One Sip of Water, One Year of Punishment

On the first day of school, my daughter was punished for taking a sip of water in class.

The teacher ordered her to buy snacks for the entire school for a whole year.

My daughter was terrified, crying hysterically and apologizing desperately.

But Miller wouldn't let it go.

She threw my daughter's water bottle on the floor and jabbed her finger at my daughter's nose, scolding her:

"How dare you sneak food in my class? I don't care what your excuse is. In my classroom, you follow my rules."

"Since this is your first offense, I'll just punish you by making you buy snacks for the whole school for one year."

But when I actually delivered the items to the whole school, she fell to her knees begging me to take back the punishment.

I smirked.

"A year is a year.

There are still 364 days left.

Not one day less."

"Buy snacks for the entire school for a whole year?"

I cried out in disbelief.

Even if my daughter had actually broken some rule, the punishment shouldn't be this extreme.

And all she did was take a sip of water in class.

Seeing my reaction, my daughter nervously clutched the corner of her shirt, her eyes brimming with helplessness and fear.

Noticing her small gesture, my heart ached.

I pulled her into my arms and whispered soothingly: "It's okay, you didn't do anything wrong.

Even if the sky falls, I will hold it up for you.

I'm going to message Miller right now and get to the bottom of this."

Knowing my daughter would have to study under this teacher for three years, I suppressed my emotions and inquired as politely and calmly as possible: "Miller, a class is only forty-five minutes long.

It's perfectly normal for a child to get thirsty."

"Even if Emma drinking water in your class disturbed you somehow, surely it doesn't warrant punishing my child by making her buy snacks for the entire school for a year."

Five minutes passed with no response on the chat screen, but the parent group chat suddenly exploded.

"This parent, when someone makes a mistake, they deserve to be punished.

At your age, there's no need to throw your weight around with me."

"If you can't even afford a few dollars' worth of snacks, I'll sponsor you two bucks so you can take your kid home on the bus."

Miller publicly tagged me, acting as though she'd suffered some terrible injustice.

Seeing this, other parents chimed in one after another in support.

"I've heard Miller is famous for being a strict teacher who produces excellent students.

I feel confident leaving my child in your hands.

I'm not like certain parents who can't handle things properly.

You can discipline my child however you see fit."

"Why have kids if you can't afford them?

If you can't pay this little bit, then tell your kid to behave and not break the rules."

"Miller, don't let this upset you."

The disparaging messages jumped out at me, making my whole body tremble with anger.

Every other comment mentioned money.

I laughed coldly to myself, suddenly understanding.

This Miller was targeting me specifically.

The night before school started, Miller had posted a payment link in the parent group chat for a ten-thousand-dollar luxury watch, calling it an "opening day gift."

All the parents fought tooth and nail for the privilege of paying for it.

Only I remained silent and didn't respond.

Unexpectedly, Miller called me out directly, graciously bestowing the "opportunity" on me.

"Emma's parent, you're the only one in the group who hasn't said anything, and you haven't messaged me privately either.

So this opportunity goes to you."

I found this behavior distasteful and politely declined.

The group fell instantly silent.

Miller didn't respond, and I thought the matter was settled.

Turns out she was waiting for this moment.

There was no point in further discussion.

I crouched down and gripped my daughter's hand tightly: "Don't be afraid, Emma.

You didn't do anything wrong.

I paid your tuition, and tomorrow I'm personally taking you to school.

You just focus on your studies.

I refuse to believe there isn't a single reasonable person at that school!"

My daughter hesitated, then nodded.

The next day, I didn't leave until I watched my daughter enter the classroom with my own eyes.

However, two hours later, Miller called again.

The moment I answered, I was hit with a barrage of scolding.

"Emma's mom, you need to come to school immediately and take your child home.

This is outrageous.

At such a young age, she's already bullying her classmates..."

Bullying classmates?

I frowned.

I knew my daughter's personality better than anyone.

She was gentle and introverted.

She'd be lucky if others didn't bully her.

Remembering yesterday's incident, a bad feeling washed over me.

I rushed to the school without delay.

Outside the office door, My daughter was kneeling on the ground, sobbing and pleading repeatedly.

Miller sat with her legs crossed, pointing at my daughter's nose and cursing angrily: "Like mother, like daughter.

School just started and she's already into this bullying crap.

If she doesn't want to study, she can get the hell out."

"Don't stop!

Keep kowtowing until your mom gets here, until your classmate forgives you..."

My daughter's forehead was covered in bruises.

Sharp pebbles had broken through her tender skin, leaving shocking streaks of bright red.

My blood boiled.

I rushed forward and pulled my daughter up.

Seeing me, Miller acted as though she'd finally caught me red-handed.

She jumped up, grabbed a little boy standing nearby, and lifted his hand for me to see: "Emma's mom, look at this.

