Maybe that’s the kind of helpful thing a classroom pet does.
Stay, Go, I Don’t Know
IT’S CHILLY IN the swamp—as cold as a snapping turtle’s heart. Where’s the bright yellow dot in the sky? Where are the nice, juicy insects? And why can’t I open my eyes?
There is no yellow dot in Room 26 in the morning—just the cold white glow from the bulbs hanging above us. There are no snapping turtles, either, but it is chilly.
“And how is my very, very favorite hamster? Oh, you’re looking so fluffy and warm!” a friendly voice says.
Fluffy?
It turns out that Mrs. Brisbane has arrived, and she’s talking to Humphrey. I hardly recognize her because she’s bundled up in so many clothes, she looks fluffy and warm, too. No wonder she likes Humphrey so much. Although I don’t see what’s great about being furry.
I think my shiny green skin is a lot nicer.
Then our teacher turns to me.
“Good morning, Og!” Mrs. Brisbane peers into my tank. “It’s very cold outside, so we’ll make sure you stay warm today.”
“Great!” I reply. When she turns her sunny smile on me, I really do feel warm all over.
Maybe this will be a fine day in Room 26 after all.
The students hurry into the classroom. Some of them rush up to my tank.
“Hi, Oggy-woggy-froggy!” Kirk greets me.
“Did you have a nice evening, Og?” Sayeh whispers in her soft voice. “Did you miss us?”
“YES!” I shout.
She and the other students gathered around all laugh because what they hear is a big, fat “BOING!” They like it, so in a hop, skip and a jump, I boing again.
Mrs. Brisbane laughs and then she heads to her desk.
At this point, Humphrey goes berserk. “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!” he shrieks again and again.
Is he jealous because I am getting a little more attention than he is?
I don’t think so, because he’s very focused on something outside of his cage.
I hop up and down so I can get a better look. And then I understand.
He’s trying to tell Mrs. Brisbane about the piece of paper Aldo left behind.
I want her to pick it up, too, because I like Aldo.
So I hop up and down some more, like a mad muskrat who just stepped into a hive of bumblebees. “BOING-BOING! BOING-BOING!” Translated, that means, “PICK IT UP!”
Mrs. Brisbane turns toward us again. “What is the matter?” she asks, walking back over.
Humphrey and I keep it up. “SQUEAK!” “BOING!” “SQUEAK!” “BOING!”
“What’s this?” Mrs. Brisbane asks.
And then—whew!—she picks it up. That’s good.
But instead of reading it, she folds it up and takes it back to her desk.
Humphrey and I squeak and boing and hop and holler.
“What’s wrong with them?” A.J. asks.
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Brisbane says. “But Humphrey and Og seem very interested in this paper.”
She opens it up again and reads it—but silently. She mumbles something about giving Aldo a call.
“Tell us what it says!” I call out.
“SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!” Humphrey says.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Brisbane tucks the paper in her desk drawer and starts class.
Humphrey staggers into his sleeping hut. I guess all that excitement wore the little fellow out.
The teacher is not even finished taking attendance when Heidi starts waving her hand. That’s good, since she usually forgets!
Mrs. Brisbane ignores her as long as she can, but she finally calls on her.
“What is it, Heidi?” she asks.
“Mrs. Brisbane, I’m still really upset about Og,” she says. “In fact, I’m boiling mad!”
“Simmer down,” the teacher says. “Tell me calmly why you’re upset.”
“Yes, tell me, too!” I shout.
Some of the students giggle at my boings.
“Og was kidnapped from his original home. That’s against the law! I told Austin that!” Heidi stands up and continues. “Og probably misses his family and friends! They probably miss him.”
I sometimes wonder if my old friends miss me at all. By now, Jumpin’ Jack might have a new friend to race. Granny Greenleaf probably has a whole new class of tads to teach.
For all I know, my friends and family are leaping and singing, just the way they always did.
