The Fabled Fourth Graders of Aesop Elementary School

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the

  product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to

  actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2007 Candace Fleming

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Schwartz & Wade Books, an imprint of

  Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  Schwartz & Wade Books and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  www.randomhouse.com/kids

  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at www.randomhouse.com/teachers

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Fleming, Candace.

  The Fabled fourth graders of Aesop Elementary School / Candace Fleming. — 1st ed.

  p. cm.

  Summary: An unlikely teacher takes over the disorderly fourth-grade class of

  Aesop Elementary School with surprising results.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-48451-2

  [1. Schools—Fiction. 2. Teachers—Fiction. 3. Behavior—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.F59936Fab 2007

  [Fic]—dc22

  2006017348

  v3.1_r1

  For Eric, who listened, laughed, and dispensed

  loads of bad puns. What would I do without you?

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  The Principal Struggles

  Mr. Jupiter Goes Fourth

  An Absentminded Morning

  The Librarian in Love

  Picture Day

  Dance, Stanford, Dance

  Calvin Goes to Kindergarten

  The Boy Who Cried Lunch Monitor

  Please Don’t Tease Ashley Z.

  Pffft!

  There Once Was a Man from Dancart …

  The Bad, the Beautiful, and the Stinky

  Dewey or Don’t We?

  Ham and Beans

  Missy’s Lost Mittens

  Sticks and Stones

  March Madness

  Catch!

  The Problem with Being Ernest

  Humphrey’s Lunch

  The Spelling Goddess

  First Kiss

  Mr. Jupiter Takes the Fifth

  THE PRINCIPAL STRUGGLES

  THE SOON-TO-BE FOURTH GRADERS AT

  Aesop Elementary School had a reputation for being—

  “Precocious,” said their former first-grade teacher, Ms. Bucky. She ground her teeth.

  “High-energy,” added their second-grade teacher, Mrs. Chen. The muscle beneath her jaw twitched.

  “Robust,” agreed their third-grade teacher, Mr. Frost. He patted his now all-white hair.

  “Humph!” snorted Bertha Bunz, the lunchroom monitor. “Those kids are just plain naughty.” Because she wasn’t a teacher, Mrs. Bunz felt free to speak the truth.

  Mrs. Bunz was right. So special were the incoming fourth graders that no teacher dared set foot in what would soon be their classroom.

  “Not for love or money,” shivered Ms. Bucky.

  “Not for all the tea in China,” shuddered Mrs. Chen.

  “Ye gods, no!” yelped Mr. Frost.

  It was the last day of summer vacation, and Mrs. Struggles, Aesop Elementary’s principal, was at her wits’ end. “School starts tomorrow, and I still don’t have a fourth-grade teacher,” she moaned. “What am I going to do?”

  “Have you placed a want ad?” suggested Ms. Bucky.

  “Spoken with the superintendent?” suggested Mrs. Chen.

  “Talked with the school board?” suggested Mr. Frost.

  “Humph!” Mrs. Bunz snorted again. “Call a zookeeper!”

  Mrs. Struggles ignored the remark. Defeated, she shuffled into her office and flopped into her chair. If Aesop Elementary were bigger, she thought, I would have separated the troublemakers long ago. But the school was small—only one classroom per grade level—so the kids had to stay together. Rubbing her throbbing temples, she sighed, “How I wish a teacher would walk through that door.”

  At that precise moment, a breeze blew through the principal’s office. It rustled the papers on her desk, rattled her window blinds, and flung open the door to reveal a tall, dark man wearing a pith helmet and clutching a copy of the morning’s want ads.

  “I am Mr. Jupiter,” he said. “I have come about the teaching job.”

  Mrs. Struggles rubbed her eyes. Was this a dream? she wondered.

  But no, Mr. Jupiter was still there.

  “You are looking for a fourth-grader teacher, aren’t you?” he asked.

  Mrs. Struggles nodded, her spirits suddenly soaring. Waving Mr. Jupiter into a seat, she said, “Tell me a bit about yourself.”

