The next morning, as Beat was walking towards Mr. Wald's classroom, she was
confronted by Alan and Jason, who was wearing a bandage on his forehead
and had his light brown pack strapped to his back.
"Good morning, Alan," Beat said warmly. "And good morning...er..."
"Jason," said Alan. "His name is Jason Powers. If anybody asks you, he's my cousin."
Beat gave Alan a surprised stare. "Your cousin? But you only met him..."
"If anybody asks you," said Alan more firmly, "he's my cousin. Got it?"
"Uh...right," Beat muttered.
"Would you mind escorting him to Bud's class?" Alan requested. "I'm a fifth grader now, so I'll be attending Mr. Baker's class."
"Gladly," said Beat. Taking Jason by the arm, she led him in the direction of the fourth-grade classroom.
"Where did you get a name like Beat?" Jason asked her.
"It's short for Beatrice."
"Oh." Jason looked around at the other kids as he and Beat drew closer to their destination. "Beatrice, do you ever encounter hostility as a result of being a half-and-half?" he asked.
"A what?"
"You know," Jason continued, "half one species, half another. Like you and me."
"Oh." Beat thought for a moment. "No, I don't. People have become more tolerant of that sort of thing."
Beat and Jason stepped through the open door into Mr. Wald's room. The teacher and the assembled kids all looked with interest at the unfamiliar boy, who they assumed was a new addition to their class. Beat took advantage of the silence to introduce Jason.
"This is Jason Powers," she announced. "He's Alan's cousin."
"I wasn't notified that a new student would be joining us," said Mr. Wald, rising from his desk. "Where are you from, Jason?"
"Uh...Walla Walla, Washington," Jason improvised.
Binky chuckled. "That's not a real place. You made it up."
"How long will you be in our class?" Mr. Wald asked Jason.
"Indefinitely," Jason replied.
Mr. Wald turned to the class. "Who can tell me what indefinitely means?"
The seated kids looked at each other blankly.
"Come on, kids," the teacher went on, "I really don't know what it means."
The kids laughed at Bud's pretension of ignorance.
Jason answered the teacher's question as Beat sat down next to Francine.
"Indefinitely means without a predetermined length of time. In other words, I may be here for a day, or a month, or a year. I have no way of knowing."
"Thank you, Jason," said Mr. Wald. "You may be seated."
Jason took a seat near the front, next to Arthur. "And if you don't know what that word means," he addressed the teacher, "then you should seriously consider taking up a new occupation."
Arthur nudged him. "He was joking." The kids chuckled.
Mr. Wald picked up a piece of chalk and wrote his name on the board. "Let's get started. Jason, my name is Bud Wald, but everybody here calls me Bud. Whether you choose to call me Mr. Wald, Bud, or Mr. Bud, is between you and your conscience."
----
Dread filled Muffy's heart as she stepped through the open classroom door in the red brick bastion of intellectualism known as Uppity Downs Academy. The room was unlike any she had seen. In place of pictures of U.S. presidents and letters of the alphabet, the walls were adorned with pictures of classical composers and cards with Latin verbs printed on them. Where there should have been a blackboard with sticks of chalk and erasers, there was a whiteboard with markers. The tops of the desks were clean and well varnished, and the kids who sat at them wore the finest and most expensive clothing. She recognized a few of the children as being members of the team that had humiliated them at the medieval fair.
At a handsome-looking redwood desk at the front of the room sat Cedric Pryce-Jones, glancing over his papers through rimless spectacles. It seemed odd to Muffy that class had not yet started, but the children sat still and quiet. They appeared to regard the place as a holy shrine, whose peace must not be broken.
Mr. Pryce-Jones looked up from his papers. "Muffy Crosswire," he said officiously, his voice echoing off the walls and floor.
"Yes," said Muffy, as if to congratulate him on the correct pronunciation of her name.
"What's that?" said Mr. Pryce-Jones, cupping his hand over his ear.
