When I caught my son mocking the school janitor, I thought forcing him to do the man’s work would teach him humility. But what started as a simple punishment soon uncovered secrets from my past and led me to a truth that changed our family forever. For years, I believed I was doing everything right.
Teaching at school was more than just a job to me.
It was a chance to remind young people that grades were not the only thing that defined them. Character did.
Through the novels and poems I broughtinto the classroom, I tried to show them the difference between kindness and cruelty, between dignity and shame. I repeated these lessons at home as well, determined that my son, Ethan, would grow into someone who respected others yet never let himself be disrespected.
When I got the chance to teach at a private school, and Ethan earned a scholarship to attend, I couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride.
No bills ever arrived at our door, no tuition statements. The school assured me the scholarship covered everything, and I believed them. It felt like everything I’d done had led to this moment.
Yet somewhere, something had gone wrong.
That afternoon, I walked through the school’s polished hallways, carrying a stack of essays. The chatter of students filled the air, but then I heard a louder sound, a burst of laughter that made me pause.
When I rounded the corner, my stomach dropped. A group of students stood around Mr.
Collins, the janitor, jeering, clapping, tossing cruel words his way.
And at the very center of it, laughing the loudest, was Ethan. “Look at him! He’s nothing!
Just some nobody who can’t do anything except wash the floors.”
Mr.
Collins kept his head down and continued to scrub, shoulders hunched as if he had grown used to being invisible. “Enough!” I screamed.
The crowd froze. “Everyone who took part in this stays after school.
This behavior is unacceptable.”
Murmurs of protest rippled through them.
Jason sneered, “My dad will have you fired for this.”
Mia crossed her arms and said, “Our parents will deal with you.”
“This is not a negotiation,” I snapped. Slowly, grudgingly, the students scattered. I turned to walk away, but a loud splash stopped me.
I spun back to see Mr.
Collins’s bucket tipped over, water spreading across the tiles. Ethan stood beside it, smirking faintly.
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