‘Now, I know that some of you might be sitting there with a few butterflies in your tummy,’ said Miss Critchley with a kind smile at the group. ‘But let me assure you, that’s absolutely normal. I imagine you’re a little bit nervous and a little bit excited all in one.’
Clementine nodded. So did lots of the other children. Miss Critchley definitely knew a lot about kindergartners, Clementine thought to herself.
‘I just need to go through some of the school procedures so that we all know what we’re doing and then I will introduce you to your class teacher.’
Clementine wondered if she’d misheard her. Wasn’t Miss Critchley going to be their teacher? She didn’t want to have anyone else.
‘In the afternoon, all of the students will wait for their parents at the school gate under the supervision of a teacher, unless of course you live here in the village. If so, you can walk home and perhaps in the future you might like to ride your bike to and from school . . .’
Clementine wasn’t listening. She was wondering who was going to be their teacher. The butterflies in her tummy now seemed to be having a boxing match. She didn’t like this one bit.
‘We encourage parents to come along and help with reading and other activities in the classroom . . .’
Clementine’s eyes darted around the room, looking for the person who could be their teacher. There was a man in the front row. He had greasy hair and the tail of a dragon tattoo poking out from his shirt sleeve. But then she saw a little girl sitting beside him and guessed he was one of the fathers. There was a lady with blonde hair at the far end. Perhaps it was her.
‘And now I’d like to introduce Mrs Ethel Bottomley, who’ll be teaching the kindergarten class this year. Mrs Bottomley has many years of experience and is an excellent educator. I know she’s looking forward to working with you all.’
Clementine’s stomach lurched as she looked up and saw a short woman wearing a drab brown check jacket and matching skirt heading for the microphone. Mrs Bottomley’s low-heeled brown shoes clacked on the timber floor and were just about the ugliest things Clementine had ever seen. A helmet of brown curls perched on top of her head and Clementine thought they reminded her of someone else.
‘Good morning, parents and children, my name is Ethel Bottomley.’ She spoke with a very strange voice. It was whispery but posh at the same time. ‘We all know that kindergarten is a very important time in every child’s life. It’s a time to shake off the playful habits of youth and start some serious study. Rest assured there will be time for fun – orderly fun, of course. And parents, please know that I have high standards and very high expectations. The children will not be spoiled under my care.’ The old woman grinned, revealing a row of yellowed teeth.
Clementine recoiled in her seat.
‘But I don’t want her,’ she whispered to her mother.
‘Clementine, I’m sure that Mrs Bottomley is perfectly lovely. You just need to get to know her,’ her mother whispered back. But Clarissa felt a little uncertain too. Mrs Bottomley wasn’t quite what she had in mind when she pictured her daughter’s kindergarten teacher either.
Miss Critchley returned to the microphone. ‘Thank you, Mrs Bottomley. Now we should be getting to class, children. Please say goodbye to your parents and follow Mrs Bottomley to the door.’
Clementine felt as if there was a wedge of bread stuck in her throat.
‘Goodbye, Clemmie, have a lovely day,’ said Clarissa, as she blinked back a tear. She’d been determined not to cry but she hadn’t imagined how hard it would be to see her baby starting school.
Clementine clung to her mother. She didn’t want to let go.
Sophie reached for her hand. ‘Come on.’
‘No.’ Clementine felt the sting of tears prickling her eyes.
‘Clemmie, it’s all right,’ her friend Poppy tried.
‘You have to go, sweetheart. It will be lots of fun,’ her mother said. She tried to prise loose Clemmie’s arms, which were clamped firmly around her middle.
Arabella Critchley noticed her reluctant student and approached the group.
‘Hello Clementine, it’s lovely to see you.’ She crouched down to meet the child’s gaze. Clementine’s blue eyes looked like pools of wet ink. ‘Do you want to come with me?’
Clementine shook her head.
‘I don’t know what’s got into her,’ whispered Lady Clarissa as Miss Critchley stood up. ‘She’s been looking forward to school for weeks. It’s been a battle to get her to wear anything other than her uniform.’
