Margot went to Holland in December, and I followed in February, when Iwas plunked down on the table as a birthday present for Margot.I started right away at the Montessori nursery school. I stayed there until Iwas six, at which time I started first grade. In sixth grade my teacher wasMrs. Kuperus, the principal. At the end of the year we were both in tears aswe said a heartbreaking farewell, because Id been accepted at the JewishLyceum, where Margot also went to school.Our lives were not without anxiety, since our relatives in Germany weresuffering under Hitlers anti-Jewish laws. After the pogroms in 1938 my twouncles (my mothers brothers) fled Germany, finding safe refuge in NorthAmerica. My elderly grandmother came to live with us. She was seventythree years old at the time.After May 1940 the good times were few and far between: first there was thewar, then the capitulation and then the arrival of the Germans, which is whenthe trouble started for the Jews. Our freedom was severely restricted by aseries of anti-Jewish decrees: Jews were required to wear a yellow star; Jewswere required to turn in their bicycles; Jews were forbidden to use street-cars;Jews were forbidden to ride in cars, even their own; Jews were required to dotheir shopping between 3 and 5 P.M.; Jews were required to frequent onlyJewish-owned barbershops and beauty parlors; Jews were forbidden to be outon the streets between 8 P.M. and 6 A.M.; Jews were forbidden to attendtheaters, movies or any other forms of entertainment; Jews were forbidden touse swimming pools, tennis courts, hockey fields or any other athletic fields;Jews were forbidden to go rowing; Jews were forbidden to take part in anyathletic activity in public; Jews were forbidden to sit in their gardens or thoseof their friends after 8 P.M.; Jews were forbidden to visit Christians in theirhomes; Jews were required to attend Jewish schools, etc. You couldnt do thisand you couldnt do that, but life went on. Jacque always said to me, I dontdare do anything anymore, cause Im afraid its not allowed.In the summer of 1941 Grandma got sick and had to have an operation, so mybirthday passed with little celebration. In the summer of 1940 we didnt domuch for my birthday either, since the fighting had just ended in Holland.Grandma died in January 1942. No one knows how often I think of her andstill love her. This birthday celebration in 1942 was intended to make up forthe others, and Grandmas candle was lit along with the rest.The four of us are still doing well, and that brings me to the present date ofJune 20, 1942, and the solemn dedication of my diary.SATURDAY, JUNE 20, 1942Dearest Kitty! Let me get started right away; its nice and quiet now. Fatherand Mother are out and Margot has gone to play Ping-Pong with some otheryoung people at her friend Treess. Ive been playing a lot of Ping-Pongmyself lately.So much that five of us girls have formed a club. Its calledThe Little Dipper Minus Two. A really silly name, but its based on amistake. We wanted to give our club a special name; and because there werefive of us, we came up with the idea of the Little Dipper. We thought itconsisted of five stars, but we turned out to be wrong. It has seven, like theBig Dipper, which explains the Minus Two. Ilse Wagner has a Ping-Pongset, and the Wagners let us play in their big dining room whenever we want.Since we five Ping-Pong players like ice cream, especially in the summer,and since you get hot playing Ping-Pong, our games usually end with a visitto the nearest ice-cream parlor that allows Jews: either Oasis or Delphi.Weve long since stopped hunting around for our purses or money — most ofthe time its so busy in Oasis that we manage to find a few generous youngmen of our acquaintance or an admirer to offer us more ice cream than wecould eat in a week.Youre probably a little surprised to hear me talking about admirers at such atender age. Unfortunately, or not, as the case may be, this vice seems to berampant at our school. As soon as a boy asks if he can bicycle home with meand we get to talking, nine times out of ten I can be sure hell becomeenamored on the spot and wont let me out of his sight for a second. His ardoreventually cools, especially since I ignore his passionate glances and pedalblithely on my way. If it gets so bad that they start rambling on aboutasking Fathers permission, I swerve slightly on my bike, my schoolbagfalls, and the young man feels obliged to get off his bike and hand me thebag, by which time Ive switched the conversation to another topic. These arethe most innocent types. Of course, there are those who blow you kisses ortry to take hold of your arm, but theyre definitely knocking on the wrongdoor. I get off my bike and either refuse to make further use of their companyor act as if Im insulted and tell them in no uncertain terms to go on homewithout me. There you are. Weve now laid the basis for our friendship. Untiltomorrow.Yours, AnneSUNDAY, JUNE 21, 1942Dearest Kitty,Our entire class is quaking in its boots. The reason, of course, is