Starting School

by Johanna Hurwitz

  “Are you really going to eat that?” asked Mrs. Greenstein. “I thought you were on a diet.”

  “Diets are not for people who teach kindergarten in this school. Especially people who have Marcus Cott in their class.” Ms. Boscobel sighed. “All morning I kept thinking about this donut. I told myself that when I was sitting and eating it at lunchtime, the worst of the day would be over. And today is Thursday. That means the worst of the week is over as well. Just one more day, and then we have the weekend to look forward to.”

  “I know how you feel,” said Mrs. Greenstein. She looked at the carrot sticks spread out on a piece of waxed paper in front of her. “I wish I had a donut myself.”

  Ms. Boscobel smiled and handed over her paper bag. Inside was a second donut.

  “What a treat!” Mrs. Greenstein said as she took a large bite. “Thank you,” she said through a mouthful of donut. As usual, the two kindergarten teachers were alone in the room. Their classes were dismissed fifteen minutes before any of the other grades had lunch. They always had those fifteen minutes together before they were joined by other teachers.

  “So tell me. What did darling Marcus do today?”

  “Listen to this,” began Ms. Boscobel. “The tops of the windows in my classroom were open this morning, and a small bird flew into the room. Some of the children were very upset—after all, they’ve never seen a bird flying around inside the classroom before. The bird couldn’t find its way out, and it flew from one corner of the room to the other as the kids screamed and shouted.”

  “I did hear screams coming from your room,” said Mrs. Greenstein. “I wondered what was going on.”

  “Well, Marcus climbed up on one of the tables and tried to catch the bird. Naturally, several of the other kids climbed up on the table, too. I had to get all of them down before someone fell. At the same time, I had to calm the children who were frightened.”

  “What happened next?” asked Mrs. Greenstein.

  “Then Marcus led everyone in shouting instructions to the bird, like ‘Fly out the window.’ He also had advice for me, like ‘Open the windows’ and ‘Open the doors.’ But the windows were already open, and it would make no sense to have the bird flying help­lessly in the hallway. So I told two of the girls to see if they could find Mr. King. I thought he might know what to do.”

  “And did he?”

  “Well, yes, eventually. But before he came, Marcus had half the children running around the room, flapping their arms like birds. And then the very worst thing happened.”

  “Mr. Herbertson walked into your room?” gasped Mrs. Greenstein.

  “Oh, no. Thank goodness for that,” said Ms. Boscobel. “But it was still something awful. The poor bird crashed into one of the glass window-panes and dropped to the floor.”

  “Was it dead?”

  “We all thought so. Two children began crying. The others rushed over to investigate. Sam Fenton said he thought we should all say a prayer. Well, since we’re not supposed to pray together in school, I wasn’t sure what to do next. Luckily, just then the two girls returned with Mr. King.”

  “That’s good,” said Mrs. Greenstein, licking the sugar off her fingers.

  “No, it was bad, because Mr. King picked up the bird and suddenly it began to move. The children thought it was the bird’s ghost, and of course everyone screamed louder than ever. But then Marcus shouted out, ‘King George, you brought him back to life. You’re magic!’ So Mr. King put the little bird on a branch of one of the trees out in the yard. We watched from the window and saw it fly away.”

  “What a nice ending,” observed Mrs. Greenstein. “You got off very easy having Marcus in your class,” she commented. “Take it from me, you don’t know what a difficult student is like.”

  “There is no way that Marius is as difficult as Marcus,” insisted Ms. Boscobel.

  “Oh no? Well, listen to this,” said Mrs. Greenstein. “Remember Cecelia Griffin’s mother, who came to school on Tuesday to talk about being an author?”

  “Of course,” responded Ms. Boscobel.

  “Well, after she spoke to our classes, I asked her to autograph the copy of her book that we had in our room. And this morning, our sixth-grade mentor, Cricket Kaufman, discovered Marius scribbling with a pen inside all the books in our library corner. First she let out a shriek of horror. Then when I rushed over to see what the problem was, I heard her demanding to know what he thought he was doing. He said he was playing that he was an author.”

