Diary Of a First Grader


1. Dear Diary... 1st Grade..

  Dear Diary,
                 Hi! My mom got me a diary for my birthday so I'm going to be writing in it. Okay, first, my name is Sienna DeVry and I started first grade a couple weeks ago. It was bad. I thought it was going to be fun, like in the movies. Maybe it wont be like that all year. I hope it wont. The kids were so mean to me. They said I looked like a boy because I dressed like one and my haircut looked like a boy. I was sitting in my seat and listening to my teacher Mrs. Quinn but the kids weren't. They were throwing stuff at me and making fun of me. I tried to ignore it but I just wanted to go home to my mom and never go back to school. I didn't tell my mom when I got home though. I didn't want her to worry, or get mad. Let me tell you the story about my first day at school, okay? Okay. Here goes.
    ~~I was going to first grade and I had just gotten the gist of the English language. I wasn't born in a different country but my parents were. English just wasn't the first language that I learned. My parents taught me everything about Bosnia and the language, so that's how I was raised. I remember I was so scared and nervous about how my first day at school would go.
 I got on the bus and sat in the front, by myself and stared out the window, excited, nervous, and scared, until we got to school. I went inside and everyone was at a table, playing with each other, smiling, laughing. Everyone had a friend, but me. I stood by the door and waited for the bell to ring. The announcements came on and the principal told everyone to go to the gym when they finish breakfast to figure out who their homeroom teacher was. When the bell rang, I went to the gym and found my homeroom teacher. She was pretty nice. Her name was Mrs. Quinn. We went to class and I sat down in my seat. It was in the middle of the class. A couple of girls came in after me and sat down in their seats around me. One of them tapped my shoulder and I turned around to see what she wanted.
 Her: Why is your hair like that?
 Me: Huh?
 Her: Why is your hair like that!!
 She yelled at me this time. I don't know why though.
 Me: I don't know..
 Her: I don't like it, you look like a boy. Are you a boy?
 Me: No, I'm not.
 Her: Oh, but you look like one though. Why did you cut it?
 Me: I don't know..
 Her: How come you don't know?
 Me: I don't. Sorry, I want to listen to my teacher.
 She didn't say anything after that, and throughout class, she didn't speak to me at all.
 I was in my seat listening to Mrs. Quinn do the math problem on the board and I felt someone pull my hair. I turned around and saw the same girl from yesterday, Liza, I think. She was acting casual and pretending to listen to the teacher. I ignored her and turned around to listen to the teacher. I felt her pull my hair again. I turned around and said something.
 Me: Can you please stop? That hurts.
 Liza: What? I didn't do anything.
 Me: I know you did. There's no one else behind me..
 Liza: So? Maybe you're crazy. I didn't even touch you.
 I just turned around and decided to deal with the hair pulling and paper balls being thrown at me. Maybe if I ignore them, they'll stop, right? Wrong. They kept doing the same thing and more for the next couple weeks. The hair pulling, name calling, paper being crumpled up and thrown at me, laughing at me, making jokes, pointing at me, pretending I wasn't there when they bump into me on purpose. They say, "Sorry, didn't see you there" or just laugh without an apology. I didn't think little kids could be so mean. I thought wrong. All I wanted to do as a child was have fun and smile. Why couldn't I have that? What did I do wrong as a little kid? Why couldn't I be happy? Why didn't they let me be happy? Why did they have to be so mean to me? I was so happy to be home because those girls couldn't hurt me there. I didn't let my parents see my tears because I didn't want them to worry. I didn't want to be a burden.

~~"Little girl terrified, She'd leave her room if only bruises would heal
 A home is no place to hide, Her heart is breaking from the pain that she feels
 Every day's the same, She fights to find her way
 She hurts, she breaks, she hides, and tries to pray
 She wonders why, does anyone ever hear her when she cries?"~~
                                                                                       -Britt Nicole

It started in the first grade...


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