Gemotions

Sarah meticulously straightened the pens on her desk, each one aligned perfectly with the edge. She hated visitors. Especially on observation days. Her classroom felt like a fishbowl; every movement scrutinized. She knew her students were watching her as she pretended to grade their papers.

A knock. Her stomach lurched. It was Mrs. Gable, the principal. Sarah braced herself.

Mrs. Gable entered, followed by a woman carrying a large, artistically wrapped box. "Sarah, this arrived this morning. A gift for you, from a former student." The woman set the box down with a flourish, smiling expectantly.

Sarah felt a blush creep up her neck. She mumbled a thank you and waited until they left. The box was heavy. Hesitantly, she began to unwrap it, tearing at the decorative paper.

Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was a hand-painted portrait. Her, standing in front of the very same classroom, holding a book, her hair in the same bun she often wore. The artist had captured her expression perfectly. "Thank you for teaching me to see the world," the card read. It was signed, "From Mark, the kid who always doodled in class." Sarah blinked, wiping at her eyes.