The Fabled Fifth Graders of Aesop Elementary School (2 page)

“The fighting Toucans of Aesop Elementary,” cheered Melvin Moody.

Jackie ignored him.

Amisha Spelwadi tapped Rose Clutterdorf on the shoulder. “Don’t look now, but you’ve already managed to get peanut butter on your
h-e-a-d-d-r-e-s-s.”

“My what?” said Rose.

“Your
h-e-a-d-d-r-e-s-s,”
repeated Amisha.

“Don’t spell it, say it,” said Rose.

“Your headdress,” said Amisha, who was already practicing for this year’s district-wide spelling bee. “You’ve got peanut
b-u-t-t-e-r
on your headdress.”

“Peanut butter?” piped up Ham Samitch. “Mmmm, peanut butter!”

Lil Ditty burst into verse:

“You mean math,” corrected Stanford Binet.

“Math?” Calvin Tallywong grumbled. “I hate math.”

At his words, Ashlee Anderson shook her head, causing her dangly unicorn earrings to dance. “Calvin,” she scolded, “you know hating is not allowed in fifth grade.”

Ashleigh Brown shook her unicorn earrings too. “That’s right,” she agreed.

“Don’t you just hate that?” joked Ashley Zamboni.

“Hey, Ashley Z.’s being a wise guy,” snickered Lenny Wittier.

“It beats being a wise
girl,”
giggled Bruce Vanderbanter.

“I’m a boy, and don’t you forget it!” shouted Ashley Z.

“Oooh, we’re scared!” Lenny and Bruce cried in unison.

At the front of the line, Mr. Jupiter clapped his hands. “Research has shown that Aztec priests and princesses never bickered. Now stop squawking and start dancing.”

Crowing with delight, twenty toucans flocked around their teacher.

Pretending they had pom-poms, Ashlee A. and Ashleigh B. thrust their arms into V shapes, then jumped, kicked, and put their fists on their hips. “RAH!”

Rose Clutterdorf did a sloppy slide glide while her best friend, Missy Place, tried to do a moonwalk, but … “I’ve lost the beat!”

Mr. Jupiter clapped his hands again. “Let’s see those bird moves!” he cried.

The students flap-flapped their arms. They shook-shook their tail feathers. Then they strut-strut-strutted straight into the school.

In the teachers’ lounge, the staff stood open-mouthed.

Then Mrs. Bunz snorted again. “Am I right, or am I right?”

Miss Turner put down her teacup. “Bertha,” she said with a smile. “You
are
right. Mr. Jupiter and his students absolutely, positively deserve each other.”

   
MORAL: Birds of a feather flock together
.

AFTER STOWING THEIR HEADDRESSES
in their hall lockers, the fifth graders headed into their new classroom. It looked exactly the same as last year’s. In one corner stood the same old suit of armor and the four Lugunga pig masks. There were the same old ceremonial slit drums and totem pole; the same old shrunken head collection and coelacanth tank, astrolabe and Egyptian sarcophagus. Even Mrs. Yorick’s skull was sitting in the same old place on the corner of Mr. Jupiter’s desk.

Still, something
was
different. Last year they had been fourth graders, not quite top dogs but no longer school babies. But now … now they were
fifth graders
.

“And we’re going to ruuuule the schooool,” drawled Lenny. He high-fived Bruce, who hip-bumped Emberly, who thumb-wrestled Calvin, who belly-bashed Ham, who butt-thumped Humphrey, who tried to back-slap Stanford, who sidestepped Humphrey and snorted, “Get serious.”

Stanford pushed Humphrey away. He sat down at his desk and looked at Mr. Jupiter. “What are we going to learn this year?”

“I’m glad you asked, Stanford,” replied Mr. Jupiter. As the others took their seats, he opened his parchment grade book.

“This is going to be good!” squealed Ernest. He rubbed his hands together. “I can’t wait to hear about all the fun we’re going to have.”

Mr. Jupiter cleared his throat and began to read from his book. “‘Students will strategically deploy new vocabulary words for use in spelling, reading, and writing.’”

Rose turned to Amisha. “What’s that mean?”

Amisha shrugged. “I’m
b-e-w-i-l-d-e-r-e-d.”

“‘Students will explore number patterns, algebra, and geometry and demonstrate evidence of reasoning using said numbers within said systems.’”

