Diary 28

Dear Diary,

Ever since elementary school I’ve been in accelerated classes. I had

thought I was lucky getting the best education and the top-notch teachers. I

was on the road to the brightest of the bright.

When I reached junior high, I started to realize that since I was in the

accelerated program, I only knew the other accelerated kids. We didn’t talk

to anyone else. It was like an unspoken law. We weren’t allowed to talk to

the kids who weren’t in the gifted program, or maybe they weren’t allowed

to talk to us. I knew it wasn’t right, but it was all I knew. Going into high

school, I was accepted into the highest academic program in my district. I

thought it was a good thing, until the middle of my first semester. The work

was piled over my head and I felt like I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t have

time for anything but homework. It was hard to pay attention because my

teachers talked like robots. I’m sure they were teaching me important

information, but by the time I got home, I couldn’t remember a thing. We

were assigned too many pages to read in one night and too many tests in

one week. I didn’t have time to actually learn. I found my way out of this

program I and found my way into another one at Wilson High School. I

crossed my fingers, hoping this one would be better.

This new program was called Distinguished Scholars. I was given a list

of qualifications that had to be met. We had to have a good grade point

average, good attendance, and take more classes than the average student. It

seemed tough, but I felt it was a more reachable goal. I walked into this

open-minded, but it just wasn’t the right program for me. All of my teachers

held their noses in the air, as if they were above the rest of the school.

Looking around, I realized I was uncomfortable. The class was made up of

all white, wealthy kids who couldn’t have more stress than planning what

they were going to wear the next day. They made it clear that their race,

economic state, and the classes they were taking made them popular and

better then anyone else. Even though I’m white, live in the same

neighborhood, and had all of the same classes, I wanted out.

When I complained to1 a friend of mine, she told me about her English

class. My friend raved about the things they did. While they were reading

about Camelot, their teacher dressed up as Queen Guinevere to add an extra

oomph. They also put on plays to make the stories come to life. I had never

done that. We were lucky if we were able to read out loud. I begged to meet

Ms. Gruwell. When I finally did, I was in absolute awe.

Within the next week, she has managed to fit me into her class. She

plays reading and vocabulary games to help us learn, and she listens to our

questions. She actually cares. She talks to us on a level I can understand.

It’s wonderful to feel like a real person and not just someone for my

teachers to belittle.

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