theupcoming meeting in which the teachers decide wholl be promoted to thenext grade and wholl be kept back.Half the class is making bets. G.Z. and I laugh ourselves sick at the two boysbehind us, C.N. and Jacques Kocernoot, who have staked their entire vacationsavings on their bet.From morning to night, its Youre going to pass, No, Im not, Yes, youare, No, Im not. Even G.s pleading glances and my angry outbursts cantcalm them down. If you ask me, there are so many dummies that about aquarter of the class should be kept back, but teachers are the mostunpredictable creatures on earth. Maybe this time theyll be unpredictable inthe right direction for a change. Im not so worried about my girlfriends andmyself.Well make it. The only subject Im not sure about is math. Anyway, all wecan do is wait. Until then, we keep telling each other not to lose heart.I get along pretty well with all my teachers. There are nine of them, sevenmen and two women. Mr. Keesing, the old fogey who teaches math, was madat me for the longest time because I talked so much. After several warnings,he assigned me extra homework. An essay on the subject A Chatterbox. Achatterbox, what can you write about that? Id wbrry about that later, Idecided. I jotted down the assignment in my notebook, tucked it in my bagand tried to keep quiet.That evening, after Id finished the rest of my homework, the note about theessay caught my eye. I began thinking about the subject while chewing thetip of my fountain pen.Anyone could ramble on and leave big spaces between the words, but thetrick was to come up with convincing arguments to prove the necessity oftalking. I thought and thought, and suddenly I had an idea. I wrote the threepages Mr. Keesing had assigned me and was satisfied. I argued that talking isa female trait and that I would do my best to keep it under control, but that Iwould never be able to break myself of the habit, since my mother talked asmuch as I did, if not more, and that theres not much you can do aboutinherited traits.Mr. Keesing had a good laugh at my arguments, but when I proceeded to talkmy way through the next class, he assigned me a second essay. This time itwas supposed to be on An Incorrigible Chatterbox. I handed it in, and Mr.Keesing had nothing to complain about for two whole classes. However,during the third class hed finally had enough. Anne Frank, as punishmentfor talking in class, write an essay entitledQuack, Quack, Quack, said Mistress Chatterback.The class roared. I had to laugh too, though Id ) nearly exhausted myingenuity on the topic of chatterboxes. It was time to come up withsomething else, j something original. My friend Sanne, whos good at poetry,offered to help me write the essay from beginning to end in verse. I jumpedfor joy.Keesing was trying to play a joke on me with this ridiculous subject, but Idmake sure the joke was on him. I finished my poem, and it was beautiful! Itwas about a mother duck and a father swan with three baby ducklings whowere bitten to death by the father because they quacked too much. Luckily,Keesing took the joke the right way. He read the poem to the class, adding hisown comments, and to several other classes as well. Since then Ive beenallowed to talk and havent been assigned any extra homework. On thecontrary, Keesings always i making jokes these days.Yours, AnneWEDNESDAY, JUNE 24, 1942Dearest Kitty,Its sweltering. Everyone is huffing and puffing, and in this heat I have towalk everywhere. Only now do I realize how pleasant a streetcar is, but weJews are no longer allowed to make use of this luxury; our own two feet aregood enough for us. Yesterday at lunchtime I had an appointment with thedentist on Jan Luykenstraat. Its a long way from our school onStadstimmertuinen. That afternoon I nearly fell asleep at my desk.Fortunately, people automatically offer you something to drink. The dentalassistant is really kind.The only mode of transportation left to us is the ferry.The ferryman at Josef Israelkade took us across when we asked him to. Itsnot the fault of the Dutch that we Jews are having such a bad time.I wish I didnt have to go to school. My bike was stolen during Eastervacation, and Father gave Mothers bike to some Christian friends forsafekeeping. Thank goodness summer vacation is almost here; one moreweek and our torment will be over.Something unexpected happened yesterday morning. As I was passing thebicycle racks, I heard my name being called. I turned around and there wasthe nice boy Id met the evening before at my friend Wilmas. Hes Wilmassecond cousin. I used to think Wilma was nice, which she is, but all she evertalks about is boys, and that gets to be a bore. He came toward me, somewhatshyly, and introduced himself as Hello Silberberg. I was a little surprised andwasnt sure what he wanted, but it didnt take me long to find out. He asked ifI would allow him to accompany me to school. As long as youre headedthat way, Ill go with you, I said. And so we walked together. Hello issixteen and good at telling all kinds of funny stories.