Substitute

“Forgiveness,” said Mrs. Hearn. She pointed to the picture. “And there’s the pillow sewn back together and feathers floating in the window.”

  “The pillow looks like a baseball mitt,” said Eric.

  “It does, the way they sewed it, it does kind of look like a baseball mitt. I want—ope, I’m waiting! We’re going to look at this paper. I’m going to pass out this paper so we can look at the questions together. If you’re paying attention this will be easy p—”

  “EVERYBODY SIT UP STRAIGHT, EYES ON MRS. HEARN,” said Mrs. Spaulding.

  “—easy peasy. Right?”

  “Reese, take one and pass it along,” said Mrs. Spaulding. “Pass it along!”

  “Come on, quick, quick, quick!” said Mrs. Hearn. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” A worksheet rattled. “Ope, I don’t want to hear the papers doing that.”

  “Pass it along,” said Mrs. Spaulding. “Emerson. Who hasn’t got one? WHO DOES NOT HAVE ONE? Anybody else? Anybody else? Cody, you’ve got an extra one. Give one to Mr. Baker.”

  “Thank you,” I said to Cody.

  Mrs. Hearn told the class to put their names on the worksheets, plus the date and the name of the book, and the author. “Who’s the author?”

  “Madonna,” said the class in unison.

  The first worksheet question they had to answer was What connection can you make to this story?

  “This is part of the DRA—that’s why we need to know this,” said Mrs. Hearn. “What connection can you make to the story? Have you ever thought something that wasn’t true? Did you see something and you didn’t understand it? Or you thought you heard something, but it wasn’t really what you heard?”

  The class nodded.

  “Yes. All of you have come to me complaining about something, or to Mrs. Spaulding, and we figured out that it wasn’t quite what you thought it was.”

  To Cody, Mrs. Spaulding said, “Stop flipping that around.”

  The next question was, What do you think the author is trying to tell us in this story?

  “Don’t say it out loud,” Mrs. Hearn said.

  “Do we write it now?” asked Scarlett.

  “NICE COMPLETE SENTENCES,” said Mrs. Spaulding.

  “No, when we finish this,” Mrs. Hearn said. “Tell me one thing the author is trying to tell us, Patsy.”

  “Words are really strong?” said Patsy.

  “Words are really strong,” said Mrs. Hearn. “Rumors spread really fast?”

  “Don’t always believe what you hear,” said Micah.

  Then they were supposed to write what the most important thing was that happened in the story, and why.

  Mrs. Hearn said, “Got it? Tell me why, and back it up. Give me some proof of why it’s the important part of the story.”

  They also had to name the most important character—impossible question—and where the story took place.

  “Then it says, Do you like this story, yes or no? And you’re going to flip your lovely paper over, and you’re going to tell me why you liked the story.”

  “Can we draw a picture?” asked Patsy.

  “Did I say anything about drawing? Or did I only talk about writing?”

  “WRITING,” said Mrs. Spaulding.

  “Writing,” said Mrs. Hearn.

  “Or why you didn’t like the story,” said Mrs. Spaulding. “Tell me if you would recommend this story to a friend.”

  “SO DOES EVERYBODY UNDERSTAND THOSE SENTENCES?” asked Mrs. Spaulding.

  “Is everybody clear?” asked Mrs. Hearn. “Any—”

  “Glenn, sit down, please,” said Mrs. Spaulding.

  “—questions? Eric, questions? Cody, questions? Antoinette, question?”

  “Can we skip around?” Antoinette asked.

  “You may answer in any order you want,” said Mrs. Hearn, “as long as you answer every single question. Except for the last one, where it says, Do you like this story, yes or no? I want you to save that one for last. Okay? Sound like a deal?”

  “BACK TO YOUR DESKS QUIETLY, GET YOUR PENCILS OUT,” Mrs. Spaulding ordered. “Shhh. Donny, have a seat. Back at your desks, pencils out. Super-good handwriting. Come on, Donny, back to your desk. Guys, complete sentences. Name and date.”

  Mrs. Hearn said, “We’ll put Mr. Peabody’s Apples up on the board for you.” She asked me to write the title and author on the board.

  “Antoinette, get in your own space,” said Mrs. Spaulding. “Get your legs in your space.”

