The weekend passed slowly, a stretch of time that felt both endless and fleeting. I kept my phone close, waiting for a message from my daughter, from Mrs. Ellis, from anyone who could shed light on the situation. But the phone remained silent, the absence of communication echoing the growing void in my understanding.
On Monday, I decided to take a different approach. I called the school, requesting a meeting with my daughter’s teachers, hoping to piece together the fragments of information I had. The meeting was set for the following day, and though I felt a sense of relief, it was tinged with apprehension.
