The Freedom Writers Diary - Erin Gruwell [63]
Diary 68
Dear Diary,
This is my first year to have Ms. Gruwell as my English teacher. I am one of the transfers, or the “lucky ones,” on “Gruwell’s List.” However, now that I’m in, I am terrified because I feel that my writing capacity is not at the same level as the other students. They have had so much more experience writing than I’ve had; writing essays and crafting letters to people like Zlata and Miep. They know what to expect from Ms. G and all her crazy writing schemes. I don’t.
Today Ms. Gruwell assigned a new writing project. We each are going to choose one of our favorite journal entries and combine them into a classroom book like the letters they’d previously sent to Zlata. Ms. Gruwell wants us to pick an entry about an event that changed our lives. In my case, there is only one that really sticks out, but I want to forget it. Not because it is embarrassing, but because it is the most painful one…
I guess it was foolish to think that my brother would be here for the rest of my life, but I did. I had a brother, but I took him for granted. I thought that I would go to high school with him, see him get his first job, and grow old with him. It didn’t happen that way. It has only been nine months since he died, and now my teacher wants me to open the floodgates and lose control of my emotions by writing a book? I just can’t do that. I don’t want to remember!
Silence is my way of staying strong, for my brother and for me. I want to forget everything, lock the door and hide the key where no one could find it…Writing about it will only make it worse!
Diary 69
Dear Diary,
Ms. G came up with a new writing assignment that she thinks will bring the class closer together; we have to create a book of events that have changed our lives. It has everyone in class so excited about the thought of emulating Anne and Zlata. Someone even suggested that we could bind our stories into a book or diary. Unlike everyone else, I am not excited about the new assignment. For the first time I am feeling alienated from the rest of the class.
I have great respect for Anne Frank for writing about her life in the attic, but to me, my neighborhood is somewhat like her attic. I would rather write about something fictional, because I do not want to be reminded of where I come from. Writing about where I come from will bring up a lot of things that I want to suppress.
As I look up at the sky, there seems to be a black cloud lingering over my neighborhood, even on the sunniest day. I picture myself coming home to a wonderful house with white picket fences, but slowly my picture starts to fade. With the smell of marijuana in the air, the mumbling of drug dealers trying to make their sales, the horrific sounds of gunshots, and the sight of graffiti, which is more popular than Vincent Van Gogh. The reason why my neighborhood is filled with violence is because I live in the projects.
The projects are the farthest thing from the fictional Brady Bunch neighborhood. On The Brady Bunch, kids play together peacefully in their backyards, all the lawns have green grass, and neighbors even go camping together. Parents get together to compare their kids’ report cards, and gang violence is something they read about in a newspaper.
In the projects, little kids are bad! Rather than play, they destroy. They set trashcans on fire, they knock on people’s doors and run, and they turn their neighbors’ water hoses on in their backyard so it will flood. Most of the kids in my neighborhood do not know their ABCs, but could sing you a rap song word for word. As for green grass, the grass is dead. The only grass that’s alive is the grass they smoke. But grass isn’t the only thing that they smoke. I see crackheads getting high in the “cut” smoking their pipes. In fact, I don’t even borrow sugar from my neighbors. Becoming friendly with your neighbors will end up getting your house robbed. As for parents comparing their kids’ report cards? Being smart and getting good grades makes you an outcast in the projects. If I tell anyone that I got a good grade