Martha made good on her promise and saw Clark off to school on his first day and was waiting there to pick him up again at the end of it. The thought that his parents would leave him stopped being a problem and as far as Jonathan and Martha were concerned, Clark's introduction into society was a success. As far as Clark was concerned, it was the most boring thing he'd ever done in his whole life.
School was simply too EASY for him. This wasn't really the fault of the teacher; how was she supposed to know Clark had already covered the stuff they were doing at home with his mother? She wasn't, but that didn't prevent her from being pleased when he knew the answers in class and nor did it prevent the glares the other students had when he did. Still, it relieved the monotony and gave Clark something to do, besides.
It wasn't until Pete pulled Clark aside one day after school that Clark learned he'd been going about it all wrong. "I don't think they like you very much, Clark," Pete told him seriously.
"What?" Clark said surprised. "Why do you say that?"
"You're always answering all the questions the teacher asks, like you're some kind of teacher's pet or something."
Clark couldn't help but feel insulted at this claim. "I am not a teacher's pet," he said firmly. "I can't help it if I already did all that stuff."
"No," Pete agreed, "you can't. But you don't have to make every kid in the room know it, either. Just sit there with a half-dumb look on your face, like this." Pete made his face go slack and held his mouth half way open.
"And that's supposed to help me get through school?" Clark asked suspiciously.
"Yep," Ross said happily.
Clark tried it the next day and it seemed to work well enough; the hostile looks of the other children faded, but along wit hthat grew Clark's boredom. It was simply unbareable. Finally, in desperation, he reached for a crayon and drew a figure sleeping on asheet of paper. Pete, who had been sitting there slack-jawed for over an hour, noticed and grinned and drew a thought bubble going up from his head showing him riding a bike. The bike looked more than slightly deformed but Clark and Pete both thought it was hilarious and grinned and each other and started embellishing the picture with additional drawings. The main one showed a building (helpfully labelled 'school') with flames sprouting from the windows and a crowd of small stick-figures cheering out in front of it (speech bubbles read, helpfully, 'YAY!')
The were busy adding color to the flames when Clark felt a firm hand clamp down on his shoulder and looked up to see their teacher standing behind them, her other hand clamped down on Pete's shoulder. "I'll just take this picture," she said, "and if the two of you would please remain here after school, I would be very grateful." Pete's face had lost the slack-jawed look and now had one that told Clark all he needed to know about the horrors of being cuaght drawing pictures of the school burning down to the ground. Clark swallowed.
The rest of the afternoon passed unbelievably slowly as neither Clark nor Pete dared a look at each other and anytime their eyes met by chance, they were quickly reeled back to the front of the room. When the bell finally rang, Clark and Pete slowly made their way to the front of the classroom as the rest of the class emptied. "Sit down and wait there, please," their teacher said and, obediently, they did as asked. Their teacher began writing. And continued to write. And write. Clark snuck a look at Pete, hoping for guidance but Pete looked as lost and forelorn as Clark felt.
After what seemed like an eternity, their teacher stood up and held two folded pieces of paper out to them. "You both know your drawings were inappropriate," she said in a stern voice. "I have written these notes to your parents and expect you to deliver them. Also, from now on, you two will be sitting on opposite sides of the classroom. Clark, you'll trade places with and will sit next to Greg. You may go."
The two of them snatched the letters out of her hand and ran to catch the bus. As it pulled away, they collapsed in a seat. "I thought we were dead," Pete confessed, pressing his head against the hot, sticky seat in front of them. "But we got off pretty easy." He leaned back and began to unfold the letter.
"What, you're going to read it?" Clark asked, surprised.
"Yeah, she said to give it to our parents. She didn't say anthing about not reading it." Pete opened it and stared at it blankly. "What's wrong?" Clark asked.
"It's written in cursive," Pete said bitterly. "I can't read it."
"Here, lemme see. Maybe I can read it." Clark tried to snatch it out of Pete's hands but the kid across the aisle grabbed it first.
"What's this, a note? Little second graders get in trouble in school?"
