Our Teacher is a Vampire and Other (Not) True Stories

A boy ghost appeared.

  A student named Izzybelly screamed.

  “Never fear,” said Elaxander. “This ghost isn’t here to haunt us. He’s my friend.”

  “Yep,” said the boy ghost. “My name is Bob.”

  A most excellent dude named Slick asked, “So, how did you kick the bucket, Bob?”

  “I was a student in Mr. Finkersnot’s class last year,” Bob said. “I died of boredom. So, what do you want from me today?”

  “We want to get rid of Mr. Finkersnot,” Harryson said.

  “Yeah,” Buzzard said. “Can you help?”

  “Abso-dabbo-lutely,” Bob said.

  The students cheered. They wanted to lift him up on their shoulders, but he just slipped through their fingers.

  “Meet me at Mr. Finkersnot’s house at midnight,” Bob said, and floated away like a cloud.

  That night all the students met outside Mr. Finkersnot’s house. Bob had a special ghost dust that he sprinkled on them to make them all invisible for exactly one hour. Then they went into the house.

  Mr. Finkersnot was already asleep. His shirt and pants for the morning were all laid out on top of his dresser. He was giving the students in his class a six-hour test the next day, and he wanted to get there early to sharpen all the pencils.

  The invisible students went to work. Elaxander and Slick put Mr. Finkersnot’s alarm clock in the refrigerator. Izzybelly, Jazzy, Teacup and Narly put bright orange dye in his shampoo. Buzzard, Omart and Harryson took out all the lightbulbs and hid them in the closet. And, last but not least, Krusty took the feathers out of a pillow and glued them all over his shirt and pants.

  Then they slipped through the walls, went back to their houses and got into their own beds before the ghost dust wore off.

  Bob floated away silently. His job helping the Writers of Delite was done.

  In the morning the kids went to school. They were lined up on the playground waiting to go in. The principal looked angry. “Where is Mr. Finkersnot? He is late.”

  Just then the students saw a giant chicken running across the field toward the school.

  “I’m here! I’m here!” the giant chicken yelled. “My alarm didn’t go off and the lights in my house wouldn’t go on. I had to take a shower and get dressed in the dark. But I’m here!”

  “Mr. Finkersnot!” the principal exclaimed.

  He had bright orange hair, and white feathers all over his clothes.

  “This is not what I expect from my teachers here at Delite Elementary School,” the principal told him. “You’re fired.”

  All the students were happy. Mr. Finkersnot was confused. He didn’t understand why he was fired. Then he went home, looked in the mirror and fainted with a thunk.

  Eventually the poor chap did get a job at the Minnesota Zoo doing the chicken dance on Cluck Like a Chicken Day.

  The End

  LOL!!!

  Great story!

  Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha for real!

  Hilarious!

  MONDAY, JANUARY 13

  Dear Mrs. Penrose,

  I am taping this letter in this book so that you will see it when you come back. It explains why I will not allow the students to write in this book anymore.

  At first, I agreed to allow students to write on Fridays if they finished all their work. Last Friday, Nick did not complete his math, spelling or history. He did manage to find time to write a story about a “Mr. Finkersnot.”

  I discovered it today.

  The story was completely inappropriate. I told the students that I was taking away the book. I also explained we will be taking the state Path to Success tests soon, and, according to the school calendar, all attention should be focused on getting ready for them.

  Sincerely,

  THURSDAY, JANUARY 16

  Nick’s Surprise

  by Kristin

  Our class is on the road to being criminals. We have stolen this book back! Here’s the scoop.

  At recess, Nick and Buzz told everybody to meet down by the pine tree.

  When we were all there, Nick said, “Hey, guys, look what we have.”

  Buzz lifted up his shirt. The class book was tucked inside his pants.

  Omar had a fit.

  We all said ssshhh.

  “How did you get that?” Isabella asked.

  “We made a cover that looks like our book cover and put it over Mali Koam’s ‘Secret Pages.’ It looks just like our book! When Mr. Pinkerton wasn’t looking, we switched the books.”

  “But Mrs. Penrose specifically told us to be helpful to the substitute,” Omar whispered. “Stealing is not helpful.”

  “This book belongs to us. He’s the one who stole it from us,” Buzz said.

  “We’ll get caught,” Isabella said.

  “Who cares? Nobody likes Mr. Pinkerton,” Carly said.

  “I feel sorry for him,” Omar said.

  “Do you like him?” Carly asked.

  “No,” Omar said. “But he’s just trying to do his job. Mrs. Penrose would want us to be good students.”

  “Mrs. Penrose also told us to keep the flame of passion burning,” Harrison said.

  There was a moment of silence.

  “Harrison speaks the truth,” Alexander said.

  Harrison smiled.

  Alexander went on. “Mrs. Penrose told us to read and write a lot. And our class book inspires us to do that. Mr. Pinkerton probably only read Nick’s story. He probably didn’t read the whole book. It’s like judging a book by its cover. He thinks the whole book is inappropriate. That’s wrong.”

  “I think we should return the book to Mr. Pinkerton before he finds out,” Omar said.

  “We’ll get caught trying,” Isabella said.

