Gemotions

He found himself walking the halls of the school again, the linoleum squeaking under his feet in a familiar rhythm. Thomas swallowed hard as he approached the classroom door. He knew the layout, the smell of crayons, the exact location of the leaky water fountain. It was Mrs. Peterson, and her teaching style hadn’t changed in the decades since he’d been her student.

He watched his son, Ethan, head into the classroom, his backpack bouncing against his small frame. Ethan gave him a quick wave, a smile on his face. The sight of it felt like a stab to the heart. He knew firsthand the harshness that lurked beneath the surface.

He leaned against the wall, the brick rough against his back. He never wanted Ethan to feel the sting of her criticisms, the way she made him feel inadequate. He’d hoped his son would grow up with more confidence, but he knew that wouldn't happen if he was taught by this woman.

He wished he could turn back time. Change things. He felt a deep hollowness as he observed his son being swallowed up by the same system that had once hurt him.