When I walk through the school halls, some kids whisper about how my grandma cleans the floors I walk on. They think I’d feel embarrassed seeing her mop near my classmates. But I never have—not for a single second. She raised me with love stronger than anything they’ll ever understand. To me, she isn’t just a school janitor—she’s my hero in comfortable shoes and a gentle smile.
Last week, our school held its annual Talent Show. The hallways were filled with parents dressed like they were attending a Hollywood premiere. After the show, everyone chatted outside the backstage area while students changed out of their costumes. My grandma, as always, started her shift in silence, her mop gliding carefully across the floor. That’s when a wealthy-looking mother stopped, her voice dripping with arrogance.
