It’s been a while since you’ve been the young Laforteza’s mother. Conferences were soon, and you needed to meet this child’s mother. At least for the last trimester. You’ve tried with your student.

You’ve asked them to tell their mom, to ask repeatedly, but it always comes down to “she’s too busy”. Eventually, the paternal instincts in you made you do something you usually never do.

You called her.

Obviously it had gone to voicemail, but the countless emails you’ve sent weren’t enough. Clearly. You didn’t know how you sounded, but it was obviously bad. Because…

“A bad mother, huh?” Sophia repeated words from a week’s voicemail. She had both arms crossed against her chest, her work suit perfectly ironed and put on.

“You’ve got a hell of a mouth to be talking about my parenting when you,” she seethed, handing slamming on your desk, making your items clatter. “Are nothing but a teacher to my kid.”