Winter | 2026
Driven On and Off the Court
“I’m just a truthful person.”

If you ask freshman Jeremiah Glover how he’s adjusting to high school basketball, he won’t give you a sugar-coated answer. He’ll tell you the truth—because that’s just who he is. “It’s not that the work is hard,” he said. “It’s just that sometimes people don’t want to do it. They get lazy.” Then he laughs, because even though he’s serious about basketball, he doesn’t take himself too seriously.
Jeremiah plays point guard and shooting guard, and he’s already practicing with the varsity team. He thinks he’ll be a starter—“from what I’ve seen,” he said—but even if he wasn’t, he’d still be out there working. His practices are intense. Just recently, the team ran ten laps in three minutes over and over because not everyone made time. “We ran like a hundred laps,” he said. “That was the worst thing.”
But no one quit. No one threw up. And Jeremiah? He just kept going, focused on getting better.
Basketball is the center of his world right now. He shoots, he runs, he works out, and when practice ends, he still wants more. He plays at the gym in Cape Girardeau, at Shawnee, anywhere there’s a hoop and someone to play with. His favorite player is Stephen Curry—“Who else would it be if I’m a shooter?” he said, smiling.
Even outside the gym, he thinks like a basketball player. When he describes what he does in tough situations, he talks through it like he’s on the court right then. “If two defenders come at me, I’m gonna dribble the other way. If I can’t, I’ll pick up the ball and pass it to my teammate. Try to get him right,” he said. His decision-making is quick, instinctive, and calm. Pressure doesn’t rattle him. “If I lose the ball, I get mad at myself,” he admitted. “But then I get back on defense.”
People at Meridian know Jeremiah—he thinks most do—and many respect him. He says he talks a lot, but he also knows when to stay quiet to keep out of trouble. He doesn’t lie, not even to make things easy. “I’m just a truthful person,” he said. “If something’s funny, I’ll tell you. If it’s not, I’ll tell you that too.” His honesty is direct but never mean-spirited. It’s part of what makes him a strong teammate and a student people naturally listen to.
Basketball may be his biggest passion, but he’s building a solid foundation off the court, too. After a rough start this year due to being sick and missing school, Jeremiah now has four A’s, two B’s, and one C. School has always been important to him, and he has a good track record—strong grades in every year except the one interrupted by illness. He’s caught up and moving forward.
He participates in the Civic Bobcats this year, too, adding community involvement to his school life. As Meridian leans into creating more student-led groups and leadership opportunities, Jeremiah is one of the students stepping up and showing interest in more than sports.
At home, life is full and busy. Jeremiah lives with his grandmother, who he is close to, and he has three full brothers and several half-brothers and sisters. Most of his siblings live elsewhere with his father, but he’s the one at his grandmother’s house, the one she sees daily, the one she watches grow into the young man he’s becoming.
Jeremiah knows exactly what he wants for his future. First, he wants to play college ball—ideally Division I. His dream school is Auburn. If basketball doesn’t work out, he wants to become a detective. “I just like solving stuff,” he said. You can see how his calm thinking on the court could carry over into investigative work. And if neither of those paths happen, he has one more idea: joining the Army, maybe even pursuing special operations. He listens carefully when people talk about mental toughness and staying steady under pressure, and he can already see himself fitting into that world if he chooses it.
No matter where he goes, Jeremiah is wired to stay focused, stay real, and stay composed. He’s not easily flustered. He doesn’t freeze under pressure. He doesn’t back away from hard work. Whether he’s dribbling out of a double team, catching up on missed assignments, or running endless laps because someone else missed a time, he keeps pushing forward.
