The Freedom Writers Diary: Senior Year–Epilogue

I realize how daunting the process is and I don’t want them to feel overwhelmed.

Since being a “mom” to 150 college-bound kids will be overwhelming, I’ve decided to rally the troops and elicit more help.

When we finally got a place to lay our things, we put all of our clothes on the ground to make a pallet for us to sleep on.

Ms. Gruwell is an advocate of the team method, which is why she began a mentoring program between her graduate students at National University and the Freedom Writers.

Later on we played an icebreaker game. The kids were on one side of the room and we were on the other, and down the center was a white line that divided us. Each one of the Freedom Writers had to go down the line and read a sentence from a piece of paper. Some of the questions asked were, “Who’s wearing a green shirt?” or “Does anybody know what they want to do in the future?” If any of the questions applied to them, then they would have to stand on the white line.

I didn’t realize writing was so hard. It’s very tedious and overwhelming, but satisfying at the same time. The writing assignments I do for Ms. G’s class require draft after draft until everything is perfect.

But what none of us realized was how demeaning and degrading this actually was. Unfortunately, it was the price we were willing to pay to be popular.

Now I have unanswered questions and a lack of resolve.

Cathartic writing course chronicles students’ pain

The Anne Frank Center USA honors “those who have followed the courage of their convictions to step forward and actively confront anti-Semitism, racism, prejudice, and bias-related violence in their community.”

We were clearly the front-runners to win the award, but the center was in a precarious position—how would we get the Freedom Writers to New York?

If I feel they have ulterior motives or are the slightest bit disingenuous, I try to shelter the kids from them.

I was totally ecstatic about being a part of something that I’d heard so many wonderful things about.

The Freedom Writers also had the privilege to meet and bond with prestigious people and some New York City high school students.

One weekend when my siblings and I were visiting my father, he flew into a treacherous rage.

My brother was incoherent with fear and hunger.

After he was done explaining his role as a war correspondent, I felt content.

He wasn’t letting evil prevail by watching and doing nothing. By writing about the images he saw in Sarajevo, he was ensuring that no one would deny that ethnic cleansing was taking place, and that thousands of innocent men were being taken to their deaths.

Whenever a class has a substitute, chaos is imminent.

If that wasn’t enough, I later pierced my tongue and had the very blasé “I don’t care about life” attitude.

The Coke fiasco was a result of not taking my medication. I take Ritalin to control my disorder.

Young boys were taken away from their families to be brainwashed in a communist doctrine and trained for war.

I told James my decision and though he was obviously apprehensive, he was willing to go along with what I wanted to do.

I was graduating with straight As and I still had the support of my friends and family. No longer was I choked with fear. Instead, I breathed deep, exhilarating breaths.

I even raised my attendance from mediocre to perfect.

Our senior year finally came and Ms. Gruwell was announcing at the Freedom Writers’ “Open-Mic Night” who the lucky recipients of the computers were.

I want to eradicate the violence that is going on in my neighborhood and give back to my community the way John Tu has given back to me.

Unfortunately, there are people who are like my parents, who shamelessly take from others with no remorse, but I will break that cycle and be a giver.

I was obsessed with independence, but I was yet to realize I was trying to reap the benefits of being in charge of my life without taking any of the responsibilities that came along with that. But can you tell that to a fifteen-year-old boy trying to find his niche in the world?

It took four months before doctors diagnosed me with cystic fibrosis. Most CF patients succumb to death before the age of thirty.

We managed to make it past all the superficial labels like “at risk,” or “below average”; even the ones that were put on Ms. Gruwell, like “too young and too white.”

With the same tenacity they used to bring Zlata and the rest of the world to Room 203, they devised a plan that would take us to Europe the following summer.

Earning happiness means doing good and working, not speculating and being lazy.

I became a “freshman” professor at California State University, Long Beach (CSULB) as a “Distinguished Teacher in Residence.” My new position entailed sharing the lessons of the Freedom Writers with future teachers.

His tales about Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King, and the Freedom Riders encouraged us to be more than just tourists on our impending trip to Europe.

If we were truly going to emulate the Freedom Riders, then our writing must transcend the walls of Room 203 and our individual plights and become a universal message.

With the help of Long Beach City College and Barnes & Noble, we created a college course that would allow us to hone our craft.

But unlike the majority of the country, the Freedom Writers were not quick to vilify Klebold and Harris. Instead, they were empathetic because many of the Freedom Writers felt just as alienated and misunderstood as Klebold and Harris before they found their voices.

They deliberately sought young kids who were slipping through the cracks and had been written off as their personal crusade. By doing so, they created a program called “Celebrating Diversity Through the Arts” geared toward teaching tolerance to kids who have been marginalized by society and don’t feel like they fit in.

Then we’ll visit Anne’s secret attic in Amsterdam to pay homage to the young woman who in the worst possible situation still believed that “in spite of it all, people are really good at heart.”