  “What are you doing with that?” said Mrs. Hearn, to Eric, who was fiddling with his Beyblade. “Put it away!” She got irritable. “EVERYBODY SHOULD AT LEAST HAVE THEIR NAME AND DATE ON THIS PAPER ALREADY! What are you doing?”

  “LET’S GO, LET’S GO!” said Mrs. Spaulding.

  “Let’s go, let’s go!” said Mrs. Hearn. “High-quality work!”

  While the pencils moved in their little levered circles, Mrs. Spaulding and Mrs. Hearn conferred.

  “Can you write Happyville on the board?” Paisley asked me. I wrote it.

  Glenn asked Mrs. Hearn if he had to answer the first question.

  Mrs. Hearn said, “Yes, everybody can make a connection to this story, in some way, shape, or form. You have teachers, people play sports, there are all kinds of connections you can make. If this was a DRA, you would have to make a connection to this story somehow. Have you forgiven someone for saying something to you? Stanley, get over in your space! Aubrey, get the name of the book and the author on there. Let’s go!”

  “What’s your connection to the story?” prompted Mrs. Spaulding. “It could be something outside the school.”

  “Come on, Eric!” said Mrs. Hearn.

  Skylar raised a hand. “Can I do a connection with baseball?”

  “I just said that,” said Mrs. Spaulding. “Make it a good connection, though. Make sure it makes sense with the story! Super-good handwriting. I have erasers if you need them.”

  “You’ve got to answer this in order to answer this,” said Mrs. Hearn, tapping Reese’s paper with her lacquered fingernail. “You’ve got to tell me what the most important thing is in the story, why was it important, and which character did it involve. I like how people are restating!” said Mrs. Hearn. “Make sure you’re restating! ‘The author is trying to tell us . . .’”

  I cleared my throat in a low wolfish groan that only I could hear.

  “Come on, restate the question!” said Mrs. Spaulding.

  “Everybody should be different!” said Mrs. Hearn. “Everybody should have a different connection. Eric, pull your desk back so there’s a space between you and Cody.”

  Cody asked how you spell friend.

  “F-R-I . . . ?” said Mrs. Spaulding.

  “E-N-D!” said the class in unison.

  Mrs. Spaulding wanted to hear it again. “Come on, kids, HOW DO YOU SPELL FRIEND?”

  “F-R-I—E-N-D!”

  Mrs. Hearn wanted to hear it again. “How can you forget!” she said to Cody. “F-R-I—”

  “E-N-D!” said the class.

  “Put it to a Madonna tune, and rock it,” said Mrs. Spaulding. “We’ve been spelling that since—”

  “Let’s see your best Madonna move, Mrs. Spaulding!” said Mrs. Hearn.

  Antoinette, Paisley, and Talia began dancing and chanting, “F-R-I—E-N-D!”

  Mrs. Hearn cut it short. “Okay, FIVE, FOUR, THREE.”

  Silence. “Nice,” said Mrs. Spaulding. “Eyes on the page.”

  “Mrs. Spaulding,” said Mrs. Hearn, “I’m going to take Cody for ten minutes so we can go over some things.”

  Cody made a throttled roaring sound.

  Mrs. Hearn pointed at me. “Judge. Can you put the word judge on the board?” I wrote judge on the board. She and Cody disappeared.

  I whisper-helpe
d three kids spell rumor.

  Mrs. Spaulding helped a kid spell something.

  I helped Micah write I feel bad for Mr. Peabody. I helped Glenn spell by, as in “Don’t judge people by,” and own, as in “Mind your own.”

  “One time I stoled one of my brother’s toys,” Glenn confessed to me. “I shouldn’t have do it, but I wanted it bad.”

  “I finished my paper,” said Talia.

  “You are a speed demon,” I said.

  “So what do I do?” she said.

  “I guess you just have to twiddle your thumbs,” I said. I showed her how to twiddle her thumbs. “You can pass about five minutes that way, but your thumbs will get tired. No, do anything you want. You’re doing good.”

  “Can I draw?” she asked. Of course.

