21 March 1889

Oww… it still hurts when I sit. The red slap marks are still embedded in my skin… well let me start from the beginning of how I became ‘injured’.
School hasn’t been going so well lately. Right now we are learning to comprehend readings in class. English has not been my best subject, so school is a nightmare. The teacher thinks that I don’t participate enough in class, but the real situation here is that she just doesn’t call on me when I do volunteer in class… its like my hand is invisible to his eyes. What am I suppose to do, jump up and down in my seat so that the teacher can see me?- that would be considered disrespectful.
Back to what I was saying, two days ago in class, my teacher called on me and said, “May," that's my American Name, only my relatives call me by my Chinese name, "what do you think the author was trying to tell us? What is the moral?”
I paused for a moment. Honestly, I didn’t know what to say because I wasn’t really paying attention in class. I was too busy trying to keep an eye on the Japanese girl two seats on the side of me, the girl doesn’t talk much but she is evil-I can see it in her eyes, I just don’t know when she is going to make her move. So, as I was trying to come up with an excuse and whispered under my breath, “Shoots.” The teacher must have bad hearing and bad vocabulary because the next couple of words he said I did not understand. But I did understand his feeling through his actions. He pulled me to the front of the class and made me sit in the corner. Then, I saw him pick up the phone on his teacher’s desk and call someone. Didn’t know who it was until my mom came barging into the classroom, if she were an ox I bet everyone would be able to see steam coming out from each ear. My mom apologized to the teacher and kept bowing to him… why was she sorry, I didn’t do anything wrong? Then, she took me by the hand and escorted me out. The whole bus ride home, she didn’t even look or touch me. When we arrived at our apartment, she slammed the door shut and little did I know it, all hell was about to break loose.
"What's wrong with you, did I teach you no good manners? Don't ever speak to your teacher like that."
"I don't know what you are talking about Mama."
"Don't lie. Now I have a rude and dishonest child. What am I going to do with you?"
"I am a good child."
"A good child does not say the S#@% word. Now go to the outside and wait."
Well, I have only two words that can sum up the rest of this story, Double Punishment. My arms is too tired to explain the rest of the tale- its probably too brutal to even write in words.