9th Grade—New Year, New Diary
Dear RBG:
Welcome to my new high school diary. It’s more grown-up than my other one. The deep eggplant purple with sparkles almost seems like royalty.
A new era deserves a new diary, don’t you think? I wanted to keep writing to you because somehow I feel you would understand me. I’ve read everything about the great Ruth Bader Ginsburg and I believe during your life you walked in similar shoes.
Starting this year, I’m telling everyone my name is Kate. It sounds more grown-up than Katie. New school, new diary, new name, and hopefully, a new life.
At first, I thought high school would be scary, but then I realized, it’s a blank slate. A great awakening, like the dawn of a horizon with endless possibilities. This is a whole new world.
Some high schools transition kids from grade school to high school, same names, same faces. But since my school is a funnel of nine smaller schools from three towns, I can have a new beginning. Kids from eight other schools don’t know me as the first girl to get a bra or the girl with the biggest boobs, etc.
And thank goodness my bra size didn’t get any bigger. For the first time in five years, no shopping for a larger bra—I’m still holding at a “D” cup. And while mine are still outstanding by comparison, I’m no longer on a planet unto myself. Other girls have caught up—finally! All my problems in middle school with teasing and bullying are old news.
At least I hope so. I read in a book that the blueprint of your past doesn’t build your future. It could be true—right? I’m going to make it so! New friends, new boyfriends—it’s going to be a glorious year.
Dear RBG:
It’s still a couple weeks until school starts and I’m getting prepared. My mom and I went shopping for school supplies last week. And instead of a backpack, I got a messenger bag with a big strap that goes across your body. It’s much cooler than my backpack. It’s made of a light blue denim material and has different colored glass and silver studs. It’s really pretty and I am excited to add more pins to it.
All I have on it now are my Disney ears American flag pin, my rainbow pin, and your “I dissent” pin that my aunt gave me, but I’ll add more. I can see it eventually covered with interesting pins. It’s a work in progress and a step forward in my plan to reinvent myself.
The next stage is a new wardrobe.
While my mom won’t give me enough money for a complete change, I’ll make every dollar stretch. I researched fashion trends from Seventeen and Teen Vogue online to make lists of my favorite looks. And since I got a phone for eighth-grade graduation, my limited exile from today’s online society has finally been lifted. No more counting restricted minutes for internet time—halleluiah.
I’m going for a vintage cool eclectic chic look. I convinced my BFF Sandy to lobby our moms to let us do our own shopping. After all, high school girls don’t let their moms pick out their clothes. Sandy’s not really into clothes, so while she was mostly there for moral support, her mom gave her some money too. I don’t want to impose my beliefs on her style, but I’m hoping some of my fashion sense will rub off on her. Her fashion choices are more “tomboy hand-me-down.”
I’ve been shopping for my own clothes since the 6th grade. My mom gave up trying to agree on my style and just let me go. But she usually goes with me; this is my first solo flight. I know exactly what to do. I mapped out my plan of attack like a general with a battle strategy and looked online for all the stores with sales and coupons.
In each store, I immediately went to the clearance racks. People ignore them for shiny objects in the front of the store, but someone with design sense can find gems on clearance racks and save money. Besides, I’m looking for fun combinations, not to mimic the attire of every other girl in school like a Barbie doll.
And I love to use great details like hats and scarves to transform an outfit and avoid problems dealing with my straight, lifeless hair. People wore hats all the time in the olden days—I’m trying to bring them back. Luckily my school allows some hats; my cousin goes to a school that doesn’t allow them. I guess some kids use them to avoid being shown on the school’s cameras. Sad to think that a fashion accessory translates into a possible delinquent cover up.
I stealthily moved between the aisles and racks like a gazelle on the Serengeti, grabbing a cute top here, a vest there, a denim jacket, some cute shoes, a few skirts, and a couple pairs of jeans. Sandy’s head spun in a whirlwind as I dragged her from place to place. I was on a mission and wouldn’t leave her behind. And she did get a few nice pieces. Maybe osmosis does work with fashion style.
I firmly believe everyone needs to dress themselves to create the image they want to project. After all, if everyone wanted the same look, there would only be one kind of clothing in one color. Yikes—that would be horrible. I made that mistake in middle school and was embarrassed when another girl and I wore the same outfit to school on the same day. Never again! It’s just like when you fancied up your black judge’s robe with fun collars. You need to look like yourself to be yourself.
One more trip to Goodwill and other thrift stores for some fun vintage accessories, costume jewelry, and other wardrobe pieces and I’ll be set. I consider these stores my secret weapon for vintage chic. I can get so much for so little and BING, just like a magic wand—I have a new high school wardrobe.
