Karen's School Page 4

  Kristy raised her eyebrows. “I saw the sign on the door,” she said.

  I sighed. “I must not be a very good teacher.”

  “Well,” said Kristy, “I will tell you something. One of my best teachers ever was Mrs. Kushel. She taught me a long time ago, but I will always remember her, because she made learning fun. And she listened to her students. She made us feel important. You know what? I think school is not just about reading and writing. It is also about helping kids to feel good about themselves. Did you try that, Karen?”

  “Not really,” I admitted. “I guess I was bossy instead. I ordered the kids around, and I made up that schedule, and I hardly ever listened to my students. I did not give them a chance.”

  “Karen,” said Kristy, “you said you were having problems in real school, too. Are those problems with your student teacher?”

  “With Mr. Howard? Yes,” I said.

  “Did you give Mr. Howard a chance?”

  “No. I did not like him the very first time I met him. He uses smelly stuff in his hair. I know that is not a good reason to dislike him. But Kristy,” I rushed on, when I saw the look on her face, “Mr. Howard did not give me a chance. He decided I talk too much. And that was that. He was not fair to me. You know I do not have trouble in school. I just have trouble with Mr. Howard.”

  “Maybe you should talk to him,” said Kristy.

  “Maybe,” I replied. I had a lot to think about.

  Gold Stars

  When Kristy left my room, I stayed right where I was. I was still holding Tickly and Moosie. I thought about Mr. Howard. I thought about the look on his face when he saw my ON STRIKE sign. I remembered how I felt when Andrew and Keith and Callie went on strike. I thought about flunking my students. I remembered Andrew saying, “You mean we are flunk-outs? But I am only four!” I thought about how bad I had made him feel.

  Then I sat up straight. I dropped Moosie and Tickly. I had just had a wonderful idea. I could still fix things. I looked at my clock. Yes, I had enough time.

  I ran outside. “Andrew!” I called. “Andrew, where are you?”

  I found Andrew in the backyard. He was playing with Callie and Keith. “What do you want?” he asked. “School is over.”

  “I want to say I am sorry,” I said. “I am sorry I was such a bad teacher. I ordered you around and I did not listen to you.”

  “And you were bossy,” said Keith.

  “And I was bossy,” I agreed. “But now I want to start over. If you will come back to school, everything will be different. I promise. I will listen to you, and we will not stick to my schedule every second, and you can use any color crayons you want.”

  “Do we still have to call you Miss Karen?” asked Andrew.

  “Only if you want to,” I told him. Then I added, “Oh, and I am going to make school fun from now on. So will you come back to the classroom with me?”

  Andrew and Callie and Keith looked at each other. Finally Andrew said, “I guess so. But if you are mean, Karen, we will go on strike again.”

  “Okay,” I said. “That is fair.”

  I led my students into the house and upstairs to the playroom. I did not bother to look for Emily. And I did not call Hannie or Sari, because I knew Hannie was still playing with Nancy. My students sat at their table. They looked at me. They waited for me to say something.

  “Today,” I began, “we are going to read a story first. We will read — ” I paused. “Well, what would you like to read?”

  “Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel!” cried Callie.

  “Yes!” agreed Andrew and Keith.

  So that is the story I read. When I finished, I handed out paper and crayons. “Now you may draw pictures of Mike or anybody else in the story,” I said. I helped my students write sentences about their pictures. I wrote some of the words and they wrote some of the words. I had to tell them what letters to make, though.

  Even so, Andrew suddenly jumped up out of his chair. “Hey!” he cried. “I am writing! I am really writing!”

  Callie and Keith looked down at their papers. “Hey, yeah!” exclaimed Keith. “We are writing, too!”

  Pretty soon my students were tired of coloring. So I handed out worksheets. This time I let them fill in the worksheets together. I decided it was okay for them to talk to each other.

  At last school was over. I collected everybody’s work. I pulled out their best papers and stuck gold stars on them.

  “Gold stars!” cried Andrew. “We really are not flunk-outs anymore.”

  “Are you sure school is over?” asked Callie. “Can’t we stay a little longer?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Andrew and I have to leave. But we will see you in two weeks. And your homework is … no homework!”

  Friends Again

  When Seth drove me to school on Monday morning, I did not bring my strike sign with me. I left it lying on my bed. I had been thinking about my talk with Kristy, and about not giving Mr. Howard a chance. I had decided to give him one more chance. But if he still did not listen to me, and if he still told me to keep quiet, then I would go on strike again. (I would not go on strike just for smelly hair, though.)

  When I walked into my classroom, Mr. Howard was already sitting at his desk. “Good morning, Karen,” he said. “I was hoping you would come in early. I would like to talk to you.”

  Uh-oh, I thought. This sounds like trouble.

  “Please sit down,” said Mr. Howard, after I had put my things in my cubby.

  I sat at my desk. I was looking straight at Mr. Howard. I folded my hands and waited for him to say something.

  Mr. Howard cleared his throat. “I am glad to see that your strike is over,” he began. “It is over, isn’t it?”

  “For now,” I answered.

  “Would you like to tell me why you went on strike?”

  “Because you were not fair to me. You did not listen to me. You told me to be quiet for a whole afternoon! Ms. Colman has never told me anything like that. And she always listens.”

  “That may be. But, Karen, from the moment I came to your classroom, I felt that you were not pleased with me.”

