by Stan
Contents
Chapter 1. The New Teacher
Chapter 2. The Dweebish Hour
Chapter 3. The Disappearing Baseball Cards
Chapter 4. More Thefts
Chapter 5. Guilty or Innocent?
Chapter 6. Grizzmeyer Grills the Gang
Chapter 7. The Bear Detectives Rise Again!
Chapter 8. The Bear Detectives on the Trail
Chapter 9. To the Thinking Place
Chapter 10. The Mad Bombers of Bear Country School
Chapter 11. Caught Red-Handed
Excerpt from The Berenstain Bears and the Great Ant Attack
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About the Authors
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
The New Teacher
Rumors were as much a part of Bear Country School as walls and windows, bells and buzzers, homework and report cards. There were rumors about Too-Tall maybe getting suspended for his latest prank. There were rumors about a longer school day. There were rumors about almost anything. The latest rumor was about a new teacher coming to the school.
“What’s the new teacher’s name?” Brother Bear called to Cousin Freddy. They were playing catch after school on the school’s baseball field. Brother crouched at home plate. His catcher’s mitt was ready. Freddy wound up for the next pitch. WHACK. Freddy’s fastball landed in Brother’s mitt.
“Don’t know,” said Freddy.
“Strike one,” said Brother. He threw the ball back to Freddy and signaled for a curveball. “Well, is the new teacher a grade teacher or some kind of special teacher?” he asked.
SMACK. Freddy’s curveball zipped across home plate into Brother’s mitt. “Don’t know,” called Freddy.
“Strike two,” said Brother. He signaled for a slider. “Well, is it a man or a woman?” he asked.
“Don’t know.” POP.
“Strike three!” cried Brother. “You’re out, Freddy.”
“What do you mean, I’m out?” yelled Freddy. “The batter’s out!”
“No, you’re out,” said Brother. He tossed the ball back. “I asked you three easy questions about the new teacher, and you missed every one. Three strikes and you’re out. What’s with you, Freddy? You usually know everything that’s going on in school.”
Freddy shrugged.
Just then Sister Bear came running toward the baseball diamond. She stopped beside Brother at home plate and waved to Freddy to come over. She seemed very excited. “Hey, guys,” she said. “I’ve got all the info on the new teacher!”
“Name?” asked Brother.
“Mr. Dweebish,” said Sister.
“Grade or special?” asked Freddy.
“Special.”
“Subject?” asked Brother.
“Social studies,” answered Sister.
“Ugh!” Freddy groaned. “Another social studies teacher! They’re all the same.”
“Yeah, all boring,” said Brother.
“Not Mr. Dweebish,” said Sister.
“Another rumor,” said Brother. “I can feel myself falling asleep in class already.”
“No rumor!” said Sister. “This is straight from Teacher Jane. And she should know. Mr. Dweebish is from Bear Country University, and he’s here to teach a special class. It’s an experiment for just one hour a day in just one of the classes. If it works, Mr. Dweebish will teach one hour a day in all the classes next year.”
“And what’s the name of this special class?” asked Freddy.
Sister thought for a moment. “Uh…something about democracy,” she said. “It’s called…Formations of Democracy. I think.”
“Formations?” said Freddy. He made a face. “Sounds more like fighter planes.”
“Or football,” said Brother.
“Or stalactites and stalagmites,” said Freddy.
“Okay, okay,” said Sister. “So it’s not ‘formations.’ But it sounds like ‘formations.’”
“Creations?” said Freddy. “Constellations? Vibrations?”
“Vibrations of Democracy?” groaned Brother. “Gimme a break!”
“It’s like building houses,” said Sister. She was thinking very hard.
“Foundations?” asked Brother.
“That’s it!” cried Sister. “Foundations of Democracy!”
“Sounds boring to me,” said Brother. “And which is the lucky class that gets an hour a day with this Dweebish?”
Sister grinned. “Guess.”
“Oh no,” moaned Brother.
“Yep,” said Sister. “Teacher Bob’s class! Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” said Brother. “And congratulations to you, Sis, for getting to miss it.”
