Mr Majeika and the School Inspector

by Humphrey Carpenter

  ‘Bigmore,’ muttered Hamish crossly. ‘And I can’t play this silly thing without my slaves to help me.’

  ‘Get on with it,’ snarled Miss Worlock, ‘or you’ll be a toad too.’

  Hamish picked up the double bass and tried to play it by himself. The noise was awful. ‘Very well!’ screamed Miss Worlock. ‘You’re going to be a toad, too!’

  ‘Help!’ shouted Hamish. ‘Listen, everyone, she’s lying when she says

  they’ve all gone on a school trip. She’s turned them into toads. Stop her before she does it to me!’

  The parents began to shout and scream, as they saw the mass of toads jumping about on the stage. One of the fathers stepped forward.

  ‘I happen to be a Chief Inspector of Police,’ he said, showing Miss Worlock his official card. ‘I arrest you for witchcraft, and turning children into toads.’ And he gripped Miss Worlock firmly by the shoulder. ‘You’ll probably get life imprisonment,’ he warned her.

  ‘All right, all right, dearie,’ muttered Miss Worlock. ‘It was just a silly mistake. Spell coming up.’ She started to mutter, and the hall grew dark again. In a moment, Thomas, Pete and Jody found themselves back in their own shapes.

  ‘Very well,’ said the Chief Inspector. ‘Don’t try it again, madam, or it’ll be prison for you.’

  Miss Worlock gave a shriek and ran out of the door.

  ‘Poor old Wilhelmina,’ said a voice. Jody turned. It was Mr Majeika, stepping out on to the stage from where the fish tank stood. ‘She doesn’t have much luck, does she? But she’s done the trick for me. Was that your idea, Jody?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Majeika,’ said Jody. ‘I reckoned that if she turned us all into toads, as she probably would when she got cross, and then turned us back again, you might get turned back too. But it wouldn’t have worked without Hamish Bigmore giving her away to the parents.’

  ‘That’s the funny thing about Hamish,’ said Thomas. ‘He’s the school nuisance, but somehow he has the knack of making things come out right in the end.’

  3. A model pupil

  Whenever it rained, water dripped through the roof of Class Three’s classroom. The buildings at St Barty’s School were rather old and worn out, but whenever Mr Majeika asked Mr Potter if the roof could be mended, he was told that there wasn’t enough money.

  However, one day Mr Potter told Mr Majeika that he had some good news. ‘We’ve got enough money to deal with that leaking roof, Majeika.’

  ‘That’s wonderful, Mr Potter,’ said Mr Majeika. ‘Will you be able to get it mended soon?’

  ‘Better than that,’ said Mr Potter. ‘You’re going to have a completely new classroom. The people who look after

  school buildings say that Class Three simply isn’t safe. It’s going to have to be pulled down and replaced with a brand new room.’

  ‘Oh, I am glad,’ said Mr Majeika. ‘Can we get somebody clever to design a nice new classroom for us?’

  Mr Potter frowned. ‘There’s not enough money to pay an architect or a designer,’ he said. ‘I think we’ll have to choose one of the ready-made classrooms that the school-buildings people supply. Here, I’ll show you some pictures of them.’

  He opened a file, and showed Mr Majeika some very dreary pictures of dull-looking classrooms of different shapes and sizes.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Mr Majeika. ‘They don’t look very nice.’ Then he had an idea. ‘Supposing,’ he said to Mr Potter, ‘that I held a competition among all the children in Class Three, and got them to do their own designs for the new classroom. If the winning design was really good, maybe we could get it built?’

  Mr Potter scratched his head. ‘It’s a very unusual idea,’ he said, ‘but I don’t see why we shouldn’t try it. The children will have to work fast, though. We need a finished design in a week from now, so that the builders can start work.’

  When Mr Majeika explained the idea to Class Three, everyone was excited – everyone, that is, except Hamish Bigmore.

  ‘Who wants to design a classroom?’ he groaned. ‘Classrooms are boring. I’d rather design the biggest superstore in the world, or a bunker for secret missiles. Who wants to waste time with a silly classroom?’

  Thomas, Pete and Jody, on the other hand, were very keen indeed. ‘Can two or three of us work together?’ Pete asked Mr Majeika.

  ‘If you really want to,’ said Mr Majeika. ‘But the more entries for the competition the better.’