“Is that math?” gasped Calvin. “I think he’s talking math.” He reached for a brand-new number two pencil, jammed the eraser end into his mouth, and began chewing. (Whenever he was nervous, Calvin chewed, and math made him very nervous.)

“‘We will also study pre- and postcolonial development of democratic ideals and institutions, including voting and elections.’”

“Everyone who thinks this is boring, raise your hand,” said Bernadette.

“‘And engage in a concentrated investigative study of the formative and causative years in history,’” continued Mr. Jupiter.

“I think our best school days are past,” sniffed Victoria.

Mr. Jupiter closed the book. “Doesn’t that sound exciting, boys and girls? And that’s just the lesson plan for
this
week.”

Lenny and Bruce gagged.

Bernadette groaned.

Rachel drooled in her sleep.

Then Mr. Jupiter tossed the book onto his desk—
FLUMPF!

The sound caused the classroom map of “Mastodon Migratory Routes of the Wurm Glaciation” to roll up with a loud
SNAP!

Rachel woke with a start. “Pffft,” she complained. She wiped the drool off her chin.

“Look!” cried Ashley Z.

There on the blackboard, written in Mr. Jupiter’s hand, was a long list. It read:

   Some
Other
Things We May Study This Year

• The multiple uses of edible red-green algae
  

• The six most effective ways to search for extraterrestrial life
  

• The proper care and feeding of Burmese spectacled guinea pigs
  

• The seventeen habits of highly defective headhunters
  

• The life cycle of Bigfoot
  

• The biography of Marvin Dewey, Melvil’s little brother
  

• The best recipes using salami and butterscotch pudding
  

• The secret language of the armadillo
  

• The rain rituals of the Ub-pa-kuyu tribe of the Tatiano Republic
  

• The seven ways to catch a blind cave slug
  

    “Oh, dear, you weren’t supposed to see
that
list,” said a smiling Mr. Jupiter. “After all, the curriculum comes first, and these are just a few
supplemental
lessons I’m considering.”

Calvin took the pencil out of his mouth. “What’s a blind cave slug?” he asked.

Mr. Jupiter pulled a terrarium out from under his desk and set it on top. “I’m glad you asked, Calvin.…”

School had begun.

   
MORAL: Expect the unexpected
.

MISS TURNER WAS BURSTING WITH
excitement. “Fifth graders!” she cried when they arrived in the library with Mr. Jupiter for their very first visit of the school year. “I have thrilling news!”

“You’re getting married!” whooped Missy.

Miss Turner’s cheeks turned the same shade as her lipstick—Glamazon Jungle Red. “N-no, no,” stammered the librarian. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

Missy shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess because last Saturday I saw you and Mr. Jupiter coming out of the Aphrodite Cafe together and you were—”

“Ahem.” Mr. Jupiter loudly cleared his throat, putting an end to Missy’s story.

“I bet I can guess your news!” exclaimed Ernest. “You’ve won an all-expense-paid trip to the International Library Association’s annual conference. Where is it this year, Death Valley?”

“A library conference?” repeated Humphrey. “What’s so thrilling about a library conference?”

“Oooh, oooh, I know!” cried Lenny. “They’ve
discovered that Melvil Dewey’s alive and well and living in Las Vegas.”

Miss Turner shook her head. “Those are all interesting guesses,” she said, “but the truth is so much more exciting.” She strode across the library, flung open the storage room door, and …

“TA-DA!” she cried.

The room had been transformed. Gone were the mops, buckets, and stacks of paper towels. Now the place hummed with electronic equipment—cameras, microphones, lighting rigs, video monitors—even a teleprompter. Above a small stage hung a sign. It read:
WUSS
.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” said Miss Turner, spreading her arms wide. “The school district purchased a secondhand television station at an anchorman’s garage sale last summer, and happily, they’ve given it to Aesop Elementary.”

The fifth graders wandered into the room.

“Who are you calling a wuss?” asked Ham.

“A what?” said Miss Turner.

“A wuss,” Ham said again. He pointed to the sign.

“Oh, no,” replied the librarian, “those are our call letters. The
USS
stands for the United School System. Fun, yes?”

Ham nodded.

“And here’s the truly thrilling part,” she continued, her excitement rising. “I have decided to form a fifth-grade media club. Together we will produce a weekly news program that will be broadcast each Monday into every classroom in the school.”

“Every classroom?” repeated Humphrey.

Miss Turner nodded.

