Starting School

by Johanna Hurwitz

  “There was a mouse in your room last year,” Ms. Boscobel recalled.

  “Don’t remind me of that,” said Mrs. Greenstein, shuddering. “Mr. Herbertson promised me that an exterminator went through the school during the summer and that we’re free of all pests.”

  “I guess he wasn’t referring to any of the students.” Ms. Boscobel giggled.

  “The worst thing is that Marius found two different places in the wall that certainly appear to be potential mouse holes. He claims that he could smell the mice inside the walls. So then all the children in my class began sniffing the air. Now half the class is eagerly watching for a mouse to appear and the other half is terrified.” “You can’t blame Marius for discovering holes that actually exist in the walls,” Ms. Boscobel said, defending the boy who was not in her class.

  “Well, all I can say is that a little later, I was reading a story to the children and there was a tiny sound in the room. Two girls and one boy jumped up and ran to me shouting, ‘It’s the mouse! It’s the mouse!”’

  “The next time they think they hear a mouse, tell your children it’s Mickey Mouse. No one’s afraid of him,” suggested Ms. Boscobel.

  A beep from the microwave oven indicated that Ms. Boscobel’s bowl of tomato soup was ready for her to eat.

  “Listen to this,” said Ms. Boscobel, breaking some crackers into her soup. “This is what a real problem is: Marcus had a box of playing cards.” “What’s wrong with that?” asked Mrs. Greenstein.

  “He took them out of their box and said, ‘My brother Lucas taught me a special game. It’s called fifty-two pickup.’ And with that, he threw the entire deck in the air. Of course, every child in the room went running to pick up the cards. Each one wanted to see how much of the deck he or she could get. It was wild. And naturally, in the midst of that, who should walk into the room but Mr. Herbertson.”

  “He does have a knack for showing up at the moment when you would least like to see the school principal,” agreed Mrs. Greenstein.

  “Somehow I managed to collect all the cards and to get the students to sit quietly on the floor. Then I introduced Mr. Herbertson to them. Everyone else looked at him quietly in awe, but not Marcus. He called out a couple of questions.”

  “What did he want to know?” asked Mrs. Greenstein.

  “He said ‘When did you buy this school?’ and ‘Did it cost a lot of money?”’

  The two women were laughing as the door opened and several other teachers walked into the room to join them for lunch.

  “You seem pleased with your new classes,” commented a third-grade teacher named Mrs. Hockaday.

  “Pleased?” gasped Mrs. Greenstein.

  “Pleased?” echoed Ms. Boscobel.

  “Please. I’ll need a lifetime’s supply of aspirin if my afternoon group is anything like the morning one,” said Mrs. Greenstein.

  “You’ll get them all trained before you know it,” Mrs. Hockaday comforted the two kindergarten teachers.

  “This is only the first day,” said another teacher.

  “That’s right. Just one hundred eighty more days before summer vacation,” said another.

  Mrs. Greenstein and Ms. Boscobel looked at each other and sighed. It was going to be a long school year.

  3

  MRS. GREENSTEIN'S CLASS

  Every day, every hour, every minute, awake and asleep, for his entire life up until now, Marius had been together with his brother Marcus. They ate, played, bathed, dressed, and slept side by side.

  Last year, when they went to preschool, Marius and Marcus had been in the same class. Sometimes during small-group activities, their teacher tried, unsuccessfully, to separate them. But she found they worked well with each other, so she gave in, and the boys continued to play and work side by side.

  During the first few mornings at Edison-Armstrong School, Marius kept looking over his shoulder for his twin. Where was Marcus? What was he doing? he wondered. But each time as he looked around, he remembered again that Marcus was off in a different room, in a different group, with a different teacher. It was almost as if he had lost his own shadow.

  Still, Marius enjoyed kindergarten. He liked the other children in his class. There were so many of them: Cole, Travis, Jonah, and Eric were the names of some of the boys. And among the girls, he counted off Kayla, who had red hair, Avery Goodman, whose name really spelled out A very good man (even though she was a girl), Jenna, who sucked her thumb, and two Jessicas. There were a couple of other girls, too, but Marius forgot their names.

