Sideways Stories from Wayside School, Page 2

  Sharie

  Sharie had long eyelashes. She weighed only forty-nine pounds. She always wore a big red and blue overcoat with a hood. The overcoat weighed thirty-five pounds. The red part weighed fifteen pounds, the blue part weighed fifteen pounds, and the hood weighed five pounds. Her eye-lashes weighed a pound and a half.

  She sat next to the window in Mrs. Jewls’s class. She spent a lot of time just staring out the window. Mrs. Jewls didn’t mind. Mrs. Jewls said that a lot of people learn best when they stare out a window.

  Sharie often fell asleep in class. Mrs. Jewls didn’t mind that, either. She said that a lot of people do their best learning when they are asleep.

  Sharie spent all of her time either looking out the window or sleeping. Mrs. Jewls thought she was the best student in the class.

  One afternoon it was very hot. All of the windows were open, yet Sharie still wore her red and blue overcoat. The heat made her very tired. Mrs. Jewls was teaching arithmetic. Sharie pulled the hood up over her face, buried herself in the coat, and went to sleep.

  “Mrs. Jewls,” said Kathy, “Sharie is asleep.”

  “That’s good,” said Mrs. Jewls. “She must be learning something.”

  Mrs. Jewls continued with the lesson.

  Sharie began to snore.

  “Mrs. Jewls, Sharie is snoring,” said Kathy.

  “Yes, I can hear her,” said Mrs. Jewls. “She must be learning an awful lot today. I wish the rest of you could be like her.”

  Sharie began to toss and turn. She flopped over on top of her desk, and then rolled over on top of Kathy’s desk. Then she rolled back the other way. Kathy screamed. Sharie rolled out the window. She was still sound asleep.

  As you know, Mrs. Jewls’s class was on the thirtieth story of Wayside School. So Sharie had a long way to go.

  After she had fallen ten stories, Sharie woke up. She looked around. She was confused. She wasn’t in Mrs. Jewls’s class, and she wasn’t at home in bed. She couldn’t figure out where she was. She yawned, pulled the hood back over her eyes, and went back to sleep. By that time she had fallen another ten stories.

  §

  Wayside School had an exceptionally large playground. Louis, the yard teacher, was way over on the other side of it when he happened to see Sharie fall out the window. He ducked under the volleyball net, hurtled past the kickball field, hopped over the hopscotch court, climbed through the monkey bars, sped across the grass, and caught Sharie just before she hit the ground.

  The people in Mrs. Jewls’s class cheered.

  Sharie woke up in Louis’s arms.

  “Darn it, Louis,” she said. “What did you go and wake me up for?”

  “I’m sorry, Sharie,” said Louis.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Sharie repeated. “Is that all you can say? I was having a wonderful dream until you woke me up. You’re always bothering me, Louis. I can’t stand it.” She laughed and hugged him around the neck.

  Louis carried her back up thirty flights of stairs to Mrs. Jewls’s room.

  That evening, when Sharie went to bed, she was unable to fall asleep. She just wasn’t tired.

  ∨ Sideways Stories from Wayside School ∧

  5

  Todd

  All of the children in Mrs. Jewls’s class, except Todd, were talking and carrying on. Todd was thinking. Todd always thought before he spoke. When he got an idea, his eyes lit up.

  Todd finished thinking and began to speak. But before he said two words, Mrs. Jewls called him.

  “Todd,” she said, “you know better than to talk in class. You must learn to work quietly, like the other children.” She wrote his name on the blackboard under the word DISCIPLINE.

  Todd looked around in amazement. All of the other children, who had been talking and screaming and fighting only seconds earlier, were quietly working in their workbooks. Todd scratched his head.

  A child was given three chances in Mrs. Jewls’s class. The first time he did something wrong, Mrs. Jewls wrote his name on the blackboard under the word DISCIPLINE. The second time he did something wrong, she put a check next to his name. And the third time he did something wrong, she circled his name.

  Todd reached into his desk and pulled out his workbook. He had only just started on it when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. It was Joy.

  “What page are you on?” Joy asked.

  “Page four,” Todd whispered.