I don’t want them to be sad . . . but it would be nice if they thought about me now and then.
“We should return him,” she continues. “We should call the police!”
Whoa! I’m not sure I want her to call the police. I’d rather be in Room 26 than in jail!
“But he’s our classroom pet,” Richie says. This time he also forgets to raise his hand. “He belongs to us.”
There are sounds of agreement from my other classmates.
Is that true? I never thought of myself as being owned by anyone.
“Richie is right,” Gail says. “Og is our classroom pet. We’d miss him so much if he went back to the swamp. I know he’d miss us, too!”
I think she has tears in her eyes.
Her former best friend, Heidi, disagrees. “But he was stolen from his home!”
I guess those two haven’t made up yet.
When Mrs. Brisbane looks away and calls on Tabitha, Heidi and Gail stick their tongues out at each other.
They’re not even trying to be friendly.
“It’s hard to be pulled away from your family and friends,” Tabitha says without looking up. “It’s happened to me.”
She swallows hard and pats her pocket. I’m pretty sure Smiley is in there.
“It happened to me, too!” I tell her. “BOING-BOING!”
When she hears my voice, Tabitha looks up from her desk for the first time.
I do miss my swamp buddies. I don’t miss the ornery snapping turtles and obnoxious bullfrogs. And there’s so much happening in the classroom, I haven’t had time to think about the swamp as much as I used to.
Mrs. Brisbane stops and stares at the class. “What do the rest of you think?” she asks.
I can’t believe that this whole room full of humans is arguing about me. It’s nice that they’re interested, but I’m not sure if I’ll end up back in the swamp (possibly as a nice tasty dessert for Chopper) or in a jail cell.
Who knows—they might put me back with George. That would be worse than jail.
Up until now, I liked the attention . . . but now I wish the tads would forget all about me for a while!
Mrs. Brisbane calls on Garth. He doesn’t say anything at first. He just pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Maybe,” he says, “maybe all animals should be in their own homes. I mean, maybe Humphrey should go back to where he came from, too.”
Everyone turns to stare at him.
“No!” golden-haired Miranda says. I’ve never seen her talk out of turn before. “I have a pet dog, and I wouldn’t want him to go back where he came from,” she explains. “He came from the shelter, and it wasn’t very nice!”
“Hey, I’d miss Og and Humphrey, too,” Garth agrees. “But they were taken away from their homes.”
Art isn’t always paying attention to what’s going on, but he suddenly moans, “Don’t take Og away!”
A.J. agrees. “Right! He likes being here—right, Oggy?”
I’m thinking of the answer when Garth speaks again. “It’s not about what we like. It’s about what’s best for the animal.”
Mrs. Brisbane takes charge again. “I don’t think that Humphrey lived anywhere else except Pet-O-Rama.”
Jumping jackrabbits! That’s the place where Mr. Brisbane got the mealwo
rms and other tasty treats.
“And I don’t think they’d take Humphrey back after all this time,” our teacher says. “Listen, let’s put this aside for right now. We need to learn a lot more about hamsters and frogs before any decisions are made. We need to do research.”
Anything to calm the big tads down, I think. Mrs. Brisbane sends my classmates down to a place called the library to find out more about Humphrey and me.
That’s a good thing, because I need to take a nap.
I can’t figure out this problem unless I have time to think.
That’s what Uncle Chinwag taught me.
Work a bit,
Play a bit.
Laugh a bit,
Learn a lot!
Float. Doze. Be.
And you will live so happily.
Granny Greenleaf and Uncle Chinwag taught me a lot, but they didn’t teach me how to be a classroom pet. We don’t even have classrooms in the swamp. All of our learning is done outdoors, under the blue skies and the tall trees and in the muck and mire.
How did Humphrey figure his job out? Or is he just naturally helpful?
When the class returns from the library, they all carry armloads of books. Mrs. Brisbane gives them time to read and take notes.
