, Anne Frank’s diary, and last but not least Zlata’s Diary. At first I thought we were going to have to do a lot of book reports. Then she told us about the “Read-a-thon for Tolerance.” What the heck is Ms. Gruwell talking about? She said we’d have fun because the stories are about kids in similar situations. We were all teenagers who were going through a difficult time in our lives. Some of us succeed and others don’t. That is just how it is, and all I wanted to do was be one of the people who make it.
I have always been one of the kids that needed to change—I can’t even try to deny it. My mom is no help because I can’t do anything wrong in her eyes. I am “Mommy’s little girl” no matter how badly I am doing in school or what type of drugs I’ve tried. My dad is just the opposite. He’s never cared about how bad I’m