  “I’m on page eleven,” said Joy.

  Todd didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to get into trouble. He just went back to work.

  Five minutes later, Joy tapped him again. Todd ignored her. So Joy poked him in the back with her pencil. Todd pretended he didn’t notice. Joy got up from her seat and sharpened her pencil. She came back and poked it in Todd’s back. “What page are you on?” she asked.

  “Page five,” Todd answered.

  “Boy, are you dumb,” said Joy, “I’m on page twenty-nine.”

  “It isn’t a race,” Todd whispered.

  Five minutes later Joy pulled Todd’s hair and didn’t let go until he turned around. “What page are you on?” she demanded.

  “Page six,” Todd answered as quietly as he could.

  “I’M ON PAGE TWO HUNDRED!” Joy shouted.

  Todd was very angry. “Will you please let me do my work and stop bothering me!”

  Mrs. Jewls heard him. “Todd, what did I say about talking in class?”

  Todd scratched his head.

  Mrs. Jewls put a check next to Todd’s name on the blackboard under the word DISCIPLINE.

  Todd really tried to be good. He knew that if he talked one more time, Mrs. Jewls would circle his name. Then he’d have to go home early, at twelve o’clock, on the kindergarten bus, just as he had the day before and the day before that. In fact, there hadn’t been a day since Mrs. Jewls took over the class that she didn’t send Todd home early. She said she did it for his own good. The other children went home at two o’clock.

  Todd wasn’t really bad. He just always got caught. He really wanted to stay past twelve o’clock. He wanted to find out what the class did from twelve to two. But it didn’t look as though this was going to be his day. It was only ten-thirty, and he already had two strikes against him. He sealed his lips and went back to work.

  There was a knock on the door. Mrs. Jewls opened it. Two men stepped in wearing masks and holding guns. “Give us all your money!” they demanded.

  “All I have is a nickel,” said Mrs. Jewls.

  “I have a dime,” said Maurecia.

  “I have thirteen cents,” said Leslie.

  “I have four cents,” said Dameon.

  “What kind of bank is this?” asked one of the robbers.

  “It’s not a bank, it’s a school,” said Todd. “Can’t you read?”

  “No,” said the robbers.

  “Neither can I,” said Todd.

  “Do you mean we walked all the way up thirty flights of stairs for nothing?” asked the robber. “Don’t you have anything valuable?”

  Todd’s eyes lit up. “We sure do,” he said. “We have knowledge.” He grabbed Joy’s workbook and gave it to the robbers. “Knowledge is much more valuable than money.”

  “Thanks, kid,” said one of the robbers.

  “Maybe I’ll give up being a criminal and become a scientist,” said the other.

  They left the room without hurting anybody.

  “Now I don’t have a workbook,” complained Joy.

  Mrs. Jewls gave her a new one. Joy had to start all the way back at the beginning.

  “Hey, Joy, what page are you on?” asked Todd.

  “Page one,” Joy sighed.

  “I’m on page eight,” laughed Todd triumphantly.

  Mrs. Jewls heard him. She circled his name. Todd had three strikes against him. At twelve o’clock he left the room to go home early on the kindergarten bus.

  But this time when he left, he was like a star baseball player leaving the field. All th
e children stood up, clapped their hands, and whistled.

  Todd scratched his head.

  ∨ Sideways Stories from Wayside School ∧

  6

  Bebe

  Bebe was a girl with short brown hair, a little beebee nose, totally tiny toes, and big brown eyes. Her full name was Bebe Gunn. She was the fastest draw in Mrs. Jewls’s class.

  She could draw a cat in less than forty-five seconds, a dog in less than thirty, and a flower in less than eight seconds.

  But, of course, Bebe never drew just one dog, or one cat, or one flower. Art was from twelve-thirty to one-thirty. Why, in that time, she could draw fifty cats, a hundred flowers, twenty dogs, and several eggs or watermelons. It took her the same amount of time to draw a watermelon as an egg.

