My Daughter's Work Won an Award, but the Credit Went to a Classmate

Ursula finally turned toward me, suppressing the displeasure on her face. She barely managed to bow deeply.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Ramirez. I didn't handle my emotions well yesterday. It won't happen again. Please forgive me."

Seeing her attitude, I crossed my arms and said nothing. It was Kenneth who stepped in to smooth things over.

"After something like this, there's no way you're getting nominated for Teacher of the Year," he said. "Tomorrow, you should apologize to Holly in front of the class. If this happens again, you won't be teaching here anymore!"

Ursula's face twisted for a moment, but she ultimately said nothing. Kenneth turned to me, his tone more diplomatic now.

"We'll make sure the teachers' behavior is closely monitored from now on, Mrs. Ramirez. What do you think?"

The meaning was clear—he wanted to drop the matter and move on. Considering that Holly had only six months left before graduating, switching schools now would be tough for her to adjust to. Plus, the apology had been made, and there were consequences for the teacher. I didn't want to push it any further.

After I was added back into the parents' group and Ursula publicly apologized, I reluctantly nodded in approval of their handling of the situation.

In the following days, when I dropped Holly off at kindergarten, I did notice a change in Ursula's attitude toward both of us. She seemed a lot more considerate, paying more attention to Holly. Holly told me that the teacher had apologized to her as well. She had been getting more praise and attention in class than usual, and it seemed like her enthusiasm for both school and drawing was starting to return. I felt a sense of relief.

Then one day, I received a push notification about a state-level children's art competition, showcasing the winning works. I clicked on it, thinking I'd admire the artwork, but to my shock, the gold medal section proudly displayed Holly's hand-drawn poster from a while back!

But the name listed under the artwork was that of a boy from her class.

I quickly found the photo I had taken of Holly's work to compare it. It turned out that it wasn't a direct copy, but the composition and elements were nearly identical—only some minor details were altered. It was clearly a blatant case of plagiarism!

I immediately recalled what Holly had said about Ursula throwing her drawing in the trash. But when I tried to reach out to her about it, she didn't respond. Instead, she continued to post in the parent group, which only allowed the admin to send messages now.

My anger shot up to my head. Without thinking twice, I called Ursula.

I barely got the chance to explain myself before she cut in impatiently.

"They're all kids of a similar age. It's not surprising their ideas would overlap. I've seen the photo you sent, and I honestly don't see any resemblance."

At this point, she sounded entirely unbothered.

"If you have an issue with the competition results, you should contact the organizers directly!" she snapped. "Mrs. Ramirez, stop bothering me for nothing!"

She seemed to think that I had no other evidence besides that photo. Before I could respond, she hung up the phone.

Moments later, another message popped up in the class group.

Ursula wrote, [To celebrate Tobias Brown winning the state-level children's drawing competition's gold medal, the kindergarten will hold a Little Artist Exhibition tomorrow. Every child will have a piece of their artwork displayed. Parents are welcome to attend if they're available!]

I could hardly imagine how heartbroken Holly would be if she saw her artwork displayed under someone else's name at that exhibition!

Feeling desperate, I immediately called Kenneth, hoping to get some clarity. But his response was as vague as ever.

"One photo doesn't prove anything. The exhibition notice has already been sent out, and changing it last minute would cause trouble. Mrs. Ramirez, don't worry. We'll look into this and definitely get back to you with an explanation."

I was shaking with anger, holding the phone tightly. Once was enough to believe such nonsense. If private conversations didn't work, then I wouldn't hesitate to make sure this exhibition didn't go ahead!