Each one is special,
That is true.
Each one is special,
Just like me and you.
Snowflakes covering the ground
Make the whole world bright.
No two snowflakes are alike,
Almost . . . but not quite.
Each one is special,
That is true.
Each one is special,
Just like me and you.
By the time she got to the end, the whole class joined in on the chorus. I wanted to, but I managed not to squeak because I was afraid I’d upset Ms. Lark.
When she stopped, Mrs. Brisbane applauded and everyone joined in.
“That’s a beautiful song,” our teacher said.
“Thank you,” Ms. Lark replied. “But now I’ll tell you the best part. Half of the class will be prancing horses for ‘Jingle Bells.’ Those students will wear tails, horse manes and bells.”
“I want to be a jingle horse!” Stop-Talking-Sophie blurted out.
By the nods and whispering, I could see that the rest of the class wanted the same thing.
“The other half of the class will be glittering snowflakes whirling around the stage for the second song,” Ms. Lark said.
“Oh, I want to be a snowflake!” Sophie exclaimed.
“Sorry, but you can’t be a horse and a snowflake,” Ms. Lark told her.
Sophie looked disappointed, but she was quiet for once.
“I don’t want to be a snowflake,” Simon said. “I’d rather be a horse.”
All the boys nodded and said they wanted to be horses.
Ms. Lark turned to Mrs. Brisbane. “What do you think?”
Mrs. Brisbane thought for a second and then said she thought it would be a good idea if the girls were snowflakes and the boys were horses.
“Did you hear that, Og?” I said. “Since we’re boys, I guess we get to be horses.”
Being a horse wouldn’t be that hard for a hamster. After all, unlike humans, I already have a tail.
“BOING!” Og twanged loudly.
The class practiced the new song several times and then it was lunchtime.
When the classroom was empty again, I burrowed under my bedding to warm up and to think.
I was thinking that Og wouldn’t make a very good horse.
I’d never seen a picture of a green horse before.
And horses don’t hop.
Still, I was HAPPY-HAPPY-HAPPY that we boys were going to be horses and I’m sure Og was, too.
For the rest of the day, it was hard to concentrate on our studies, because I kept hearing “Jingle Bells” and the snowflake song going round and round in my brain.
Late in the afternoon, Mrs. Brisbane began talking about real snowflakes again. That got my attention.
Our teacher had started to explain how the ice crystals formed when Small-Paul Fletcher raised his hand.
“Mrs. Brisbane,” he said when she called on him, “I did some reading about snowflakes last night and I found out that something we talked about on Tuesday is wrong. And Ms. Lark’s song is wrong.”
“Wrong?” Mrs. Brisbane looked puzzled.
Paul pushed up his glasses. “Yes, ma’am. The song says no two snowflakes are alike, but that’s not true.”
Not true? What was Paul saying?
“Oh, my! Has anyone seen two that are alike?” Mrs. Brisbane asked.
“I’m not sure about that,” Paul said. “But it’s scientifically possible that there could be two identical snowflakes.”
“I see,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “If you’d like to do a little more research on that, I’d appreciate it, Paul. Can you report back to the class tomorrow?”
As soon as Paul said he would, more hands were raised.
“Maybe we should change the song,” Helpful-Holly suggested.
Mrs. Brisbane smiled. “I’m not sure that singing ‘Sometimes two snowflakes might be alike’ would sound as good, are you?”
“You’d have to change all the words,” Thomas said.
“Does this mean we can’t have glittery snowflake costumes?” Rosie asked. She looked VERY-VERY-VERY disappointed.
“You can still have glittery snowflake costumes,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “And I think we can keep the song as it is. We’ll talk to Ms. Lark about it tomorrow.”
All of my friends seemed pleased with her answer.
“Speaking of tomorrow, whose turn is it to take Humphrey home for the weekend?” Mrs. Brisbane asked.
I looked around the room. Which house would I be visiting for the weekend? Each week it’s a different place, which makes my life interesting.
Holly waved her hand wildly. “It’s me!” she said.
“Don’t forget to bring in the permission slip tomorrow,” Mrs. Brisbane told her.
I was pretty sure that Helpful-Holly wouldn’t forget!
Later that night, when Og and I were alone, I opened the lock-that-doesn’t-lock and scampered over to his tank.
“Og, since we’re boys and we’ll be jingle horses, do you think we should practice singing ‘Jingle Bells’? ” I asked.
My friend didn’t answer, so I decided to practice by myself. “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way . . . ” I began.
I was happy when Og chimed in. “BOING-BOING BOING, BOING-BOING BOING, BOING-BOING BOING BOING BOING!”
It didn’t sound like “Jingle Bells,” but at least Og was trying his best.
Later, I snuggled under the bedding in my cage with the notebook and pencil I keep hidden. I tried to draw two snowflakes that were exactly alike, but you know what? I couldn’t do it!
I liked the idea that no two snowflakes—and no two people or hamsters or frogs—are exactly alike. I knew that Small-Paul was smart and knew a lot about science, but was he right about this?