  “I know. I did not give you a chance. But you did not give me a chance, Mr. Howard. I never have trouble in school or with Ms. Colman. Well, hardly ever,” I said.

  “How about a deal?” asked Mr. Howard. “Will you make a deal with me? I will listen to your ideas if you promise not to strike again. And if you will join in on Chocolate Factory Day. And remember to raise your hand, wait to be called on, and use your indoor voice.”

  “Deal,” I said. Then I grinned at Mr. Howard.

  A few minutes later Nancy came into the room. I followed her to her desk. “Nancy,” I said, “I need to talk to you. I want to tell you I am sorry. And I am not going to strike Chocolate Factory Day. Mr. Howard and I made a deal.”

  “You did?” said Nancy.

  I nodded. “Yup. I really am sorry, Nancy. I am sorry I was mean. I am sorry I was unfair. I want to be your friend again.”

  “Good,” replied Nancy. “I was hoping you would say that.”

  “Hey! Are you guys talking again?” Hannie had come into the room. She ran to us.

  “Yes,” said Nancy and I at the same time. And I added, “I told Nancy I was sorry I was so mean. Hannie, I was mean to you too. I ordered you around when we were teaching. And I said you could only be my helper. That was not fair. You can be a real teacher if you want. And we will change the name of our school. It does not have to be Miss Karen’s School.”

  “I thought the school was closed,” said Hannie.

  I shook my head. “Nope. It opened again.” I told her what had happened after I talked to Kristy. “So our students will be back in two weeks,” I went on. “Hey, Nancy,” I said, “are you sure you do not want to be a teacher too?”

  But Nancy was gazing at Mr. Howard again. She was still in love with him. Oh, well. At least our fight was over.

  Mrs. Howard

  My
last week with Mr. Howard was not too bad. I had to work extra hard to remember to raise my hand and not yell out. But at least Mr. Howard called on me. He did not have to tell me to keep quiet anymore. And even though I wanted to tell Mr. Howard about all the things he was doing wrong, and about the lettuce that got stuck on his front tooth, and especially about his smelly hair tonic, I did not. I knew that on Monday Mr. Howard would be gone, and Ms. Colman would be back. My problems would be over. So I did not have to go on strike again, and Mr. Howard was nice to me.

  Friday was Mr. Howard’s last day in our classroom. It was also Chocolate Factory Day. My friends and I were excited. We had planned skits and practiced songs. We had made chocolate candies. And we had invited our families to come to our room after recess on Friday afternoon. Here is who was coming from my two families: Mommy, Andrew, and Daddy.

  On Friday, our guests began to arrive. My classmates and I had moved our desks against the walls. We had lined up our chairs at the back of the room. They were for our guests. We stood in the front of the room and waited. When the people in our families came in, we waved to them.

  “Nancy, there are your parents!” I whispered. “Hannie, there are your mom and Sari!”

  “Karen!” Hannie hissed back. “Here comes your dad!”

  We watched Ricky’s parents arrive. Bobby’s mother came with Bobby’s little sister. The twins’ father came.

  “Who’s that?” Nancy whispered to me a little later.

  I looked at the woman who had entered the room. “Is she Pamela’s mother?” I suggested.

  Nancy shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  The woman sat in the front row of chairs. We would have to wait to find out who she was.

  When all of our guests had found seats, Mr. Howard stepped to the front of the room. “Welcome,” he said. “Welcome, parents and grandparents and brothers and sisters and friends. Thank you for coming. We have been working very hard to put together this program for you. Get ready to enter the world of Charlie Bucket. We hope you will enjoy Chocolate Factory Day.

  “Before the program begins I would like to thank Ms. Colman for her help.” Mr. Howard smiled at Ms. Colman who was sitting in the back of the room with the guests. “And,” he went on, “I would like to thank my wife for coming.” (The woman in the front row gave Mr. Howard a little wave.) “Okay, boys and girls,” Mr. Howard said to us. “You may begin.”

  I hardly heard what Mr. Howard had just said. I turned to Nancy. Mr. Howard had a wife? That woman was Mrs. Howard? That meant Nancy could not be in love with Mr. Howard anymore.

  Nancy had turned pale. She was staring at Mrs. Howard. I nudged her. “We have to sing our song,” I whispered.

  So our program began. My classmates and I sang our songs and put on our skits. Then we passed around the candies we had made. Our guests talked and laughed. They ate the candy.

  Nancy just stared at Mrs. Howard.

  At last it was time to say good-bye to our student teacher.

  “You know what?” said Nancy after we had shouted good-bye and thank you. “I thought it would be so, so hard to say good-bye to Mr. Howard. But it was not hard at all. I will miss him a little. But I am not in love with him anymore.”

  “And Ms. Colman will be our teacher again,” I added.

  “Karen?” said Nancy. “Hannie? Do you think I could help you with your school after all?”

  “Sure,” said Hannie.

  “We need another teacher,” I added.

  The Three Musketeers put their arms around each other. “Best friends forever!” we cried.

  About the Author

  ANN M. MARTIN is the acclaimed and bestselling author of a number of novels and series, including Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), A Dog’s Life, Here Today, P.S. Longer Letter Later (written with Paula Danziger), the Family Tree series, the Doll People series (written with Laura Godwin), the Main Street series, and the generation-defining series The Baby-sitters Club. She lives in New York.

  Copyright © 1993 by Ann M. Martin

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, BABY-SITTERS LITTLE SISTER, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First edition, 1993

  e-ISBN 978-1-338-05687-7