School Days According to Humphrey Read online

  The students all giggled and whispered and turned in their seats to look at us.

  “Tell them they’re in the wrong room!” I suggested, and some of the students close to my cage giggled when they heard me go, “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK.”

  The teacher ignored me. “First, let’s get to know each other a little better. Would you take out your summer boxes?”

  “Summer boxes?” I squeaked. “What are they, Og?”

  Summer was sunshine and campfires and unsqueakable fun. Summer wasn’t something you could just put in a box.

  I’m not sure Og could hear me since he was splashing like crazy in his tank. But the strange students in class seemed to understand. They reached into their backpacks and pulled out boxes—all kinds of boxes—and put them on their desks.

  “How did they know about the boxes?” I squeaked to Og. “Why didn’t we know?”

  Og had no answer.

  During the previous school year, I tried hard to keep up with my friends’ homework, taking tests along with them, writing papers and even poems. Mrs. Brisbane didn’t know I did the work, but I knew it, and that’s what counts.

  “All right, students. Let’s share our summer experiences,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “That way, I’ll learn a little bit about all of you. And you’ll learn about me, because I brought a box, too.”

  Mrs. Brisbane took a box out of a drawer and placed it on her desk.

  “I’ll tell you about my summer first,” she said.

  That got my attention. While I was at camp for the summer, Mrs. Brisbane was doing something else, but I still wasn’t really sure what.

  “My son lives in Tokyo, Japan,” she said. “He’s a teacher there. This summer, he got married, so my husband and I went to Japan for the wedding.”

  The smile on Mrs. Brisbane’s face let me know that she’d had a GREAT-GREAT-GREAT time.

  “Weddings in Japan are very beautiful,” she said. “The couple dresses in traditional Japanese kimonos.”

  She held up a picture of a couple in very fancy clothes. “That’s my son, Jason, and his new wife, Miki.” Mrs. Brisbane sounded very proud.

  She passed around some Japanese money for the students to see. Next, she took out a red plastic ball she’d bought in Tokyo. I couldn’t see it very well.

  “Something’s inside, Og!” I scampered up to the top of my cage to get a better look.

  “BOING!” he replied. I guess he couldn’t see, either.

  “I hope Humphrey won’t be jealous,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “Meet Aki.”

  She set the ball on the desk and the students howled with laughter as the ball started spinning wildly and colored lights flashed.

  “Rockin’ Aki!” a strange, loud voice wailed. “Rock ’n’ roll rules!”

  The ball looped and twirled unexpectedly as the lights kept flashing and the music blared.

  “Where is Aki?” I shouted to Og, as if anyone could hear my squeaks over the noise. “WHERE’S AKI?”

  Mrs. Brisbane shut the thing off.

  “Show it to Humphrey,” Simon suggested.

  “Yes, show Humphrey,” the other students begged.

  So Mrs. Brisbane brought the ball over to our table and set it down in front of my cage.

  “I hope Aki doesn’t scare you, Humphrey, but here goes.” She pressed a button on the ball and it all began again: the flashing lights, the looping and twirling and that song, “Rockin’ Aki! Rock ’n’ roll rules!”

  Now I could see what everyone was laughing at. Aki, a tiny toy hamster with wild, rainbow-striped fur, was rolling around in the hamster ball. Somehow, as the ball turned, he always remained upright as he danced.

  I wasn’t scared—not one bit. But I was quite impressed!

  “Rockin’ Aki!” I squeaked along. Of course, no one heard me. I couldn’t even hear myself. “Rock ’n’ roll rules!”

  I was truly sorry when Mrs. Brisbane switched Aki off.

  “I think that’s enough rocking and rolling for today,” she said.

  Some of the kids moaned and I agreed with them.

  Mrs. Brisbane returned the ball to her desk. “So now you know what I did this summer. I also sent letters to all of your homes asking you to bring in a box with something that represents your summer. Who would like to share next?”

  I just had to squeak up for myself. “Hey, nobody sent me a letter!”

