For a couple of weeks now I hardly find time to read anything else than magazines, study material, blogs, journals and fanfiction ;-) on the internet. But I finally managed to finish The Freedom Writers Diary. I bought the book almost a year ago, after I watched the movie and I was deeply moved by all these very personal stories of young people struggeling to find their place in this world. And succeeding with it. I wish there were more teachers like Erin Gruwell everywhere in the world.

That's the beginning of the story...

Dear Diary,
Tomorrow morning, my journey as an English teacher officially begins. Since first impressions are so important, I wonder what my students will think about me. Will they think I'm out of touch or too preppy? Or worse yet, that I'm too young to be taken seriously? Maybe I'll have them write a journal entry describing what their expectations are of me and the class.
Even though, I spent last year as a student teacher at Wilson High School, I'm still learning my way around the city. Long Beach is so different than the gated community I grew up in. Thanks to MTV dubbing Long Beach as the "gangsta-rap capital" with its depiction of guns and graffiti, my friends have a warped perception of the city, or L B C as the rappers refer to it. They think I should wear a bulletproof vest rather than pearls. Where I live in Newport Beach is a utopia compared to some of the neighborhoods seen in a Snoop Doggy Dogg video. Still, TV tends to blow things out of proportion.
...and p 98 begins with:

[....] the fire. That's when he started to try to save every Jew he could with the money he had. By the end, he had saved over a thousand Jews.
The movie made "Night", "The Wave" and "The Diary of a Young Girl" come alive. One of my friends actually said he had a flashback about the death of one of his friends. He said that the little girl's red coat reminded him of his friend's blood. It made me realize that senseless violence doesn't only happen in the history books or movies.
After the movie, we headed to the Century City Marriot Hotel to have a reception for Holocaust survivors and ourselves. The Holocaust survivor at our table showed us his tattoo and it made me wonder if he ever tried to hide it from others. I wanted to know: What he was thinking everyday in camp? What was his greatest fears? Did he ever think of suicide? I wanted to ask, but I was too nervous and I thought my questions were stupid.