"Give it--" Clark started to say but Pete grabbed his arm. "DON'T," he hissed. Pete pretended not to notice his letter was gone until the older kid crumpled it up and threw it at him. "Drawing pictures?" he said with scorn in his voice. "How boring." Pete breathed a sigh of relief and crammed the note into his pocket.
"Why didn't you let me stop him?" Clark asked Pete angrily after they got off the bus and were walking home.
"Because," Pete said, "He's Nathan, a third grader."
"And last year he was a second grader. So?"
"That's not the point. He's mean no matter what grade he's in. I heard he takes first graders' heads and dunks them in the toilet."
"Ew," Clark wrinkled his face at this.
"Exactly. Best to leave him alone."
Silently, Clark agreed and Pete and he parted ways, each heading home.
***************************************************************************
The irst thing Clark did when he got home was place the letter on the kitchen counter. He'd spent the rest of the walk hom debating which would be smarter: presenting the letter to his parents right when he got home or waiting until they asked him what he'd done that day in school. Or, not telling them at all. He opted for the fourht option: leaving it on the counter while his parents were still out working meant that he was neither announcing nore hinding ist presence. But should they happen to overlook it...well...no one was perfect. He then snatched upa a couple of cookies and headed out to the fields.
***************************************************************************
His scheme lasted exactly until dinnertime, when his father walked into the kitchen to sit down and noticed the inconspicuous paper sitting on the counter. "What's this?" Jonathan asked, picking it up. Clark suddenly felt a boulder settle in his stomach. "Oh, a note from school," he managed to say as casually as possible.
"Oh?" Jonathan threw him a look and then unfolded the paper and started reading. Clark found himself trying to watch him surrepticiously. First, Jonathan's face was open, curious, then for a moment it looked as though he was going to burst out laughing, but this was quickly swallowed down and his face became a mask of seriousness that certainly didn't make Clark feel any better. Martha read it over his shoulder and when they were both finished, they looked at him across the table and waited for him to speak. He didn't.
"Well?" Jonathan asked, finally breaking the silence.
'Well what?' Clark thought, but didn't dare say. "Yes?" He answered.
"We'd like to hear from you what happened in school today, son."
'Isn't that in the letter?' But Clark didn't say that either. Instead he opted for defending his actions. "It's BORING in school," he said. "I've already done everything we're doing now. So I just started drawing." It occured to Clark that it might be a mistake to make it seem like he had done it all, so he added hastily, "and Pete helped."
"So you stopped paying attention in class, distracted Pete and then the both of you drew a picture of the school burning down?"
'Yeah that was pretty much it,' Clark thought silently. "Well, what else were we supposed to do? I was bored."
Jonathan and Martha exchanged looks and then Martha said, "Clark, no matter what you may think, we didn't send you to school so that you would be bored to death. We also didn't send you so you and Pete could play all day either."
Clark found a snag. "But you said that if I went to school I'd get to see Pete more."
"Yeah, but only if you pay attention in class," his father responded. "If this keeps up, you may not get to see Pete at all. Your teacher's already separated you two in class, you don't have to see each other outside of school either."
Clark gaped at his parents. This just wasn't fair. "But you can't do that."
"If you can't pay attention in school, we can keep Pete from coming over."
"Look," Martha interjected. "School will get better with time you just have to be patient. Your teacher said that for the first couple of weeks you were doing really well and answering lots of questions and then somewhere, it just stopped."
"That's because of the other kids," Clark informed them, partially hoping it would get their attention off him.
"What other kids?" Jonathan asked.
"The other ones. They didn't like me because I was answering all the questions and thought I was a teacher's pet." He decided not to include Pete's advice on how to counter them.
"Clark, if the other kids are going to be jealous of you just because you know more, there's nothing you can do about it," Martha said genlty.
"And it's no reason to start causing trouble in class. That'll get you other attention you don't necessarily want," Jonathan added. "Just do your best...don't draw all the attention to yourself but don't ward all of it away either."
Clark nodded and scooped up the last bit of food off his plate. "I will. Can I be excused now, please?"
