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Authors: Latoya Hunter

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September 25, 1990

Dear Diary
,

W
hy does school have to come with music teachers?! You would not believe what mine is going to make the class do. I’m talking major embarrassing! The whole class has to sing “We Are the World” in front of the whole school! Can you believe it? I mean, the song is so old. It’s not fair! I bet the kids will boo us off the stage, they’re good at that if anything. We’re supposed to do this thing on Wednesday. Talk about short notice! We rehearsed and I must say, sound terrible. The boys are off key and it’s just a mess. I hope we get it together before Wednesday, we can’t afford to give the older kids more reason not to like us.

September 30, 1990

Dear Diary
,

I
think I need a name for you. You’ve become like a best friend to me, you’re someone I can talk to without being argued with. I think I know just the name for you. I’ll call you Janice after my best friend from Jamaica. We were like sisters before I left. Over the years we’ve grown apart though, the letters have stopped but that friendship is still going on within me!

So today I christen you diary, Janice Page.

October 1, 1990

Dear Janice
,

S
omething horrible happened today. I was walking to the store when suddenly a gray car pulled up beside me. There was a middle-aged Puerto-rican man with a terrible looking beard inside. He blew his horn and called me to come inside, he was holding up money which was supposed to be a lure. It was so frightening. I kept on walking and tried my best to ignore him. I turned into the store and when I came outside he was gone.

I can’t help but wonder about if another girl who wasn’t as cautious as me decided to go to that terrible man. What
would he do to her? Why did the world have to come with people who have to hurt other people not only physically but mentally, in order to please themselves? As I am writing this, that man might have succeeded in his quest. If he had attacked me I don’t know what I’d do. I would of course panic. I’m a panicky person, but I think since I’m not physical, I’d try to talk him out of his plan. I couldn’t attack him or try to fight him, that definitely wouldn’t work. I’m not very strong. I feel sorry for his victim and believe it or not, my sympathy goes out to him too. Someone who could do something as terrible as take away children and do whatever they feel to them and emotionally scar the lives of his victim and their loved ones, deserves not only hate but also pity.

I’m going to try to sleep now, but it’ll be hard knowing that man and many of his kind are out there somewhere.

October 2, 1990

Dear Janice
,

I
t’s hard to believe but people change as rapidly as the world does. If I had kept you as a diary two years ago, you would have heard about Jimmy. He was the first guy who I was close to and who was a real friend to me. I liked him because other boys always seemed to be in a popularity contest, and he didn’t care about that stuff. He was handsome and everything but he never let it get to his
head. Well lately he’s been going to the other side. He has a new walk, new talk, new look—the works! He ignores me, I guess I’m not popular enough for him! He just isn’t the same.

October 3, 1990

Dear Janice
,

S
ome people just weren’t made for certain professions. My computer teacher proved that today. Kids are supposed to go to school to learn new things, vocabulary is one of them, but the words this teacher used! Parents don’t send their kids to school to learn obscenities. Maybe she just had a bad case of P.M.S. but that still doesn’t give her the right to say those words. What are we students suppose to go home and say, “Listen mom I learned a new word!” It’s not right. If she wants us to respect her she has to respect us first. Some kids in my class talked to our homeroom teacher Mr. Sontze about it. As usual he can’t do anything. I don’t think we want to go to the principal. If it gets worse, maybe.

October 5, 1990

Dear Janice
,

T
oday in gym class we watched a video on how girls should protect themselves from rape. These subjects are ones we would never even discuss in public school. Well, that isn’t exactly true—my ex-teacher Mr. Pelka always made sure his students were aware of things like that. He really cared about us and we cared back. I should tell you more about him someday, but I don’t want to get off the subject like I almost always do. We watched the video and I found it hard to believe just how sleazy some men could be. It gave me joy to see the ladies hurt each one of them. Their techniques were really good but I’m not athletic enough to carry out any of them. It’s funny, but in Jamaica I wasn’t even aware of crime. Maybe it’s because I was young or maybe it’s because I came from such a rural area, but it just wasn’t a problem. I’d love to have that state of mind again. I just hope I’m never in a crime situation like my father and brother were in.

