My Son Mocked the Janitor, Not Knowing Who She Was – He Rushed to Apologize After Learning the Truth

As much as I hated doing my own homework when I was in school, I’ve grown to love helping my son, Alex, with his. The latest project was a series of headshots which Alex had to take and sketch from. It was wild, thinking how homework had evolved over the years.

So, my son gave me his phone, and I was capturing him in different light.

“Did you get some good ones, Mom?” Alex asked as he posed in his school uniform.

“I think so,” I replied. “But let me take a look before you get changed.”

I began scrolling through Alex’s phone, which is something that I don’t normally do. He’s 15, and as much as I respect his space, I do know that he would come to me if there were any problems. I trusted him.

I scrolled through the photos I had taken moments before, looking carefully at the light placements and the spots where the shadows fell. I was impressed with myself.

“Yeah, we’ve gotten some good shots!” I said enthusiastically.

“I’ll go shower and then get started with the rest of my homework, Mom,” Alex said, walking toward his bedroom. “Can you make me a chicken and mayo sandwich?”

“Sure, coming right up,” I said, his phone still in my hand.

But what I wasn’t impressed with was the video that I found as I looked through the last of the photos. It was barely a video—maybe a short clip is a better description—and it was probably no more than 30 seconds.

It was enough to make my stomach churn.

In the video, Alex and a couple of his friends were at school, and they were making fun of the janitor, Mrs. Evans, this sweet woman who had been working at the school for years. She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that they were filming her.

The boys were snickering, whispering comments that were beyond nasty. If I didn’t know my son’s voice through and through, I almost wouldn’t have believed it was him.

“She’s so old, shouldn’t she be retired or something?” Alex asked. “Imagine being that ancient and still cleaning up after a bunch of kids.”

I paused the video and set the phone down, taking a deep breath. I wasn’t just angry with him. I was deeply disappointed. Alex wasn’t raised to be this kind of child, or at least I thought he wasn’t.

Alan and I had always taught him to respect people, regardless of what they do for a living, regardless of the clothes they wore, and regardless of the way they spoke.

And yet, here he was, making fun of a woman for doing her job. It wasn’t just hurtful. It was downright mean and nasty.

I knew I had to talk to him, but I didn’t want to blow up in the heat of the moment. I decided to take a different approach, one that I hoped would make him see beyond his teenage ignorance.

Because there was something that Alex clearly didn’t know.

Mrs. Evans wasn’t just any janitor.

Nope. She was actually the mother of one of the wealthiest men in town. You know the type—big company, luxurious cars, lavish house up on the hill, and stature that screamed powerful.

The story was as old as anything, and one that most people in the town knew about already.

“Mr. Evans built his entire empire out of his father’s modest beginning, Shelby,” Norma, the local librarian, told me when we spied Mr. Evans walking into the library with a box full of books to donate.

“And the old janitor in the school?” she continued. “That’s his mother!”

“No way!” I said, genuinely shocked.

I had seen Mrs. Evans around at the school during drop-offs and pick-ups and even school events. And she didn’t seem like a woman of that sort of wealth.

“Yes, way!” Norma said. “Apparently after her husband passed away, she chose to work as a janitor at the school. She doesn’t need the money, of course. But it gives her a purpose. And the special part is that she met her husband at the school when they were seniors.”

“So, she walks around the halls thinking of him?” I said wistfully. “That’s romantic, but heartbreaking at the same time.”

Now, clearly my son didn’t know about this part of Mrs. Evans’ story; otherwise, he would never have made those comments.

Still, as horrified as I felt regarding my son’s comments, I figured that the best way for Alex to understand the weight of his actions was to let the truth reveal itself in its own time.

That opportunity came a few days later when the school held a career day.

Every year, successful people from our town were invited to speak to the students about their careers, life lessons, and how they got to where they were in life. I was always invited to speak about real estate and property.

As the emails were sent out to us, speakers, I saw that Mr. Evans was on the lineup, too. As soon as I found out, I knew this was the perfect setup for the lesson Alex desperately needed.

I didn’t say anything to Alex about the video; I wanted him to learn this by himself.

