"I understand your concern."
I told myself it had to be common; there are plenty of Lawrences in the world. Still, something old stirred inside me, something I had buried since my school years.
I left the office feeling uneasy.
***
After that meeting, the comments about Lizzie's clothes and hair stopped.
For about a week, things seemed better. My daughter even smiled one night and said, "She hasn't said anything weird lately."
I allowed myself to relax.
Then Lizzie's grades began slipping.
Something old stirred inside me.
At first, it was a quiz. She got a 78. That wasn't like her, but everyone has off days.
Then it was a lab report where she got a B minus.
Then a test. An 82.
Lizzie stared at the grade portal on her smartphone. "Mom, I don't get it. I answered everything."
"Did she explain what you missed?"
"No. She asks me questions we haven't even learned yet," Lizzie said. "Even when I answer everything else right."
I felt that old heat again.
"Mom, I don't get it."
A month later, the annual mid-year Climate Change presentation was announced. It would count as a large percentage of the semester grade. Parents were invited to attend.
Lizzie looked nervous. "Mom, I don't want to fail."
"Then we'll prepare together."
For two weeks, our dining room turned into a planning center. We researched rising sea levels, carbon emissions, and renewable energy.
"Mom, I don't want to fail."
I quizzed her at random as we rehearsed possible questions.
By the night before the presentation, I knew she was ready. I wasn't going to let anyone trip her up.
Still, I had a feeling I couldn't shake.
***
The night of the presentation arrived.
The classroom buzzed with parents and students. Poster boards lined the walls. Laptops glowed on desks.
The second I walked in, I knew.
It wasn't a coincidence.
I knew she was ready.