"Yes," Muffy repeated with a little more volume. The room's acoustics seemed vastly inferior to those of her old classroom at Lakewood Elementary.
"I can't hear you," said the teacher.
Muffy opened her mouth as if to speak louder, but then recognized the game that he was playing with her. Humbly she said, "Yes, Mr. Pryce-Jones...sir."
"Much better. Have a seat. Choose any desk you like."
Muffy walked to the back of the room, sat down at the remotest desk she could find, and pulled off her backpack. The other students watched her, but didn't say a word.
Mr. Pryce-Jones rose to his feet and picked up a blue marker. "Boys and girls, welcome to class. The girl you can barely see, way back there in row ZZ of the stadium, is Mary Alice Crosswire, better known to you as Muffy. As you have probably guessed, her father is the driving force--no pun intended--behind Crosswire Motors. We're happy to have her in our class. Let's extend a warm welcome to our newest student, Muffy Crosswire."
The kids apathetically waved at Muffy and said hello. She smiled and waved back.
Mr. Pryce-Jones paced slowly back and forth in front of the whiteboard. "Many years ago, in this very room, I taught an eager third-grade boy named Nigel Ratburn. That boy has now grown up to become a teacher himself, and Muffy is one of those fortunate enough to learn wisdom at his feet. Now, Muffy, if you would kindly recite the Greek alphabet for us."
Fear seized hold of Muffy's brain. "Uh...er...which alphabet?" she stammered.
"Uh...er...which alphabet, Mr. Pryce-Jones, sir," the teacher corrected her. "I believe I asked for the Greek alphabet. The one that begins with alpha and beta, from which we derive the English word alphabet."
Muffy's mouth gaped open, but no sound came out. She struggled to recall even one Greek letter she had been exposed to.
"As you can see," said Mr. Pryce-Jones, waving his marker, "the younger generation of elementary-school teachers have no appreciation for the basis on which our civilization was built. I look forward to spending many Saturdays with you, Muffy."
Muffy groaned despairingly.
(To be continued...)
"Good morning, Alan," Beat said warmly. "And good morning...er..."
"Jason," said Alan. "His name is Jason Powers. If anybody asks you, he's my cousin."
Beat gave Alan a surprised stare. "Your cousin? But you only met him..."
"If anybody asks you," said Alan more firmly, "he's my cousin. Got it?"
"Uh...right," Beat muttered.
"Would you mind escorting him to Bud's class?" Alan requested. "I'm a fifth grader now, so I'll be attending Mr. Baker's class."
"Gladly," said Beat. Taking Jason by the arm, she led him in the direction of the fourth-grade classroom.
"Where did you get a name like Beat?" Jason asked her.
"It's short for Beatrice."
"Oh." Jason looked around at the other kids as he and Beat drew closer to their destination. "Beatrice, do you ever encounter hostility as a result of being a half-and-half?" he asked.
"A what?"
"You know," Jason continued, "half one species, half another. Like you and me."
"Oh." Beat thought for a moment. "No, I don't. People have become more tolerant of that sort of thing."
Beat and Jason stepped through the open door into Mr. Wald's room. The teacher and the assembled kids all looked with interest at the unfamiliar boy, who they assumed was a new addition to their class. Beat took advantage of the silence to introduce Jason.
"This is Jason Powers," she announced. "He's Alan's cousin."
"I wasn't notified that a new student would be joining us," said Mr. Wald, rising from his desk. "Where are you from, Jason?"
"Uh...Walla Walla, Washington," Jason improvised.
Binky chuckled. "That's not a real place. You made it up."
"How long will you be in our class?" Mr. Wald asked Jason.
"Indefinitely," Jason replied.
Mr. Wald turned to the class. "Who can tell me what indefinitely means?"
The seated kids looked at each other blankly.
"Come on, kids," the teacher went on, "I really don't know what it means."
