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　the　kitchen　table。　at　least　thats　what　they　were　supposed　to　be　doing；　but　more　was　going　into　their　mouths　than　into　the　buckets。　they　were　bound　to　need　another　bucket　soon。　peter　went　back　downstairs；　but　then　the　doorbell　rang　twice。　leaving　the　bucket　where　it　was；　peter　raced　upstairs　and　shut　the　bookcase　behind　him。　we　sat　kicking　our　heels　impatiently；　the　strawberries　were　waiting　to　be　rinsed；　but　we　stuck　to　the　house　rule：　〃no　running　water　when　strangers　are　downstairs　　they　might　hear　the　drains。鈥�

jan　came　up　at　one　to　tell　us　it　had　been　the　mail…　man。　peter　hurried　downstairs　again。　ding…dong。　。　。　the　doorbell；　about…face。　i　listened　to　hear　if　anyone　was　ing；　standing　first　at　the　bookcase；　then　at　the　top　of　the　stairs。　finally　peter　and　i　leaned　over　the　banister；　straining　our　ears　like　a　couple　of　burglars　to　hear　the　sounds　from　downstairs。　no　unfamthar　voices。　peter　tip…　toed　halfway　down　the　stairs　and　called　out；　〃bep！鈥�

once　more：　〃bep！〃　his　voice　was　drowned　out　by　the　racket　in　the　kitchen。　so　he　ran　down　to　the　kitchen　while　i　nervously　kept　watch　from　above。　〃go　upstairs　at　once；　peter；　the　accountants　here；　youve　got　to　leave！〃　it　was　mr。　kuglers　voice。　sighing；　peter　came　upstairs　and　closed　the　bookcase。

mr。　kugler　finally　came　up　at　one…thirty。　〃my　gosh；　the　whole　worlds　turned　to　strawberries。　i　had　strawber…　ries　for　breakfast；　jans　having　diem　for　lunch；　kleimans　eating　them　as　a　snack；　mieps　bothng　them；　beps　hulling　them；　and　i　can　smell　them　everywhere　i　go。　i　e　upstairs　to　get　away　from　all　that　red　and　what　do　i　see？　people　washing　strawberries！鈥�

the　rest　of　the　strawberries　were　canned。　that　evening：　two　jars　came　unsealed。

father　quickly　turned　them　into　jam。　the　next　morning：　two　more　lids　popped　up；　and　that　afternoon：　four　lids。　mr。　van　daan　hadnt　gotten　the　jars　hot　enough　when　he　was　sterthzing　them；　so　father　ended　up　making　jam　every　evening。　we　ate　hot　cereal　with　strawberries；　buttermilk　with　strawberries；　bread　with　strawberries；　strawberries　for　dessert；　straw…　berries　with　sugar；　strawberries　with　sand。　for　two　days　there　was　nothing　but　strawberries；　strawberries；　strawberries；　and　then　our　supply　was　either　exhausted　or　in　jars；　safely　under　lock　and　key。

〃hey；　anne；〃　margot　called　out　one　day；　〃mrs。　van　hoeven　has　let　us　have　some　peas；　twenty　pounds！鈥�

〃thats　nice　of　her；〃　i　replied。　and　it　certainly　was；　but　its　so　much　work。　。　。　ugh！

〃on　saturday；　youve　aji　got　to　shell　peas；〃　mother　announced　at　the　table。

and　sure　enough；　this　morning　after　breakfast　our　biggest　enamel　pan　appeared　on　the　table；　filled　to　the　brim　with　peas。　if　you　think　shelling　peas　is　boring　work；　you　ought　to　try　removing　the　inner　linings。　i　dont　think　many　people　realize　that　once　youve　pulled　out　the　linings；　the　pods　are　soft；　delicious　and　rich　in　vitamins。　but　an　even　greater　advantage　is　that　you　get　nearly　three　times　as　much　as　when　you　eat　just　the　peas。

stripping　pods　is　a　precise　and　meticulous　job　that　might　be　suited　to　pedantic　dentists　or　finicky　spice　experts；　but　its　a　horror　for　an　impatient　teenager　like　me。　we　started　work　at　nine…thirty；　i　sat　down　at　ten…thirty；　got　up　again　at　eleven；　sat　down　again　at　eleven…thirty。　my　ears　were　humming　with　the　following　refrain：　snap　the　end；　strip　the　pod；　pull　the　string；　pod　in　the　pan；　snap　the　end；　strip　the　pod；　pull　the　string；　pod　in　the　pan；　etc。；　etc。　my　eyes　were　swimming：　green；　green；　worm；　string；　rotten　pod；　green；　green。　to　fight　the　boredom　and　have　something　to　do；　i　chattered　all　morn…　ing；　saying　whatever　came　into　my　head　and　making　everyone　laugh。　the　monotony　was　killing　me。　every　string　i　pulled　made　me　more　certain　that　i　never；　ever；　want　to　be　just　a　housewife！

at　twelve　we　finally　ate　breakfast；　but　from　twelve…thirty　to　one…fifteen　we　had　to　strip　pods　again。　when　i　stopped；　i　felt　a　bit　seasick；　and　so　did　the　others。　i　napped　until　four；　still　in　a　daze　because　of　those　wretched　peas。

