The cycle repeated itself in the following days. Each report from school bore Connors’ signature, each note another bruise against Diane’s record. Carol wondered if teachers realized how much power they wielded—or if they cared. History, it seemed, had a cruel way of looping back.
By midweek, Diane’s patience snapped. She tossed her backpack across the room and shouted, “Why bother trying if they already hate me?” Carol flinched at the words, recognizing her daughter’s despair wrapped in defiance. She wanted to argue, but guilt silenced her. She had no easy answer.