  Mrs. Spaulding said, “I’ll take your papers for Mrs. Hearn. If you’re not done, you’ll be getting them back. If not today, tomorrow, maybe at recess, or first thing in the morning. We’re going to get ready for Book Buddies. You don’t need to bring a book. I think she’s got some kind of project she’s going to have us do. So give me your papers, sit down, and Mr. Baker can start lining you up. SIT DOWN, STANLEY. Thirty seconds. Good job. Everybody better have something written down. Stanley, you’re going to work on this tomorrow. Leave your scissors here. The first-graders will be doing the cutting. LEAVE YOUR SCISSORS HERE. I’m not going down the hall with a bunch of scissors.”

  “Do we bring a pencil?”

  “Do we ever bring a pencil to Book Buddies? No. Voices off right now. Show me when you’re ready! SHOW MR. BAKER WHEN YOU’RE READY. Books away. NO BOOKS. Glenn, are you ready? Emerson!”

  Mrs. Spaulding picked the quietest line, and cued me to tell them to line up. “Okay, line up,” I said. “Do you guys know the way to Mrs. Latimer’s class?”

  Yes.

  “You know everything,” I said.

  Mrs. Spaulding said, “Super-quiet walking! I’m at the end. Nope, don’t take anything. Shh! Voices off!”

  In the hall, just outside the door to a classroom, I spotted Toby, the fifth-grader who told me he sucked at everything, sitting by himself at a gray table. “Hi, I know you,” I said. “How’s it been going?”

  “Good,” he said. He looked broken and hopeless—he had a worksheet in front of him that he couldn’t do. I hurried to catch up with the class.

  Cody joined the line, after his talking-to by Mrs. Hearn. “Cody, your shoe’s untied,” said Mrs. Spaulding. “When you get to class, please tie it. Let’s catch up.”

  Mrs. Spaulding, twenty-two students, and I stuffed ourselves in Mrs. Latimer’s crowded first-grade classroom. “THIRD-GRADERS, VOICES OFF,” said Mrs. Spaulding.

  “First-graders,” said Mrs. Latimer, “if you can hear me, and see me, then I need you to turn your voices off. Third-graders need to know how they’re going to help the first-graders. My first-graders are going to get a new math journal. The very first thing you need to do when you get your new math journal is third-graders are going to help the first-graders rip out activity sheet nine. FIRST-GRADERS! James!”

  “Eyes on Mrs. Latimer,” said Mrs. Spaulding.

  “It has—”

  “SHHHH!” said Mrs. Spaulding. “Scarlett!”

  “—a little perforated line, where you have to gently rip it out. Make sure you’re just getting activity sheet nine.” She ripped out the sheet, making a farty sound. Loud laughter. “It makes a funny sound,” she said. “And then with scissors, first-graders, with the help of the third-graders, need to cut on the dotted lines. Be very careful not to cut off the numbers, because those are important. You need to cut them all out. Then, on the back of the journals, my first-graders need to write their initials. Third-graders, you can help them.”

  “Kennedy!” said Mrs. Spaulding. “Chair down! Shh.”

  Mrs. Latimer said, “When they are all cut out—Katie, keep the table still, please—then you will end up with your fact triangles. And then you’re going to help them with their math, if you wouldn’t mind. The way you use fact triangles—”

  “LISTEN!” said Mrs. Spaulding.

  “—is you hold them in your hand, and you put your thumb over one of the numbers. So let’s say you put your thumb over the top—the top is with the dot—so the answer is five. So you ask your first-grader, ‘What is three plus two?’ Without them seeing the answer, they figure out that it’s five. Then you cover another corner. And then it will be five take away two, and they would need to give you the answer of three. Then you turn the triangle around and you cover another corner. So you’re quizzing them on their facts. There’s quite a few of them here. So cut out, first; initials on the back second; third thing you do is you start quizzing your first-grader on their facts. Okay? Make sense? Careful cutting on the edges, Kai!”

  Mrs. Spaulding said, “Third-graders, you hear that? We’ve all done this, haven’t we?”

  Mrs. Latimer went over the fact triangles quiz a second time. Each number triangle was called a fact family.

  “Don’t let these first-graders fool you, they’re pretty smart!” said Mrs. Latimer’s ed tech, Mrs. Huntley, who had an even louder, lower voice than Mrs. Spaulding’s.

  “Listen up!” said Mrs. Spaulding. Mrs. Latimer read off the names of the paired children. I followed Cody and his first-grader, James, out into the hallway with several pairs of trianglers. James was wearing a snappy cowboy costume. “How much does it cost?” asked Cody.

