Gemotions

He stared at the email notification, his jaw locked. The subject line: "Welcome to Mr. Finch's class!" His hand tightened into a fist. Mr. Finch. The man who had once described him as "a diamond in the rough, forever buried beneath a mountain of apathy."

He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. He could feel the familiar weight of self-doubt. The way Mr. Finch had made him feel like an underperforming failure.

He read the email again, a slow, deliberate read. He pictured the classroom, the dusty smell of books. A wave of bitterness washed over him. He felt an intense urge to protect his son from the same scrutiny.