“I guess we better go in,” I said.
Nancy and I entered our classroom. The lady did not look up. She was writing something. But she said, “Please take your seats. You may read or draw until the bell rings. No talking, please.”
A few other kids were already there — Natalie, Hannie, and Pamela Harding, who is my enemy. None of them said a word. They looked scared.
Goodness. Ms. Colman is hardly ever sitting at her desk when we come to school. And she lets us run around and talk and do whatever we want until the bell rings. As long as we do not hurt anything. Or each other.
At least our new substitute did not pin name tags on our fronts.
When the bell rang, the gray lady stood up. “Good morning,” she said. (She did not smile.) “My name is Mrs. Hoffman. I will be your teacher until Ms. Colman comes back. In my classroom, we do not talk unless we raise our hands.” How silly. This was not Mrs. Hoffman’s room. It belonged to Ms. Colman. “Also,” Mrs. Hoffman went on, “you will be seated in alphabetical order. I will tell you where to sit. You may not change your seats after that.”
Alphabetical order! Ms. Colman had never seated us that way.
But Mrs. Hoffman did.
When we had finished moving around, I was still in the front row (since Brewer begins with a B). But Natalie and Ricky were sitting toward the back. I knew they would have trouble seeing the blackboard. And Hannie and Nancy were not sitting together anymore. Ms. Colman always let them sit together. Hannie looked like she wanted to cry.
Pamela Harding raised her hand.
“Yes?” said Mrs. Hoffman.
“I just want to thank you for changing our seats,” said Pamela. She was sitting in her new place with her hands folded on the desk. “This makes much more sense. I think it is a very good idea.”
Do you understand why I do not like Pamela?
“Thank you,” Mrs. Hoffman replied. She checked the seating chart she had made. “Let me see. You are Pamela Harding, correct?”
“Correct. And I love rules.”
That is not true! Pamela does not like rules at all.
“Wonderful. Rules are important,” said Mrs. Hoffman.
I wanted to turn around and see how Hannie was doing. But I decided I better not. I would probably be breaking a rule.
I thought of a new name for my new teacher. She was Hatey Hoffman.
and XX
I was writing answers in my arithmetic workbook. I just love finishing pages in workbooks. I was glad that Hatey Hoffman had not said, “Boys and girls, we have a new rule: No workbooks!”
While we worked on our arithmetic, Hatey Hoffman was busy with something of her own. She was sitting at Ms. Colman’s desk. She was writing on a big piece of posterboard. Sometimes she used a ruler to make lots of straight lines. Then she would write some more.
I finished my workbook pages. I was not sure what to do next. The other kids were still working. And Hatey Hoffman was still drawing lines and writing. She looked up and saw me sitting at my desk, doing nothing.
“Karen,” she said, “please concentrate on your work.”
“But I already — ” I started to say. Then I remembered the raising-your-hand rule. I stopped talking. I raised my hand.
“Yes?” said Hatey Hoffman.
“I have finished my work,” I said proudly.
“Then you may read silently. In my class, we never just sit.”
“Oh.” (I think I blushed.)
I pulled a copy of The Story of Doctor Dolittle out of my desk. I read until Hatey Hoffman said, “Math is over. Please put away your workbooks. Then I want everyone to face front. Eyes on the blackboard.”
My friends and I put away our books. We watched our new teacher tape the chart she had made to the blackboard.
“This is our class Chore Chart,” announced Hatey Hoffman. “You can see that your names are written in a list down the left side of the chart. Next to each name, I have posted a chore. Your job will be to complete your chore before the end of the day. Tomorrow, the chores will change. They will change every day. So each morning, be sure to check the chart. Then be sure to do your chore. Every time you do those things, I will put a star by your name. If you do not check the chart and do your chore, I will put an X by your name.”
Pamela raised her hand. “Mrs. Hoffman, what are the stars and X’s for?” she wanted to know. She pretended to look very interested.
“I am glad you asked,” replied Hatey Hoffman. “At the end of our month together, anyone who has earned fifteen or more stars will get …” (Well, this sounded interesting. Maybe we would get a book or a toy.) “… will get,” continued our new teacher, “a certificate.”