  “We could put this book back and just get a new blank book,” Omar said.

  “That wouldn’t be the same. I love going back and reading all the letters,” Tee said. “Just seeing all the writing in our book makes my brain on fire to write.”

  “We could write to Mrs. Penrose and ask her what to do,” Omar said.

  Tee almost started to cry. “What if she is ashamed of us?”

  “Let’s write to Mali Koam for advice,” Harrison said.

  Once again, the shy guy makes the touchdown.

  Dear Mali Koam,

  Our real teacher is in the hospital because her baby’s lungs aren’t ready for the world. We are worried. On top of that, our substitute doesn’t like our collaborative book. He hid it in his drawer.

  We got crabby and desperate for our book. My mom gets like this when she is out of coffee.

  We stole it back.

  Here’s the thing. Someone in our class wrote a WOW story about the substitute. The whole thing hurt Mr. Pinkerton’s feelings. Mr. Pinkerton is boring, but you’re not supposed to say that to someone in the face. If Mrs. Penrose were here, this wouldn’t have happened.

  By the way, the story had a want, an obstacle, and a win. We learned a lot from you.

  It’s recess right now. We are all sitting down by the pine tree, and we don’t know what to do. We are going to mail this letter tonight. We hope you write back. I (Kristin) will put in a stamped envelope with my address on it so you can send me a letter back to my house.

  Truly yours,

  P.S. It’s too dangerous to write in this book and it’s too dangerous to return it. So until we figure out what to do, Alexander is hiding it in his cubby.

  This is Alexander. By the way, since you live in Maryland I will tell you that I went to a famous graveyard once in Baltimore, Maryland. It was delightfully spooky. Farewell.

  FRIDAY, JANUARY 24

  A letter came from Maryland!

  I am taping it here and showing everybody at recess today.

  — FROM THE DESK OF MALI KOAM —

  Dear Writers of Delite,

  Oh dear. Sounds like you have a lot of complex issues. I wanted to write back right away.

  I am so sorry about Mrs. Penrose and hope that her baby is all
right. I’m sure that the doctors and nurses at the hospital are taking good care of both of them.

  I can tell that you value your class book. I love the way you wrote that you became “crabby and desperate” when you couldn’t write. We are kindred spirits, indeed. Stories are like oxygen to me.

  My guess is that the story about the substitute was funny but also hurtful. That’s the thing about writing. Words are powerful. They can heal us or they can hurt us.

  Has the author of the story written a letter of apology to Mr. Pinkerton? A letter can often express what is difficult to say. Letters also allow the reader time to reread and think over the matter. That sometimes helps.

  Can you find a way to channel your creative energy in a positive direction? Can you find a way for your stories to be funny without hurting anyone’s feelings? Can you write stories that heal instead of hurt?

  Yours truly,

  Every once in a while, you have an extraordinary day. The sky is bluer for you. The sun is warmer for you. The air is filled with electricity.

  We, the Writers of Delite, are having an extraordinary day. The letter we got from Mali Koam filled us all with secret energy. It’s lunch right now and I’m too jumpy to write, so I’m going to hand this over to Kristin. She’ll write down what happened.

  —

  The Plan

  by Kristin

  At recess we all raced down to our meeting spot and read the letter three times in a row.

  “Mali Koam says that stories are like oxygen,” Tee said. “We should write that WOW story for Mrs. Penrose and give it to her so that she can read it to baby Ryan. Stories heal.” She was so excited she was bouncing on the tips of her toes like a balloon trying to float up.

  “Words can’t really heal anything, only medicine can do that,” Omar said quickly.

  All the air went out of Tee, and out of the rest of us, too.

  Harrison stepped up onto the merry-go-round. “I respectfully disagree with Omar,” he said. We all looked at him. “Words can make you feel better. When Alexander wrote that he liked my story idea about touching the moon and that he liked my letter to Mali Koam, those were all just words. But his words made me feel better. Maybe words aren’t miracles like abracadabra, you’re all better, but words can give you a good feeling that helps you when things are hard, like when you move to someplace new and nobody likes you at first. That’s a kind of healing.”

  We were all quiet for a moment.

  Alexander nodded. “I agree. I think when words are written down, they get even stronger power.”

  I agree, too. I remembered how good it felt to write the “I’m sorry” note to Isabella and how her note made me get unfrozen.

  “I like words in very black ink because the ink is so black and the page is so white and you can read those words over and over anytime you want,” Tee said.

  “Let’s do Tee’s rabbit story,” Jazmine said. “It’ll be a great present for the baby. Mrs. Penrose will love it. She said she wanted to read it, remember? Let’s all take turns.”

  “Tee gets to start and finish,” I said. “The rest of us will write when it’s our turn.”

  “You know, if our story is good we could give it to the baby and sell it for a million bucks,” Carly added. “Just saying.”

  “Nick should write a letter of apology to Mr. Pinkerton like Mali Koam suggested,” Omar said. “And we have to explain about swapping out the books. It will be better for us to tell him than for him to find out.”

  “I think we should all write the letter together,” I said. “It can be an apology letter, but it can also be a persuasive, informative letter. We can get him to change his mind about the book.”

