Jeremy rifled through the books on the desktop. His discontent grew as his search remained fruitless. Soon, the Nancy Drews, Babar’s, Curious Georges, Dr. Seuss’s and other children’s books lay strewn across the front of his detention desk. The arrangement did not go unnoticed by Mr. Singer.
“Jeremy! Pick one and start reading and straighten up this mess.”
Jeremy looked at the foreboding figure towering over him. “I only read comic books.” He quipped. “Where’s the Batman, Superman, Green Lantern, The Flash comics? Instead I get a monkey, an elephant or some little bitch detective wannabe!”
Jeremy’s mouth always seemed to work against him. He was the who, what, why, where and when model lesson to why a young boy, at times, should keep his mouth shut. Except for his father, he showed little respect to adults. His brain never seemed to pre-engage his speaking. His replies were narrowly, if at all, on subject. No matter where he was, if he felt like he needed to chime in, Jeremy comments were always available.
“Is that so?!” Singer snapped.
Mr. Singer quickly removed all but the Nancy Drews from Jeremy’s desk.
“Now. Pick one. Read the first six chapters and write a one-page summary before you can leave.”
Jeremy grabbed the first book in reach and cleverly started to pretend to read. He’d slowly scan each page before turning to the next one. In his mind though, Superman was battling a nemesis from a distant planet.
Later in the afternoon Mr. Singer came and asked for his summary.
“I didn’t read the chapters. I didn’t write a summary.”
“It’s OK Jeremy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Same Bat-time.”
“Same Bat-channel.”