I canít believe what happened at school today. We didnít have to dress down for gym class, because we were just playing Ping-Pong and stuff like that. I was glad we didnít have to dress down because I hate those ugly one-piece outfits we have to wear. But, anyway, I was sitting on the floor waiting my turn for something and Ruth was sitting next to me. All of sudden she looked at me and said, ďYouíre socks donít match your shirt. Donít you know youíre supposed to wear socks that are the same color as your shirt?Ē
What could I say? No I didnít know that. I wished the gym floor had opened up and let me crawl into it. I was mortified! Who cares if my socks donít match my shirt? Uppity Ruth, thatís who. Good grief.
I feel like a real dweeb. Now everyone is gonna be looking at my socks to see if they match my shirt. I donít want to care, but I do. Itís so hard to fit in. I hate it.
November 29, 1975
Today was picture day. I was all excited until I got made fun of for what I was wearing. I wore that really pretty dress from the Garber girls. I love hand-me-downs and they always have such pretty things to give me.
The short-sleeved dress I chose for pictures looks like crushed velvet. Itís kind of purply-pink. It has 3 white stripes going down the chest with tiny flowers on them. The skirt falls just below my knees.
I couldnít do much with my hair, since itís short right now, but it looked pretty good, kind of wavy.
This dress is so prettyÖ at least I thought so until today. As I sashayed down the hallway, feeling oh so feminine and alive, Sherry, who used to be a good friend in 6th grade walked by and in a real snotty voice said to me, ďWho do you think you are, a princess?Ē
Why would she say something like that to me? I walked on past her, going a bit faster. I had to get to the restroom so I could cry. Iím glad my picture had already been taken. I wouldnít look too cool with my face all red.
When I got home from school I stuffed that dress clear in the back of my closet. Iíll never wear it again. I think Iíll stick to wearing jeans and shirtsÖ it hurts too much to try and be feminine.
December 1 1975
I canít believe I havenít written about Ms. Schroeder yet. She is the neatest teacher I have ever had! Sheís my Core teacher and I just like her so much. She makes me feel soooo special, like Iím really something.
Today at the start of class, I went to sit down in my chair and Jimmy pulled my chair out from under meÖ I fell hard to the floor and oh! that hurt so bad. Ms. Schroeder let Jimmy have it but goodÖ but she didnít do it in a mean or hard way, she just gently talked to him. She is sooo cool.
We keep journals in her class and we can write whatever we want. She reads them and writes comments. She makes me feel like I really have something to sayÖ likeÖ every word is important.
This year is gonna be all right with Ms. Schroederís class to look forward to every day. The one bright spot in this sea of turmoil. I never knew being a teen was gonna be so hard.
Gotta scoot for now Ė Momís calling me to supper.
December 2, 1975
Half the time I donít even know what Iím thinking or doing. Who knew that being 14 would be so rough? I feel like Iím this princess stuck in a little girlís body and have no idea how to be a princess. So much of the time I just feel like crying. My mind swirls with all these thoughts, hopes and dreams.
I have all this stuff inside of me begging to get out, but I really donít think anyone wants to listen to meÖ Iím glad I have you to talk to and that I can write in my journal for Ms. Schroeder. She never laughs at me or calls me stupid. I guessÖ sheís safe. And thatís what I need to feel right nowÖ safe.
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be! TRUST JESUS NOW
Read more articles by Pamela Kliewer or search for articles on the same topic or others.
Thank you for sharing your life/diary entries as a teenager in the 1970s.
It's quite an emotional flashback to being a teenager.
Thank for the honesty, for be willing to share your feelings and your emotions so honestly in the pages of your diary.
Just a note: This was not my diary from the 1970s... this was written fresh for the challenge... but then I forgot to submit it or did go to submit and hit preview and thought I had... anyway... thank you for the comments so far. :) I appreciate them.
Your piece nailed it...that feeling that many teens have that is so hard to put into words. Being extra-sensitive, especially about what a peer says or does.
This thinking makes me more in tune with my 3 grandsons, 13, 14, 16.