“Mom, are you bringing Matt to career day?” Alex asked that morning as he was eating his cereal.

Matt was my newest employee, and Alex loved him.

“Yes, he’ll be there,” I said. “He’s going to be handling our booth.”

“Nice,” Alex said. “At least that’s something to look forward to. Career day is pretty pointless, and I’ve yet to find a marine biologist show up. So, I’m just wasting my time.”

I just smiled at him, knowing he was in for a reality check.

Later that day, I was at my booth with Matt, fielding questions from kids who were thinking about getting into real estate when they left school.

Unfortunately, I missed Mr. Evans’ keynote talk because I had to show two houses that afternoon. Still, I was confident that Mr. Evans would make it known that Mrs. Evans was his mother.

Later that afternoon, Alex came home, and his face was a shade lighter than usual. He barely touched the pizza that I bought on my way home.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable.

Finally, after a long pause, he blurted out.

“You know the janitor, Mrs. Evans?”

“Yes, of course,” I said, raising an eyebrow and pouring myself a glass of juice.

“Well… her son was at the assembly today. He’s that rich Mr. Evans everyone talks about. You know? The one who runs the car dealership? I didn’t know he was her son.”

He trailed off, but I stayed quiet, knowing that there was more to come.

“I didn’t expect any of it, Mom,” he said. “But he was talking about his childhood. And how his mom was a big reason he became successful. He said that when his dad passed away, his mom could’ve just stayed home. They had more than enough money. But she wanted to keep working. To stay connected to the community. And… Mom, I have a video of me making fun of her.”

“What?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“It’s not me doing anything to her, Mom,” he said. “But I am talking to Elijah in the video, and I am making fun of her being so old. But I didn’t think about her. I didn’t think about her life or what she might have been going through.”

Alex’s voice was shaky, and I could tell he was fighting embarrassment.

I leaned forward.

“And how do you feel about that now?”

Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I feel like an idiot. When Mr. Evans called her up to the stage, everyone stood up and clapped. She was just standing there, smiling, but you could tell how much it meant to her. And I… I just felt so small. I realized I wasn’t making fun of a janitor. I was mocking someone who worked because she wanted to, someone who had lived through so much and still gave back.”

That was the moment I knew the lesson had finally sunk in. I didn’t have to spell it out for him. Alex saw, for himself, the error of his ways. But he wasn’t done.

“I’m going to apologize,” he said, almost to himself. “I don’t know what I was thinking… but I want to do something.”

“How about we bake some cupcakes, and you can just give them to her as a treat?” I asked.

“That sounds like a plan, Mom,” he said.

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |

Entitled Brat Mocks School Custodian, Gets Taught a Priceless Lesson in the Best Way Possible

Entitled teen Emma thought the world revolved around her and she mocked people based on their appearance. One day, the girl took her mockery too far and brutally insulted Mrs. Johnson, a poor older custodian. But karma was about to deliver a priceless lesson this entitled brat wouldn’t soon forget.

Alright, lovely people of the internet! Ever witnessed a high schooler throw some serious shade at someone who totally didn’t deserve it?

Because what I’m about to tell you involves a major brat who ruthlessly mocked a poor old custodian and got a life lesson delivered in the most epic way possible…

So here’s this rich girl named Emma in my sophomore English class, who basically waltzed around like she owned the place.

Think designer everything, a posse of giggling followers, and the permanent sneer of someone utterly convinced the world was her personal runway.

Her favorite target? Our sweet custodian, Mrs. Johnson, a hardworking older lady in her late 60s. Think soft-spoken, kind, and always cheerful – that’s Mrs. Johnson for you.

This sweet custodian in our school, bless her heart, was magic. Always had a smile, even when mopping up cafeteria mystery spills that defied identification.

Emma, though? She’d make snide remarks about Mrs. Johnson’s cleaning cart, calling it a “janitor chariot” in that grating, nasally voice.

One afternoon, I caught Emma dumping her half-eaten lunch on the floor by the water fountain, then sauntering away like it was nothing. Mrs. Johnson patiently approached the mess with a sigh.

Read the full story here.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.