The rest of the class was now standing at the door in two higgledy-piggledy lines.
‘Kindergarten, let’s see if we can straighten up. Now!’ Mrs Bottomley barked.
The children snapped to attention and the lines became perfectly parallel under her outstretched arms.
‘Clementine, why don’t I take you to class?’ Miss Critchley tried again.
Clementine didn’t know why she was holding onto her mother. She’d been so excited about school and now Sophie and Poppy were going to start without her.
‘Is that little one going to join us?’ Mrs Bottomley called from the front of the line. ‘Or is she having a bit of a sook?’
‘We’ll be along in a minute,’ Miss Critchley replied firmly. She brushed a rogue strand of hair away from Clementine’s face.
Clementine felt silly. She wanted to go with the rest of her class. She didn’t want to be last and she didn’t want to be called a sook.
‘You know, Clementine, on my first day of school I didn’t want to go either. My older brother had told me all sorts of terrible stories and I was scared stiff,’ Miss Critchley explained.
‘What stories?’ Clementine whispered.
‘He told me that the headmaster had a secret cupboard full of canes and that he walked around the school whacking children willy-nilly,’ said Miss Critchley. ‘And you know what? None of it was true. He’d only said it to make me afraid and he succeeded. Is there anything you’re afraid of?’
‘I thought you were going to be my teacher,’ Clementine said, frowning. ‘I don’t want Mrs Bottom.’
‘You mean Mrs Bottomley, Clementine, and I can assure you that her bark is much worse than her bite. She comes across as being a bit stern but she’s a big squishy marshmallow underneath,’ Miss Critchley explained.
‘A big squishy brown marshmallow,’ Clementine whispered.
‘What do you mean?’ Miss Critchley asked.
‘It must be her favourite colour,’ Clementine said.
‘Oh,’ Miss Critchley smiled. She realised that Clementine was referring to Mrs Bottomley’s clothes. ‘That’s right, you were quite the stylish young lady when you came for your interview and you asked me about my dress.’
Clementine’s eyes sparkled and she seemed to perk up.
‘Shall we go to class?’ The head teacher asked. Clementine released her mother from the vice-like grip and put her hand into Miss Critchley’s. They headed for the door.
Suddenly Clemmie ran back and gave Lady Clarissa a final hug. ‘Bye Mummy!’
‘See you this afternoon, Clemmie, and have a wonderful day,’ Lady Clarissa sniffed.
Clementine Rose arrived at her classroom just as Mrs Bottomley was calling the roll and asking the children to stand in alphabetical order at the back of the room.
Poppy was standing beside the curly-haired boy Clementine had seen outside the school.
‘Excuse me, Mrs Bottomley,’ Miss Critchley interrupted. ‘This is Clementine Rose Appleby.’
‘Hello dear. You’ve got over the wobbles, I see. Very good. Appleby. You’re first on the roll so you’ll need to stand next to Angus up the back there. Angus, put up your hand so Clementine knows who you are.’
The boy with the curly hair raised his hand slightly. Clementine wondered why they had to line up again inside the classroom. There was a lot of time-wasting at school, she decided.
Reluctantly, Clementine walked to the back of the r
oom and stood beside the boy.
Poppy stood on his other side. She leaned around him and asked, ‘Are you all right?’
Clementine nodded. She didn’t want to talk about what had happened earlier. It made her feel all red.
Mrs Bottomley continued calling names until everyone was standing at the back of the room.
‘I have just placed you in what we call alphabetical order. Can anyone tell me what that is?’
A sharp-looking girl with a face like a fieldmouse shot her hand into the air.
‘Yes, Astrid,’ Mrs Bottomley called.
‘It’s when you put words into order using the letter of the alphabet that they start with,’ the child replied.
‘Very good. Now, can anyone tell me if I’ve put you into alphabetical order according to your first names or surnames?’
Clementine wondered what she was talking about. So did the rest of the class, except for the mouse child who put her hand up again.
‘Yes, Astrid.’
‘That’s easy. It’s our surnames, because if it was our first names I’d be standing up there near Angus and Anna but she’s at the end of the line because her last name starts with a “W”.’
