I was fifteen years old in tenth grade, ditching my classes, getting straight fails, running the streets all night, with an "F" in world attitude, which led me to getting expelled from the whole Los Angeles School District. With the way I felt about school and life in general, I didn't really care what happened to me. All my life people had been telling me what a no-good, stupid person I was, and how I wouldn't amount to anything. I guess after hearing that as far back as I can remember, I did not want to disappoint them by trying to prove them wrong. I guess I also felt I was evil. All the pain I'd felt growing up, made me lose my faith in God. "If there was a God, why would he let his children go through such agony?" Religion was too confusing to understand because I've always felt they made rules and regulations to benefit them, twisting words in the Bible to serve them.

Being expelled with no school to go to and nothing but time on my hands, I continued to be a hard-core, rebellious, hateful, racist person. I thought that was all I could ever be. My parents tried to punish me as severely as they could, while never showing me a better way to live. They told me not to do wrong, but never showed me what was right. They never acknowledged my interests, my talents or my dreams. Instead they tried to push an image of what they and society wanted me to be. They never respected my voice. It seemed like society wanted me to stay in eternal silence and darkness.

Being expelled for carrying a knife at school brought on countless court hearings and community service hours that seemed to last forever. Then I was told to find some kind of schooling, or I would be in a lot more trouble. So my mom tried enrolling me in different continuation schools across the San Fernando Valley. My impression of these schools was that they were full of mean, rough kids, who all had trouble with the law and or drugs, and were thrown into a classroom together. I was ready to fight anyone who looked at me wrong, but no one really paid me any attention. I stayed at one school for about two weeks then decided to go to Jack London High because it was closer to my home. I was still ready to fight mean teachers and drug-fiend students. My mind was swimming with confusion, extreme rage, pain and stereotypes.

But this school was far from what I imagined it to be. The principal and teachers were extremely friendly; it almost scared me. They were open and always willing to help. From this openness, I felt less confused and hateful about people in general. They didn't give me the feeling that they were trying to belittle me, and they never discouraged me. I even became good friends with the office manager! This was mad, crazy! But it was an eye-opener. The students who I thought would be enemies turned out to be just confused, young adults like me. Before I was wrapped up in my own racist ways, which were blinding me from seeing into other's hearts. Finally I learned to let my hate die, along with my bottled-up rage. I now know that there is a higher power than myself and pray to heaven to make me a stronger person. Let me be strong enough to make my enemies friends, and make my eyes and heart open to the truth. Lord stop the pain. Now I see that we have all been misjudged as being no good by the mistakes we've made in the past. All we need is support and guidance toward our dreams and I feel this school will help us do that. c