Boo. A certificate is just a piece of paper.
I squinted my eyes to read what was written next to my name on the chart. (I had forgotten to put on my glasses. Ms. Colman would have reminded me.) Next to “Karen Brewer” was written “Clean sink area.” Double boo. In the back of our classroom is a sink. We use it to wash our hands, to fill the watering can for our plants, to rinse out paintbrushes, and things like that. The sink is a horrible mess by the end of each school day.
Now I would have to clean it.
When school was over, I went to the back of the room. I almost ran. Then I remembered that Hatey Hoffman had a walking rule. I wiped up the sink. I polished it with paper towels. I thought it looked pretty good.
Across the room, Pamela was doing her chore. She was cleaning out Hootie’s cage. (Hootie is our guinea pig.) Cleaning his cage is a disgusting job. But Pamela did it anyway. She did not complain. When she had finished, she said to Hatey Hoffman, “Thank you so much for trusting me to clean Hootie’s cage.”
Oh, barf.
The Dunce
The next day, I tried to get to school later than usual. I did not want to sit around with Hatey Hoffman, waiting for the bell to ring. But Seth was driving Nancy and me to school, and he could not leave late.
“Here we go,” I said glumly to Nancy. We had reached our classroom. We had peeked in and seen Hatey sitting at Ms. Colman’s desk.
“Yeah,” said Nancy. “Talk to you at lunchtime.”
Nancy went to her desk. I went to mine.
“Good morning, girls,” said Hatey.
“Good morning,” replied Nancy.
“Good morning, Ha — I mean, good morning, Mrs. Hoffman,” I said.
“Please read or draw silently.”
I got out The Story of Doctor Dolittle again. I read and read. I came to a funny part and I started laughing.
“Hey, Ricky!” I cried. “Listen to this!” Then I remembered that Ricky did not sit next to me anymore. I also remembered that we were not supposed to talk.
Hatey Hoffman checked the seating chart. She found my name. (I guess she had forgotten who I was since yesterday.) “Karen Brewer,” she said in a very loud voice. “No talking before the bell rings. And no talking unless you raise your hand. Did you understand those rules when I explained them?”
“Yes,” I said quietly. I could tell that everyone was staring at me.
“All right, then.”
The bell rang and our school day began. Hatey Hoffman said, “The first thing we will do is exercise our brains. I will give you a surprise spelling quiz.”
“A surprise quiz!” I exclaimed.
“Karen,” said Hatey Hoffman warningly. She shook her head. Then she said, “Who is our paper-passer today?”
I looked at the Chore Chart. I was!
“I am!” I shouted.
“Karen Brewer. Will you please remember to raise your hand? What gets into you? Where are your best manners? Now be quiet!”
I passed out the papers silently. I wondered what best manners were.
Hatey Hoffman did not yell at me again until the afternoon. It was science time. We were reading aloud from our books. This was really boring. Ms. Colman lets us do experiments.
My mind wandered. I began to doodle on the page that was headed The Sun,
the Moon, and the Stars. I noticed that Leslie was doodling, too. (Leslie is one of Pamela’s good friends.)
“Karen Brewer!” yelled Hatey Hoffman for the second time that day. She peered down at my desk. “Drawing in your book,” she said. “All right. I have had enough. Please go stand in the corner for ten minutes.”
Stand in the corner? I have never had to do that. Ms. Colman never tells any of us to stand in the corner. And what about Leslie? She was doodling, too. But Hatey had not seen her. That was because she had been watching me all day. She was just waiting for me to make another mistake.
When ten minutes had gone by, Hatey said I could return to my seat. On my way there, I passed Pamela’s desk.
“Dunce,” she whispered.
I knew I could not answer her. I would get into trouble again. I did not even say anything when Hatey let Pamela pass out our homework sheets. That was my job. I guess Hatey thought I deserved an X that day. How unfair.
Two Straight Lines
“Please practice lining up,” said Hatey Hoffman.