October 6, 1990

Dear Janice
,

T
oday my friend Isabelle had a fit in her house. It was because of her mother. She’s never home and she expects Isabelle to stay by herself. Today she was extra late because she was out with her boyfriend. Isabelle was really mad. She called her father and told him she wanted to live with him because her mother only cared about one person—her boyfriend. She was so upset. She was throwing things all over the place and crying. I never saw her like that before. It was really sad to see. I felt bad when I had to leave her all by herself. I hope she and her mother work it out but all mothers are the same. They think that you’re young and shouldn’t have an opinion. It’s really hard to communicate with my parents. They’ll listen to me but that’s about it. They hardly take me seriously and it’s because of my age. It’s like discrimination! If you do speak your mind, you end up getting beaten. The real pain doesn’t come from the belt though, it comes from inside. That’s the worst pain you could ever feel.

October 7, 1990

Dear Janice
,

T
his weekend was spent at home, at my brother’s house and at church. My brothers just moved out recently. They don’t live very far though, about 15 minutes away from the house. Their new house is nice. I like it there. They’re both so funny. One is Dave and the other is Courtney. They’re like twins except they look nothing alike and are a couple years apart. Dave is 23 and Courtney is 25. We don’t communicate much anymore—they’ve got girlfriends and they’re making new lives for themselves. It’s impossible now to have a close relationship with either of them.

After church today I felt the urge to do something independent. I started walking and found myself heading home. Church and home aren’t too close together so when I did get home I got in trouble with both parents—it’s usually only my mom, but my father didn’t approve either. That’s really embarrassing that they got upset for that! I thought I was more grown than that. I know I am, but they don’t. This whole entry is embarrassing. I’m not a baby, I can’t believe they think that way of me. I only wanted to prove I could do something by myself. Even that is a crime these days in the parents law book. I can’t do anything right these days.

October 8, 1990

Dear Janice
,

T
oday I saw my old teacher, I was talking about the other day. I thought this should be the day I tell you about him. His name is Robert Pelka. He’s a heavy man but that only means there’s more of him to love. There’s just something about him that makes him impossible not to like. He’s warm, caring, loving and everything else that comes with a great human being. He didn’t only teach me academic things like math, English and so on. He taught me how to be open-minded to all kinds of people. He did that by making us empathize with other people, in other words, put ourselves in their place and write about it. I went from being a sister of retarded boy named Victor to being a Jewish girl whose family was taken away from me back in the Hitler days.

Mr. Pelka made things we’d normally learn about from history books sort of come alive, it’s like you’re there. Those are just some of the things he introduced me to. The things he changed about me are innumerable. The world should know this man. He probably won’t go down in any major history books but if this diary counts as a book of history, he just did.

October 9, 1990
,

Dear Janice
,

I
can’t believe it! I got a 95 on my math test. That’s really good considering I’m taking a ninth grade math course. 9th grade math isn’t that hard, you just have to know certain things before you can solve a problem. That’s about all that happened today. My life is so boring sometimes! I’m so grateful for the little t.v. in my room. I don’t know how people ever lived without it. It’s scary just thinking about it. When I’m stuck inside, it sort of brings me outside to the world. These walls of my room, so close together, form such a small room. I try to brighten it up because when the T.V. is off, there’s nothing else to do but stare at everything and think. I have a big collection of teddy bears. I can only remember where two or three of them came from and some how the rest ended up sitting in my room. I don’t play with them, I just look at them. On the wall above my bed I have what seems to be thousands of posters of my favorite singers. Most of them are guys, so my mother has a problem with them. My room just wouldn’t be complete without them, but if the day ever came where I had to get rid of them, I’d have to leave the one of Big Daddy Kane. He’s this really sexy rapper that makes my knees go weak when I see him. His poster is larger than all the rest and he has a wall for himself. I wouldn’t change anything in it, but I would change the room itself!