“Oh, but I think it will be interesting,” said Sister. “And I won’t miss it, either.”
“What do you mean?” said Freddy. “You’re not in our class. You’re in Teacher Jane’s class.”
“And that’s exactly why Teacher Jane was just telling me all about Mr. Dweebish,” said Sister. “She chose me and Lizzy Bruin as honors social studies students. For one hour each day, we get to move up to your class for Formations of Democracy.”
“Foundations,” said Brother.
“Whatever,” said Sister. “Gimme the ball, Freddy. I want to throw a couple.”
“Say ‘please,’” said Freddy.
“Please,” said Sister.
“Say ‘pretty please,’” said Freddy.
“Pretty please.”
“Say ‘pretty please with sugar on top.’”
“Pretty please with a baseball bat on top of your head,” said Sister.
“Okay, okay,” said Freddy. He handed Sister the ball. “Don’t get upset.”
Sister hurried out to the pitcher’s mound while Brother handed Freddy his catcher’s mitt. “You catch her,” Brother said. “My hand’s tired.” Brother knew something Freddy didn’t know. Maybe Sister was two years younger and a girl. But she had one of the hardest fastballs at Bear Country School. “Better signal for a curveball,” Brother told Freddy.
Freddy looked up. “Why?”
“Trust me,” said Brother.
Freddy shrugged and put down two fingers for a curveball. Sister read the sign and wound up. The pitch came at Freddy like a rocket. It slammed into his mitt. CRACK!
“Yow!” cried Freddy. He dropped both the ball and the catcher’s mitt. Then he started jumping up and down on home plate, shaking his hand. “I signaled for a curveball!” he screamed at Sister.
“I guess the sun was in my eyes,” said Sister with a grin. “Sorry about that. Well, gotta go. I want to tell Mama and Papa about Formations of Democracy.”
“Foundations,” said Brother.
But Sister was already heading home. She was running at top speed.
Brother looked at Freddy. “My little sister can be a real pain in the neck,” he said.
“You mean pain in the hand,” said Freddy, moaning.
Brother laughed. “Not a bad fastball, though,” he said.
But Freddy had forgotten all about Sister’s fastball and his aching hand. He was looking toward the parking lot at the other side of the school grounds. A car he had never seen before was pulling into a space in the teachers’ section. “Look over there,” he said.
Brother and Freddy both turned to get a good look. The driver got out of the car and walked toward the school. Mr. Honeycomb, the principal, was waiting to greet him.
“Must be Mr. Dweebish, the new teacher,” said Freddy.
“Must be,” said Brother.
The new teacher wore a gray hat, a gray suit, and thick glasses that glinted in the afternoon sun. He was almost a head shorter than Mr. Honeycomb. And h
e was rather roly-poly.
“He kind of looks like his name,” said Brother.
“And let’s not forget nerdish and wimpish,” said Freddy. “What do you think?”
Brother sighed. “I think Too-Tall and his gang will eat him alive.”
Chapter 2
The Dweebish Hour
The very next day, before lunch, Teacher Bob told the cubs that a new daily social studies class was about to begin. He also said that Sister Bear and Lizzy Bruin would be joining them from Teacher Jane’s class.
The buzzing of cub voices stopped the moment the new teacher entered the room. Mr. Dweebish went straight to the blackboard and wrote his name on it. There were a few giggles. “I told you he’d be a dweeb,” whispered Too-Tall Grizzly to Skuzz just loud enough for everyone to hear. More giggles could be heard.
Mr. Dweebish pretended not to notice. Under his name on the blackboard, he wrote “Foundations of Democracy.” Then he turned to the class. “What are foundations?” he asked in a loud clear voice. He wore thick glasses. Behind them his eyes were bright and interested.
The cubs looked at each other. They had expected some kind of opening talk by the new teacher telling them what “Foundations of Democracy” meant. This new teacher was different. He jumped right into things!
Sister Bear’s hand went up. She was frowning the way she always did when she thought hard about something. Mr. Dweebish saw right away that Sister was younger than the other cubs in class. “You must be one of the honors students from Teacher Jane’s class,” he said.