‘Goodness me, what a clever little girl you are.’ Mrs Bottomley beamed at Astrid. Clementine had no idea what Mrs Bottomley was talking about but she wished she would hurry up and teach her how to read. Surely that would take up most of the day.
‘I’d like you to sit next to your partner. Angus, you’re sitting with Clementine.’ The old woman ushered the pair to the front of the room, where she instructed them to sit down at the first double desk. All of the desks formed neat pairs in neat rows. Clementine wondered if Mrs Bottomley had a thing about lines.
‘But I don’t want to sit with her,’ Angus said and pulled a face.
‘Angus Archibald, you’ll do exactly as you’re told, young man.’ The teacher glared at the lad.
Clementine almost felt sorry for him. Just for a moment.
Angus slid into his seat and slumped down, resting his elbows on the desk.
‘Was that a pig outside with the old guy?’ he mumbled.
‘Yes,’ Clementine replied quietly.
‘Is it your pig?’ The boy turned and looked at her with his head lying on the desk.
Clementine nodded.
‘Where does it live?’ he asked.
Clementine started to soften. ‘She sleeps in a basket at the end of my bed.’
‘Pooh!’ the boy scoffed. ‘That’s so dumb. A smelly pig in your bedroom!’
Clementine couldn’t help herself. ‘Lavender’s not smelly at all. She’s smart and she’s clean and I love her,’ she said sharply.
‘You love a pig.’ Angus turned around to the boy who was sitting behind them. ‘She loves a pig.’ He pointed at Clementine and oinked.
Clementine felt hot. The collar of her blazer was prickling her skin and she wanted him to stop.
Angus screwed up his face. ‘A stupid pig won’t win the pet competition.’
‘What pet competition?’ Clementine asked.
‘It’s a secret,’ Angus bragged. ‘I know all the secrets around here and no smelly pigs will be allowed because Miss Critchley hates them.’
Clementine decided to ignore him but she wondered if it was true. Surely Miss Critchley didn’t hate pigs, especially not Lavender. She didn’t even know her yet.
Mrs Bottomley appeared at the front of the room. She had a marker pen in her hand and was waving it wildly in the air. ‘Now that everyone finally has a seat, it’s time that we got on with some work.’ She approached the whiteboard and wrote the letter ‘A’, which Clementine recognised. Her last name started with an ‘A’. Finally she was going to learn how to read.
‘Now this, my little empty vessels, is where we will begin. Can anyone tell me something they can see in the classroom beginning with “A”?’
Astrid’s arm shot up like a spring.
‘Yes, Astrid,’ the teacher beamed.
‘Astrid starts with an “A”,’ she replied, ‘and there’s an apple on your desk.’
‘So there is.’ Mrs Bottomley nodded and wrote two words on the board. ‘Yes, what were you going to say, Angus?’
‘Angus starts with “A” and so does her name,’ he pointed at Clementine. ‘Applebum.’ The boy burst out laughing. Some of the other children giggled, except for a boy at the back of the room who clucked like a chicken.
Clementine glared at Angus.
‘Angus Archibald, you need to find some manners, young man, or you’ll be out the door and over to see Miss Critchley,’ Mrs Bottomley threatened. ‘And as for the rest of you,’ she said with a glare that silenced the class, ‘settle down immediately.’
The lesson continued until the white-board was covered in words, none of which Clementine could read at all. She wondered when the lessons would start properly.
The morning dragged on. They did some colouring in and traced the outlines of words with pencils. Clementine tried hard to stay in the lines but it wasn’t as easy as she’d thought it would be. And then when she walked over to sharpen a pencil someone scribbled all over the bottom of her page.
‘Did you do that?’ she asked Angus as she sat back down.
He shook his head. ‘No.’
Clementine got up and walked over to Mrs Bottomley’s desk, where the teacher was busy thumbing through a magazine.
‘Excuse me, Mrs Bottomley. May I please have a new sheet because someone drew all over the bottom of this one?’ Clementine asked.
