My Daughter Came Home from School in Tears Every Day – So I Put a Recorder in Her Backpack, and What I Heard Made My Blood Run Cold

Crying won’t help you. If you can’t behave, you’ll spend recess inside!”

There was a rustling sound, maybe Lily wiping her face, followed by more silence. Then, like a slap across my chest, I heard the teacher mutter under her breath:

“You’re just like Emma… always trying to be perfect.”

Emma?

My name?

That’s when it clicked. This wasn’t a stranger lashing out. This wasn’t a teacher having a bad day.

This was personal!

I played the whole thing again, just to be sure I hadn’t misheard it. Every word confirmed my fear. I had to sit down.

My knees were too weak to hold me. Who was this woman?