By Vikki Gonzalez, 15

“On a typical day at Fairfax High School last year, I arrived at school at 8:30 a.m. I was 30 minutes late but hey, I didn’t care. I decided I’d go to first period (Education Career Planning) with Ms. Kagen and that was a mistake. I entered the room feeling no one could put me down ’cause I was in high school now. Besides, I had friends who were the same way. Ms. Kagen (logically) was upset and made a comment that basically summed up my ninth grade year: “Why’d you bother coming?”
I was humiliated but I shrugged off her comment, trying to seem indifferent to her words. I went to the bathroom to wait for the second period bell—homeroom. Homeroom was important to me because if I didn’t check in, they’d call my house and my parents would know I was ditching. Besides, I enjoyed tennis because all my so-called friends were there. Don’t get me wrong. I had fun kickin’ it with them, but now that I have to repeat my ninth grade year, I know it wasn’t worth it.
Overall, my year at Fairfax wasn’t completely wasted. I met my best friend, two teachers impacted my life and I learned that I must trust myself before I can trust anyone else. For all the people who told me I wouldn’t succeed, I am determined to prove them wrong. I don’t blame just Fairfax and my “friends.” I played the biggest part in my failure. I was weak-minded and naive.

I loved two of my teachers
If there was one class I didn’t ditch, it was English with Mr. Gee. There should be more teachers like Mr. Gee. He made his class fun and educational. He not only served me as a teacher but helped me when I didn’t know what to do with my life.
My other favorite teacher was Mr. Gomez, my Spanish teacher. He taught me to never let someone take advantage of me. He’d say, “You’ve got a brain, girl, use it!” He made me realize there was more to my life than a baby and a boyfriend. He had these posters in his classroom all about prevention. One had a picture of a condom that said, Si te quiere, te cuida (If he loves you, he’ll take care of you). Most girls in my Spanish class were afraid to speak (afraid of what? I don’t know) so the guys participated more, and of course I did. Gomez has retired now, but I still talk to him, just to let him know how much I appreciate his wisdom.
Now algebra was completely different story. If there was one class I never attended it was algebra. I hated math, I hated school and most of all I hated the teacher. He was the type you see in movies, the kind of teacher with a dragging voice. When I did go to his class, he always managed to make me feel stupid and humiliated, which only made me want to ditch even more.
When I ditched, my friends and I want to places that were worth getting caught. We took “public transportation.” You got it—MTA—something my overprotective mother would never approve of. We hit the usual places around Fairfax—the mall, Melrose Ave., etc. When we were feeling really rebellious, we went to Long Beach, Universal City Walk, Santa Monica or Lynwood, to name a few. All along I knew I was missing school but I thought, “Ah, what the heck. I’ll make it up on Saturdays or in summer school.” (Sure!)
Ditching led to my problems with the attendance office. When you’re absent you need a PRC to get back into class. Every day I’d fake a parent’s letter saying I was sick. But sometimes they wouldn’t take the letter, especially after my mom went up there to talk to them. I hated those three ladies with a passion. They always had an attitude. I felt like saying, “Hey, it’s not my fault you ended up with a crummy job!” One time I didn’t have a pen. I asked one of the attendance ladies if I could borrow hers. She said, “No, go to your class and get one.” But I couldn’t go to the class until I had the PRC, and I couldn’t get the PRC without a pen. I was like, “Whoa, she’s psycho!” and I just left.

Things are different this year
Mr. Gomez’ wisdom, Fairfax’ negligence and the influence of my friends taught me that there’s only one person I can depend on—me. I incorporated this thought into my heart as I opened the door to my new school, my new life.
My Catholic school begins at 8:10 and I get there at 7:40 a.m. and I actually stay until school over. I attend each class, more attentive and enthusiastic than I’ve even been since the 4th grade. I’ve only been absent two times due to a kidney infection. I feel so good about my life now, being a great student, a good daughter and most of all having some experience in what is known as life.
Every addict feels temptation at some point in time during recovery. Not so long ago, I felt an urge to ditch. It was a beautiful day. I didn’t have to wear my uniform and there were some fine bald guys on the corner. I leaned against the bars of the fence and remembered the $315 sacrifice my parents make each month and the newfound respect I have for myself. The bell rang and I went to class.
It isn’t always easy like it was that day. Sometimes I get tired of following the rules (parental and school-wise). I start thinking maybe this isn’t me, maybe being bad is who I am. At times I think I’m doing this for my mom, but in reality it makes me happy too. I don’t have to worry about how to get a pass for my class or what to wear (since I wear a uniform). I don’t have to plan where to go ditching or lie to my mom anymore.
As for friends, I have learned to respect my own opinions instead of worrying about how others perceive me. Now I can see who will help me and who will bring me down. I respect my own privacy, too. My friends know my joys, but I keep my fears to myself.
Through it all, old life and new, it has made me a stronger person who I have come to admire.”