I wanted to die. What was I supposed to do? Stand up and wave? Tell her thank you? Smile? I shrunk down in my chair, gave her a fake smile, and stared at my notebook the remainder of class. I still liked her as a teacher and found her class easy, but dreaded my seat and the attention she’d drawn to me. I appreciated the compliment on my work, but the whole situation just made me feel even more insecure. But I knew she meant well, so I didn’t have any hard feelings toward her.

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