HUMPHREY’S WINTER WONDERINGS: Are any two hamsters ever alike? It’s STRANGE-STRANGE-STRANGE to think that somewhere there might be a classroom hamster named Humphrey who’s just like me!
4
Sour Notes
I was on pins and needles until Friday, waiting for Ms. Lark to come back.
Would she be upset when she found out that the words to her song were wrong?
Would the girls be upset if she said they couldn’t be snowflakes after all?
Would everyone be upset with Small-Paul for ruining the whole song? Would I?
“Ms. Lark, Paul Fletcher did some research and found that there’s a problem with one of the lines in your song,” Mrs. Brisbane explained when the music teacher arrived. “It is possible for two snowflakes to be identical.”
Ms. Lark looked surprised. “Really? That’s not what I learned in school.”
Mrs. Brisbane called on Small-Paul to explain.
“What I read said that while there probably have never been two snowflakes that are alike, there is a possibility,” he said. “And of course, who would know for sure? Because you’d have to look at every snowflake that ever fell.”
“Wow, that’s a whole lot of snowflakes,” Thomas said.
Ms. Lark blinked a few times as she thought. “Let’s take a vote,” she said at last. “Raise your hand if you think we should change the song.”
Not one hand—or paw—went up. Even Small-Paul didn’t raise his hand.
“Good,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “And I think I have an idea that will make everything clear. I’ll tell you later. For now, I’ll let you sing.”
And SING-SING-SING we did as Ms. Lark played on her keyboard.
First the boys sang all of “Jingle Bells.” I squeaked right along with them, but I think they drowned me out.
Then the girls sang “No Two Snowflakes Are Alike.”
I didn’t squeak along with them, since I’m not a girl. Instead, I hopped on my wheel and spun to the music.
I forgot one thing, though. My wheel makes a noise. It’s not a little SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK like mine, but a loud SCREECH-SCREECH-SCREECH. The more I spin, the more it screeches.
Suddenly, Ms. Lark looked up and stopped playing the music.
Some of the girls kept on singing, until they noticed she had stopped.
Ms. Lark stared in the direction of my cage, so I stopped spinning my wheel as well.
“Is that the—?” she asked.
“Oh, that’s Humphrey’s wheel. He enjoys spinning to music,” Mrs. Brisbane said.
“So do I,” Rosie said as she spun her wheelchair in a circle.
“Can we cover the cage with a cloth or something?” Ms. Lark asked. “So we don’t have to hear him?”
Cover my cage with a cloth? Could my tiny hamster ears actually have heard those words?
“Oh, no!” Sophie gasped. “He’d feel terrible if you did that!”
I was so happy that someone knew I wouldn’t like that!
“I don’t think we need to cover his cage,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “Let’s just sing a little louder.”
I was so worried that Ms. Lark would cover my cage, I didn’t squeak—or screech—at all as the boys practiced “Jingle Bells” again.
They sounded fine to my small ears.
But Ms. Lark stopped again and said, “Who’s that?”
The singing ended again.
“It wasn’t me,” I squeaked.
After all, I can’t be blamed for everything!
“Sing again, boys,” she said. “This time I won’t play.”
The boys cheerfully repeated “Jingle Bells.” But this time, Ms. Lark walked away from the keyboard and stood in front of the boys, looking hard at each one.
When she was standing in front of Just-Joey, she frowned.
“I’m afraid it’s you, Joey,” she said.
The boys stopped singing.
“What did I do?” Joey asked.
“I’m afraid your singing is a little bit off-key. In fact, I’m afraid your singing was way off-key,” she said.
“Off-key?” he said.
“Yes,” Ms. Lark said. “You’re not singing the right notes. Could you sing more softly?”
Joey nodded.
When the boys started singing again, Joey didn’t just sing more softly. He didn’t sing at all. His mouth was closed and he stared down at his feet.
It was the saddest “Jingle Bells” I ever heard.
“Poor Joey. I think he felt terrible about singing off-key,” Mrs. Brisbane told Ms. Lark when my friends left for recess.
“I hated to say anything,” Ms. Lark answered. “But Joey’s singing was awful. He almost sounds like that frog over there. He’s so off-key, he’ll throw everyone else off, too.”
“I’m sure he’ll try to do better,” Mrs. Brisbane said.
“He certainly will!” I squeaked.
Ms. Lark sighed. “I know, but will he be better by the time of the show? It’s very important to me.”
“BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og twanged.
I don’t blame him for sticking up for frogs (although I have to admit, the sounds Og makes don’t sound much like singing).
Ms. Lark shuddered as she glanced over at Og and me. “Don’t those animals bother you while you’re teaching?” she asked.
“Not a bit,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “The children learn a lot from them.”
“And you could learn a lot from Mrs. Brisbane,” I squeaked. If only humans could understand me—at least once in a while!
I’m not quite sure Ms. Lark believed Mrs. Brisbane . . . or me.
“They won’t . . . bite?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“Og certainly doesn’t. And Humphrey doesn’t, either, though some hamsters may give you a nibble if they’re scared. It’s not their fault,” she said.
I’m not sure, but I think Ms. Lark squeaked. She might not like hamsters, but she sounded like one!
“They won’t hurt you,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “Now, why are you so worried about the show?”
