Who am I?

August 6, 2154

Dear diary,

After American History today, Mrs. Meyer asked me to stay for a “quick chat.”

I was slightly taken aback, since just Monday she had been looking straight through me. I stayed nonetheless. What else could I have done?

When I walked up to her desk, she asked how I was doing. I told her I was doing well, and asked how she was. “I’m… well, actually, Sophia, I’m not doing that well.” “Oh?” “Yes, I actually had a conference this morning with my boss, Mr. Hurt – your principal,” she added, as if I didn’t know that. “Oh yes,” she continued, apparently assuming my raised eyebrows were shock and not skepticism. “Apparently, there are some parents who don’t want me teaching here. Can you imagine why, Sophia?” “Um… no…” I didn’t really know what to say. It’s not as if it was bad for a teacher to stop for a few seconds in a lesson. Maybe I had done something that had just caught her attention. My stomach may have rumbled or something. “I can’t imagine why, Mrs. Meyer.” “That’s what I thought.” She smiled. “See, Sophia, we’re friends, right? I just told you something about me that I didn’t tell anyone else.” I nodded. “Okay?” “Now, remember Sophia, you can tell me things too, if you want. I’m always open for a conversation with my students.” She smiled, and although I wanted believe it was fake, it did seem rather genuine.

I just told her that I would definitely remember that, and I left to go to lunch.

Does she think I would really do that, though? Why would I talk to some random teacher who just appeared out of nowhere? She’s weird, and she kind of scares me. There is no chance of me voluntarily giving her personal information – ever.

She is very nice, though. I’ll tell my mom that. Maybe she won’t worry so much.

            -Sophia