Your daughter caused such a big wound on this student's right hand.

What kind of dark heart does this child have?"

"This student is going to Harvard someday.

If she delays his education, can you take that responsibility?"

The boy had a faint scratch on his pinky finger that would heal completely in a few more minutes.

I rolled up my daughter's sleeve without saying a word.

Her wrist and forearm were covered in bite marks of varying depths.

The deepest ones were purple-black and blue, overlapping densely in a way that was unbearable to look at.

Miller gave an exaggerated "Oh!" as if just noticing, then made a show of helplessness, poking my daughter's head with her index finger: "Why didn't you tell me about this, child?

But you can't blame others either.

Just because you have a special constitution and it looks more serious doesn't change the fact that you bullied someone."

"Out of all these people, why did he single you out?

You must have done something bad to make him have no choice but to take action."

Hearing this, the boy was instantly emboldened, standing in front of Miller like a Chihuahua with its owner's backing: "It's all your fault!

Why won't you buy us snacks?

My mom told me the whole school could've had snacks, but you ruined it!"

"Why should your family get special treatment?

If you don't follow Miller's rules, you have to pay the price!"

I was furious and about to explode when my daughter pitifully tugged at the corner of my shirt, pleading: "Mom, it doesn't hurt.

I did something wrong and broke Miller's rules.

Let's just accept Miller's punishment."

"I want to play with my classmates, to be like everyone else..."

My daughter wiped away her tears, her eyes full of pleading.

I was instantly speechless.

The words that had reached my lips simply wouldn't come out.

From the day she was born, my daughter had been the treasure of our entire family.

She'd never been wronged like this before.

But looking at my daughter's teary eyes, my anger deflated like a punctured balloon, suddenly softening.

I forced myself to swallow this humiliation and squeezed out a smile: "Okay, I will order the snacks right now."

I pulled out my phone on the spot and called to pre-order a truckload of snacks.

My daughter jumped up excitedly: "Now everyone will forgive me!

I can finally play with everyone!"

Seeing this, Miller raised her eyebrows smugly and mocked sarcastically for a while before suddenly remembering something, her tone loaded with meaning: "Should've done this from the start.

Acting like you're some pure lotus flower above it all."

"Turns out you're pretty generous when you want to be.

Before, you were so petty about every little thing.

I thought your family couldn't even afford to put food on the table."

"The payment link in the group expires tomorrow.

You know what to do."

I pretended not to understand, casually deflecting with a few words without mentioning buying the watch, then turned and left with my daughter.

After we'd gone far enough, Miller's eyes couldn't hide her disgust.

She ground her teeth and cursed under her breath: "Damn it, won't even buy one watch, you cheap bastard."

"If you won't spend the money, then don't blame me for what happens next."

A quiet week passed.

My daughter occasionally shared fun stories from school, and my anxious heart finally relaxed.

It was precisely at this moment.

Ring ring ring.

My phone rang persistently.

I saw it was my daughter calling, and an ominous feeling arose.

Sure enough, as soon as I answered, I heard my daughter's tearful voice: "Mom, please come pick me up.

I don't want to go to school anymore.

I want to come home.

Mom, please let me come home..."

My heart jumped.

My daughter had always been so sensible.

For her to say this, something terrible must have happened.

I rushed to the school in a panic.

The moment I entered the classroom, the originally noisy room fell eerily silent for an instant.

Then everyone looked at my daughter and me with strange eyes, occasionally turning away to whisper: "That must be her mom, dressed so slutty.

Maybe her mom gave her that infectious disease."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard her dad got so disgusted he left.

Who knows where they get their money from."

"Ew!

So shameless.

Miller was right.

Both of them have that kind of contagious disease.

My mom says that disease is so dirty.

We need to stay away from them.

It's terrifying."

My daughter looked up with a sob, her eyes swollen red from crying.

The classmates immediately burst into laughter.

My daughter's waist-length hair had been chopped into a ragged mess, and chewed gum was stuck to the top of her head.

I quickly shielded my daughter and flew into a rage, slamming my hand on the desk and demanding: "Who did this?"

Several kids giggled and shoved each other, completely unconcerned: "We all did it together!

You did this kind of thing and you still have the nerve to ask?"

"Think you can buy us off with a few snacks?

No way."

"Hurry up and get your daughter out of this school.

This class doesn't welcome her!"

My blood rushed to my head.

I charged forward, ready to slap them hard across the face and teach them a lesson on behalf of their parents.

The instant I raised my hand, Miller, who'd been absent until now, conveniently appeared.

She grabbed my wrist and said leisurely: "Whoa, whoa, whoa, what's this parent doing?

Trying to hit someone else's child?

This is a school, not a marketplace.

It's not a place for you to throw tantrums."

Miller watched smugly as those kids ran behind her to tattle, as if she'd once again caught me in the act.

