A group of students in a tenth-grade English class participate in literature circles.
Simba: Hey, let's read the Freedom Writer's Diary.
Boots: I'm down to read it...it sounds cool.
Redd: Why would we read that? We already saw that dumb movie.
Simba: Redd, it's not all about you. No one cares what you think.
Boots. Yeah, that was a really good movie.
Redd: I don't care. I don't see the point of reading the story when we already saw the movie. Nothin' is gonna change.
Boots: Simba, he does kind of make a point, you know.
Simba: Well. the Freedom Writer's Diary gives us more details than the movie. It's all of their journal entries put together in one book.
Redd: What's gonna be the difference? Everything they said in the movie they're gonna say in the story. Nothin' is gonna change.
Boots: Well, I'm down to do it. It seems like a good idea to me.
Redd: OK. I have an idea. Instead of reading Freedom Writer's Diary, how about we make our own?
Simba: That sounds like a great idea, Redd. But we should check with Ms. Amy.
Boots: Redd, that's the best idea you've ever come up with.
Redd: Haha. Very funny. Someone just ask Ms. Amy if we can do it.
Simba: Ms. Amy says it's OK. Let's get started.
Boots: OK. Simba. Since you're the leader of the group, how do you want us to do it?
Redd: Yeah, since you're the leader of the group...
Simba: How about each of us just write a journal entry just like how they did it in the book?
Boots: About our life?
Simba: Yeah, your own personal life stories...
Redd: You mean our struggles?
Dear Diary,
Every day I look in the mirror and ask myself what's out there for me and why am I still alive? I've been in the system since I was seven. I had an abusive dad and my mother was a drug addict. I remember the day I got taken away from my mom. My parents were fighting and the neighbors called the police. When they came, all they had to do was look around to know that I wasn't living the appropriate life I was supposed to. When they took me away they put me in a home with another girl and two sons. Everybody was white except for me. I already felt outta place. On my fourth night there I was lying in bed around two in the morning because I couldn't sleep and I remember the husband coming into my room. I told him to get out, and he told me to shut up. He came over the my bed and pulled my covers back and I tried to put up a fight but he was bigger and stronger than me . He climbed on top of me and raped me. I closed my eyes and started to cry. All I could think about was my mom. When he finished, he left my room, and the next morning he acted as if nothing ever happened.
- Simba
Dear Diary,
For the past two months I haven't been feeling good. I haven't had my period in three months. I took a pregnancy test yesterday. It came out positive. I'm pregnant, and I don't have no one to help me. I'm homeless. I'm 14 and I barely go to school. In order for me to eat, I have to steal food or prostitute for money. My mom kicked me out when I was 13 because she thought I was sleeping with her boyfriend. I sleep under a bridge, and when it's cold outside, I sleep in the dirty, filthy restrooms at the train station. I have my life, and sometimes I wish I wasn't alive. Now that I know I am three months pregnant I don't know what I should do. I wanna go back to school and graduate from high school and go to college, but let's look at reality. I'm pregnant. I'm 14. I'm homeless. No one is gonna help me. I wanna go back home. I miss my mom, but I know she'll just slam the door in my face and tell me to get off her property and never come back. I don't know if I'm ready to bring a baby into this world. It may be time for me to start checking out clinics.
- Boots
Dear Diary,
One night my mom took me and my brother down a dark alley. When I looked around all I seen was broken glass, homeless people and needles. We went to Floor 12 Apartment #304 where a tall black man opened the door. When we walked in, it was empty. All I seen was drugs. My mom made us sit in the corner with our backs turned towards them so we couldn't see her get a thrill out of shooting up. Two hours went by and she was done. When the guy asked her for his money she didn't have enough and they started to argue. He started hitting my mom and throwing her around and kicking her until we seen the blood coming out of her mouth. My brother was crying and screaming for him to stop, but he didn't. It just made him more mad. I tried to keep him quiet but it wasn't working so the guy came over, picked my little brother and hung him out the window. My mom tried to pick herself up to go help him, but all he did was kick her back down and let go of my brother's hand. Just like that, he was gone. I lost my best friend and my brother. When I went over to the window I seen Brycon lying on the ground surrounded by blood and glass. Every day I cry to myself and think what my life would be life if Brycon was still here. I blame my mom for making us pay for her punishment. Whenever I think about it, I feel like I got rocks in my stomach. I can feel my soul bleed.
- Redd
R.I.P. Brycon Pugh
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