Jacob Carter had always been a handful. At 16, he was the king of his high school in his mind—disruptive, cocky, and completely disrespectful to authority, especially his English teacher, Mr. Reynolds.
Everyday, he found new ways to make the man’s life miserable—mocking him in class, turning in blank assignments, and rallying his classmates to join in his rebellion.
Mr. Reynolds was a patient man, but even patience had its limits.
He had tried everything—detentions, calls home, meetings with the principal—but nothing worked. Jacob always had a smug smirk, and always had a way of wriggling out of real consequences.
His father, Mark Carter, never showed up to the meetings, brushing off complaints with, “Boys will be boys. He’ll grow out of it.”
But Jacob didn’t grow out of it. He grew worse.
One morning, he crossed the line.
It started like any other day. Mr. Reynolds began his lesson on Shakespeare, and as usual, Jacob found a way to interrupt.
“Man, who even cares about this junk? Nobody talks like that. Do you really think this is useful in the real world?” Jacob slouched in his seat, tossing a pencil in the air.
Mr. Reynolds ignored him and kept talking, but Jacob wasn’t done.
“Yo, Mr. R, why’d you even become a teacher? ‘Cause you couldn’t do anything better?”
The class burst into laughter. Mr. Reynolds gripped the edge of his desk, inhaling deeply.
“Jacob, that’s enough.”
But Jacob wasn’t finished humiliating him. “Bet your wife left you ‘cause you were boring. Probably cry yourself to sleep reading Shakespeare, huh?”The laughter died down.
Even the other students knew Jacob had gone too far. Mr. Reynolds’ face turned red, but he didn’t lash out. He simply walked to his desk, wrote something on a piece of paper, and handed it to Jacob.