"Yes," Martha answered. Clark sprung up from the table and ran outside, only to hear his dad call after him, "But don't forget the time! You've got chores to do too!"
"I won't!" Clark yelled back, disappering.
School was simply too EASY for him. This wasn't really the fault of the teacher; how was she supposed to know Clark had already covered the stuff they were doing at home with his mother? She wasn't, but that didn't prevent her from being pleased when he knew the answers in class and nor did it prevent the glares the other students had when he did. Still, it relieved the monotony and gave Clark something to do, besides.
It wasn't until Pete pulled Clark aside one day after school that Clark learned he'd been going about it all wrong. "I don't think they like you very much, Clark," Pete told him seriously.
"What?" Clark said surprised. "Why do you say that?"
"You're always answering all the questions the teacher asks, like you're some kind of teacher's pet or something."
Clark couldn't help but feel insulted at this claim. "I am not a teacher's pet," he said firmly. "I can't help it if I already did all that stuff."
"No," Pete agreed, "you can't. But you don't have to make every kid in the room know it, either. Just sit there with a half-dumb look on your face, like this." Pete made his face go slack and held his mouth half way open.
"And that's supposed to help me get through school?" Clark asked suspiciously.
"Yep," Ross said happily.
Clark tried it the next day and it seemed to work well enough; the hostile looks of the other children faded, but along wit hthat grew Clark's boredom. It was simply unbareable. Finally, in desperation, he reached for a crayon and drew a figure sleeping on asheet of paper. Pete, who had been sitting there slack-jawed for over an hour, noticed and grinned and drew a thought bubble going up from his head showing him riding a bike. The bike looked more than slightly deformed but Clark and Pete both thought it was hilarious and grinned and each other and started embellishing the picture with additional drawings. The main one showed a building (helpfully labelled 'school') with flames sprouting from the windows and a crowd of small stick-figures cheering out in front of it (speech bubbles read, helpfully, 'YAY!')
The were busy adding color to the flames when Clark felt a firm hand clamp down on his shoulder and looked up to see their teacher standing behind them, her other hand clamped down on Pete's shoulder. "I'll just take this picture," she said, "and if the two of you would please remain here after school, I would be very grateful." Pete's face had lost the slack-jawed look and now had one that told Clark all he needed to know about the horrors of being cuaght drawing pictures of the school burning down to the ground. Clark swallowed.
The rest of the afternoon passed unbelievably slowly as neither Clark nor Pete dared a look at each other and anytime their eyes met by chance, they were quickly reeled back to the front of the room. When the bell finally rang, Clark and Pete slowly made their way to the front of the classroom as the rest of the class emptied. "Sit down and wait there, please," their teacher said and, obediently, they did as asked. Their teacher began writing. And continued to write. And write. Clark snuck a look at Pete, hoping for guidance but Pete looked as lost and forelorn as Clark felt.
After what seemed like an eternity, their teacher stood up and held two folded pieces of paper out to them. "You both know your drawings were inappropriate," she said in a stern voice. "I have written these notes to your parents and expect you to deliver them. Also, from now on, you two will be sitting on opposite sides of the classroom. Clark, you'll trade places with and will sit next to Greg. You may go."
The two of them snatched the letters out of her hand and ran to catch the bus. As it pulled away, they collapsed in a seat. "I thought we were dead," Pete confessed, pressing his head against the hot, sticky seat in front of them. "But we got off pretty easy." He leaned back and began to unfold the letter.
"What, you're going to read it?" Clark asked, surprised.
"Yeah, she said to give it to our parents. She didn't say anthing about not reading it." Pete opened it and stared at it blankly. "What's wrong?" Clark asked.
"It's written in cursive," Pete said bitterly. "I can't read it."
"Here, lemme see. Maybe I can read it." Clark tried to snatch it out of Pete's hands but the kid across the aisle grabbed it first.
"What's this, a note? Little second graders get in trouble in school?"
"Give it--" Clark started to say but Pete grabbed his arm. "DON'T," he hissed. Pete pretended not to notice his letter was gone until the older kid crumpled it up and threw it at him. "Drawing pictures?" he said with scorn in his voice. "How boring." Pete breathed a sigh of relief and crammed the note into his pocket.
