The Fabled Fifth Graders of Aesop Elementary School Read online

  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.

  CAT LADIES AND HEAD LICE

  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 a
sked.

  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.

  Bernadette shrugged. “What’s to know? You investigate, and then you report. Easy peasy.”

  Miss Turner fell silent, considering. Finally she said, “All right, Bernadette. I’ll give you a chance. You are now a WUSS investigative reporter.”

  “Does that mean I get to read the announcements?” asked Melvin.

  * * *

  Two weeks later, the fifth graders went on the air.

  Melvin straightened his crocheted vest (blue worsted wool using the half-double stitch), cleared his throat, and looked into the camera.

  “In three … two …,” whispered Calvin and raised his finger, “ … one.”

  The camera’s green On light blinked on.

  “I’m Melvin Moody and you are watching WUSS.”

  Lenny and Bruce snickered.

  “And here are your week’s announcements.” Melvin shuffled through a handful of index cards and read the first one: “Mrs. Bunz is offering a reward for information leading to the return of her megaphone.”

  He read the second card: “Mr. Halfnote is now holding tryouts for the Aesop Elementary Harmonica, Washboard, and Armpit Band. Anyone interested should meet in the music room after school today. Harmonicas and washboards will be provided. Bring your own armpits.”

  He read the last card: “Nurse Betadine would like to remind all first graders that boogers are not one of the four basic food groups. Use a tissue.”

  He laid the cards on the desk. “And now over to Ham Samitch for a look at this week’s menu.”

  Calvin angled the camera to the right.

  “Bon appétit, lunch lovers,” said Ham with a big smile. “It’s going to be a dee-licious week here at Aesop Elementary. Monday’s entrée is a delightful tofurky surprise, followed by tasty meat nuggets al forno (that means baked) on Tuesday; a traditional favorite, yak and cheese, on Wednesday; and on Thursday, an inspired selection of various bratwursts and wieners. On Friday Cook gives us a real treat by serving her famous three-bean sandwich accompanied by lime Jell-O embedded with baloney slices. Mmm-mmm, good!”

  The camera moved to Jackie. “In football last night the Bears mauled the Rams, the Lions roared ahead to beat the Chiefs, the Vikings sacked the Cowboys, and the Ravens lost to the lowly Dolphins. After the game, the Ravens’ coach quit, saying, ‘Nevermore!’”

  The camera zoomed in on Stanford.

  “In more serious news,” droned Stanford, “scientists have discovered the genome that may unravel the mystery of why zebras have stripes and leopards have spots and not the other way around.”

  “But can scientists unravel the secret of beautiful hair?” interrupted Victoria. “I can. Here’s beauty tip number one for all you wanna-be-mes out there. Beautiful hair begins with—”

  “Lemon juice and kitty litter,” said Lenny.

  “That explains why she’s such a sourpuss,” added Bruce.

  The boys grinned into the camera. “And that’s your joke of the day,” they giggled together.

  Victoria’s manicured hand could just be seen smacking the back of Lenny’s head as the camera angled back to Melvin.

  He cleared his throat again. “And now, a hard-hitting report from investigative reporter Bernadette Braggadocio.”

  The camera panned again.

  “Thank you, uh … uh …”

  “Melvin,” whispered Melvin.

  Bernadette ignored him.

  Instead, she pulled out a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, perched them on the end of her nose, and looked deep into the camera. “Students of Aesop Elementary,” she said in a very serious voice. “This reporter has uncovered evidence that Cook does not use real cheese in her yak and cheese recipe. Yes, the yak is real. But what is that yellow stuff you’ve been eating?” Bernadette paused for effect, then declared, “It is processed cheese food, aka fake cheese. And fake cheese just doesn’t cut it.” She paused again. “This reporter, for one, is shocked. Aren’t you?”

  The red Off light on top of the camera blinked on.

  And Ham hurried over to Bernadette. “Is that true?” he asked. “Is it really fake cheese?”

  “Well,” said Bernadette, “I heard it from a kid whose brother knows another kid whose mom used to work in the school lunchroom.”

  “Isn’t that called a rumor?” asked Ham.

  “They’re called sources,” corrected Bernadette. “But I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

  For the rest of the week, Bernadette kept her eyes and ears open for more scoops and sources, but she didn’t uncover anything hard-hitting until—

  “Have any of you seen the crazy new art teacher yet?” Missy asked during Friday free time.

