by Tim Harris
Jones lowers the drone to the grass and the camera cuts out.
‘I’m very proud of you, Carrot,’ says Mr Bambuckle quietly.
He hasn’t left my side.
Vex calls out from his end of the line. ‘There is only one winner today! Me! The rest of you are losers!’
Mr Bambuckle stays true to his word. He investigates and discovers wire cutters in Vex’s locker. Vex is disqualified from the race.
Mr Vron is furious and cancels the prize. He says wire cutters prove nothing. He says Vex won fair and square. He says pigeons should be locked in cages. I guess some people are never happy in life.
I take Jones to the chemist and rest him on the counter.
‘How’s your pop today?’ asks Mr Duffy, the pharmacist.
‘He’s well, thanks,’ I reply.
‘I like your new haircut,’ he says. ‘The orange is as vivid as ever. It looks great.’
‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘Pop cut it for me.’
Mr Duffy takes Jones to the back room and ties something to his feet.
‘See you tomorrow!’ I say.
‘See you tomorrow,’ smiles Mr Duffy.
I buy an ice-cream and wait at the bus stop. I look up into the sky and see Jones fly overhead. He’s carrying Pop’s medicine. He’ll probably be home before the bus even arrives.
While there are rules about being over eighteen to buy certain medications, there are no rules that say a pigeon can’t. Jones delivers Pop’s medicine to him every single afternoon. All I have to do is drop him off at the chemist, and he makes his own way home.
My favourite time of the day used to be feeding Jones. Now it’s watching him fly home.
Now several weeks into his time at Blue Valley School, Mr Bambuckle sipped his Himalayan tea and smiled. Listening to Carrot’s story was a strong reminder of why he went into teaching in the first place. The changes he felt in the classroom were pulling him in like a magnet. He had not met a more fascinating group of students.
Carrot stared quietly at his classmates, having taken the courageous step of sharing his story. He was yet another example of a student under the spell of their new teacher. Ever since Mr Bambuckle’s arrival, the walls built up by fear of failure were crumbling on a daily basis in room 12B.
Victoria Goldenhorn had a tear in her eye. ‘That was beautiful, Carrot.’
‘You’re beautiful, Victoria,’ said Damon.
‘I remember that race like it was last week,’ said Vinnie, playing with one of her curls.
‘It was last week,’ said Ren.
‘You made me out to be such a bad guy,’ complained Vex. Although the hair on top of his head was growing back, he was still embarrassed by the whole affair. ‘Why doesn’t anybody believe me when I say it was all my dad’s idea. He’s the one who wanted to fix the race so I won. As if he’d ever actually give away a car!’
‘Truth be told,’ said Mr Bambuckle, ‘I do believe you, Vex. I also believe there is much good in you, just waiting to come out.’
At that exact moment, Vex Vron was on the precipice of finally allowing his own emotional walls to be smashed by the sledgehammer of warmth and kindness that was Mr Bambuckle. The last thread of his ugly attitude – one that had been ingrained long ago by his father – was all that stopped him doing so. He could only manage a single word. ‘Whatever.’
Realising Vex was deep in thought, and wanting to buy him some time, Mr Bambuckle winked at Damon Dunst, who he could tell was itching to share something.
‘I’ve written a guide,’ said Damon.
‘A most wonderful initiative,’ said Mr Bambuckle.
‘It’s very personal and honest,’ said Damon. ‘I’ve left nothing out.’
The teacher signalled for Damon to share. ‘The best things in life come from a special place within.’ He looked at Vex and added, ‘We all have a special place within.’
Damon stood up from his desk and walked to the front of the classroom. He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and looked around the room. With his curly hair and broad smile, Damon Dunst was the sort of boy who only ever allowed himself to be guided by love.
He took a deep breath and gazed longingly at Victoria Goldenhorn.
Despite his clumsiness in romance, Damon Dunst was a rather clever boy, who knew comedy was the path back to Victoria’s heart. The whole class, including the always positive and forgiving Victoria, was in stitches.
‘You’re hilarious!’ giggled Vinnie, who, until Mr Bambuckle’s arrival, had never really noticed Damon. The students in room 12B were learning to bond, not just with their teacher, but with each other as well.
Even Vex was laughing – a sign that the final thread of his bitter attitude was about to snap. ‘Genius,’ he cried. ‘The boy’s a genius.’
‘Mr Bambuckle,’ said Harold with a cheeky grin, ‘may I write a guide to the kilt dance?’
Before Mr Bambuckle had time to respond, Mr Sternblast charged through the door like a bull, his balding head glowing as hotly as ever. ‘I have an announcement to make. Take a seat, Bambuckle.’
Fear hushed the students. They recognised the triumphant tone in the principal’s voice, and it wasn’t a good sign.