Dear RBG:
Today I got a great surprise for my 15th birthday. Well, it’s almost my 15th birthday. I was born right after the September 1st school cutoff for age, so I am slightly older than most kids in my class. I’ve always enjoyed imagining that I’m more mature than everyone else in school. Even aside from the age difference, I’ve always thought that. You know how that goes, RBG. Those of us who are deep thinkers are often more mature than our peers.
Back to the surprise… my mom and dad bought me my own laptop. They thought I should have it to do homework and write papers, now that I’m in high school. It’s sleek and small and has this smart purple cover with butterflies. Purple is my favorite color.
And I have my very own email address—“katiewrites.” I guess that’s a hint from my mom. She always says I should be a writer. It’s a possibility, but that’s a long way off at this point. I’m still trying to figure out how to be a teen.
The first item in my inbox was a word of the day email. My mom set me up with a subscription, knowing that I love to learn new words and expand my vocabulary. That was really considerate of her.
My first word of the day is schism. Definition: A split or division between strongly opposed sections or parties, caused by differences in opinion or belief. I’ll assign that as a $20 word. I’m not sure where I’m going to use it, but it has possibilities. Plus, it’s kind of fun to say… schism.
If you remember, I once told you about the game I play in my head. I assign dollar amounts to the words from $5 to $25 and I try to use different denominations of words every day and fit them into conversation. By the time I’m an adult, I want the biggest vocabulary in the world.
Some kids in school think it’s pretentious to use big words. I don’t tell anyone the denomination of the word—that’s just for me. And with all the hassle I got in middle school, I found my intellect an advantage, not a weakness. I read books; I know things. And if they don’t like me improving myself, that’s their problem. After years of the middle school fog of bullying, teasing, and name calling, I emerged with one idea: I need to be me.
With this laptop, my mom says I can take notes in school instead of writing longhand. That’s a good idea. I can keep everything in the same place and without a notebook for each class, leaving more room in my bag. I write copious notes and even developed my own shorthand. But since I’m faster on a keyboard than writing, maybe I won’t even need my shorthand anymore. After my long parental-imposed technology blackout, I’m now operating in this century.
I guess they trust me to stay away from technology pitfalls and even gave me a lecture on social media, viruses, and sites I shouldn’t be on. I’m pretty sure they’ve loaded some kind of software on this that will prevent me from doing anything I shouldn’t. But I wouldn’t anyway. This is a new era and now I have all the tools I need to succeed both in and out of school.
Dear RBG:
I completed my last step to create the new high school me. I got contact lenses, so I don’t need to be a “four eyes” anymore. It’s not because of the middle school jokes, believe me. I look better without glasses. But it’s taking a while to get used to.
It’s strange to poke yourself in the eye twice a day, but think I finally have the hang of it. They made it look so easy at the doctor’s office. Then I practiced at home and wondered if they gave me the wrong kind. It took me days to get the contacts from folding over in my eyes.
My eyes keep watering and now the contacts are floating around like goldfish swimming in a bowl. It’s an odd feeling. I keep blinking all the time to see if it gets better.
And these contacts messed up my test. For incoming freshmen, the school requires a standardized placement test to pigeonhole you into specific classes. I hate these tests… A, B, C… Duh? They have years of grades and tests in actual classes to determine student capability, but instead they choose to use dumb three-hour exams you can’t prepare for just to measure how well you guess.
About an hour in, my eyes started to water—a lot. They were like a waterfall and I had nothing to dab them with and no way to stop it. The proctors are very strict and didn’t allow a nearby bag, backpack, or purse. So my eyes watered and watered.
At one point, everything was dripping on the test papers, making it difficult to fill in the oval answer spaces. Then it became hard to see, like a windshield in a rainstorm. I kept touching my eyes, trying to make it stop, but that made it even worse.
I looked up several times to see if I could get the proctor’s attention, but he had a newspaper in front of his face. And I wasn’t allowed to get up. It was madness.
With one hour left, I’d had it. I was down to the last section of the test—science, my worst subject. So I filled in the “b” space for every question. I read somewhere that on standardized tests that’s the most common answer. Now I realize it was unlikely all those answers were “b,” but at that point, I didn’t care. I turned in my paper, got my bag, went into the bathroom, and took out my contacts so I could rinse my eyes.
But the best part? Since the proctor scans the test into the computer, while I was waiting for my mom to pick me up, I received an automatic email on my phone with my score. It was the best science score I ever received. These tests don’t work and I proved it.
Growing UP Books by Suzanne Rudd 