  Ms. Boscobel giggled. “That’s really funny,” she said. “No wonder he did that. We always tell children not to write in books and then we make a big deal about asking an author to do exactly that.”

  “Go ahead and laugh,” said Mrs. Greenstein. “The books in your classroom aren’t all marked up with ink scribbles. I don’t know who was more upset, me or poor Cricket. I thought she was going to start crying. She said, ‘He should be arrested for doing that.’”

  “Well, I don’t care what you say,” said Ms. Boscobel. “I still feel that Marcus is much more difficult than Marius.”

  “He certainly is not,” said her colleague as the door to the teachers’ room opened and several faculty members came inside.

  “This school year is never going to end.” Ms. Boscobel sighed.

  “Sounds like you have a tough class this year,” commented a third-grade teacher, Mrs. Hockaday, who had just entered the room with several other teachers.

  Ms. Boscobel nodded her head. “Actually, the whole class isn’t so bad. It’s just one who seems to set everyone else off.”

  “Well, you know what they say about rotten apples,” commented another teacher. “It only takes one to spoil all the others in the barrel.”

  Two third-grade boys, who had been walking down the hallway outside, stuck their heads through the open door of the teachers’ room. All the children in the school were fascinated by the room, which was off-limits to them. Mrs. Hockaday got up from her chair and closed the door.

  “Lillian has Marius Cott. And I have his twin brother, Marcus,” Ms. Boscobel explained. “But I’m certain that Marcus is much more of a problem than Marius,” she added.

  “I had their older brother, Lucas, when he was in third grade,” said Mrs. Hockaday, nodding her head. “But you know, in the end, he wasn’t so bad.”

  “Well, Marcus isn’t bad. He’s awful,” said Ms. Boscobel.

  “Marius is worse,” asserted Mrs. Greenstein. “Much worse.”

  Mrs. Forrest, a second-grade teacher who was standing near the microwave oven, looked over at the two kindergarten teachers. “What the two of you should do is trade classes for a morning. Then you’d know who has the more difficult student.”

  Ms. Boscobel looked at Mrs. Greenstein. “That’s not such a bad idea,” she said. “I could use an easy morning for once.”

  “Easy? One morning in my classroom and you’d know what hard work really is,” said Mrs. Greenstein.

  “Pick a day,” suggested Ms. Boscobel. “I’d love to switch with you. Even for an hour.”

  “All right,” agreed Mrs. Greenstein. “How about Monday morning? We’ll tell the students that I have to do some sort of work in your classroom. It shouldn’t be difficult to arrange.”

  Ms. Boscobel held her hand out across the lunch table. “It’s a deal,” she said. “And I’ll even bring a bag of donuts again on Monday. You’ll need something to look forward to when the morning is over.”

  “I can’t wait to hear how this turns out,” said Mrs. Forrest. “Bring me a donut, too. It was my idea.”

  Mrs. Greenstein gathered her things together. It was time to get ready for her afternoon class.

  “I’m looking forward to our exchange,” she told Ms. Boscobel.

  “Me too,” said the younger teacher. “For once I won’t be dreading Monday morning. In fact, I’ll be looking forward to it.”

  “Just don’t forget the donuts,” Mrs. Greenstein reminded the other kindergarten teacher. “Y
ou’re going to need them.”

  “So will you. You’ll see.”

  7

  TRADING PLACES

  It was the first Monday in October. School had been in session for four weeks. In the two sections of morning kindergarten, the pattern of the day was set. The teachers and the children had mastered everyone’s names. Students in Mrs. Greenstein’s class knew that giving oneself a pat on the back was a big honor. Students in Ms. Boscobel’s class knew that the thing that seemed to bother her the most was a drippy nose. “Take a tissue and blow,” she always said, pointing to the box on her desk. In both classes, Friday was “color” day, when the children came to school wearing clothing that was the color of the week. Last Friday it had been blue.

