Back to School, New Allies
Summary: Some stumbled for words—others became protectors.
Returning to school was brutal. Everyone knew. Some classmates were kind; others avoided me or spoke like I was fragile glass.
But light broke through the cracks.
Mrs. Thompson became my anchor. She tutored me after class and arranged reading support my parents had denied.
“You’re bright,” she said. “Your brain just works differently. That’s not weakness.”
Art class became my refuge. Mr. Park never forced talk—he simply guided. I started with still lifes, then drew doors with locks, empty plates, a single chair at a table. He’d glance, nod, and let the drawings speak.
