Torture in the Classroom

The next morning Ms. Williams picks up where my mother left off. She passes out the summer reading list, wearing a demented smile and acting as if she’s tossing out free candy. I pretend to smash my head on my desk.

Ms. Williams ignores me. “You’ll read three books from this list and write a report on one of them. The way our principal shifted assignments next year, I’m happy to say, I’ll be your teacher again in September.”

I swear I’m not a troublemaker, but it’s like an alien life-form has landed in the classroom wielding assault weapons in each hand. SOMEBODY HAS TO STOP THE MADNESS!

“Are you saying we have you again next year and we have a report due on the first day of school?” I ask. “That’s reading and writing homework! For the summer! It’s just not doable on my schedule.”

My friend Matt thinks this is funny, but I know he’ll enjoy the show from the sidelines without backing me up.

The teacher’s voice has that same weary tone as my mother’s. “Please tell us about all these summer activities—I can’t wait to hear.”

“That’s the whole thing,” I say. “You can’t plan when you’re going to pelt the UPS truck with water balloons or when you’ll dig up worms and put them in Mr. Parker’s mail slot or when you’ll dip your action figures in paint and flick them at your friend with a lacrosse stick until you’re both covered in painty stripes. Summer’s like a pajama-and-cereal day—if you try to plan it out ahead of time, you wreck it.”

Matt waves his fist in the air as if he’s the one giving Ms. Williams a hard time. The teacher places the reading list squarely in front of me. “I’m afraid you’ll have to try and fit in three of these books during all that fun.”

I like Ms. Williams, but I wouldn’t complain if she was kidnapped by crazed bank robbers in need of a getaway car.

The reading list—unfortunately—isn’t going anywhere either. I stare at it and wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. One of the books is about a kid and his dog over summer vacation and all the exciting things they do together and the lessons the boy learns.

I have a dog and—trust me—that stuff only happens in books.