  On Monday, both Mrs. Greenstein and Ms. Boscobel came into the school building smiling and eager to start the new week. They each stopped in their own room to leave their jackets and pocketbooks in the closets. Then they walked out of their rooms and met in the hall. “I was going to review the alphabet this morning,” said Mrs. Greenstein. “But feel free to do anything you want.”

  “Have you read this?” asked Ms. Boscobel. She held up a copy of Harry the Dirty Dog.

  “No. I don’t have that book in my room,” said Mrs. Greenstein.

  “It’s an old favorite of mine,” said Ms. Boscobel. “I read it aloud last week and my children loved it. I’ll read it to your group this morning.”

  “Fine,” agreed the other kindergarten teacher. “Have fun. And if Marius drives you crazy, remember you’ll be able to escape back to your own room before long.”

  Ms. Boscobel laughed. “You’re the one who’s going to come running,” she predicted.

  Now, it just so happened that on their way to school that morning, Marcus and Marius began to protest that their mother walked with them every morning. Now that they were no longer in preschool, they weren’t babies. They knew the way to school. Why couldn’t they walk to school alone like the other kids they saw along their route?

  “Can’t we go by ourselves?” Marius begged his mother.

  “Next year, maybe,” said Mrs. Cott.

  “Next year? That’s a hundred years from now,” complained Marcus. “A hundred years.”

  “I have an idea,” suggested Mrs. Cott. “I’ll walk you to the corner of the street with the school. Then you two can walk the last half block by yourselves.”

  “Yippee,” shouted Marcus. “That’s almost like walking all the way alone.”

  “No, it’s not,” said Marius.

  But Mrs. Cott would not budge. “I’m going to walk you to the last corner and that’s that,” she insisted.

  So Marius had to be satisfied with pretending that he’d walked all the way to school like a big kid, even though he’d only done it for the last little bit.

  Then Marius got a great idea. After their mother left the boys at the corner, he said to his brother, “Let’s go say hi to Lucas before we go inside the school.”

  Their mother had taken them once to see Lucas at his Safety Patrol post. Both boys had been impressed by the way that Lucas stood waving his hand to instruct the students when to cross the street. They had both decided that they wanted to wear a sash and a badge and be on the Safety Patrol as soon as they were in sixth grade.

  “Do you know which way it is to where Lucas stands?” asked Marcus.

  “Sure,” said Marius.

  The twins walked past the school’s entrance and past all the children getting off of buses and hanging around in front of the building.

  “It’s down this next street,” said Marius, hoping he was right. He looked around for some sort of landmark, but the houses on the street looked very much like all the others in the area.

  “Okay,” agreed Marcus, jumping along. He had discovered that if he held his two feet together and jumped, he could cover as much ground as if he walked normally.

  “Do you remember the name of the street?” Marius asked Marcus. They had reached a crossing area, but another boy—not their brother—was on duty here.

  “Nope.”

  Boys and girls streamed past them in the opposite direction, toward the school.

  “I think it’s down the next street,” said Marius hopefully.

  Marcus called out to a girl wearing the blue sash and silver badge of a Safety Patrol member. “Do you know Lucas Cott? He’s our brother.”

  “Sure, I know him,” the girl said.

  “Which way is his street?” asked Marius.

  “I don’t know what post he’s got,” the girl replied. “Besides, it’s time to go to school. You’d better come with me.”

  “No way, José,” shouted Marius, and he started running off.

  Marcus followed his brother. “Why are we running?” he called to Marius.

  “We don’t want to walk to school with that girl,” he told Marcus.

  They turned around, but the girl wasn’t following them.

  “You know what?” Marcus asked Marius.

  “No. What?” said Marius.

  “We’re lost. I don’t remember which way the school is.”

  “It’s back down that way,” said Marius, pointing, but Marcus wasn’t sure.

  The two boys walked in the direction that Marius had picked. Marcus hoped they were going the right way.

  “Do you think we’ll ever find our way back again?” Marcus asked. It had been fun looking for Lucas. But now he wanted to be sitting in his class. He would have liked listening to Ms. Boscobel read a story or singing with his classmates. Maybe it would be snack time. Marcus would have liked a few crackers and a glass of juice.

