Gemotions

"Is this a joke?" Sarah muttered under her breath, staring at the class roster. Her son, Ethan, would have Mrs. Peterson for first grade. *The* Mrs. Peterson. Sarah could practically feel her cheeks burning with the old familiar shame. She remembered the teacher's icy gaze, her constant criticisms, the way she made Sarah feel utterly inadequate.

She crumpled the registration form in her hand, the paper crackling in the otherwise silent room. She thought of calling the school and demanding a change. But what good would it do? It was probably her fault anyway. She had been a difficult child. Still, the thought of her son under Mrs. Peterson's critical scrutiny sent a shiver down her spine.

She felt a wave of nausea, the room spinning slightly. She took a deep, steadying breath. She had to remain calm, but inside, a familiar knot of dread tightened. This felt like a cruel twist of fate.