  ‘Tell you what,’ said Jody to Thomas and Pete, ‘you two do a joint design together, and I’ll do one by myself. I’m sure I can think of something.’

  ‘I bet you ours’ll be the best,’ said Thomas, though actually he hadn’t got the faintest notion what to put in his ideal classroom. He was depending on Pete.

  ‘You can use the last lesson this afternoon for beginning your designs,’ said Mr Majeika. ‘And then as it’s Friday, you can finish them over the weekend.’

  During the last lesson, they all got down to work, using large sheets of paper. Only Hamish Bigmore refused to do any drawing, and sat flicking paper pellets at the rest of Class Three. Mr Majeika tried to stop him, but since he’d turned himself into a lobster he was even more careful than usual not to lose his temper with Hamish. So in the end he left Hamish alone, and went round looking at the drawings.

  They were rather disappointing. Most people had begun by drawing a big plan of the classroom as it was at present, and now they were filling in details like ‘Mr Majeika’s table’ and ‘Table for fish tank’. No one seemed to have any interesting ideas.

  When the bell went for the end of afternoon school, Mr Majeika said: ‘I haven’t seen any likely winners yet. To tell you the truth, none of you has improved on the pictures of new classrooms that Mr Potter showed me.’

  ‘Well, it’s very hard, Mr Majeika,’ said Thomas. ‘We can’t get any ideas. Have you got any good suggestions?’

  Mr Majeika shook his head. ‘It isn’t supposed to be me making the suggestions,’ he said. ‘This is your competition. I know, maybe you’d get some better ideas if you tried making a model of the new classroom, rather than just doing a drawing. Why don’t you try that over the weekend?’

  On the way home, Thomas said: ‘A model will be even harder than a drawing. I’m just no good at making models. And neither is Pete.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Pete. ‘I’ll have a go. What about you, Jody?’

  ‘I’m beginning to get a good idea,’ said Jody, smiling. ‘See you on Monday morning.’

  On Monday, lots of people in Class Three came into school carrying models made out of cardboard boxes, bits of yoghurt pots, and other things like that. Some of the models looked pretty useless – ‘I don’t think I fancy a classroom made out of old loo rolls,’ said Thomas, looking at one boy’s entry for the competition – but others were brightly painted and looked exciting.

  During the morning, while everyone was finishing off homework, and reading books about the term’s project, Mr Majeika went round inspecting the models. ‘There are lots of very good ones,’ he said to Class Three just before the lunch break. ‘I’m going to find it very hard to choose a winner.’

  ‘They’re all rubbish,’ shouted Hamish

  Bigmore, who of course hadn’t bothered to make a model during the weekend. ‘Chuck ’em in the dustbin.’

  Jody put her hand up. ‘I’ve got an idea, Mr Majeika,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, Jody?’ asked Mr Majeika. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’d rather tell you in private,’ said Jody. ‘It’s – well, it’s rather a magical idea.’

  ‘Magical load of rubbish,’ sneered Hamish Bigmore, barging past Jody on his way to lunch, even before the bell had gone.

  ‘Well, Jody?’ asked Mr Majeika, when everyone else had left the classroom.

  ‘What I thought, Mr Majeika,’ said Jody, ‘was that the easiest way of judging which model is the best would be to – well, to go into them.’

  ‘But you can’t go into a model,’ said
Mr Majeika. ‘It’s too tiny.’

  ‘You could make us tiny too,’ said Jody. ‘Or better still, you could make the models bigger, big enough for us to walk about in them.’

  Mr Majeika thought for a few minutes. ‘I’m not sure about making everyone smaller,’ he said. ‘It’s one of those risky spells that might have dreadful results if it went at all wrong. But making the models bigger shouldn’t be difficult, and I can’t imagine that any harm would come of it. Let’s try it after lunch.’

  When Class Three were back in their places, Mr Majeika explained what was going to happen. ‘I’m going to choose a shortlist of the three or four best models, and then I’m going to make each of them bigger – much bigger – so that we can walk about in them, and try them out, and see which really is the best of all.’

  Everyone cheered when they heard this. Even Hamish Bigmore looked quite interested, and didn’t make any rude remarks for once. ‘Now,’ said Mr Majeika, ‘whose model shall we try first?’