  Poor Mrs. Greenstein forgot everybody’s name frequently during the first days. She called all the girls Jessica. With two of them in the class it meant that she was right sometimes. She also got the boys mixed up. But for some lucky reason, she always remembered Marius’s name. That proved how much she liked him, he decided.

  On the second morning of kindergarten, Marius was delighted to see his brother Lucas walk into Mrs. Greenstein’s room.

  “Lucas!” he shouted with excitement, and raced toward him. He acted as if he hadn’t seen his brother in years and years, instead of just an hour earlier at home.

  Lucas slapped his brother on the back and walked over to Mrs. Greenstein to give her a note.

  Marius’s teacher read it quickly and nodded her head. “Boys and girls, give me your attention,” she called out. “This is Lucas Cott from the sixth grade,” she announced when everyone was quiet and looking at her. “He has a message for all of us.”

  “He’s my brother!” Marius called out proudly.

  Lucas grinned at Marius. Then he spoke in a loud and important voice, different from the way he spoke at home. “The sixth grade is starting a clothing drive.”

  “I love drives,” Marius called out. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s not that kind of a drive,” said Lucas, looking at Marius and using his ordinary voice. He turned to look at the other children, and he explained, “A clothing drive means that we’re going to give clothes to families that need help. Bring your clothing to school. There will be big boxes in the entrance of the building, and you can put the clothing in them.”

  “Here,” Marius called out. His voice was muffled by his T-shirt, which was halfway over his head. “You can have this old shirt of mine,” he offered.

  “Marius. Put your shirt back on,” both Mrs. Greenstein and Lucas said at the same time.

  “I want to go on the clothing drive,” said Marius.

  “The clothing that you donate must come from home,” said Mrs. Greenstein.

  “This shirt came from home,” Marius insisted.

  “It has to come from home and you can’t be wearing it,” Lucas tried explaining.

  “I’m not wearing it!” shouted Marius triumphantly. “See. I’m not wearing it.” Marius stood bare-chested, holding out his T-shirt to his brother.

  “You’re going to catch a cold,” said Mrs. Greenstein. “Stop. Stop,” she called out. Two other boys were beginning to remove their shirts, too.

  “We only want clothing that you’ve outgrown,” Lucas tried to explain further as Mrs. Greenstein rushed to help the children redress themselves. “Especially sweaters and warm jackets for the winter.”

  Marius reluctantly put his shirt back on. He was disappointed that there wasn’t going to be a bus or a car to go for a drive in. Still, it had been fun to have his brother come visiting in his classroom.

  The first week of kindergarten was passing quickly. On Friday morning, Mrs. Greenstein called out, “Marius. What are you doing on the floor again? You were looking at a book in the reading corner a moment ago.”

  Marius had been hunting once again behind the wooden blocks on the bottom shelf of the block corner. He was still searching for the mouse that Lucas had told him about. Yesterday he had crumbled two vanilla wafers left over from snack time and dropped the pieces behind the blocks. He wondered if the mouse had found them during the night. If the cookie crumbs were gone, it would mean that the mouse had a go
od snack time, too.

  “Did you find the mouse yet?” asked Cole eagerly. He knew what Marius was doing down on the floor even if their teacher wasn’t sure. Cole dropped to the floor near Marius and started looking, too.

  “There is no mouse in this room,” Mrs. Greenstein said sternly. “Now, Marius, get up from the floor and go sit on a chair in the library corner. And Cole, you’re supposed to be working on your letters at the writing table.”

  Marius got up from the floor. He liked the library corner, with the many picture books on display. He could always look for the mouse later on.

  Marius picked out one of the books and sat down in a small rocking chair. The book was If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Marius knew the entire story by heart. He turned the pages rapidly and went to get another book. It was also one that he was familiar with, Make Way for Ducklings. Again, he turned page after page. When he jumped up to get a third book, Mrs. Greenstein stopped him.

