Miriam no podía creer todo lo que se decía de ella por la forma en que estaba criando a sus hijos. La discusión con la maestra de su hija de ocho años había escalado hasta la dirección de la escuela, y ahora escuchaba atentamente como esta exponía el caso, retratándola como una verdadera villana que no dejaba a su hija participar en las actividades extracurriculares ni seguir su pasión por la danza. Si no estuviera tan molesta le daría un poco de risa saber que la veían como un monstruo por no aprobar la coreografía y vestuario (sexualizado y sugerente) que se había escogido para la actividad.
Ella ni siquiera era tan conservadora; simplemente pensaba que no estaba bien acelerar el crecimiento de los niños. Sabía que su hija era muy extrovertida y que le gustaba bailar, por eso le dolía no dejarla participar. “¿Qué necesidad había de que las niñas se expusieran con esos atuendos?”, pensaba. No había intentado disuadir a la maestra ni cambiar el vestuario; solo había dicho que su hija no iba a participar. Ella no juzgaba a nadie. Sabía el costo de mostrarse tan firme: al final, su hija se sentiría excluida. No era una decisión sencilla convertirse en la mala del cuento.
La maestra seguía hablando, visiblemente ofendida, mientras Miriam mostraba una calma que no sentía. Había pedido la cita con la directora al descubrir que la maestra seguía incluyendo a Laura en los ensayos y la alentaba a mantenerlo en secreto. Eso la tenía furiosa y decepcionada.
Cuando la maestra por fin terminó de pintarla como un monstruo, Miriam expuso de forma seria y concisa su preocupación por la ética de la maestra. Había dejado claro que su hija no iba a participar en la actividad y la maestra defraudó su confianza, por lo que exigió que su hija fuera cambiada de grupo. Pensaba que, aunque despidieran a la maestra (cosa que no pidió), el daño ya estaba hecho: su hija le habia mentido y estaba confundida por toda esta información contradictoria.
Las palabras de la directora no ayudaron. Era demasiado conciliadora para su gusto. Su enojo llegó a limites impensados cuando la directora restó importancia a la situación tildando todo como: "un mal entendido". De ser posible, hubiera retirado a su hija del colegio en ese mismo instante, pero encontrar otro a estas alturas del año sería complicado.
Miriam volvió a casa agotada. Habia logrado que cambiaran a Laura con otra maestra, pero eso no solucionaba nada; aun tenía que hacer control de daños: encontrar la manera de explicarle a su niña lo que habia sucedido y por qué ya no estaría en el mismo salón que todos sus amigos. Sabía que no habia manera de no quedar como la mala, pero no había tiempo para sentarse a llorar.
Imágenes de su propiedad
Miriam couldn't believe everything being said about her because of the way she was raising her children. The argument with her eight-year-old daughter's teacher had escalated to the school principal, and now she listened intently as the teacher explained the situation, portraying her as a true villain who wouldn't let her daughter participate in extracurricular activities or pursue her passion for dance. If she weren't so upset, it would have made her laugh a little to know that they saw her as a monster for not approving of the sexualized and suggestive choreography and costumes chosen for the activity.
She wasn't even that conservative; she simply thought it wasn't right to accelerate children's growth. She knew her daughter was very outgoing and liked to dance, so it hurt not to let her participate. “What was the point of the girls exposing themselves in those outfits?” she thought. She hadn't tried to dissuade the teacher or change the costumes; she had simply said her daughter wouldn't participate. She didn't judge anyone. She knew the cost of being so adamant: in the end, her daughter would feel excluded. It wasn't an easy decision to become the villain.
The teacher continued talking, visibly offended, while Miriam displayed a calm she didn't feel. She had made the appointment with the principal when she discovered the teacher continued to include Laura in rehearsals and encouraged her to keep it a secret. This had her furious and disappointed.
When the teacher finally finished painting her as a monster, Miriam seriously and concisely expressed her concerns about the teacher's ethics. She had made it clear that her daughter wouldn't be participating in the activity, and the teacher betrayed her trust, so she demanded that her daughter be transferred to another class. She felt that even if the teacher was fired (which she didn't ask for), the damage was already done: her daughter had lied to her and was confused by all this conflicting information.
The principal's words didn't help. She was too conciliatory for her liking. Her anger reached unprecedented levels when the principal downplayed the situation, calling it "a misunderstanding." If possible, she would have withdrawn her daughter from school right then and there, but finding another one at this point in the year would be complicated.
Miriam returned home exhausted. She had managed to get Laura transferred to another teacher, but that didn't solve anything; she still had to do damage control: find a way to explain to her daughter what had happened and why she would no longer be in the same class as all her friends. She knew there was no way to avoid looking like the bad guy, but there was no time to sit and cry.
Images of her property