  “Crazy new art teacher?” said Bernadette. She flipped open her black spiral notebook—the one she’d been carrying ever since she’d become an investigative reporter. “Tell me more.”

  “Her name’s Ms. Bozzetto, and she just moved into that creepy old Victorian over on Vesta Street,” said Missy. “At least, that’s what my neighbor told me.”

  “She carries around dozens of cat pictures in her purse,” said Jackie. “At least, that’s what I overheard a fourth grader say.”

  “And she purrs and mews to herself,” said Ashlee A. “At least, I bet she does.”

  “Her clothes are covered with cat hair,” added Victoria with a shudder. “I saw that for myself.”

  Humphrey leaned into their conversation. “Cat hair? That’s because Ms. Bozzetto has hundreds of cats living in her house.”

  “How would you know?” asked Victoria.

  “I heard it from a first grader, who heard it from his babysitter, who heard it from her boyfriend, who heard it from his baseball coach, who probably heard it from his wife, who heard it from their first grader,” explained Humphrey.

  “Oh,” said the girls. They nodded their understanding.

  And Bernadette wrote furiously in her notebook, her pencil trying to keep pace with the hard-hitting investigative report that was forming in her mind. Within minutes she had it all down on paper:

  Students of Aesop Elementary, I have uncovered evidence that a crazy woman works in our school. Her name is Ms. Bozzetto, and she is our new art teacher. What sent her over the edge? Was it a broken heart? A lifetime’s exposure to tempera paints? We may never know.

  What we do know is that Ms. Bozzetto has become a crazy cat lady, living in her lonely Victorian mansion with a reported five hundred cats. This explains her hairy clothes, her walletful of kitty portraits, and her tendency to mew instead of saying hello. This reporter, for one, is shocked. Aren’t you?

  Bernadette put down her pencil and grinned. It was the best investigative report ever!

  ZZZZ-CRACK!

  The loudspeaker buzzed and crackled. Then the voice of Mrs. Shorthand—who had been an air traffic controller before becoming the school’s secretary—filled the room. “Mr. Jupiter? Come in, Mr. Jupiter.”

  “I read you loud and clear. Go ahead,” Mr. Jupiter replied.

  “Please send Bernadette Braggadocio to the office,” said Mrs. Shorthand. “Do you roger that?”

  “I roger that,” replied Mr. Jupiter. “Bernadette is on her way.”

  ZZZZ-CRACK!

  The loudspeaker buzzed and crackled off.

  Bernadette frowned. “I wonder what they want me for?” she asked.

  Mr. Jupiter pointed to the door. “I suggest you go and find out.”

  Picking up her notebook, Bernadette headed t
o the office.

  When she arrived, Mrs. Shorthand pointed to an orange plastic chair outside the principal’s door. “Have a seat,” she said. “Mrs. Struggles will be with you in a few minutes.”

  “Have I done something wrong?” Bernadette asked.

  Mrs. Shorthand eyed her as if she were a criminal. “Sit,” she said. She turned away to answer the phone.

  Bernadette settled into the chair, then opened her notebook. She reread her report about Mrs. Bozzetto.

  Mrs. Shorthand whispered something into the phone’s receiver.

  Bernadette looked up from her notebook.

  Stop the presses!

  Had she just heard Mrs. Shorthand say the two most terrifying words that could ever be uttered in a school … head lice?

  Bernadette’s investigative heart leaped with joy.

  Head lice were an even bigger scoop than crazy cat ladies!

  Turning to a clean page in her notebook, she started writing.

  But she’d only scrawled a few sentences when Mrs. Struggles opened her office door. She crooked her finger at Bernadette. “You and I need to have a little chat about cheese and truth, young lady.”

  Bernadette gulped and closed her notebook. Her report would have to wait until after detention.

  The following Monday, the fifth graders were on the air again.

  Melvin gave the announcements.

  Ham read the menu.

  Jackie reported on sports.

  And Stanford droned on.

  Then the camera panned to Bernadette. (Both the beauty and the joke segments had been canceled due to what Miss Turner called “the violent content of last week’s reports.”)

  “Students of Aesop Elementary,” said Bernadette gravely. “Last week, while in the office, I uncovered a disturbing revelation.” She adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses, letting the suspense build, then said, “Our school is in the throes of a medical catastrophe—an outbreak of head lice.” She paused, then concluded, “This reporter, for one, is grossed out. Aren’t you?”

  “Is it true?” gasped Missy as soon as the camera’s Off light blinked red. “Is the school full of head lice?”