“Yes,” said Sister. “My name is Sister Bear.”
“Well, Sister, what are foundations?”
“They’re like what you build a house on top of,” said Sister.
Most of the class laughed. “Some honors student,” cracked Too-Tall.
Mr. Dweebish glanced at Too-Tall with a cold smile and said, “Actually, Sister is right. Foundations are exactly like what you build houses on. They’re what come first when you build anything. And that could be anything from a house to a political system. But the foundations of democracy aren’t bricks and concrete. They’re ideas and activities. What do you think of first when you think of democracy?”
After a moment, Cousin Freddy raised his hand and was called on. “Voting,” he said.
“Very good,” said Mr. Dweebish. “Voting is an activity that is a foundation of democracy. And what idea is it based on?”
Queenie McBear raised her hand. “Representation!”
“Exactly,” said Mr. Dweebish. “In a democracy, the people get to decide who represents them in government. They decide who will run their country and make their laws. And it is usually the majority of people who get their way.”
“Then I’m the majority in my gang,” said Too-Tall loudly without raising his hand. “Because I always get my way!”
“Oh, shut up, Too-Tall,” said Bertha Bruin.
“Yeah, stop being such a creep,” said Babs Bruno.
“Calm down, class,” said Mr. Dweebish. He looked straight at Too-Tall through his thick glasses. “Too-Tall,” he said, “I take it you are a gang leader.”
“Yeah,” said Too-Tall. “You take it right.”
“Sounds to me as if you’re a dictator, Too-Tall. And there are no dictators in a democracy.”
Too-Tall yawned. “Who cares about democracy, Mr. Dweeb…I mean, Dweebish?”
Mr. Dweebish didn’t bat an eye. He just went right on talking to Too-Tall. “Well, you may not care about democracy, Too-Tall. But democracy cares about you.”
“Huh?” said Too-Tall.
“I take it you’re not very popular, Too-Tall,” said Mr. Dweebish. “Outside of your gang, that is.”
Too-Tall didn’t answer.
“Most democracies,” continued Mr. Dweebish, “protect unpopular people who have unpopular ideas. They protect them from being pushed around by the popular people with popular ideas. That’s why the majority doesn’t always get its way.”
Mr. Dweebish looked away from Too-Tall to the whole class. “Suppose Mayor Honeypot, who represents the majority of Bear Country voters, told Too-Tall that he wasn’t allowed to say he didn’t like democracy. And that if he ever said so again, Chief Bruno would arrest him and throw him in jail. Could that happen?”
“No!” cried Babs Bruno. “My dad would never arrest Too-Tall just for saying something dumb!”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t, Ms. Bruno,” said Mr. Dweebish. “But Mayor Honeypot wouldn’t even be allowed to give such an order to Chief Bruno. Because in our Bear Country democracy, we have freedom of speech. Freedom of speech protects us from the majority and the government. It protects us whenever they want to bully us into saying only things that they want to hear.”
“Who you callin’ a bully?” snapped Too-Tall.
Mr. Dweebish looked at Too-Tall. “No one,” he said.
“Oh,” said Too-Tall. He was confused. “But you called me unpopular!”
“And I also said it isn’t always wrong to be unpopular,” said Mr. Dweebish. “In your case, though, it might be.”
“Very funny, Mr. Dweeb,” said Too-Tall. “But I don’t need to be popular to get my way. If somebody says somethin’ I don’t like, I pop him. And if somebody takes somethin’ that’s mine, I pop him and grab it back.”
“Aha!” said Mr. Dweebish. He went to the blackboard and wrote on it: “Innocent until proven guilty.” He turned back to the cubs. “Now, we’ve already talked about the way democracy protects us against bullies who punish people just because of what they say. But Too-Tall just brought up another very important way in which democracy protects us. It’s so important, in fact, that it is another foundation of democracy in Bear Country.” He pointed to the words on the blackboard.
“Hey, Mr. Dweeb,” called Too-Tall.
“It’s Dweebish,” said the teacher.