"Why didn't you let me stop him?" Clark asked Pete angrily after they got off the bus and were walking home.
"Because," Pete said, "He's Nathan, a third grader."
"And last year he was a second grader. So?"
"That's not the point. He's mean no matter what grade he's in. I heard he takes first graders' heads and dunks them in the toilet."
"Ew," Clark wrinkled his face at this.
"Exactly. Best to leave him alone."
Silently, Clark agreed and Pete and he parted ways, each heading home.
***************************************************************************
The irst thing Clark did when he got home was place the letter on the kitchen counter. He'd spent the rest of the walk hom debating which would be smarter: presenting the letter to his parents right when he got home or waiting until they asked him what he'd done that day in school. Or, not telling them at all. He opted for the fourht option: leaving it on the counter while his parents were still out working meant that he was neither announcing nore hinding ist presence. But should they happen to overlook it...well...no one was perfect. He then snatched upa a couple of cookies and headed out to the fields.
***************************************************************************
His scheme lasted exactly until dinnertime, when his father walked into the kitchen to sit down and noticed the inconspicuous paper sitting on the counter. "What's this?" Jonathan asked, picking it up. Clark suddenly felt a boulder settle in his stomach. "Oh, a note from school," he managed to say as casually as possible.
"Oh?" Jonathan threw him a look and then unfolded the paper and started reading. Clark found himself trying to watch him surrepticiously. First, Jonathan's face was open, curious, then for a moment it looked as though he was going to burst out laughing, but this was quickly swallowed down and his face became a mask of seriousness that certainly didn't make Clark feel any better. Martha read it over his shoulder and when they were both finished, they looked at him across the table and waited for him to speak. He didn't.
"Well?" Jonathan asked, finally breaking the silence.
'Well what?' Clark thought, but didn't dare say. "Yes?" He answered.
"We'd like to hear from you what happened in school today, son."
'Isn't that in the letter?' But Clark didn't say that either. Instead he opted for defending his actions. "It's BORING in school," he said. "I've already done everything we're doing now. So I just started drawing." It occured to Clark that it might be a mistake to make it seem like he had done it all, so he added hastily, "and Pete helped."
"So you stopped paying attention in class, distracted Pete and then the both of you drew a picture of the school burning down?"
'Yeah that was pretty much it,' Clark thought silently. "Well, what else were we supposed to do? I was bored."
Jonathan and Martha exchanged looks and then Martha said, "Clark, no matter what you may think, we didn't send you to school so that you would be bored to death. We also didn't send you so you and Pete could play all day either."
Clark found a snag. "But you said that if I went to school I'd get to see Pete more."
"Yeah, but only if you pay attention in class," his father responded. "If this keeps up, you may not get to see Pete at all. Your teacher's already separated you two in class, you don't have to see each other outside of school either."
Clark gaped at his parents. This just wasn't fair. "But you can't do that."
"If you can't pay attention in school, we can keep Pete from coming over."
"Look," Martha interjected. "School will get better with time you just have to be patient. Your teacher said that for the first couple of weeks you were doing really well and answering lots of questions and then somewhere, it just stopped."
"That's because of the other kids," Clark informed them, partially hoping it would get their attention off him.
"What other kids?" Jonathan asked.
"The other ones. They didn't like me because I was answering all the questions and thought I was a teacher's pet." He decided not to include Pete's advice on how to counter them.
"Clark, if the other kids are going to be jealous of you just because you know more, there's nothing you can do about it," Martha said genlty.
"And it's no reason to start causing trouble in class. That'll get you other attention you don't necessarily want," Jonathan added. "Just do your best...don't draw all the attention to yourself but don't ward all of it away either."
Clark nodded and scooped up the last bit of food off his plate. "I will. Can I be excused now, please?"
"Yes," Martha answered. Clark sprung up from the table and ran outside, only to hear his dad call after him, "But don't forget the time! You've got chores to do too!"
"I won't!" Clark yelled back, disappering.