“We’ll be stars!” exclaimed Victoria. “Or at least,
I
will.” She batted her eyelashes, gave her hair a flip, and practiced her red-carpet walk. “No autographs, please,” she purred.

Lenny let out a scream. “Victoria, wh … wh … what’s that enormous thing on your shoulders?”

Victoria’s eyes grew wide. “What? Help! What is it?”

“Oh,” snickered Lenny, “it’s just your swollen head.” He high-fived Bruce.

Victoria flipped her hair again. “Who cares what you say? I’m going to look simply divine on camera.” Then she smiled and, in a voice dripping with sweetness, added, “Has anyone ever told you that you have the perfect face for radio?”

“Gee, thanks, Victoria,” said Lenny. “That’s about the nicest thing you’ve ever … Hey, wait a minute!”

“Yes, well, not all of us can be in front of the camera,” Miss Turner said. “After all, there are lots of important behind-the-scenes jobs that need to be done.”

“Like what?” asked Ernest.

Miss Turner smiled. “Like wardrobe director, for one,” she said. “Someone has to make sure our anchorgirls and -boys look good on camera.”

“That’s the job of me,” said Ernest. “I’ll crochet everyone matching vests.”

“Wonderful,” said Miss Turner. She wrote Ernest’s name and job title on a piece of paper.

Rose raised her hand. “Can Missy and I write the news?” she asked.

“In television it’s called copy, and you certainly can,” said Miss Turner. She added their names to her list.

Amisha raised her hand. “Can I double-check their copy to make sure everything’s spelled right?”

Miss Turner nodded. “That makes you the copy editor. But you’ll have to check facts as well.”

Amisha grinned. “Copy editor. It has a nice
r-i-n-g
to it, doesn’t it?”

Now Calvin spoke up. “I want to be the cameraman.”

“That’s a difficult job,” said Miss Turner. “You’ll
need people to help you with lighting and sound. Does anyone want to join the crew?”

Humphrey, Emberly, and Ashley Z. raised their hands.

Miss Turner wrote all their names down.

“Ashleigh B. and I can make scenery,” volunteered Ashlee A.

“Pffft,” added Rachel.

Miss Turner didn’t hear her.

“Designing a set is lots of work,” said Miss Turner. “Would anyone else like to help?”

“Pffft,” Rachel said.

Miss Turner looked around the room. “Anyone?”

“Pffft,” Rachel said again.

“Then I’m going to have to volunteer people,” said Miss Turner. She scanned her class list. “Let’s see, Lil Ditty and …”

“Pffft!” Rachel said frantically. “Pffft! Pffft!”

“Rachel Piffle,” concluded Miss Turner.

“Pffft,” Rachel said with a smile.

Miss Turner tapped her paper with her pencil. “All the behind-the-camera jobs have been filled. That leaves only anchor positions. Volunteers?”

Lenny’s hand shot into the air. “Can Bruce and I tell a weekly joke? We’ll be the school comedians.”

“The class clowns,” agreed Bruce. He turned to Lenny. “Tell me again. Why won’t cannibals eat clowns?”

“They taste funny,” answered Lenny.

The boys howled with laughter.

“Get serious,” snorted Stanford. “Our news program can’t be all fun and games. I think we should have a segment on current events.”

“I
want to do a health and beauty spot,” said Victoria.

“And I want to be the sports announcer,” said Jackie.

Miss Turner nodded. “I think those are all wonderful suggestions.”

“Can I announce the week’s menus?” begged Ham. “Can I? Huh?”

“Of course,” said Miss Turner.

“And can I read the week’s announcements?” asked Melvin.

The others ignored him.

“Who’s going to read the week’s announcements?” asked Calvin.

Miss Turner scanned her class list. “There are
only two people still without jobs—Bernadette and Melvin.”

“I don’t want to read any silly announcements,” said Bernadette.

Miss Turner looked up from her list. “What
do
you want to do?” she asked.

Bernadette thought a moment. “Exposés,” she finally said. “Piercing, probing investigative reporting. I will ferret out the answers to our viewers’ most burning questions. What
really
is in Cook’s mystery casserole? What
really
goes on in the teachers’ lounge? What were you
really
doing with Mr. Jupiter last Saturday night?”

“Ahem.” Mr. Jupiter cleared his throat again.

“Strike that last question,” said Bernadette.

“What do you know about investigative reporting?” asked Miss Turner.