  “I’m tired,” said Marcus. He sat down in the middle of the sidewalk. “I don’t want to walk any more. Lucas is at school by now. We’ll never find him.”

  “Who’s that coming this way?” asked Marius. He pointed to a boy a block off who was running in their direction.

  “It looks a little like . . .,” Marcus began.

  “Lucas!” shouted both twins in unison. They ran to greet their brother.

  “What in the world are you doing here?” Lucas demanded.

  “What are you doing here?” Marius questioned back.

  “I came looking for you,” said Lucas. “One of the girls in the Safety Patrol told me she saw you walking in the wrong direction.”

  “We were looking for you,” said Marcus.

  “We didn’t know it was the wrong direction,” Marius explained.

  “Well, we better get going to school,” said Lucas. “We’re all late.”

  “I’m tired,” Marcus complained. “I’m tired of walking.”

  “That’s because you weren’t walking. You were jumping,” Marius pointed out.

  “I don’t care. I don’t feel like walking to school.” Marcus sat down again on the sidewalk.

  “We can’t leave him,” said Marius. He sat down on the sidewalk next to Marcus.

  “Look, you guys,” said Lucas helplessly. “There’s no bus that goes this way. And you’re too big for me to carry you. So you have to walk. That’s all there is to it. Get up and start walking.”

  “No,” said Marcus, shaking his head.

  “I don’t want to,” said Marius.

  The twins remained sitting on the sidewalk. Lucas sat down beside them on the curb.

  “Listen,” he said. “It’s not a big deal to miss kindergarten. But sixth grade is important. I’m missing a spelling quiz right this minute. You guys are getting me in big, big trouble.”

  “Really?” asked Marcus.

  “Really,” said Lucas. He stood up. “So I guess I’m going to have to leave you both here and go by myself.”

  “Really?” asked Marius.

  “Really,” said Lucas, taking a couple of small steps in the direction of the school. “Good-bye,” he called to the twins. Lucas took another couple of steps.

  “Wait!” shouted Marcus. “Wait.”

  “We’re coming,” Marius called out.

  Th
ere was no one outside the building to notice their late arrival. “Now we have to go to the office and get late passes,” Lucas explained to his brothers.

  “What’s a late pass?” asked Marcus. “What’s a late pass?”

  “You can’t get into your class without it if you don’t get to school on time,” Lucas explained as he led his brothers toward the office.

  “Uh-oh. Are we going to get in trouble?” asked Marius.

  “Probably,” said Lucas.

  “What will happen?” asked Marcus.

  Lucas shrugged. He was an old hand at getting in trouble. His career as a class clown had started back when he was Marcus and Marius’s age. But in the last couple of years he’d begun shaping up.

  “Look. If you really and truly promise me that you’ll always come straight into school and not go looking for me or wandering off, I’ll cover for you this time,” Lucas offered.

  “I promise,” said Marius. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

  “Me too,” said Marcus. “I don’t want to get in trouble, either. I don’t want to make Ms. Boscobel angry at me.”

  Lucas entered the office holding his brothers by the hand. “Wait here,” he said, letting go of their hands and pointing to a bench along one wall in the office.

  As their brother spoke to the school secretary, the twins spoke together in hushed voices.

  “Mrs. Greenstein won’t get angry that I’m late,” said Marius. “She never yells. Even when she doesn’t like what I’m doing she says, ‘Marius. I told you not to behave that way,’ but she says it in a nice voice.”

  “Ms. Boscobel won’t yell, either,” said Marcus. “She loves me and I love her. She’s a perfect teacher. She’s better than Mrs. Greenbean.”

  “Stop calling her that,” said Marius angrily. “She’s Mrs. Greenstein, and she’s the best teacher in the whole school.”

  “No, she’s not. The best teacher is Ms. Boscobel,” Marcus insisted.

  “Mine’s the best,” said Marius. “Mrs. Greenstein knows about everything: dinosaurs, birds, planets, how to make things out of paper, and cooking the best foods, and, and, and . . .” He stopped to catch his breath.