  Calvin sat next to Bebe. He didn’t think he was very good at art. Why, it took him the whole period just to draw one airplane. So instead, he just helped Bebe. He was Bebe’s assistant. As soon as Bebe would finish one masterpiece, Calvin would take it from her and set down a clean sheet of paper. Whenever her crayon ran low, Calvin was ready with a new crayon. That way Bebe didn’t have to waste any time. And in return, Bebe would draw five or six airplanes for Calvin.

  It was twelve-thirty, time for art. Bebe was ready. On her desk was a sheet of yellow construction paper. In her hand was a green crayon.

  Calvin was ready. He held a stack of paper and a box of crayons.

  “Ready, Bebe,” said Calvin.

  “Ready, Calvin,” said Bebe.

  “Okay,” said Mrs. Jewls, “time for art.”

  She had hardly finished her sentence when Bebe had already drawn a picture of a leaf.

  Calvin took it from her and put another piece of paper down.

  “Red,” called Bebe.

  Calvin handed Bebe a red crayon.

  “Blue,” called Bebe.

  He gave her a blue crayon.

  They were quite a pair. Their teamwork was remarkable. Bebe drew pictures as fast as Calvin could pick up the old paper and set down the new – a fish, an apple, three cherries, bing, bing, bing.

  At one-thirty Mrs. Jewls announced, “Okay, class, art is over.”

  Bebe dropped her crayon and fell over on her desk. Calvin sighed and leaned back in his chair. He could hardly move. They had broken their old record. Bebe had drawn three hundred and seventy-eight pictures. They lay in a pile on Calvin’s desk.

  Mrs. Jewls walked by. “Calvin, did you draw all these pictures?”

  Calvin laughed. “No, I can’t draw. Bebe drew them all.”

  “Well, then, what did you draw?” asked Mrs. Jewls.

  “I didn’t draw anything,” said Calvin.

  “Why not? Don’t you like art?” asked Mrs. Jewls.

  “I love art,” said Calvin. “That’s why I didn’t draw anything.”

  Mrs. Jewls did not understand.

  “It would have taken me the whole period just to draw one picture,” said Calvin. “And Bebe would only have been able to draw a hundred pictures. But with the two of us working together, she was able to draw three hundred and seventy-eight pictures! That’s a lot more art.”

  Bebe and Calvin shook hands.

  “No,” said Mrs. Jewls. “That isn’t how you measure art. It isn’t how many pictures you have, but how good the pictures are. Why, a person could spend his whole life just drawing one picture of a cat. In that time I’m sure Bebe could draw a million cats.”

  “Two million,” said Bebe.

  Mrs. Jewls continued. “But if that one picture is better than each of Bebe’s two million, then that person has produced more art than Bebe.”

  Bebe looked as if she was going to cry. She picked up all the pictures from Calvin’s desk and threw them in the garbage. Then she ran from the room.

  “I thought her pictures were good,” said Calvin. He reached into the garbage pail and took out a crumpled-up picture of an airplane.

  Bebe walked outside into the playground.

  Louis, the yard teacher, spotted her. “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “I’m going home to draw a picture of a cat,” said Bebe.

  “Will you bring it to school and show it to me tomorrow?” Louis asked.

  “Tomorrow!” laughed Bebe. “By tomorrow I doubt if I’ll even be finished with one whisker.”

  ∨ Sideways Stories from Wayside School ∧

  7

  Calvin

  Calvin had a big, round face.

  “Calvin,” said Mrs. Jewls, “I want you to take this note to Miss Zarves for me.”

  “Miss Zarves?” asked Calvin.

  “Yes, Miss Zarves,” said Mrs. Jewls. “You know where she is, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” said Calvin. “She’s on the nineteenth story.”

  “That’s right, Calvin,” said Mrs. Jewls. “Take it to her.”

  Calvin didn’t move.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” asked Mrs. Jewls.

  “She’s on the nineteenth story,” said Calvin.

  “Yes, we have already established that fact,” said Mrs. Jewls.

  “The nineteenth story,” Calvin repeated.

  “Yes, Calvin, the nineteenth story,” said Mrs. Jewls. “Now take it to her before I lose my patience.”

  “But, Mrs. Jewls,” said Calvin.