Practice lining up? Ms. Colman asked us to practice lots of things. She asked us to practice our cursive writing. She asked us to practice our arithmetic facts, and counting by twos and threes and fives and tens. She asked us to practice the Golden Rule. (The Golden Rule is: Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. I really have no idea what that means. Hannie says it means be nice to everybody.) Anyway, Ms. Colman often asked our class to practice something. But she had never said, “Practice lining up.” She did not have to. We have known how to line up since we were in preschool.
Pamela raised her hand. “Excuse me?” she said to Hatey. “You want us to practice making a line?”
“Exactly,” Hatey replied. “You be the leader, Pamela.”
Pamela stood up. She walked to the doorway. Everybody else jumped to their feet. We raced to stand behind Pamela. We made a lot of noise. (Ricky knocked over his chair. This was not the first time it had happened.)
“Just as I thought,” said Hatey. She looked at the scraggly line we had formed. “Back to your seats, please.”
We clattered to our desks. (Ricky knocked over his chair again.)
“From now on,” said Hatey, “you will line up in two lines like ladies and gentlemen. Girls, you will line up along the chalk board. You will line up in alphabetical order according to your last name. Boys, you will line up next to the girls, in the same manner. You will walk to your lines and stay in line. When we walk through the halls, we will stay in two straight lines. And there will be no talking.”
No talking is Hatey’s favorite rule. I wonder why she does not like to hear our voices. I just love to talk.
Later on Friday morning, we went to gym class. We walked down the hallway in our two straight lines. (I was the leader of my line. Guess who was right behind me. Nancy Dawes.)
Hatey walked ahead of our two lines. So she did not see when two fourth-grade kids who were passing by stopped and pointed. Then they laughed.
When we walked to the cafeteria for lunch, we had to walk in our lines again. This time three fifth-grade girls passed by Hatey. They looked at our lines. Then one of them said, “Just like in that baby book Madeline. The children had to walk in two straight lines. Only they were all girls.”
Even though she said this very softly, we could hear her. She made us mad. Especially the boys. But we could not say, “Meanie-mo!” because of Hatey’s no-talking rule. So we made angry faces and kept on walking.
Here is how mad we were. We were so gigundoly mad that even Pamela Harding was mad. She did not like walking in two straight lines. No other kids in Stoneybrook Academy had to do that. Everyone stared at us. Even the teachers.
After recess that day, Hatey Hoffman led us back to our classroom in two straight lines.
I forgot the no-talking rule.
“Hey!” I said to Nancy. “The principal is staring at us.”
Hatey turned around fast. “Karen Brewer,” she said. “Where are your best manners? Why can’t you remember rules? This weekend, you will have an extra homework assignment. You will write an essay called, ‘Why I Should Follow School Rules.’ The essay must be fifty words long.”
TRIPLE BOO.
But one good thing happened that afternoon. Pamela did not do her chore. She did not do it on purpose. She did not say a word when Hatey gave her an X. Pamela was still mad.
School Rules
“She is my worst teacher ever,” I said. “And I hate, hate, hate her!”
“Karen, please do not say you hate anyone,” said Daddy. “Hate is not a very nice word.”
“Well, Mrs. Hoffman is not a very nice teacher,” I replied. But I was glad I had not said that my nickname for my new teacher was Hatey.
It was Friday evening. Mommy had driven Andrew and me to the big house for the weekend. Now my brother and I were eating dinner with Daddy, Elizabeth, Nannie, Kristy, Charlie, Sam, David Michael, and Emily. I was telling everyone how awful Hatey Hoffman was.
“She has rules, rules, rules,” I went on. “We have to do everything in alphabetical order. And she is so strict.”
“What’s alphabetical order?” asked Andrew.
“It’s boring,” I replied. “Plus, we have to walk in two straight lines, and we can never talk, and nobody likes the Chore Chart, and — ”
“Karen,” said Kristy, “is there anything good about Mrs. Hoffman?”
“No,” I said.
After dinner, I went upstairs. I sat down at the table in my bedroom. I was going to begin the composition on school rules. It was not due until Monday morning. But I wanted to write it before I went to bed that night. I was not going to let it hover around and spoil my weekend.