  “Where to begin?” he replied. “My first job was as an assistant dog groomer aboard King Bernard’s yacht, the SS Pooch, anchored off the Dalmatian coast. After receiving my degree in nanothermal economics from Dummer University, I led an expedition in search of the dodo bird. Later, I conducted the Timbuktu Philharmonic Orchestra, worked as a translator for Bigfoot, became the first man to ski down Mount Everest, collected mummified cats in Egypt, and discovered the lost city of Atlantis.” He smiled. “Among other things.”

  Mrs. Struggles tapped her desk with a pencil. He certainly sounded interesting.

  “Do you have any teaching experience?” she asked.

  “Some,” replied Mr. Jupiter. “I was head tetherball coach at Matilda Jane’s School for Prim and Proper Girls in Las Vegas, as well as the swimming instructor at Loch Ness Middle School. I also taught Swahili as a second language at Dooglehorn Elementary in Switzerland, hula dancing at Balderdash Academy for Boys in London, and organic geochemistry at Harvard.” He smiled again. “Among other places.”

  Mrs. Struggles tapped her desk some more. He sounded experienced, but …

  “Have you worked with high-energy students?”

  “I studied for a year at the Coochie-Coochie Institute for Misbehaved Monkeys,” said Mr. Jupiter. He smiled a third time. “Among other schools.”

  Mrs. Struggles kept tapping.

  “Is there anything else you’d like to add?” she finally asked.

  Mr. Jupiter shook his head. “Nothing important,” he said, “although you might be interested to know I attended fifth grade at this very school.”

  Mrs. Struggles stopped tapping. “You did?” she exclaimed. “Really? Who was your teacher?”

  Her question caused Mr. Jupiter to turn as white as his whale tooth necklace.

  But Mrs. Struggles didn’t notice. Leaping to her feet, she cried, “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” She extended her hand. “You’re hired! Welcome back to Aesop Elementary, Mr. Jupiter.”

  MR. JUPITER GOES FOURTH

  ON THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL, MR.

  Jupiter wrote his name on the blackboard.

  “Welcome to fourth grade,” he said to his nineteen new students. “I am your teacher, Mr. Jupiter.”

  “Jupiter?” repeated Humphrey Parrot. “Jupiter? That’s a funny name.”

  “It’s not as funny as Pluto,” said Bruce Vanderbanter.

  “Or Uranus,” added Lenny Wittier.

  The boys high-fived. “Mr. Uranus! Mr. Uranus! Mr. Uranus!”

  They glanced at the new teacher, waiting for a reaction.

  But Mr. Jupiter just smiled. “I’m glad to know my students have a sense of humor,” he said.

  Then—

>   POP!

  In the back of the room, Bernadette Braggadoccio peeled a glob of pink bubble gum off her nose and shoved it back into her mouth. She chomped, smacked, and pulled long, sticky strings from her mouth. Then she huffed … and puffed … and peered over the top of her bubble at the new teacher.

  She waited for a reaction.

  But Mr. Jupiter was still smiling. “Chewing gum is known to help children concentrate,” he said.

  Then—

  “Down by the banks of the Hanky Panky,

  Where the bullfrogs hop from banky to banky,

  The momma frogs get so cranky cranky

  That they give their tadpoles a spanky spanky.”

  On the other side of the room, Missy Place and Rose Clutterdorf SMACK-SLAP-CLAPPED their hands to the rhythm of their words.

  But their eyes were on the new teacher, waiting for a reaction.

  Mr. Jupiter was still smiling. “What a wonderful exercise for improving eye-hand coordination,” he said.

  Then—

  “I know a poem,” shouted Lillian Ditty—Lil, for short. “Want to hear it?” And she waxed poetic:

  “Oh, homework! Oh, homework!

  Here’s the true scoop.

  It takes so much time

  That I can’t even—”

  “Poop!” hollered Hamilton Samitch—Ham to his friends. “Did you know that the dung beetle rolls, buries, and eats poop? Isn’t that fascinating? Dung beetles are my newest hobby. I’d rather study them than—”

  “Play ball!” shrieked Jackie Jumpbaugh.