  “You can’t rush through those books so quickly,” she said. “If you turn the pages that fast, you don’t get a chance to see anything.”

  “I saw everything,” Marius insisted.

  “Turn the pages and look at this book again,” said the teacher. “It’s about a family of little baby ducks.”

  “I know all about it,” said Marius, but he sat down in the rocking chair and turned the pages once again.

  Mrs. Greenstein watched Marius. “That’s much more like proper kindergarten behavior,” she complimented her student. “Give yourself a big pat on the back.”

  Those were the words Mrs. Greenstein always used when she was pleased with someone. Marius grinned, and resting the book on his lap, he reached with his right hand and patted himself.

  In a little while it was time for the morning snack. “Make way for Marius,” Marius shouted as he charged toward the table with his classmates. Every day the children had a small cup of fruit juice and a cookie or cracker. Today the snack was pretzels and apple juice.

  Marius quickly ate his pretzel and looked around for more. Some of the children were licking the salt off their pretzels, but he had nothing left to eat. “Look at me,” he called out. He climbed up onto the table and grabbed his left ankle with his right hand and his right ankle with his left hand and walked about that way.

  “I’m a pretzel!” he announced proudly.

  “Marius. What in the world do you think you’re doing?” scolded Mrs. Greenstein. “I don’t know where you learned a trick like that.”

  “My brother Lucas taught Marcus and me to be pretzels,” Marius said.

  “Well, get down at once and start acting like a graham cracker,” said Mrs. Greenstein.

  “How does a graham cracker act?” Marius asked.

  “It sits quietly and minds its own business,” said Mrs. Greenstein.

  Marius untwisted himself and began getting down off the table. As he lowered his foot, he accidentally knocked over the cup of apple juice belonging to one of the Jessicas. None of the juice got on Marius, but it spilled on the table and some of the juice landed in Jessica’s lap.

  “Don’t fuss,” said Mrs. Greenstein quickly. She handed over some paper napkins so the spilled juice could be mopped up. “Now you see what happens when you don’t sit properly,” she said to Marius.

  After snack time, Mrs. Greenstein gathered the students on the carpet. “Today we’re going to review the days in the week. Does anyone know what day this is?”

  “Today!” one of the Jessicas shouted.

  “Yes, it’s today,” replied Mrs. Greenstein in her soft, patient teacher voice. “But it has a special name, just the way you have a special name.”

  “My special name is Honeykins,” said Jessica.

  “Honeykins! That’s a stupid name,” said Travis.

  “Travis. We don’t make fun of people in this class,” Mrs. Greenstein said. “Honeykins is a special name that Jenna’s parents call her at home.”

  “I’m not Jenna. I’m Jessica,” said Jessica.

  “Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry I made that mistake. You’re Jessica, and that’s your special name in this class,” said Mrs. Greenstein.

  “It’s my name, too,” pointed out the other Jessica.

  “Yes, it is,” said Mrs. Greenstein. “And the name of today is Friday. All the days in the week have names. Listen: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday.”

  “I know the names of the months,” Marius informed his teacher.

  “Really?” said Mrs. Greenstein, too surprised to become annoyed that her lesson had been interrupted.

  “Yes. Listen. I’ll show you.

  “Thirty days hath September,

  April, June, and November.

  All the rest have thirty-one

  Except February, which has none. ”

  “How could a month not have any days?” asked Mrs. Greenstein. “You’ve got the names right, but the ending is wrong. It should be twenty-eight.”

  “No, I remember. February has none. My brother Lucas taught it to me. I remember.”

  “Lucas is not a real teacher,” said Mrs. Greenstein. “So don’t pay any attention to what he says. Listen to what I tell you, not to Lucas. I am the teacher.”