“Okay. Dweebish. I don’t buy this stuff about innocent until proven guilty. Like I just said, somebody takes somethin’ that’s mine, I pop him.”
“But suppose you didn’t see him take it,” said Mr. Dweebish.
“No problem,” said Too-Tall. “I just figure out who did it. Then I slap him around until he confesses.”
“But suppose he didn’t do it?” asked the teacher. “Suppose you’ve got the wrong one?”
Too-Tall thought for a moment. “Who cares?” he said. “All’s fair with wimps, nerds, and dweebs.”
“Oh, will you stop it, Too-Tall,” said Brother.
“Yeah,” said Cousin Freddy. “Don’t be such a jerk.”
“Who’s gonna make me?” Too-Tall said to Brother. “You and your nerdy little cousin?”
Freddy turned red. He just hated it when Too-Tall called him that! Even though he wasn’t nearly as big or as tough as Too-Tall, he jumped up and ran right at the bully. “I told you never to call me that!” he screamed. He swung his fists wildly. But Too-Tall easily held him off with one long, strong arm. Brother ran after Freddy and tried to pull him away before Too-Tall decided to take a poke at him.
“BACK…IN…YOUR…SEATS!” shouted Mr. Dweebish. “THIS MINUTE!”
“Hey, teacher,” said Too-Tall. “I’m already in my seat. It’s all these wimps and nerds that’re runnin’ around.”
“This time you are right, Too-Tall,” said Mr. Dweebish. He glared at the class. “Now, we will all remain quiet and in our seats while I continue my discussion with Too-Tall. If you wish to speak, raise your hand. Understood?”
The cubs all nodded and kept quiet. This Dweebish might be a bit of a nerd. But he was no wimp!
“Now, Too-Tall,” said the teacher. “Let’s forget about ‘innocent until proven guilty’ for a moment. Let’s talk about why we have a government in the first place. Suppose the cub you thought took your property was bigger than you.”
“How much bigger?” asked Too-Tall.
“Much bigger.”
“No problem, Teach,” said Too-Tall. “That’s why I’ve got my
gang.”
“Right, boss!” said Skuzz, Smirk, and Vinnie all at once.
“And suppose that this really big fellow goes and gets his gang,” said Mr. Dweebish. “How about that?”
“Yeah,” said Brother. “How about that? You and your dumb gangs.”
“That’s all you ever think about, you big bully,” said Babs Bruno. “Gangs and beating people up.”
“Of course he’d get his gang!” said Queenie. She was sort of Too-Tall’s girlfriend. “What would you expect him to do?”
“But like Mr. Dweebish is saying,” said Babs, “then the other guy would get his gang. And before you know it, everyone’s in gangs with everybody beating everybody up…”
More cubs joined in. Soon everyone was talking all at once. Usually that bothered the teacher. But Mr. Dweebish didn’t look bothered at all. In fact, he was smiling.
He walked to the blackboard again and wrote two more words: “chaos” and “anarchy.” He turned to face the class and shouted above the noise, “Chaos—pronounced KAY-oss—means total confusion and disorder. Anarchy—AN-ark-ee—means without law and government…!”
Suddenly the noise and shouting stopped. There was dead silence in the classroom. Mr. Honeycomb, the principal, was standing in the doorway. And he looked angry.
“Greetings, sir,” said Mr. Dweebish. “Welcome to our class in Foundations of Democracy. We were just discussing the terms ‘chaos’ and ‘anarchy.’”
“It seems to me, Mr. Dweebish,” said the principal, “that what you were doing was demonstrating the terms ‘chaos’ and ‘anarchy.’”
Again Mr. Dweebish didn’t bat an eye. “Well, sir, I guess you’re right,” he said proudly. “I always like to demonstrate terms and ideas for my students.”
“Just try to do it a little more quietly, please,” said Mr. Honeycomb. He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. But by the time he was halfway down the hall to his office, the angry look on his face had disappeared.
Hmm, thought Mr. Honeycomb. We brought this Dweebish fellow in to make social studies more interesting for the students. And noisy or not, he seems to have done that already!