He wrote. He deleted. He wrote again. Finally, he pressed send.
Lena Miles was not a helicopter parent. She believed in skinned knees, forgotten homework, and the quiet dignity of a child learning from her own mistakes. But when her son, Jordan, started his freshman year at Druid Hills High School in Dekalb County, a well-meaning colleague at the CDC had pulled her aside. dekalb county infinite campus parent portal
Jordan let out a breath he’d been holding for an hour. He wrote
So, on a sleepy Sunday in September, Lena logged into the Dekalb County Infinite Campus Parent Portal. She linked her account to Jordan’s ID, set her notification preferences to “daily digest,” and forgot about it. Finally, he pressed send
She was chopping vegetables for a curry when her phone buzzed. It wasn’t the usual 5:00 PM digest. It was a real-time alert .
Lena turned off her phone. She walked back inside, kissed Jordan on the top of his head, and said, “Curry’s ready. And after dinner, I want you to teach me how to play Valorant .”
Jordan looked stricken. “She hates me now.”