I dropped my son off like I always did—until his teacher pulled me aside and whispered, “Don’t leave yet.” My stomach sank when I heard my baby screaming from a locked room.

The lock gave way.

The door swung open.

And I stopped cold.

Miles was inside, curled in on himself, shaking. His face was flushed and streaked with tears. His small hands trembled like he didn’t know what to do with them. His backpack lay on the floor, as if it had been torn off.

He looked up at me, panicked.

“Mom,” he whispered, clinging to the word like it could save him.

I lifted him instantly, holding him so tightly my arms ached.

“What did you do to him?” I demanded.

The caregiver shrugged. “He was in timeout. You parents coddle them.”

Ms. Carter stood behind me, ghostly pale. “That isn’t allowed,” she said under her breath.