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The following day, I picked him up early and quietly observed from outside the lunchroom. What I saw broke my heart. An adult, unfamiliar and unsupervised, was pressuring children to eat beyond their comfort, ignoring tears and distress. My son sat silently, shoulders tight, clearly overwhelmed. I stepped in immediately, removed him from the situation, and demanded answers. That moment wasn’t about anger—it was about clarity. I realized my child’s fear was his way of asking for help, and I had finally heard him.