The teacher looked up and sighed.
‘I don’t have any spare sheets. And I’m sure that no one else drew on the page, did they, Clementine? You just have to learn to be more careful with your work.’
‘But Angus did it,’ Clementine protested.
‘Angus,’ Mrs Bottomley called across the room. ‘Did you make this mess all over Clementine’s work?’
‘No,’ the boy replied, shaking his head slowly. He blinked innocently.
‘All right, thank you.’ She turned her attention back to Clementine. ‘Now, I know that Angus made a silly comment earlier but he’s really a very good boy and I can’t imagine that he’d be lying about the worksheet. It’s very important, Clementine, now that you’re a big girl at school, to always tell the truth. And it’s really not nice to be a dibber-dobber, you know.’
‘But I am telling the truth,’ Clementine retorted.
Mrs Bottomley was not going to back down any more than Clementine was. ‘Did you see Angus draw on your sheet?’
‘No, but he did it,’ Clementine asserted.
‘There is no proof, Clementine, so you’ll just have to make the best of it and paste that one into your book the way I showed you. It’s a pity that your first piece of work is rather messy but I suppose that’s a good lesson to learn about doing your best.’
Clementine felt hot and prickly again.
‘When are we going to learn to read?’ Clementine asked.
‘You’ve been learning that all morning,’ Mrs Bottomley smiled.
‘Oh.’ Clementine frowned and took her sheet back to her desk. She sat down and opened her workbook and pasted the paper into the front. It looked awful.
Angus leaned over and whispered, ‘Guess what? I did it.’
Clementine was shocked. ‘Mrs Bottomley, Angus just told me that he scribbled on my page,’ she called out.
‘Did not,’ Angus sneered at her.
‘Clementine, you really must stop all these false accusations at once,’ Mrs Bottomley huffed. ‘You don’t want to get a reputation for telling tales on your very first day, do you?’
Clementine finished pasting her page into the book and snapped it shut. She looked at the clock and hoped that it would soon be time for morning tea.
Morning tea time came and went in a blink. Clementine sat with Sophie and Poppy out on the veranda and by the time the girls had eaten their snacks and visited the toilet there was no time left to
play.
Clementine had decided that visiting the toilet was very important. Just before the morning tea bell, a girl called Erica had an accident in the classroom. Although Mrs Bottomley didn’t fuss, Erica cried and everyone felt sorry for her. That is, except for some of the boys, including Angus, who called her a piddle-pants. Mrs Bottomley told the class that it could happen to anyone.
Clementine didn’t like to think it could happen to her. She’d had enough attention from her teacher for one day. She had already decided that she’d try her best to do as she was told and then hopefully Mrs Bottomley wouldn’t accuse her of telling lies any more.
After morning tea, Mrs Bottomley made the children copy some numbers from the board and then match them with coloured blocks. Clementine wondered when she would learn how to tell the time.
She avoided talking to Angus and tried not to look at him either. But that didn’t stop him being naughty.
Clementine just happened to glance up from her work when she saw that Angus was drilling his finger up his nose. She watched as he removed a large glob of yellow snot. He held it in the air and examined it closely.
Angus noticed her watching him and pulled a face. ‘What are you looking at?’
‘Nothing,’ said Clementine, and went back to her work. That’s when Angus did something unforgivable. He wiped his finger on her shoulder.
She let out a squeal. ‘Ahh!’
‘Clementine Rose Appleby, whatever is the matter now?’ Mrs Bottomley demanded.
‘Angus just put snot on my uniform.’ Clementine’s lip began to tremble. Her beautiful clean new uniform now had a disgusting booger on it.
‘Come here,’ said Mrs Bottomley, rolling her eyes.
Clementine stood up. Angus giggled. The boy behind him called Joshua laughed too.
But this time the girls in the class seemed equally offended and nine pairs of eyes bored into Angus’s back.
Mrs Bottomley examined the offending yellow glob. With one swift move she pulled a tissue from the supersized box on her desk and removed it without so much as leaving a mark.
Clementine Rose and the Pet Day Disaster 2 Page 2