She made a show of starting to scold me for not being a qualified parent.

"This parent, I advise you to calm down, or I'll have to call the police."

My heart was bleeding, but my extreme anger actually made me calmer.

I looked calmly at the gloating smiles on everyone's faces: "Making up vicious rumors about my daughter and me without any evidence.

As a teacher, is this your attitude toward educating students?"

Miller frowned slightly.

She shook her head for a moment before putting on an innocent act: "Children certainly don't lie, but they do have vivid imaginations.

They inevitably say things that don't match reality.

Do I really need to verify every single word they say?"

"Flies don't land on uncracked eggs.

Sometimes people should spend less time blaming others and more time reflecting on themselves."

"Besides, I manage dozens of students.

Of course I can only pay extra attention to the ones who behave well, right?"

I stared at her expressionlessly for a moment, realizing she was determined to get revenge for my not buying her that watch.

She wanted me to back down.

I suddenly lowered my head and softened my tone: "Miller, I didn't think it through.

Actually, the opening day gift and the snacks can be delivered this afternoon.

I'll personally hand them to you."

Seeing me finally come around, Miller felt the frustration that had been building in her chest for days finally dissipate somewhat.

She waved her hand in satisfaction: "Fine!

Then I'll be magnanimous and not hold this against you."

I smiled gently, calmly switching the snack order to watermelons.

That afternoon, ten large trucks loaded with watermelons rumbled toward the school.

The trucks displayed prominent banners reading: "Day One of Miller Treating the Whole School to Snacks."

This grand spectacle drew nearby residents out to watch.

"Is that the award-winning teacher Miller?

How generous.

This must cost quite a bit."

"The banner says 'Day One,' so does that mean there'll be a Day Two and Day Three?

What a wonderful teacher, spending her whole salary on students."

"Students these days are so lucky.

We never had these conditions back in our day."

On her way to the office, Miller received numerous admiring and respectful looks.

She felt rather pleased with herself.

Upon seeing me, she cleared her throat pretentiously and criticized condescendingly: "I'll let you pass for today, but you're really being cheap.

Watermelons cost so little.

You could've at least sent king crab or something."

"And you put my name on it, making me too embarrassed to show my face.

Don't do this again next time."

I lowered my posture as much as possible and pleaded quietly: "My daughter was only thirsty and took a sip of water in class, but she has to be punished by buying snacks for the whole school for a year.

Now I've delivered the items, and we've accepted the punishment we deserved.

Please, I'm begging you to let my daughter off the hook."

Hearing this, Miller looked somewhat displeased.

She deliberately held out her empty right hand and impatiently deflected: "Are you even human?

Can't you understand plain English?

I've told you how many times.

It depends on your performance."

I lowered my head, my voice carrying a hint of tears: "I really can't afford the ten-thousand-dollar luxury watch you want.

I'm a single mom, and my daughter depends entirely on me.

Could you please..."

Her wish unfulfilled, Miller exploded in rage and cut me off.

She scolded furiously: "Are you fucking with me?

Don't give me all that useless crap.

Without that watch, you can expect to send snacks for another year!"

"You better think carefully.

As long as your daughter is under my control for even one day, I'll target her for that entire day.

Let's see who outlasts who."

"This time you only sent cheap, crappy watermelons.

Next time it better be king crab, or it doesn't count.

Understand?"

I suddenly raised my phone and pointed it at Miller's face, raising my voice as I cried helplessly, each word filled with anguish: "Please, everyone, help us.

She's trying to drive us mother and daughter into a corner.

Just because I can't afford to give Miller the watch she wants, she's encouraging the whole class to isolate and bully my daughter..."

Miller hadn't expected me to pull this move.

She froze instantly, her expression still frozen in the greedy, ugly look she'd worn while threatening me.

The vast army of internet users didn't disappoint me either.

The livestream's popularity skyrocketed.

Bullet comments rolled past, with netizens cursing angrily: "And she calls herself a teacher?

Taking one sip of water in class means sending snacks for a year.

So if a student bends down to pick up a pen, should they send a house?"

"This person is insane.

Openly demanding gifts, and a ten-thousand-dollar watch at that.

Does she think parents' money grows on trees?"

"Where's the Department of Education?

They need to give us an explanation.

Single mothers raising children work so hard.

How can we feel safe entrusting our kids to schools?"

Miller instinctively covered her face.

After a few seconds, she snapped back to reality and rushed toward me, cursing as she tried to grab my phone.

"Stop!"

An authoritative voice came from the doorway.

"Who the fuck are you to order me around?"

Miller, focused on grabbing the phone, turned back dismissively.

When she saw who it was, her face went pale, and she immediately stopped.

The principal's face was ashen: "Want me to show you my ID?

Should I throw in a box of salmon while I'm at it?"