A Tale of Thievery and Song

It's a truth every English teacher shares: books disappear. Collecting invoices the other day, I dug into the Amazonian archives to unearth evidence of gems I purchased for my classroom library. Oh man, there's nothing better than a hot title that sizzles and hops off the griddle into the hands of a hungry reader. Did she eat the book that I loaned her? Because I haven't seen it since. A friend on my hall sheds an optimistic light on the matter: "Someone must need that book more than I do."

When I was in high school, I went through a bike riding phase. No, I didn't join a cycling club--I just climbed on a two-wheeler tour after school for a while. I hit the trail and rode as far away from my house as I could. If I place it on my bio-line, it was an awkward time between school transfers and typically messy homelife challenges. Riding was meditation where fresh air washed away worries. Zooming left and right around the twists and turns, I soared from reality, and when no one was watching I opened right up and sang as loud as I could. Through the tunnels that echoed, I belted out my best show tune hits, and man, did I have range back then. Daily journeys like these took me to another world.

One day, a grassy green knoll by the creek tempted me off the course. "You've got a lot on your mind," it called. "Stop for a while." I threw my kickstand down and reclined in the sun, listening to chirping birds and passers-by until I drifted off, asleep.

There might have been the clicking of gears in my dreams, but when I awoke, I could only see the wide behind of a boy on my bike, pedaling away like his life depended on it. I ran for long enough to know I wouldn't catch him. I ran for long enough to realize I had no idea what I'd do if I caught him. I headed home on foot and in shame to admit my careless mistake.

"That boy must have needed your bike more than you do," my dad said, a pretty good attitude considering how annoyed he must have been. And if I recall, I kept singing songs and rehearsing lines on a bike, but it was on my mom's. 

Like any year, book thieves have thinned my classroom shelves, and between now and June, I'll take to bribery and bullying. The sign-out log helps in a lot of cases, but what about the ones that ghosted? Covetous covers grew legs and simply walked away. 

Bring my books back "or else", I'll threaten. If they don't, my hope is they won't stay buried in a closet somewhere. Open those books for goodness sake...and sing.