I’m 22 now, and lately I’ve been reflecting on my high school years. One memory that keeps resurfacing is the unusual dynamic I had with one of my teachers.
He was young—just 24 at the time—and had that geeky, endearing charm. He joined my school the same year I turned 14. I always sat at the front of the class, and he would spend most of the lesson kneeling beside my desk. We’d chat about shared interests, exchange bits of gossip, and sometimes he’d even slip me answers to assignments or tests. He often leaned in so close that our faces were only inches apart. His compliments seemed harmless then—remarks about my hair, my laugh, little things that made me feel noticed.
But over time, I began to sense a shift. He started kneeling in ways that brought him uncomfortably close, his thigh brushing against my legs. If I tried to move, he would simply adjust to close the gap again. Sometimes he’d stand behind me, bracing his hands on either side so I couldn’t move, whispering answers in my ear.
Other students grew frustrated. They noticed he spent nearly all his attention on me, and some even failed because of it. Eventually, a friend asked if I was alright, pointing out how often he stared at me in class and even in the hallways.
At the same time, he was also incredibly kind. He supported me during panic attacks, tutored me outside of class, and was there when my sister was hospitalized. Those gestures made me feel cared for, even cherished.
Then came smaller, stranger behaviors. He’d drop his pen in front of my desk repeatedly—our uniforms required skirts, so it felt deliberate. He defended me whenever classmates teased me, and when I was upset, he’d rest his hand on my leg as if to comfort me. My friends disliked him intensely, but I adored the attention.
Looking back now, I realize how conflicted I felt. At the time, I thought he was simply sweet, but as an adult, I can’t shake the uneasy feeling that lingers.
To clarify, I was 14—not 16 as I once mistakenly wrote. He encouraged me to get a fake ID so I could join him at a club. He grew angry whenever I mentioned other boys. He would sneak out to buy us nicer lunches, since I was on free school meals, and we’d eat together. He even asked if I wanted to meet up after I graduated.
By my final year, he offered to buy me alcohol for prom, since I was still underage by a few months. At the time, it all felt flattering, like I was special. Now, I’m left wondering: was it something real, or was it all in my head?