yours；　anne　

m。　frank

saturday；　july　15；1944

dearest　kitty；

weve　received　a　book　from　the　library　with　the　challenging　title　what　do　you　think　of　the　modern　young　girl？　id　like　to　discuss　this　subject　today。

the　writer　criticizes　〃todays　youth〃　from　head　to　toe；　though　without　dismissing　them　all　as　〃hopeless　cases。〃　on　the　contrary；　she　believes　they　have　it　within　their　power　to　build　a　bigger；　better　and　more　beautiful　world；　but　that　they　occupy　themselves　with　superficial　things；　without　giving　a　thought　to　true　beauty。　in　some　passages　i　had　the　strong　feeling　that　the　writer　was　directing　her　disapproval　at　me；　which　is　why　i　finally　want　to　bare　my　soul　to　you　and　defend　myself　against　this　attack。

i　have　one　outstanding　character　trait　that　must　be　obvious　to　anyone　whos　known　me　for　any　length　of　time：　i　have　a　great　deal　of　self…knowledge。　in　everything　i　do；　i　can　watch　myself　as　if　i　were　a　stranger。　i　can　stand　c　across　from　the　everyday　anne　and；　without　being　biased　or　making　excuses；　watch　what　shes　doing；　both　the　good　and　the　bad。　this　self…awareness　never　leaves　me；　and　every　time　i　open　my　mouth；　i　think；　〃you　should　have　said　that　differently〃　or　〃thats　fine　the　way　it　is。〃　i　condemn　myself　in　so　many　ways　that　im　beginning　to　realize　the　truth　of　fathers　adage：　〃every　child　has　to　raise　itself。〃　parents　can　only　advise　their　children　or　point　them　in　the　right　direction。　ultimately；　people　shape　their　own　characters。　in　addition；　i　face　life　with　an　extraordinary　amount　of　courage。　i　feel　so　strong　and　capable　of　bearing　burdens；　so　young　and　free！　when　i　first　realized　this；　i　was　glad；　because　it　means　i　can　more　easily　withstand　the　blows　life　has　in　store。

but　ive　talked　about　these　things　so　often。　now　id　like　to　turn　to　the　chapter　〃father　and　mother　dont　understand　me。〃　my　parents　have　always　spoiled　me　rotten；　treated　me　kindly；　defended　me　against　the　van　daans　and　done　all　that　parents　can。　and　yet　for　the　longest　time　ive　felt　extremely　lonely；　left　out；　neglected　and　misunderstood。

father　did　everything　he　could　to　curb　my　rebellious　spirit；　but　it　was　no　use。　ive　cured　myself　by　holding　my　behavior　up　to　the　light　and　looking　at　what　i　was　doing　wrong。

why　didnt　father　support　me　in　my　struggle？　why　did　he　fall　short　when　he　tried　to　offer　me　a　helping　hand？　the　answer　is：　he　used　the　wrong　methods。　he　always　talked　to　me　as　if　i　were　a　child　going　through　a　difficult　phase。　it　sounds　crazy；　since　fathers　the　only　one　whos　given　me　a　sense　of　confidence　and　made　me　feel　as　if　im　a　sensible　person。　but　he　overlooked　one　thing：　he　failed　to　see　that　this　struggle　to　triumph　over　my　difficulties　was　more　important　to　me　than　anything　else。

i　didnt　want　to　hear　about　〃typical　adolescent　problems；〃　or　〃other　girls；〃　or　〃youll　grow　out　of　it。〃　i　didnt　want　to　be　treated　the　same　as　all…the…other…girls；　but　as　anne…in…her…own…right；　and　rim　didnt　understand　that。　besides；　i　cant　confide　in　anyone　unless　they　tell　me　a　lot　about　themselves；　and　because　i　know　very　little　about　him；　i　cant　get　on　a　more　intimate　footing。　rim　always　acts　like　the　elderly　father　who　once　had　the　same　fleeting　im…　pulses；　but　who　can　no　longer　relate　to　me　as　a　friend；　no　matter　how　hard　he　tries。　as　a　result；　ive　never　shared　my　outlook　on　life　or　my　long…pondered　theories　with　anyone　but　my　diary　and；　once　in　a　while；　margot。　ive　hid　any…　thing　having　to　do　with　me　from　father；　never　shared　my　ideals　with　him；　deliberately　alienated　myself　from　him。

i　couldnt　have　done　it　any　other　way。　ive　let　myself　be　guided　entirely　by　my　feelings。　it　was　egotistical；　but　ive　done　what　was　best　for　my　own　peace　of　mind。　i　would　lose　that；　plus　the　self…confidence　ive　worked　so　hard　to　achieve；　if　i　were　to　be　subjected　to　criticism　halfway　through　the　job。　it　may　sound　hard…hearted；　but　i　cant　take　criticism　from　rim　either；　because　not　only　do　i　never　share　my　innermost　thoughts　with　him；　but　ive　pushed　him　even　further　away　by　being　irritable。

this　is　a　point　i　think　about　quite　often：　why　is　it　that　rim　annoys　me　so　much　sometimes？　i　can　hardly　bear　to　have　him　tutor　me；　and　his　affection　seems　forced。　i　want　to　be　left　alone；　and　id　rather　he　ignored　m