  She tossed a crumpled piece of paper to Calvin Tallywong, who lobbed it to Amisha Spelwadi, who bumped it to Emberly Everclass, who juggled it onto Rachel Piffle’s desk.

  “Pffft,” mumbled Rachel. She blushed and swept the paper into the trash can.

  “Two points!” shrieked Jackie.

  “Rah!” cheered Ashlee Anderson.

  “Rah!” cheered Ashleigh Brown.

  “Shish-boom-blaahh-blaahh-blaahh,” mocked Ashley Zamboni.

  “What’s the matter?” teased Lenny. “Don’t you want to cheer like the other girls?”

  “I’m a boy!” hollered Ashley Z. “And don’t you forget it!”

  Behind them, Victoria Sovaine smirked. “You guys are sooooo obnoxious.” She tossed a golden curl over her shoulder and glanced at the new teacher.

  The entire class waited for a reaction.

  Incredibly, Mr. Jupiter was still smiling. “You are a unique group of children,” he remarked.

  At that moment, Mrs. Struggles knocked on the classroom door. “May I speak with you for a moment?” she said to the new teacher.

  Mr. Jupiter followed her into the hall.

  Left alone, the fourth graders looked at one another.

  “What’s with this guy?” Emberly finally said. “He doesn’t get upset about anything.”

  “Yeah, he doesn’t get upset about anything,” repeated Humphrey.

  Bernadette folded a fresh piece of gum into her mouth. “I think it’s time we took the direct approach.”

  The others let her words sink in.

  The direct approach?

  Everyone knew what could happen if they took the direct approach.

  Last year, in third grade, Victoria had talked directly back to Mr. Frost. She had spent thirty minutes in Mrs. Struggles’ office.

  The year before, in second grade, Bruce had drawn a naughty picture of Mrs. Chen and pinned it directly onto the back of her blouse. He had spent an hour in Mrs. Struggles’ office.

  And the year before that, in first grade, Ham had directly bit Ms. Bucky on the foot after she refused to give him a second cheese stick. He had spent the next four Fridays talking with Mr. Sigmund, the school counselor.

  Was rattling the new teacher worth that kind of risk?

  “We have to let him know who’s boss,” urged Bernadette. “Otherwise he’ll try to control things all year.”

  “So what do we do?” asked Rose.

  “We could put a tack on his chair,” suggested Calvin.

  “Good thinking,” said Bernadette. “Anyone else?”

  “We could pelt him with spitballs,” said Jackie.

  “Great,” said Bernadette. “Other ideas?”

  “We could tie his shoelaces together,” said Melvin Moody.

  As usual, everyone ignored him.

  “I know,” said Humphrey. “We could loosen all the screws in his chair. When he sits down—”

  “Mr. Jupiter lands on his moon!” howled Lenny.

  “I love it,” said Victoria.

  “It’s brilliant,” said Missy.

  “Moooooon!” laughed Melvin.

  The others ignored him.

  Then Stanford Binet—who had been silent the whole time—spoke up. “Get serious,” he sniffed. “Which of you is brave enough to put that tack on his chair?”

  Ashley Z. looked at Missy.

  Missy looked at Bernadette.

  Bernadette looked at Victoria.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “I spent way too much time in Mrs. Struggles’ office last year.”

  “And who,” Stanford went on, “is bold enough to pelt him with spitballs?”

  Victoria looked at Melvin.

  Melvin looked at Rachel.

  Rachel looked at Bruce.

  “No way,” he said. “I learned my lesson.”

  “And who,” Stanford continued, “knows how to unbolt a chair?”

  Jackie looked at Calvin.

  Calvin looked at Amisha.

  Amisha looked at Ham.

  “Forget it,” he said. “I’m cured.”

  At that moment, Mr. Jupiter stepped back into the room. He clapped his hands. “Enough with the introductions,” he said briskly. “It’s time we got to work. Everyone, please take out a piece of paper. We are going to take a pop quiz on the Italian Renaissance.”

  The children groaned.

  “And Bernadette,” the new teacher added, “spit out that gum.”