It’s quiet again, and my mind drifts until Mandy waves her hand.
“What is it, Mandy?” Mrs. Brisbane asks.
“You’ve got to do something about him,” she says, pointing toward the big tad sitting behind her, who is Seth.
“What’d I do now?” Seth asks.
“You keep thumping the back of my chair,” Mandy complains. “You do it all the time!”
“I don’t mean to, but I have long legs. Why don’t you move your chair up closer to your table?” Seth asks.
“Because . . .” Mandy hesitates. “Because you should move your table back.”
Seth looks behind him. “There’s no room.”
Mrs. Brisbane looks as irritated as a toad who is stuck in the mud.
“He’s right. Mandy, move your chair up closer,” she says. “You’ve got lots of room.”
The girl scowls, but scoots her chair up.
When it’s time for recess, Mrs. Brisbane asks Mandy to stay and chat.
“I’m sorry that so many things make you unhappy,” Mrs. Brisbane tells her. “But I don’t think Seth was doing it on purpose.”
“He annoyed me,” Mandy complains. “I couldn’t concentrate.”
Mrs. Brisbane nods. “But you are easily annoyed. I have an experiment I’d like you to try. The next time you’re bothered about something, I want you to think quickly of something that makes you happy. Can you think of something that makes you happy?”
Mandy stops and thinks. She thinks for a while.
“You can do it!” I tell her.
And surprise! She breaks out into a smile and glances over at my tank.
“Og is funny,” she says. “And so is that sound he makes.”
Mrs. Brisbane nods. “Look at him—he always seems to have a big smile on his face.”
Actually, that’s just my big wide mouth. But I try to make it look extra smiley, to help Mrs. Brisbane.
“BOING-BOING!” I say.
Mandy giggles again.
“So the next time you’re going to complain about something, why don’t you look over at Og? He’ll smile at you and maybe even make his funny sound,” Mrs. Brisbane suggests. “And you might forget to complain. Will you try?”
Mandy looks down and nods.
I think she needs some encouragement. “BOING-BOING! BOING-BOING!” I tell her.
She looks my way, and I let her see my big, smiley mouth. I even hop up and down a few times.
Mandy laughs. “He’s so cute!”
Me, cute? George and the bullying bullfrogs would give me a hard time about that.
But Humphrey gives an encouraging “SQUEAK!” I didn’t even see him come out of his sleeping house.
“Look—Og and Humphrey are friends.” Mandy is still smiling.
We are?
Humphrey squeaks some more.
“Remember, when you want to complain, think about Og,” Mrs. Brisbane tells Mandy, and she sends her outside to play.
BING-BANG-BOING! I did something helpful!
“SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!” Humphrey tells me.
I don’t know what that means, but it makes me feel good.
* * *
I hoppily decide to nap for a while, but I am pleasantly awakened by the frogalicious sound of a cricket chirping!
Has Mrs. Brisbane had a change of heart? Is she going to wave her magic wand and serve me up a gourmet meal?
“Chirrup! Chirrup!” Those chirps are beautiful music to a frog’s ears.
There’s a sudden commotion in the classroom as the students chatter about a cricket and some of the tads even leap out of their seats.
I guess Mrs. Brisbane isn’t the only human who isn’t as fond of crickets as I am. Or insects in general.
Somehow, Kirk is involved. I guess that’s not a surprise.
Mrs. Brisbane tells him to find the cricket.
He scoops something up and throws it on Heidi—or at least he pretends to. Because it turns out the cricket sound is really coming from Kirk . . . and I have to admit, it almost sounds like the real deal.
I’m disappointed, of course. It will be mealworms again for me instead of a yummy cricket snack.
Humphrey Goes Haywire
AH, THE PEACE and quiet of the swamp on a lazy afternoon. My belly is full, my skin is moist, and life is good. The bees are buzzing, the birds are singing, and a turtle floats by, saying, “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!” Wait a second—hold everything. Turtles don’t squeak . . . do they?