Someday I hope to even write a movie myself. It’ll be
really successful and all my favorite actors and actresses will be in it. I’ll be another Jackie Collins but better. Well a girl can dream, that’s the easy but it’s making it become a reality—that’s the hard part.

October 10, 1990

Dear Janice
,

I
didn’t tell you this before but I have a little niece or nephew on the way. I can be thankful to my sister Rondah for that. I never had a younger sister or brother so I guess this is as close as I’ll get to one. I can’t wait to have a baby in the house and it’s for the same reason most kids my age would not want one. Because it will take attention away from me. I hate attention! If something good happens and I was the reason for it everyone starts paying attention to me and are so nice to me. It’s sickening when people, for no real reason, come up to my room when it’s something they wouldn’t ordinarily do. Over the years when I didn’t get any attention I got used to being alone and I like it. I just don’t need anyone around me. I’ve found I’m much happier sitting in my room watching t.v. by myself. That means no arguments and no pressuring. To understand this entry you’d have to live my life for at least a day. In the morning don’t do anything special. See the treatment you get. In the afternoon do something that could mean lots of things to
everyone involved. After that, in the evening, compare the treatment you now get to what you got earlier, before your little deed. I think you’ll see the difference and the reason I feel this way.

Since no one could ever live my life for even a short time, just look at it this way. Pretend you’re a boy trying to get the attention of a certain girl. She’s shown no interest in you until you purchased a really hot car. To be seen in one of those would mean everything to her. All of a sudden after you buy the car she’s all over you. You can’t help but wonder if it’s you she loves or the car. It’s not that I think I’m loved only for things I do. It’s just that I get good grades and I think that if I had a learning disability I wouldn’t be accepted the same. I think what my mother enjoys most is bragging about me to friends and if she didn’t have that, I don’t think she would really appreciate me. When I got the chance to do this diary for publication, she didn’t display much to me. She never actually said, “I’m proud of you!” She never told me how she felt. All I know is since I began to write this diary I’ve been getting a lot more attention from her. Sometimes I feel it’s so fake, sometimes I think really negative. I want to be appreciated for me—good grades or no good grades.

October 11, 1990

Dear Janice
,

I
talked to Isabelle today. Remember she had that problem with her mother? Well, she finally worked up the nerve to talk to her mother and what do you know? She’s grounded. Just because she gave her opinion. Isabelle’s really frustrated now. I could understand why. I’ve told you that most of my opinions don’t check with my parents. If I had a problem I don’t even think I’d talk to them about it. They’d just say, “When I was your age I could never walk up to my mother and tell her anything like that. I’d just get smacked over.” When I try to say, “That was your day and maybe since this is a new day there should be a new way,” I just get what they would get from their mother. What can I say? Parents just don’t understand. It’s no use to try to make them. It’ll just backfire on you. Most kids would give up on trying to get understanding on both their parent’s side, but not me. I’m a very stubborn girl. I explain my case from all sides. I try every trick in the book just to get approval on an issue.

October 12, 1990

Dear Janice
,

T
oday after school I went to my brother’s house. I had fun as usual. I played dominos with Rondah, Dave’s girlfriend Sandra, and I brought along my friend/cousin Deborah. I’m not really good at dominos but I got through o.k. Us Jamaicans love dominos—the men do anyway. At family gatherings the women talk and dance and the men sit around a table of dominos. Once there, they don’t want to get up.

Anyways, I enjoyed the evening a lot. We listened to Jamaican music (my favorite kind) until it was time to go home. Since my brothers moved out we’ve been doing these things like every three weeks. They feel good, I think to be able to do whatever they want in their own house where they’re boss. Entertaining is one thing they can do anytime they want now so I suppose they’re taking advantage of it.

BOOK: Diary of Latoya Hunter
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