Mine is that story of the horrible moment where you see your teachers in the store with your parents.

I think I was in middle school, we were grocery shopping, and one of my sixth-grade English teachers, Mrs. Johnson was in the store. She saw me and my mom and came rushing over. You would have thought it was a race, the way that this woman was booking it down the aisle to get to me and my mom.

The moment I saw her, my heart sank, my stomach turned, and I remember holding my breath as I looked between her and my mom. You see, as a kid, I was under this philosophy, this Vegas philosophy, of what happened at school, stayed at school. So of course, there were missing assignments and a paper that was due very soon that I had ignored and chose not to tell my mom.

I was clutching the handles of the cart so tight I thought the buggy would break. I also started planning my escape, trying to figure out how I could manage my mom in a way she wouldn’t be able to see Mrs. Johnson. But alas, Ms. Johnson and my mom made eye contact, and they talked, and as my heart started to race, hoping and praying to God that she would not say anything, of course, the floodgates of missing assignments and a paper due very soon came rushing in. We don’t play that in the Bellamy household. But what was very interesting about my mom, she didn’t overreact. She just had a conversation with me, and was like, “Okay, do you need help in certain areas?” “What can I help you with?” And so, it wasn’t that discipline wasn’t involved, but not to the state that I thought would be involved. It was a very calm, cool, collected conversation, with the understanding that if it happened again, there would be an escalation of discipline. That is a nightmare that I have experienced.