  Of course, at this, a forest of hands shot up, and everyone began yelling: ‘Mine! Mine! My model is the best, Mr Majeika. Do try mine!’

  By the time Mr Majeika had managed to quieten them all down, Melanie was crying. ‘Boo hoo! I know you’re not going to choose my model, Mr Majeika. I never win anything. Boo hoo!’

  Mr Majeika went over to Melanie’s table, and peered at the model she had made. ‘That’s very good, Melanie,’ he said. ‘I don’t think that everyone will like all the things you’ve put in your new classroom, but why don’t we try it and see?’

  Everyone groaned at this, except Jody, who said: ‘It’s only fair to let Melanie have a chance, if she’s made a good model. Let’s take it out into the playground, Mr Majeika, so that there will be plenty of room for it to grow.’

  Melanie carried her model outside, and everyone followed. She put it down in the middle of the playground, and Mr Majeika waved his hands over it and muttered some words. The model began to grow. It grew, and grew, and grew, until it was standing as high as Class Three’s old classroom.

  There was a door in the side of it. Melanie opened it, and said: ‘Come on, everyone, and see the pretty little classroom I’ve invented.’

  They all followed her through the door. ‘This doesn’t look like a classroom at all,’ said Thomas. ‘It looks like a nursery.’

  So it did. The walls were painted pink, with pretty little flowers stencilled on them, and the room was filled with soft toys. An enormous teddy bear stood in one corner, and there was even a playpen. A poster on the wall showed you the letters of the alphabet in pretty colours.

  ‘Strewth,’ said Pete. ‘So this is what

  Melanie wants school to be like.’

  Suddenly another door opened, and in stepped a woman in a dress patterned with pretty flowers. ‘Hello, kiddie-winks,’ she said. ‘Have you come to see Aunty Jemima’s Nursery? Isn’t that nice? Come and sit on the floor, kiddie-winks, and I’ll find a nice cuddly teddy for each of you, and then I’ll read you all a story about a sweet little rabbit called Little Bluebell.’

  ‘No you flaming well won’t,’ said Hamish Bigmore. ‘I’m getting out of here.’ He didn’t even bother to go through the door, but elbowed his way through one of the walls, which was made of cardboard and gave way when he pushed.

  This seemed to end the spell, because the model shrank to its small size again, leaving everyone standing in the playground. There was no sign of Aunty Jemima.

  ‘Boo hoo!’ howled Melanie. ‘Hamish has spoilt my classroom.’

  ‘I didn’t know there was going to be a teacher in it, Mr Majeika,’ said Thomas.

  ‘Neither did I,’ said Mr Majeika. ‘I knew Melanie had made a toy figure of a teacher to go with her model, but I hadn’t expected it to come alive.’

  ‘We’d better make figures for our models too,’ said Jody. ‘It’ll be much more fun if there are people in them.’

  ‘All right,’ said Mr Majeika, ‘But you’ll have to wait till tomorrow to go inside the next model. That’s enough for this afternoon.’

  The next day, Mr Majeika chose Thomas and Pete’s model. They carried it out into the playground, and Mr Majeika made it grow bigger. Then everyone looked for the door.

  ‘There isn’t one,’ said Pete. ‘Leastways, not an ordinary door. You climb up this ladder and go in by the roof.’

  He led the way. On the roof was a trapdoor, and when you went through it, you found yourself at the top of a long slide. ‘Whee!’ shouted Thomas, sliding

  down it. ‘Isn’t this fun, Mr Majeika?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mr Majeika doubtfully, sliding down after him, ‘but it doesn’t look much like a classroom.’

  It certainly didn’t. At the bottom of the slide were roundabouts, roller-coasters, and other exciting fairground rides.

  For half an hour, Class Three had a wonderful time trying out everything. Even Hamish Bigmore seemed to be enjoying himself. Then, out of nowhere, a cross-looking man appeared. ‘He’s the figure we made,’ whispered Thomas to Jody. ‘He was meant to be a nice friendly teacher, but he didn’t come out right.’

  The man was big and rather lopsided and looked as if his head had been fastened on wrong. ‘Oi, you lot!’ he yelled. ‘Oo said you could come in ’ere without paying? That’s fifty pounds you owe me for using these rides without permission.’

  ‘Don’t pay any attention to him,’ grunted Hamish Bigmore, and, just as he had with Melanie’s model, he elbowed his way through the cardboard wall. Once again the model shrank, the man disappeared, and everyone was left standing in the playground.

