![]() My dad was extremely afraid of COVID-19 early in the pandemic. She loved her cage and scurrying into the pink castle inside. I filled my diary with entries about her progress. Hershey didn’t fuss or coo in discomfort like she usually does when someone new holds her. She cooed happily in my arms, cocking her head from side to side, as I asked my mom, “Mama, do you want to hold her?” Before my mom could respond, I put Hershey in her hands. When I brought Hershey home, I covered her until we entered my apartment, then I took her out of her cage. ![]() You know the rules.” I nodded and emailed Mr. I thought my mom would say no, but I begged and pleaded for a whole week until, finally, she said, “This will be the only time, Israa. Then, spring break rolled around and someone needed to take Hershey home with them. As long as I focused on myself and Hershey, I would be OK. Even though I still didn’t like the teachers or how small and gloomy the building was, I began to realize that I wouldn’t be stuck in middle school forever. I even spent more time with my friends and began to make new ones. I knew that if my grades slipped or if I came to school late too many times, I’d lose the privilege of taking care of Hershey. Meanwhile, because I had Hershey’s company to look forward to every day, I was more motivated at school. Speaking up for Hershey made me more comfortable speaking up for myself. If someone had said something like that to me, I would’ve probably ignored them. Once, my algebra teacher said that Hershey looked like a dirty street rat. When she needed more food or her nails clipped, I spoke up on her behalf to Mr. She was becoming more social and enjoyed being carried around upright, her stomach on mine. ![]() Franks never officially renamed her Hershey, over time, everyone began calling her that, and she became the pet I wasn’t able to have at home. Soon, Hershey wasn’t so skinny anymore.Īlthough Mr. The first time I gave her one, I heard a new coo, like cat’s purr. I was the one who used my allowance money to buy her fresh vegetables and fruits. I had scratches all over me, but I was happy to see Hershey so clean. I was the one who gave her her first bath in the girls’ bathroom sink. After all, I was the one cleaning her cage. I thought that since I was the one taking care of her now, I should get to give her a new, more fitting name. Then, I learned that the student who gave her away had already named her Bebe, after the clothing brand. I was happy to give her the love she deserved. I’ve always wanted a pet of my own but my apartment building doesn’t allow pets. “The new guinea pig,” as everyone called her, was skinny, five months old, and had beautiful, long, brown fur with one, singular hair that stuck up straight. She was donated by a student who couldn’t take care of her anymore. Franks, introduced us to a new pet, a guinea pig. One day in seventh grade, our science teacher, Mr. There were snakes, a rabbit, a hedgehog, a tortoise, and a bearded dragon we even had hissing Madagascar cockroaches. ![]() She was quiet, self-conscious, and afraid of not fitting in.īut I loved our class pets. Honestly, I didn’t even like the girl I saw in the mirror. When I started middle school, there were a lot of things I didn’t like. First Person is where Chalkbeat features personal essays by educators, students, parents, and others thinking and writing about public education.
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