I thought for a moment. Then I wrote down the title of the essay: Why I should Follow School Rules. Did those count as the first six words of the essay? I wondered. Or would Hatey start counting after the title? Then I wondered if I counted as a word. It is only one letter long. Then I wondered if Hatey wanted exactly fifty words. What if my composition was fifty-two words or something? Would I have to write it again?
I could not answer any of my questions.
Instead, I made up a song about Hatey. I sung it to the tune of “Old MacDonald Had a Farm.” Here is how it went: “Hatey Hoffman had a class. H-A-T-E-Y. And to her class she was quite mean. H-A-T-E-Y. Oh, we hate, hate Hatey. Yes, we hate, hate Hatey. Hatey Hoffman, Hatey Hoffman, Hatey Hoffman, Hatey. Hatey Hoffman had a class. H-A-T-E-Y.”
Knock, knock.
Uh-oh. Someone was at my door.
Tricking Mrs. Hoffman
Had I been singing very loudly? I was not sure. But I was sure that if Daddy had heard the song, he would be cross with me.
Knock, knock. “Karen? It’s Sam. Can I come in?”
Phew! Sam was safe. He would not care about my song. He would probably like it. Sam likes jokes and goofing on people and making funny phone calls.
“Come in!” I yelled.
Sam came into my room. He closed the door behind him. Then he sat on my bed. “Working on your composition?” he asked.
“Sort of,” I replied. “I wrote down the title. Then I made up a song. Want to hear it?” Sam nodded, so I sang “Hatey Hoffman Had a Class.”
Sam laughed. Then he said, “Too bad you can’t write your composition about substitutes.”
“How come?” I asked.
“Well, think what you could write about. You could write about how awful substitutes are, and how they — ”
“Are all substitutes awful?” I asked.
Sam looked thoughtful. Then he said, “No…. But they are fun to trick. Me and my friends trick our real teachers sometimes.” (I could never, ever trick Ms. Colman. She is much too nice.) “But substitutes are much more fun. Once, Jeremy and I …”
Sam talked and talked. While he talked, I got an idea. As soon as Sam left my room, I made a phone call. I called Hannie.
“Hi,” I said. “It’s me. And you
would not believe what I just thought of.”
“Probably not,” agreed Hannie. “What?”
“We should trick Mrs. Hoffman.”
“Us? Trick her? Are you crazy?”
“Not just you and me. The whole class. Nobody likes Mrs. Hoffman now. Not even Pamela Harding.”
“But if we trick her, we will get in trouble.”
“I don’t think so,” I told Hannie. “What is Mrs. Hoffman going to do? Send all of us to the principal’s office? No way. She will look like a horrible teacher if she does that.”
“Hmm,” said Hannie. “I don’t know. I do not think we should trick teachers.”
“But this is not just any teacher,” I reminded her. “This is Mrs. Hoffman.”
“Yeah…. All right. What could we do to her?”
I smiled. I tried to remember the tricks that Sam said he had played. “Oh, there are so many possibilities,” I replied.
Hannie and I talked until Kristy yelled up the stairs, “Who is being a phone-hog? I need to make a call.”
“Okay,” I shouted back. I told Hannie I had to hang up. Then I returned to my composition. “Why I should follow school rules,” I murmured. “So I won’t get in trouble and have extra homework,” I said. But I knew I could not write that. I could not write anything I really wanted to say.
After lots of thinking and lots of writing and lots of cross-outs, I wrote: School rules are very, very, very important. They help keep our school running smoothly. They really, really do. If a nice, nice visitor comes to Stoneybrook Academy, he (or this person could be a she) would want to see an orderly school. Since I am very, very proud of my school, I want it to look nice. Thank you.
I hoped the length would be okay with Hatey. I figured it would be. Not counting the title, it was 59 words long.
Now — two whole days without Hatey Hoffman.
The First Trick
“Okay, everybody. Come here! I have an idea,” I announced.
Recess was just about the only time my classmates and I did not have to be in alphabetical order. We did not have to be in lines, either.