This is for you.

I traveled back to my old high school to watch my brother play in his basketball games. I knew going back to the school would be somewhat difficult but I would just go back on my merry way. I was mistaken. Going back to that high school was not remincising on the lunch room gossip (there wasn't any), the classroom discussions or the just plain simple fact that I was in school. The reminiscing was of that little girl. Me.

The little girl who was only four years younger than me seems so very far away. Far away in the way she responded, to her outward world, to herself. Writing this book is even more of a reflection of that pain. Everytime I ask myself "Why am I writing this?" "Is this book going to make an impact?" I remind myself of her. To all the teachers who are somewhat blindsided with the society of the public school system. This is why. I am pursuing a transformation of the worst moments into moments of triumph. Moments of expressing my voice that I just now have begun to speak. My story is not a shameful story. My story is written all over those walls. Every hallway I walk down, every room I go into tells a story of me.

I will never forget the impact that the public school system that has weighed me down until I couldn't even stand up. I will never forget the pain, the little girl who seems very different to me. I am writing this book to remind others and myself that from every scar there is a story.

A story that needs to be told. Somebody needs to hear it. I am proud of how far I have come yet sad for my younger self. For the first time I am beginning to feel sympathy and compassion for the little girl who was me. This is me. I am not ashamed anymore. This is for you little girl, who had the voice of just an utter whisper.

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