“It took a lot of hard work to convince Mr. Morales to let us have a winter program,” Ms. Lark said. “Finally, he said we could try it this once and see how successful it is. So I want everything to be perfect.”
Mr. Morales is the principal and the Most Important Person at Longfellow School. So naturally, Ms. Lark would want him to be pleased.
Mrs. Brisbane put her arm around Ms. Lark’s shoulders. “I do understand, Mary. But try to relax. I know the children won’t let you down. And the parents will love the show.”
“They will!” I squeaked.
“BOING-BOING!” Og agreed.
Ms. Lark left, thank goodness. But for the rest of the day, I thought about Joey. I didn’t think he, or his family, would enjoy the show if he didn’t get to sing.
And once we were alone at the end of the day, I opened the lock-that-doesn’t-lock on my cage and hurried over to Og’s tank.
“I’m sorry about what Ms. Lark said about your croaking,” I said. “I thought you and Joey sounded GREAT-GREAT-GREAT.”
It wasn’t actually true, but for once, I thought it was all right to bend the truth a little.
After all, I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.
I wouldn’t want to be like Ms. Lark.
Right before school let out for the day, Mrs. Brisbane gave the class an assignment.
When she said the word “homework,” everybody groaned as usual. But my classmates cheered up quite a bit when she told us what it was.
“On Monday, I want you to talk about what you like best about the winter holidays,” she said. “We’re all going to share our traditions and memories. And if you’d like to bring something in that has a special meaning for you, please do.”
There were nods and smiles. Sophie leaned over and whispered something to Phoebe, until Mrs. Brisbane told her to stop talking.
Being a young hamster, I didn’t have any traditions. I’d spent last Chanukah at Stop-Giggling-Gail’s house—she’s Simon’s sister. They lit candles and sang and they opened presents. Oooh, it was wonderful. Then I spent Christmas at Mrs. Brisbane’s house and had a hamster-iffic time! They opened presents under a sparkling tree.
But Og didn’t come into Room 26 until after the holidays.
“Og, do you know about all the celebrations that happen during the winter break?” I asked him.
He splashed around in the water but he didn’t have anything to say.
Poor Og didn’t even know about holiday fun.
Suddenly, all I wanted was for my goofy, googly-eyed neighbor to receive a present for the holidays.
And I wanted it to be from me!
HUMPHREY’S WINTER WONDERINGS: I wonder what kind of a gift a frog would like? I do know what a frog’s favorite drink is. Croaka-cola!
5
PRESENTS-PRESENTS-PRESENTS
I wanted to take you home for Christmas, but we’re going to my grandparents’ farm,” Helpful-Holly explained in the car.
It was Friday afternoon and I was on my way to her house for the weekend.
I couldn’t see where we were going because her mom put a blanket over my cage so I wouldn’t get cold. I tried burrowing under my bedding, but every time the car turned a corner, I slid from one side of the cage to the other.
My tummy felt a little wobbly from all that sliding, and at one point, I got dangerously close to my poo corner—something I try to avoid!
“Why couldn’t Humphrey come with us to Grandma and Grandpa’s farm?” Holly asked her mom, who was driving.
“I told you, Hol
ly. It’s too long a drive for a hamster, especially in the cold,” Mrs. Hanson answered. “And Grandma and Grandpa have enough animals on the farm already.”
I’d never been on a farm, but I’d heard about them. And I wasn’t interested in meeting some of those farm animals, such as large horses and cows and chickens with sharp beaks.
“But they don’t have a hamster! And I’d take care of him and make sure nothing happened to him,” Holly said.
The car slowed down and then stopped.
My wobbly tummy felt better right away.
“How can I give Humphrey his present when he’s somewhere else?” Holly asked. “I was even going to make a little stocking for him.”
I thought about that while she carried me to the house. Why would Holly make me one stocking when I have four paws?
My cage thumped and bumped as Holly carried it into the house. At last, the blanket came off and I realized that my cage was sitting on Holly’s desk.
I turned to look around and saw four eyes staring at me!
“Eeek!” I squeaked.
“Billy and Lilly, this is Humphrey,” Holly said.
I looked again and saw that the four eyes belonged to two bright orange fish, swimming in a tank on the desk. In the middle of the tank was a bright orange castle.
“Humphrey, these are my goldfish. Do you like them?” Holly asked.
“Yes,” I squeaked, and Holly giggled.
I wasn’t sure how much I liked Billy and Lilly, but I tried to be polite.
“I’m going to do my homework right away,” Holly explained. “Then I can spend the rest of the weekend making presents.”
“Remember what Mrs. Brisbane said,” I squeaked. If only she could understand me!
“She didn’t want me to give gifts, but I’ve already started and I don’t want to stop now,” she said. “Of course, I can’t let you see your present, Humphrey,” she told me. “I want it to be a surprise.”
I like surprises, as long as they’re the good kind. And I LOVE-LOVE-LOVE presents! My mind started racing as I tried to imagine what Holly would make for me.
I already knew that Holly was not a lazy human. She was always the first to raise her hand when Mrs. Brisbane asked for a helper.
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