  ‘I said classroom, not fairground,’ smiled Mr Majeika at Thomas and Pete. ‘That won’t do at all. It’s Jody’s turn tomorrow – we’ll see what she’s come up with.’

  When they carried Jody’s model out into the playground next afternoon, and Mr Majeika made it bigger by magic, it looked very ordinary at first. A plain door had ‘Class Three’ written on it in neat writing, and when Jody opened the door and everyone followed her in, they were disappointed to find that the room looked just the same as their old classroom, except that everything was cleaner and newer.

  ‘Boring!’ said Hamish Bigmore, yawning. ‘Stupid old Jody hasn’t got any ideas.’

  ‘Oh yes I have,’ said Jody. ‘The first lesson is French.’

  A door at the back of the classroom

  opened, and in stepped a French waiter, carrying a large tray of delicious food. ‘Bonjour messieurs et mesdames,’ he said. “Ello, ladies an’ gentlemen. For your French lesson today, ’ere is a delicious French lunch.’

  They all got down to the meal greedily. There was lovely crusty French bread, and delicious cheese and cold meats, and everything had its name clearly written on it in French. ‘I thought this would be a good way to do lessons,’ Jody explained to Mr Majeika. ‘Learning French from being served by a French waiter, and things like that.’

  ‘It sounds a nice idea, Jody,’ said Mr Majeika. ‘But what are you going to do about maths?’

  ‘You’ll see,’ said Jody, and called out ‘Maths lesson!’ in a loud voice.

  The door opened, and in came a man in very old-fashioned clothes and a long wig. ‘Greetings, gentle folk,’ he said. ‘My name is Sir Isaac Newton, and I was a very famous mathematician in my day, and this young lady here –’ (he pointed at Jody) ‘– has invited me to come and teach you all.’

  ‘I’ve had enough of this,’ grumbled Hamish Bigmore, pushing his way out through the cardboard wall as usual.

  ‘I call that a real pity,’ said Thomas, as he watched the model shrink to its ordinary size. ‘Jody’s idea was very good.’

  ‘Yes, wasn’t it?’ said Mr Majeika. ‘It’s certainly the best idea so far. But we’ve still got Hamish Bigmore’s model to try out tomorrow. He’s actually bothered to make one, so we ought to give him a chance.’

  ‘I can imagine how horrid it’ll be,’ said Pete.

  ‘Yes,’ said Jody, ‘but what sort of horrid?
With Hamish, you never can tell.’

  When Hamish carried his model out into the playground the next afternoon, everyone could see that it was made of little plastic sections. ‘He’s built it out of Lego,’ said Thomas. ‘What a cheat.’

  When Mr Majeika had made the model grow bigger, Hamish led the way inside, and shut the door behind them. It was made of Lego inside too, though of course it was now giant Lego. All the tables and chairs and other things were brightly coloured plastic, with sharp edges.

  ‘Here’s the winner all right!’ shouted Hamish. ‘Isn’t it smart?’

  ‘Yes, Hamish,’ said Mr Majeika, ‘but what sort of lessons can you do in it?’

  ‘That’s just what I’m going to show you,’ crowed Hamish. He pressed a button, and one of the pieces of giant Lego flew open, revealing a kind of chest or store cupboard. Inside were some enormous guns. ‘The first lesson,’ said Hamish, ‘is how to fire a Death Ray Gun.’ He took one of the guns, pointed it at a target on the wall, and pressed the

  trigger. There was a flash of light and a nasty smoky smell, and the target melted.

  ‘That looks dangerous,’ whispered Jody. ‘I think we ought to be getting out of here.’

  Mr Majeika felt the same. ‘Thank you, Hamish,’ he said, ‘but that’s enough of guns. Let’s get back to our real classroom, and decide who’s going to be the winner.’

  ‘I’ve decided that already,’ said Hamish, still holding the Death Ray Gun. ‘My classroom is easily the best, so it’s going to win, isn’t it, Mr Majeika?’ he asked, in a threatening voice. ‘If it doesn’t win, just think of all the nasty things I can do with this gun. It can melt anything plastic, so won’t I have fun with everyone’s lunch-boxes, not to mention the frames of your glasses, Mr Majeika!’