Gemotions

The sunlight streaming through the kitchen window seemed overly bright, making Sarah squint. Her son, Ethan, had declared this morning that Mrs. Peterson was his teacher. A smile stretched across his face as he talked about how "cool" she was. Sarah felt a constriction in her chest, a squeezing that stole her breath.

Mrs. Peterson. The woman who'd always favoured the “gifted” children. The one who'd ignored Sarah's shy pleas for help, assuming she was just "not trying hard enough." Sarah remembered the feeling of being invisible, of being inadequate.

She started to rub her temples, a dull ache beginning to form. She felt a growing sense of dread, the expectation that Ethan would face the same judgements that had coloured her own school days.