The kids laughed at Bud's pretension of ignorance.
Jason answered the teacher's question as Beat sat down next to Francine.
"Indefinitely means without a predetermined length of time. In other words, I may be here for a day, or a month, or a year. I have no way of knowing."
"Thank you, Jason," said Mr. Wald. "You may be seated."
Jason took a seat near the front, next to Arthur. "And if you don't know what that word means," he addressed the teacher, "then you should seriously consider taking up a new occupation."
Arthur nudged him. "He was joking." The kids chuckled.
Mr. Wald picked up a piece of chalk and wrote his name on the board. "Let's get started. Jason, my name is Bud Wald, but everybody here calls me Bud. Whether you choose to call me Mr. Wald, Bud, or Mr. Bud, is between you and your conscience."
----
Dread filled Muffy's heart as she stepped through the open classroom door in the red brick bastion of intellectualism known as Uppity Downs Academy. The room was unlike any she had seen. In place of pictures of U.S. presidents and letters of the alphabet, the walls were adorned with pictures of classical composers and cards with Latin verbs printed on them. Where there should have been a blackboard with sticks of chalk and erasers, there was a whiteboard with markers. The tops of the desks were clean and well varnished, and the kids who sat at them wore the finest and most expensive clothing. She recognized a few of the children as being members of the team that had humiliated them at the medieval fair.
At a handsome-looking redwood desk at the front of the room sat Cedric Pryce-Jones, glancing over his papers through rimless spectacles. It seemed odd to Muffy that class had not yet started, but the children sat still and quiet. They appeared to regard the place as a holy shrine, whose peace must not be broken.
Mr. Pryce-Jones looked up from his papers. "Muffy Crosswire," he said officiously, his voice echoing off the walls and floor.
"Yes," said Muffy, as if to congratulate him on the correct pronunciation of her name.
"What's that?" said Mr. Pryce-Jones, cupping his hand over his ear.
"Yes," Muffy repeated with a little more volume. The room's acoustics seemed vastly inferior to those of her old classroom at Lakewood Elementary.
"I can't hear you," said the teacher.
Muffy opened her mouth as if to speak louder, but then recognized the game that he was playing with her. Humbly she said, "Yes, Mr. Pryce-Jones...sir."
"Much better. Have a seat. Choose any desk you like."
Muffy walked to the back of the room, sat down at the remotest desk she could find, and pulled off her backpack. The other students watched her, but didn't say a word.
Mr. Pryce-Jones rose to his feet and picked up a blue marker. "Boys and girls, welcome to class. The girl you can barely see, way back there in row ZZ of the stadium, is Mary Alice Crosswire, better known to you as Muffy. As you have probably guessed, her father is the driving force--no pun intended--behind Crosswire Motors. We're happy to have her in our class. Let's extend a warm welcome to our newest student, Muffy Crosswire."
The kids apathetically waved at Muffy and said hello. She smiled and waved back.
Mr. Pryce-Jones paced slowly back and forth in front of the whiteboard. "Many years ago, in this very room, I taught an eager third-grade boy named Nigel Ratburn. That boy has now grown up to become a teacher himself, and Muffy is one of those fortunate enough to learn wisdom at his feet. Now, Muffy, if you would kindly recite the Greek alphabet for us."
Fear seized hold of Muffy's brain. "Uh...er...which alphabet?" she stammered.
"Uh...er...which alphabet, Mr. Pryce-Jones, sir," the teacher corrected her. "I believe I asked for the Greek alphabet. The one that begins with alpha and beta, from which we derive the English word alphabet."
Muffy's mouth gaped open, but no sound came out. She struggled to recall even one Greek letter she had been exposed to.
"As you can see," said Mr. Pryce-Jones, waving his marker, "the younger generation of elementary-school teachers have no appreciation for the basis on which our civilization was built. I look forward to spending many Saturdays with you, Muffy."
Muffy groaned despairingly.
(To be continued...)