  “Let’s put the letter in this book and deliver it to him with the page marked ‘Read This, Please,’” Alexander said. “We’ll ask him to write his reply in the book. That way we’ll have a record of the whole thing.”

  “Alexander can add some nice pictures to Nick’s letter, maybe one showing Mr. Pinkerton looking handsome,” Jazmine said. “That could help.”

  Carly stood up. “We have a plan. Let’s write the apology first. That’s a wrap.”

  “When it’s time to write the story, I hope I can think of how to start,” Tee said.

  “Don’t stare at the blank page,” Harrison said. “Close your eyes and really picture your main character like Mali Koam does. Where is the rabbit? What is he doing? What is he thinking? Then open your eyes and write.”

  “Go big or go home,” Buzz said.

  Omar let out a breath. “I hope Mr. Pinkerton forgives and forgets.”

  “He will,” Isabella said. We all looked at her and she shrugged. “We’re good writers. After he reads our letter, it will be okay.”

  Recess is over. Our plan begins on Monday.

  MONDAY, JANUARY 27

  Dear Mr. Pinkerton,

  As you can see, we stole the book back. Actually, I (Nick) took this book and put a different one in its place. We were desperate. I’m sorry about that and about the Mr. Finkersnot story. I was trying to be funny, but I didn’t think about how you would feel if you saw it. I get carried away sometimes like Nick. I’m sorry, too. Please read this book starting at the beginning so you can see what it’s all about. But you do not need to read the Mr. Finkersnot story again, because that might make you mad again. We would like to write a story for Mrs. Penrose and her baby and send it to her. We will only work on this during recess. We will not fight about who will write in it next or what we will write, because we have all agreed. Please, please say yes. Even though writing this story is not on the state test, and it will not make us rich, we are learning something valuable, and my spelling is getting better and better. It is making even me want to write (I’m Buzz).

  Respectfully yours,

  P.S. Please write your reply in this book.

  TUESDAY, JANUARY 28

  Dear Class,

  I read your letter, and I decided to read the rest of your book. I can see that there are many educational things about it. I will allow you to write in the class book during recess. As I said before, you may also write in it on Fridays if you are done with your work. The book will stay on my desk when it is not in use. Please respect my rules, and I will respect your desire to write in the book.

  Sincerely,

  WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 29

  Great news! We can keep writing. Hurray!!!! Tee gets to start. Remember, this is just our rough draft. Don’t take forever. Just get something down and pass it on.

  We can always make it better.

  The Tiny Rabbit

  by the Writers of Delite

  A rabbit was born in a warm, cozy house. He was just a tiny thing.

  One night his mother told him that winter was almost over. She said when he got stronger she would take him down the hill. Other rabbits lived there and they would be his friends.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about those other rabbits. He really wanted to hop out and find them. One night, when everyone was fast asleep, he decided to do it.

  At midnight, the little rabbit hopped up to the surface.

  The prairie was under a white quilt of snow. On one side of the hill was a creek. Here and there, pine trees were holding out their branches. In the black sky, the moon was hanging just over the top of the hill, surrounded by stars.

  The rabbit jumped for joy. He thought the moon and stars were other rabbits.

  He went to find them. He kept hopping through the night.

  As he hopped, he didn’t notice that the sky was changing. Heavy clouds came and crowded the sky. The wind picked up its speed. It howled through the leaves of the trees. Suddenly, a bad mix of sleet and freezing rain came down.

  Boom! Crack! Lightning and thunder. A terrifying winter storm. The tiny, helpless rabbit shivered in fear.

  Things got worse for the poor guy.

  He called out, “Mama!” But he was too far from home.

  He turned to hop back, but he slipped on an icy patch
and slid down, down, down. He landed with a terrible splash in that cold creek.

  He holds his breath and tries to feel for the ground with his feet, but the water is too deep and moving too fast.

  The rushing creek carries him along. Luckily, a stick floats by and he reaches out and grabs it. He floats along. He keeps his head above water.

  He saw his own house. The rushing creek was carrying him past his own house!

  “Help!” the bunny called out as he held on to the stick and paddled to keep his head above the water.

  But his parents were underground, still fast asleep.

  “Wake up, sleepyheads!” the rabbit yelled. “Can’t a bunny get a break around here?”

  Nope. The bunny was swept right past his house.

  The sleet and freezing rain stopped and the sun came out, and so things got better for the bunny. Still, he was floating along, and he really didn’t know how he was going to get out of that creek.

  But he smiled and said to himself, “Something good will happen.”

  Down the hill, there was another house with ten rabbits just like his mother said. They happened to hear the rabbit crying out for help.

  “We have to do something,” one of the other rabbits said.

  They quickly found a rope and threw it across the creek.

  As the little rabbit was swept closer, they yelled out to him. “Grab the rope and we’ll pull you in.”

  The little rabbit reached up with his paw and grabbed the rope.

  The others pulled him in. The rabbit climbed out of the water. The ground felt firm underneath his feet.

  “Thank you very much for the rescue,” the rabbit said.

  Just then, the mother rabbit came hopping up. When she woke up and saw that her bunny was gone, she had been very worried. She had been searching for him everywhere.