  “Now, Calvin!” said Mrs. Jewls. “Unless you would rather go home on the kindergarten bus.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Calvin. Slowly he walked out the door.

  “Ha, ha, ha,” laughed Terrence, “take it to the nineteenth story.”

  “Give it to Miss Zarves,” hooted Myron.

  “Have fun on the nineteenth story,” called Jason.

  Calvin stood outside the door to the classroom. He didn’t know where to go.

  As you know, when the builder built Wayside School, he accidentally built it sideways. But he also forgot to build the nineteenth story. He built the eighteenth and the twentieth, but no nineteenth. He said he was very sorry.

  There was also no Miss Zarves. Miss Zarves taught the class on the nineteenth story. Since there was no nineteenth story, there was no Miss Zarves.

  And besides that, as if Calvin didn’t have enough problems, there was no note. Mrs. Jewls had never given Calvin the note.

  “Boy, this is just great,” thought Calvin. “Just great! I’m supposed to take a note that I don’t have to a teacher who doesn’t exist, and who teaches on a story that was never built.”

  He didn’t know what to do. He walked down to the eighteenth story, then back up to the twentieth, then back down to the eighteenth, and back up again to the twentieth. There was no nineteenth story. There never was a nineteenth story. And there never will be a nineteenth story.

  Calvin walked down to the administration office. He decided to put the note in Miss Zarves’s mailbox. But there wasn’t one of those, either. That didn’t bother Calvin too much, however, since he didn’t have a note.

  He looked out the window and saw Louis, the yard teacher, shooting baskets. “Louis will know what to do,” he thought. Calvin went outside.

  “Hey, Louis,” Calvin called.

  “Hi, Calvin,” said Louis. He tossed him the basketball. Calvin dribbled up and took a shot. He missed. Louis tipped it in.

  “Do you want to play a game?” Louis asked.

  “I don’t have time,” said Calvin. “I have to deliver a note to Miss Zarves up on the nineteenth story.”

  “Then what are you doing all the way down here?” Louis asked.

  “There is no nineteenth story,” said Calvin.

  “Then where is Miss Zarves?” asked Louis.

  “There is no Miss Zarves,” said Calvin.

  “What are you going to do with the note?” asked Louis.

  “There is no note,” said Calvin.

  “I understand,” said Louis.

  “That’s good,” said Calvin, “because I sure don’t.”

  “It’s very simple,” said Louis. “You are not s
upposed to take no notes to no teachers. You already haven’t done it.”

  Calvin still didn’t understand. “I’ll just have to tell Mrs. Jewels that I couldn’t deliver the note,” he said.

  “That’s good,” said Louis. “The truth is always best. Besides, I don’t think I understand what I said, either.”

  Calvin walked back up the thirty flights of stairs to Mrs. Jewls’s class.

  “Thank you very much, Calvin,” said Mrs. Jewls.

  Calvin said, “But I – ”

  Mrs. Jewls interrupted him. “That was a very important note, and I’m glad I was able to count on you.”

  “Yes, but you see – ” said Calvin.

  “You delivered the note to Miss Zarves on the nineteenth story?” asked Jason. “How did you do it?”

  “What do you mean, how did he do it?” asked Mrs. Jewls. “He gave Miss Zarves the note. Some people, Jason, are responsible.”

  “But you see, Mrs. Jewls – ” said Calvin.

  “The note was very important,” said Mrs. Jewls. “I told Miss Zarves not to meet me for lunch.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Calvin. “She won’t.”

  “Good,” said Mrs. Jewls. “I have a coffee can full of Tootsie Roll pops on my desk. You may help yourself to one, for being such a good messenger.”

  “Thanks,” said Calvin, “but really, it was nothing.”

  ∨ Sideways Stories from Wayside School ∧

  8

  Myron

  Myron had big ears. He was elected class president. The children in Mrs. Jewls’s class expected him to be a good president. Other presidents were good speakers. Myron was even better. He was a good listener.

  But he had a problem. He didn’t know what a class president was supposed to do. So he asked.

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “It’s a difficult job,” said Mrs. Jewls. “But you can do it. You must turn the lights on every morning and turn them off at the end of the day.”