“So, how’s school going?” he asked.

Jonah shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

This question too, was part of the routine. Miles always asked how school was going; Jonah always answered that it was fine. But earlier that morning, while getting Jonah’s backpack ready, Miles had found a note from Jonah’s teacher, asking him if it was possible to meet today. Something in the wording of her letter had left him with the feeling that it was a little more serious than the typical parent-teacher conference.

“You doing okay in class?”

Jonah shrugged. “Uh-huh.”

“Do you like your teacher?”

Jonah nodded in between bites. “Uh-huh,” he answered again. Miles waited to see if Jonah would add anything more, but he didn’t. Miles leaned a little closer.

“Then why didn’t you tell me about the note your teacher sent home?”

“What note?” he asked innocently.

“The note in your backpack-the one your teacher wanted me to read.” Jonah shrugged again, his shoulders popping up and down like the waffles in the toaster. “I guess I just forgot.”

“How could you forget something like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know why she wants to see me?”

“No…” Jonah hesitated, and Miles knew immediately that he wasn’t telling the truth.

“Son, are you in trouble at school?”

At this, Jonah blinked and looked up. His father didn’t call him “son” unless he’d done something wrong. “No, Dad. I don’t ever act up. I promise.” “Then what is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Think about it.”

Jonah squirmed in his seat, knowing he’d reached the limit of his father’s patience. “Well, I guess I might be having a little trouble with some of the work.”

“I thought you said school was going okay.”

“Schoolis going okay. Miss Andrews is really nice and all, and I like it there.” He paused. “It’s just that sometimes I don’t understand everything that’s going on in class.”