Ugh. Another interview assignment. My one teacher really loves those, and keeps telling us we are learning in real life and not just on a screen. She’s probably right, but sometimes I wish she’d come up with another way to get us off our screens. I mean, how many interviews with old people can one person do in a typical school year?

I don’t mind them, not so much. I actually love visiting the old dears, they are usually so sweet, and even the grumpy ones are kind of funny. It’s just the logistics of it all. We have to schedule our time, to make sure there aren’t too many of us showing up at the home at one time. If you don’t get on the list early, you’re likely to have to show up at, like, oh-dark-thirty or before ten in the morning. Which is good for the old dears, because they’re up anyway. But it’s better to catch them right after their lunch, which they eat around the time I’m usually having breakfast, because then they are relaxed and comfortable, plus you don’t have to set an alarm.

The logistics, and the writing. This teacher really likes the tear-jerkers, and sometimes the old dears tell stories that just aren’t sad. Or even all that interesting. Then, the writing is tough. You have to come up with something to please the teacher but make sure it sounds like an old dear telling it. I’ve gotten kind of good at it this year, which scares me just a little. 

I mean, I’m fifteen. Should I really be this skilled at creating disinformation? 

That’s a joke, mostly. My teacher says disinformation is a dirty word, so I probably shouldn’t joke about it that way. 

But, you know. If we can’t laugh about it, then we’re doomed, right? 

So I call the home, and I’m lucky, because there’s a slot available right after they serve lunch. I grab an early breakfast (lucky again, there’s one bottle of my favorite smoothie in the fridge, with the immune boost my mom says I need to go outside), put on my outdoor mask, throw my indoor mask in my backpack, and head out. 

More luck: air quality is moderate today. I won’t be wheezing by the time I get there.