  “Thirty-five dollars,” said James.

  “So the trick with perforation—” I started to say.

  Cody ripped out the activity page roughly, leaving some of it behind in the book.

  James made a sad cry.

  “You’re fine,” I said. “Cody avoided the triangles.”

  I showed another first-grader, Taylor, how to fold the page back and forth over the perforation so that it separated better. “Just get it started real easy,” I said.

  The kids were in a rush to finish cutting out all the triangles.

  “How tall are you?” said Reese, from my class.

  I told him.

  “My brother’s six foot one. He’s seventeen.”

  Was he at Lasswell?

  “He’s homeschooled,” said Reese. “He goes to something called Reveal. It’s a Christian program. My uncle is like six foot eleven.”

  “Amazing,” I said. James was scissoring like mad. “You cut a lot of triangles there, sir,” I said. “Good cutting.”

  Paisley’s first-grader, Rosa, said, “I’m already done.”

  Paisley quizzed her, holding her thumb over one number on a triangle: “What’s six plus two?”

  “Eight,” said Rosa.

  Paisley turned the triangle. “What’s eight minus two?”

  “Um—six.”

  Cody began to wander among the pairs of book buddies, saying, “What, what, what, what? What, what, what? What, what, what?”

  Sitting on the floor was uncomfortable; I wanted to lie down and take a nap. I said, “Cody, you’ve got to hang with your book buddy. He needs your help. He’s working. Look at him work—encourage him. You’ve got to actually sit down on the rug.”

  “I don’t feel like sitting down,” said Cody, “because my legs hurt.”

  While standing, Cody put his thumb over a number and quizzed James. “Three plus four,” he said.

  “Six,” said James.

  “Seven,” said Cody.

  I showed James what three plus four was on my fingers. He understood.

  “Seven minus three,” said Cody.

  “Four,” said James.

  “Excellent, breakthrough,” I said. “That’s how it works.” I made an enormous yawn. “Excuse me.”

  “I get sleepy almost every day,” said James.

  “It happens to me around this time in
the afternoon,” I said. “I get the woozies. What are you going to do when you get home?”

  “I have something very difficult to do,” said James. “I’m building something in Minecraft.” His class had earned an extra recess by filling up their pom-pom jar, he said.

  Paisley said, pointedly, “Yeah, and Cody, we haven’t filled up our marble jar yet.”

  Mrs. Spaulding collected the scissors.

  Cody said, “If we earn our jar bank, we’re going to have thirty minutes of recess.”

  “That is almost unthinkable,” I said. “How far are you? Halfway there? She’ll start tossing marbles in toward the end.”

  It was time to grunt and get up slowly from the carpeting.

  “FIRST-GRADERS, GET ALL YOUR TRIANGLES!” said Mrs. Latimer.

  “THIRD-GRADERS, IN LINE,” said Mrs. Spaulding. “Eric, five minutes if you don’t get up!”

  We processed back to room 4. Reese said, “Nine times nine is eighty-one.”

  “That’s some serious math,” I said. “I know kids in sixth grade who don’t know that. Some people have a hard time with math.”

  “Some people never learn their times tables, literally,” said Reese.

  In the classroom, Mrs. Spaulding said, “Everybody in your seats. FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO.” A few stragglers rushed to their chairs. “EVERYONE ON YOUR BOTTOMS. Listen to Mr. Baker.”

  I began handing out pizza party announcements for all to take home. The announcement said, “Dear Parents, We earned a PIZZA PARTY tomorrow, May 16th, for lunch!!!! Our class collected the most food for the food pantry!!!! Thank you so much! You will not need to send your child with a lunch tomorrow but definitely send in the normal snack. Sincerely, Mrs. Fellows.” At the bottom of the page was a picture of a pizza with a smiley face on it made of discs of pepperoni.

  “So, guys, how are you doing with multiplying by one digit?” I asked.

  “Shhh!” Mrs. Spaulding said. “Voices.”

  Eric came up to the board to demonstrate how to multiply 56 x 4. “Well, six times four is twenty-four,” he said, “so I do the four down there and carry the two up there.”

  I asked him to stand a little to the side so people could see.

  “Skylar!” said Mrs. Spaulding in the back, scanning the class for daydreamers.