  MORAL: It is one thing to talk about it, another to do it.

  AN ABSENTMINDED MORNING

  ON THE SECOND DAY OF SCHOOL, MR.

  Jupiter took attendance.

  “Raise your hand if you’re not here,” he said.

  The children looked at one another.

  Then Jackie’s hand shot into the air. “I’m not here,” she snickered. “I’ve gone to the national tetherball tournament to see the Hoboken Blowfish take on the Altoona Poodles.”

  The other students giggled, but Mr. Jupiter calmly said, “A reasonable excuse.” He wrote Jackie’s name on the attendance slip. Then he asked, “Is anyone else absent?”

  “Me,” said Bruce. “I’m staying home to play Meteor Monsters.”

  “Yeah,” added Lenny, “and I’m staying with him. After all, the two-player version is the best.”

  “Perfectly understandable,” said Mr. Jupiter. He wrote their names down too.

  “I couldn’t come to school today either,” said Victoria. “I’m having a facial.”

  “I see,” said Mr. Jupiter.

  “And I couldn’t come because I’m watching cartoons,” said Emberly.

  “Of course,” said Mr. Jupiter.

  “And I couldn’t come because I ate too many hot dogs and got a stomachache,” said Ham.

  “My sympathies,” said Mr. Jupiter.

  Melvin waved his hand in the air. “Ask me why I’m not here!” he cried.

  The others ignored him.

  “Ask me!” cried Calvin.

  “Why aren’t you here?” asked Mr. Jupiter.

  “Because I don’t like school,” replied Calvin.

  “Hey,” hollered Lenny, “that’s why I’m not here.”

  “Get serious,” snorted Stanford. “You already said you were playing video games with Bruce.”

  “For your information, Mr. Know-It-All-Smarty-Pants, I’m absent because I’m playing video games with Bruce and because I don’t like school.”r />
  “That’s too bad,” said Mr. Jupiter. He wrote all their names on his attendance slip. “Is anyone else absent?”

  “We are!” cried Ashlee A. and Ashleigh B.

  “And me,” added Ashley Z.

  “And me,” repeated Humphrey.

  Mr. Jupiter took down their names. Then he pointed at Rose. “Are you here?”

  “No,” answered Rose. “I overslept.”

  “What about you?” Mr. Jupiter asked Missy.

  Missy shook her head. “I got lost on the way to school.”

  “And you?” Mr. Jupiter looked at Rachel.

  “Pffft,” said Rachel.

  “Beg your pardon?” said Mr. Jupiter.

  “Pffft,” Rachel said again.

  “I’m sorry,” said Mr. Jupiter. “What?”

  “Pffft,” said Rachel. “Pffft.”

  Mr. Jupiter shrugged and added her name to the slip.

  “I’m not here either,” Bernadette said with a dramatic sigh. “I just wasn’t in the mood.”

  “Hey!” cried Lenny. “That’s why I’m not here—because I wasn’t in the mood, and I don’t like school, and I’m playing video games with Bruce.”

  Stanford snorted. “Get serious.”

  Lenny smirked. “Get lost.”

  And Amisha raised her hand. “Don’t forget about me,” she said. “I’m not here either.”

  “Why not?” asked Mr. Jupiter.

  Amisha thought a moment. “I’m visiting my grandparents in Calcutta,” she finally said.

  “Beautiful city,” remarked Mr. Jupiter. “I once worked as an elephant trainer there.”

  Amisha smiled as Lil burst into verse:

  “I’m writing a poem,

  So I can’t come to school.

  I hope you’ll forgive me

  For being so cruel.”

  “Of course I will,” said Mr. Jupiter. He wrote the last of the names on his attendance slip. Then he looked around the classroom. “Isn’t anyone here today?”

  Lenny shook his head. “It looks like you’re all by yourself.”

  “Actually,” said Mr. Jupiter, “I’m not here either.”

  “You’re not?” said Bernadette.

  “No,” said Mr. Jupiter. “I’m trekking through the Amazon rain forest in search of the rare and elusive golden-throated rat-squirrel.”

  “You are?” said Amisha.