I snap out of my daydream and realize that the squeaking is coming from a furry little creature. Hopefully, Humphrey will stop soon, but even if he doesn’t, I’ll give him a pass. He’s a much better neighbor than a bullfrog.
Then the bell rings and the class rushes out for the day.
As soon as the classroom is clear, Aldo shows up—hours earlier than usual.
This time, he didn’t come to clean Room 26. He is here to talk to Mrs. Brisbane. It turns out that paper he left behind could help him get into a school where he’ll learn to be a teacher.
The little guy quiets down long enough for me to hear Aldo tell her that he’s not sure he can be as good a teacher as she is.
I wish I could tell him no one could be as good a teacher as she is.
She says something about coming in to teach our class, and Aldo says yes.
Thank goodness he listens to Mrs. Brisbane. Like I said, everybody should!
I can’t hear the end of their conversation because Humphrey lets out a stream of enthusiastic squeaks.
Luckily, he’s quiet once the humans leave the room.
That gives me time to think about how hamsters are so much more complicated than frogs. To a frog, life is simple: Try to find food and try not to get eaten. Take time to smell the water lilies. Sit on a rock and think. Float. Doze. Be.
I don’t think Humphrey will ever just be.
* * *
The next morning, Mrs. Brisbane calls on the big tads to give their reports on a very interesting topic: the differences and similarities between hamsters and frogs.
My guess? There are zero similarities and a million differences. I’m not wrong, either.
Garth’s report explains that Humphrey is a mammal. Humans are, too. Mammals give birth to their babies.
Then Mandy explains that amphibians like me are hatched from eggs.
I don’t appreciate the alarmed “SQUEAK!” from Humphrey.
An egg can be a very cozy place.
Art goes into more detail about warm-blooded animals
like hamsters, and Sayeh reports about cold-blooded animals like me.
Humphrey has another squeaky outburst when she says the word hibernation.
Maybe Humphrey doesn’t like to hibernate, but I think it’s as nice and cozy as being in an egg.
Then A.J. explains that hamsters have cheek pouches where they store uneaten food. I must admit my reaction is “EWWW!” which comes out as a very loud “BOING!”
Finally, Miranda says that hamsters come from warm, dry areas. In fact, getting wet is bad for them.
So what’s good for hamsters is bad for frogs. And what’s good for frogs is bad for hamsters. No wonder we don’t understand each other!
And yet, we’re both classroom pets. He’s just better at the job than I am.
Maybe that’s because he has a lot more experience.
Later, as I sit on my rock trying just to Be, I notice something very odd. Seth hasn’t gone to lunch with the rest of the class. Instead, he’s talking to Tabitha about sports.
“Go, Tabitha!” I tell her, and when she hears my BOING, she smiles. Seth smiles back.
Maybe Tabitha is starting to enjoy her new classroom at least a little bit.
Seth goes on to lunch, but Tabitha stays to talk to Mrs. Brisbane.
It’s quiet in Room 26 without the other big tads, and I can hear everything they say. Mrs. Brisbane encourages Tabitha to be friendlier.
“I want to, but it’s hard,” Tabitha tells her.
Mrs. Brisbane smiles. “I know, but some of the students have tried to reach out to you. Can’t you try, too?”
“Yes, TRY!” I say, and Tabitha smiles and nods.
Then Mrs. Brisbane sings a little song.
Make new friends, but keep the old,
One is silver, and the other’s gold.
I LOVE to sing, but I didn’t know that Mrs. Brisbane likes to sing, too. Her voice is as cheery as a swamp sparrow greeting the dawn.
I repeat her song so I’ll remember it.
BOING-BOING-BOING,
BOING BOING BOING BO-ING!
BOING BOING BOING-BOING
BOING BOING BOING BOING BOING!
Mrs. Brisbane looks over at me and says, “I think Og likes the song, too.”
Life According to Og the Frog Page 6
