She took the second-grader into the janitor’s closet and locked the door. ‘This is our little secret,’ she told him.

He was sure he was in trouble. Why else would his teacher make him stay after school?

She told him they would meet every Tuesday and Thursday. She’d taught the boy in the first grade and now in the second.

Again this year he had trouble following along as her class read out loud. He watched when the other kids turned pages hoping the pictures would give him a clue. When it was his turn, she had to show him where to pick up.

On that first afternoon after school Sister Athelia underlined the suffix of a word and told him that “t-i-o-n” is pronounced “shun.” Don’t ask why, she said, just trust me.

‘Do’ is ‘du’ except when it’s pronounced ‘da.’ ‘Ph’ is ‘f.’ And ‘ed’ sounds different at the end of some verbs. She marked sentences to show who did what to whom until he was diagramming simple passages on his own.

He squirmed when she predicted he’d be one of her best readers — all the best readers were girls. Without fail she had candy at the ready after every lesson.

When summer came, he started reading his brothers’ comic books. It took an hour to work through those first Scrooge McDuck stories but slowly he began to understand apostrophes and contractions, and how “oomph, ugh and ahem” are expressed in print.

The boy had a new teacher in the fall who wore colorful clothes and had pretty hair. Miss Anne pulled him aside at the end their first week to tell him how impressed she was with the way he read.

At just the right time Sister Athelia had quietly come to the rescue of another second-grader who became a lifelong reader. He didn’t know to thank her for what she’d done.

She was nice enough but of course teachers can turn on you at any moment.He was sure he was in trouble. Why else would a teacher make you stay after school?

She had taught him in the first grade and now again in the second.

She had her class read out loud everyday and he had trouble following along. He watched the other kids turn pages hoping the pictures would give him a clue. When it was his turn, they had to show him where to pick up.

When they met after school, the good sister took him to a closet-sized room nobody ever used. He was terrified about what was going to happen. She showed him a hand-printed word, she underlined its suffix and told him it is pronounced “shun.”

Say it out loud. Ten times. Now remember it.

She explained that ‘do’ is ‘du’ (except when it isn’t) and ‘ph’ is ‘f’ and that ‘ed’ changes at the end of some verbs.

They would meet every Tuesday and Thursday and nobody would find out. He squirmed when she promised he was going to be one of her best readers — only girls were supposed to be the best readers.

She used marks to break down sentences and to show who was doing what to whom. She dared him to diagram a compound sentence on his own.

When summer came along he began to read his brothers’ comic books. It took an hour to work through just one story. But with the help of Scrooge McDuck he unlocked the secrets of apostrophes and contractions. That was big.

So yeah, a nun and a duck.

The boy had a new teacher in the fall, one who wore clothes that showed her arms and legs and her pretty hair. MIss Anne pulled him aside at the end their first week to tell him how impressed she was with the way he read.

That was the first year he didn’t hate being in school.

Much to her surprise the first few lines took her breath away.A woman not so different from the rest of us sat in her living room watching a town-hall debate between Senate candidates.

During opening remarks, one of them pulled a copy the Constitution out of his pocket and held it up to the camera.

“I’m the Constitution candidate,” he explained proudly.

He said his policies were exactly what the Framers had in mind, one-hundred percent. He would defend each of the articles and all of the amendments. “God bless the Constitution of the United States of America and my opponent is an idiot.” he concluded.

Then it was the other candidate’s turn.

She whipped out her own pocket-sized Constitution. She could recite it by heart if you wanted her to, she said. She explained that her opponent posed a serious threat to the freedoms we enjoy and that his ideas would make James Madison roll over in his grave.

As the woman watched the two argue back and forth, she wondered how politicians wearing the same flag pins, reading the same Constitution, could disagree on the basics of our democracy. It occurred to her that they might be twisting things around just to get votes. She sometimes watched pro wrestling, maybe it was like that.

The woman decided to check out the Constitution for herself. She downloaded it and started in at the beginning, with the Preamble. Much to her surprise the first few lines took her breath away.

She yelled upstairs to tell her husband Clive she was doing something, and would he mind going out to eat later than usual? Clive yelled back that he had had a late lunch and he didn’t mind at all.