  Marius was sure that Lucas was a good teacher, but he didn’t argue with Mrs. Greenstein. How could she know? She’d never seen Lucas teach. Practically everything he and Marcus knew, they’d learned from Lucas—how to tie their shoelaces, how to eat corn on the cob, how to ride their two-wheeled bikes, how to climb on the jungle gym, how to make bubbles with bubble gum, how to pump themselves on the swings, how to work the VCR and the computer, how to say “The Pledge of Allegiance.” Everything.

  Soon it was time to get ready to go home. Mrs. Greenstein went to her desk and brought back a pile of papers. “These are notes for you to give to your parents,” she said. “Cole, will you give one paper to each student.”

  They all held out their hands and grabbed the papers as Cole distributed them.

  Marius looked at the white sheet in his hand. This is what it said:

  Dear Parents,

  In order to eliminate the concern about lost or stolen money that has arisen from time to time in the past, no child in any grade is to carry more than $1.00 at any time.

  The parents of those children who are buying lunch in the school cafeteria are asked to bring the money directly into the school office or to mail it to the school building.

  It is important that this rule be adhered to by all children. If more money is found on a child, it will be confiscated by the teacher and returned directly to the parent.

  Marius read the note. “A hundred dollars!” he shouted out. “We’re not allowed to bring a hundred dollars to school.”

  “A hundred dollars?” asked one of the Jessicas.

  “I don’t have a hundred dollars,” said Travis.

  “Me neither!” said Jonah.

  “Marius, what are you talking about?” asked Mrs. Greenstein.

  “I just read what it said on the paper,” Marius explained. “I was telling everyone that there’s a rule that we can’t bring a hundred dollars to school.”

  “The message says one dollar,” said the teacher. “There’s a decimal point after the one. But how could you read it?”

  “With my eyes,” Marius explained. “That’s how I always read everything.” He thought for a moment. “What’s a decimal point?”

  “You mean you know how to read this message?” asked Mrs. Greenstein, holding up a copy of the paper that Cole had distributed.

  Marius nodded. He took his copy of the message and read it all out loud. There were just two words that stumped him. They were the words adhered and confiscated.

  “Amazing,” said Mrs. Greenstein. “I had no idea that you knew how to read.”

  “You never asked me,” said Marius. “I can read all the books in the library corner. My brother Lucas taught me. He taught me a long time ago.”

  “Can your brother
Marcus read, too?” asked the teacher.

  “Sure,” said Marius. “Lucas used to play school with us, and he taught us both.”

  “Amazing,” said Mrs. Greenstein again.

  “Should I give myself a pat on the back?” asked Marius.

  “Why, I guess you should,” said the teacher. “And I guess you’d better give one to Lucas when you get home.”

  “I will,” said Marius. “And I’ll give Marcus one, too,” he added. He wondered what his brother was doing across the hall.

  “Fine,” said Mrs. Greenstein.

  The first week of kindergarten was over. As Marius marched out the door with his classmates, he proudly patted himself on the back.

  4

  “IS IT TIME FOR SCHOOL?”

  Two weeks into the school year, Marcus and Marius were still waking up earlier and earlier each day. One morning it was only a quarter to six when the boys came into their parents’ bedroom. They were eager to eat breakfast and get off to school. Marcus began clapping his hands just like Ms. Boscobel: CLAP, CLAP, clap-clap-clap. Whenever she did it, everyone knew to pay attention.

  Marcus repeated the claps a second time. Still his parents lay sleeping under their blankets. “It always works for Ms. Boscobel,” he said. Marius shrugged, and the boys shook their mother until she was awake.

  Mrs. Cott looked sleepily at her sons and then at the clock near the bed. “We don’t have to leave the house for over two hours,” she whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

  A moaning sound came from the other side of the bed. It was Mr. Cott, who had pulled the covers over his head.

  “I’m all awake,” said Marius. “I’m ready to get ready for school.”

  He hadn’t known he was going to enjoy kindergarten so much. But now that he’d spent so many days in Mrs. Greenstein’s classroom, he liked being at school better than staying home.

  “Me too. Me too,” Marcus agreed. He was in a big hurry to see what Ms. Boscobel had planned for her class today.