‘Students, today is this teacher’s last day,’ said Mr Sternblast. Even though he was frowning, he looked rather pleased with himself. ‘It’s taken longer than I would have liked, but I have finally found a suitable replacement. I have done what’s best for the school, what’s best for this so-called teacher of yours, and, if I may say so myself, what’s best for me.’
The students gasped.
Mr Sternblast narrowed his eyes and looked at Mr Bambuckle. ‘Make sure you prepare all the handover work for your replacement. I expect it on my desk this afternoon.’
A long silence hung in the classroom – a silence that had not been heard for weeks. The only sound was that of Mr Sternblast marching back to his office.
‘You can’t leave,’ Victoria tried to say, though no sound came out. Her blue eyes were tearing up.
‘Will we ever see you again?’ whispered Evie.
There was another moment’s silence.
‘I don’t want you to go,’ said Carrot.
‘You’re the best teacher we’ve ever had,’ added Harold.
Mr Bambuckle stood up from his chair and straightened his blue suit. The sparkle had left his eyes. ‘My dear students, it appears as though our time together has come to an unexpected and somewhat abrupt end.’
‘It can’t be the end,’ said Ren, who was now fighting back her tears.
‘All good things must come to an end,’ said the teacher, his voice a little quieter than usual. It lacked the rhythm of certainty the students had grown to love.
‘No, they don’t,’ said Damon Dunst. ‘Good things don’t have to end.’
‘For every great problem, there’s an equally great solution,’ said Carrot. ‘That’s what you taught me.’
Mr Bambuckle reached into one of his jacket pockets and pulled out something small and round. He covered it with his other hand so the students couldn’t see.
‘Is that your Indian spark-maker beetle?’ whispered Scarlett Geeves.
Mr Bambuckle nodded. ‘I was planning on showing you at the right time. However, I think that now –’
‘Put it away!’ said a loud voice. It was Vex. ‘Put it away right now, please.’
Mr Bambuckle reached back into his jacket pocket and released the beetle before anyone had a chance to see it.
‘It’s not the end,’ said Vex. There was new-found determination in his voice that only the teacher could pick up. ‘It doesn’t end like this. I’ve seen what you can do. I’ve seen what you did for Evie and Harold. I’ve seen what you did for Ren and Vinnie. I’ve seen what you did for Carrot.’
The students whose names were mentioned sat up straighter in their chairs, as though their experiences had somehow helped them understand more about themselves. Each of them had come to realise how tru
ly remarkable they were.
‘As difficult as it is, one must take the advice of the principal,’ said Mr Bambuckle. ‘Remember, due respect.’
‘June respect,’ said Harold, though he said it without the vigour required to draw a laugh.
‘Pop reckons Mr Sternblast is about to get a new job,’ said Carrot. ‘He says a man from one of the big schools in the city has been hanging around Blue Valley asking questions.’
‘I saw that man on the day the police came to school,’ said Ren, drawing on her detective-like memory. ‘He was dressed in a suit and he was taking notes.’
‘Ever the detective, Ren,’ said Vinnie.
‘My dad said something about it too,’ said Victoria. ‘Apparently, Mr Sternblast had to handle staffing changes here before he signed the contract. Dad knows because he’s friends with someone on the school board.’
Ren was quickly putting together the pieces of the puzzle. ‘The staffing change must be you, Mr Bambuckle. Mr Sternblast is firing you so he can get a promotion.’
Another long silence hung in the air, before Evie found the courage to stand up from her seat. She walked straight to the teacher and wrapped her arms around his waist. ‘I never want my lessons with you to end.’
Victoria, too, stood up and walked over to the teacher. She joined Evie and squeezed around Mr Bambuckle’s waist. ‘I never want my lessons with you to end either.’
Carrot and Harold followed suit and embraced their teacher. Their actions in silence were truly louder than words.
Then, one by one, the students in room 12B moved to the front of the room and encircled Mr Bambuckle in a ring of adoration.
Only one student remained at their desk. Vex Vron stared at his teacher from the back of the room and thought hard. ‘It’s not the end,’ he said, a steely resolve in his voice. ‘Not if I have something to do with it …’
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Version 1.0
Mr Bambuckle’s Remarkables
9780143785866
First published by Random House Australia in 2017
Text copyright © Tim Harris, 2017
Illustration copyright © James Hart, 2017
The moral right of the author and illustrator has been asserted.
A Random House book
Published by Penguin Random House Australia Pty Ltd
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www.penguin.com.au
Addresses for the Penguin Random House group of companies can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com/offices.
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication entry
Author: Harris, Tim
Title: Mr Bambuckle’s remarkables. Volume 1/Tim Harris
ISBN: 978 0 14378 586 6 (ebook)
Target audience: For primary school age
Subjects: Teachers – Juvenile fiction
Teachers’ backgrounds – Juvenile fiction
Students – Juvenile fiction
Cover and internal illustration by James Hart
Cover and internal design by Christabella Designs
Ebook by Firstsource
