"How quaint¿or is this kind of lame?" thought Lee Knapp after she half-heartedly returned to teach history at her old public high school. But because her private history was in a state of upheaval, it seemed she had no choice. In her entertaining memoir, I'm History¿but do I repeat myself?, recently retired teacher Lee Knapp recounts the effects that the entirely new population she found on her old familiar campus had on her life. As a metaphor of America itself, her once nearly all-white alma mater-outside the former capital of the Confederacy, Richmond, Virginia no less- was now majority-minority. It also boasted being one of the most diverse in the state, a state that led the Massive Resistance movement in the fifties to prevent this very thing from ever happening. With deftness and humor, Knapp explores how her return expanded, if not exploded, many of the personal identities she began constructing after graduating in America's bicentennial year: her defining evangelicalism; her suburban values; and her romanticized preoccupation with her Southern heritage and maternal grandmother who never once questioned the extralegal justice of a town lynching. Into this reexamination, Knapp engagingly weaves in moments from big history that, as Twain reminds us, may not repeat, but certainly rhyme. This also rings true in the course of her personal history: from idealistic newlywed twenty-something to disoriented newly divorced fifty-something. Disoriented, that is, until Knapp's personal life was also reconstructed on that campus by a totally unforeseen, second-chance romance with a colleague. Without didacticism, but with a nod to the indispensable value of public education, I'm History ponders the battle between hope and fear throughout America's-and her own-history of race and religion. And Knapp, after a couple of decades of hanging around young people, comes down clearly on the right side, the hopeful side, of history.