BACKGROUND: On her 13^th birthday, Anne Frank received a journal from her father. Every day in the Secret Annex, hiding from the Nazis, Anne would write to "Kitty." Little did she know that after her death, millions of copies of her innermost thoughts would be published in over 40 languages.

TASK:  Write in your journal on a regular basis (3-4 times a week).  This is a place for your reflections and questions about the material we'll read, view, and discuss during the Holocaust unit.  You may also draw or add artifacts to your journal.

STUDENT EXAMPLES:  Click HERE to read examples of entries

_______ (15)   Complete sentences in legible handwriting

_______ (75)   Minimum 15 dated thoughtful entries (100 word minimum)

Sample entries

April 9, 04    It’s difficult to categorize a person like Anne Frank. In the beginning, she comes across as being ill-mannered, high strung, spoiled, and almost… irritating. She would mimic Mrs. Van Daan, and drive Peter out of his mind and she always seemed to get exasperated by her mother for no reason (by any means). But then, she comes across as being an upbeat, intelligent, and philanthropic person, for instance, when she made all those gifts for everyone.
     Then in the second half of the book, you really see that side of her. She’s serious about war, her diary entries seem to get more and more genuine with each day, and she’s much more considerate around Peter. But then again, this diary has two years worth of entries in it so she grows a lot. I nearly forgot that.
     But still… How can someone change so much in just a few years? It doesn’t make sense… Could it be the war causing her to grow so quickly? Or is it just the confines of that minimal space driving her to the point of being neutral? Who knows? I don’t: probably never will.
     So, I guess I’ll classify her as being young woman (really a child) with a foolish side but also a wisdom and perception surrounding her like no other. How else could classify ANNE FRANK? I can’t think of any other way.

April 10, 04     My eyes scanned the pages as my head began to droop and my fingers elevate to turn to the next page. A yawn then escaped my mouth and I thought, “Dang… I’m so tired. Why do I even bother? Who cares about Anne Frank (she’s just another kid), ‘Pim’ (talk about a stupid nickname), Peter, Mr. the-Dentist-dude (what ever his name is), or Meip or Mr. and Mrs. what ever…blah blah blah!! I don’t care...!”
     I rolled my eyes, snapped the book shut and placed it on the table next to my bed. *Sigh*
     Just then, my eyes cracked open with such an enormous force I though I had ripped my eyelids… my blood had run cold as I realized something. Everyone that I read about in that book, all those people I seemed to grow close to but at the same time grew bored with… they weren’t alive. They didn’t make it. Anne…
     “Anne Frank died in a concentration camp two weeks before her sixteenth birthday and four weeks before her camp was liberated…” Mrs. Hebert’s words echoed in my mind.
     I sat up stiffly: my eyes widened and I grimaced at the thought. I was awake. Standing up, I walked over to my book and picked it up. And, for some reason, I held it with greater care than before. It had more meaning now.