  “BOING-BOING!” Og added.

  Some hands went up in the air and Mrs. Brisbane called on Simon. “Say your name first,” she said.

  Simon jumped up out of his chair, opened his box and took out a photo of a very familiar place.

  “Simon Morgenstern. Here’s where I went. Camp Happy Hollow. They had a Howler and I was a Blue Jay and I burped the loudest and . . .”

  Mrs. Brisbane interrupted him. “Slow-Down-Simon,” she said. “Take your time.”

  Simon tried to slow down and told the class about some of the adventures he’d had at Happy Hollow. I’d had adventures there, too, but of course, I didn’t have a box because no one told me to bring one.

  One by one, the other students shared their summer stories. Rosie had gone to a different camp. She held up a medal she won for winning a wheelchair race and a picture of her crossing the finish line. Boy, that Rosie could roll!

  Harry held up a T-shirt that said I Survived the Blaster and told about riding a REALLY-REALLY-REALLY fast roller coaster. It sounded unsqueakably exciting to me!

  Small-Paul had taken a computer class and showed us a page of something he called “code,” but it looked like gibberish to me.

  Tall-Paul had a collection of pinecones from his family’s camping trip in the mountains.

  Holly held up an ear of corn she had grown herself when she visited her grandparents on a farm.

  “I helped Grandma and Grandpa a lot,” she said. “I fed the chickens and weeded the garden, picked the vegetables and took care of the dogs.”

  “My, that was helpful of you, Holly,” Mrs. Brisbane agreed.

  “And I rode a tractor and rode a horse and collected the eggs,” the girl went on.

  “Thank you, Holly.”

  Next, Mrs. Brisbane called on a boy waving his hand impatiently.

  “I’m Thomas T. True,” said a boy as he opened up a big box. “And I went fishing with my grandpa and I caught a fish that was huge. It was bigger than I am!”

  I was impressed and I guess the other students were, too, because they were all whispering.

  “Quiet, students,” Mrs. Brisbane told them. “Go on, Thomas.”

  “That fish was so big, it filled up the whole boat, so Grandpa and I had to swim to shore and pull the boat with us. Man, we ate fish for the rest of the summer!” Thomas’s eyes sparkled.

  “Do you have a picture of it?” Small-Paul asked.

  “Nope. We were too busy wrestling the fish to take a picture. So I brought Grandpa’s favorite fly instead,” Thomas said, reaching in the box.

  “BOING-BOING!” Og leaped with excitement when he heard the word fly. After all, frogs think insects like flies are yummy. But the thing Thomas took out of the box wasn’t even an insect. It was a goofy, featherylooking thing.

  “Grandpa ties his own flies. The fish think they’re real flies,” he explained.

  I hoped Og wasn’t too disappointed that the flies were fake.

  “About that big fish,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “How did you get it in the boat if it was bigger than you?”

  Thomas shook his head. “It wasn’t easy, teacher. It sure wasn’t easy.”

  Mrs. Brisbane told Thomas he could sit down and called on Kelsey.

  My mind was racing with thoughts of a BIG-BIG-BIG fish that could probably eat a hamster and a frog if it wanted. But then I heard Kelsey say, “Broken arm.”

  A broken arm sounded painful, so I listened carefully to her story. “It was the last day of school. I was so happy it was vacation, when I got off the bus, I raced home. But I tripped coming up the front walk and broke my
arm.” She sighed. “I was in a cast most of the summer. I couldn’t go swimming even once!”

  She opened her box and brought out a sling and a picture of her with a broken arm.

  “The summer before that, I broke my leg!” Kelsey explained.

  “I’m so sorry, Kelsey,” Mrs. Brisbane said.

  I was sorry, too.

  “Who’s left?” Mrs. Brisbane asked. “Joseph? I mean, Joey?”

  Joey stood up, but he didn’t look anxious to talk. “I didn’t do anything,” he said. “I just stayed home.”

  “A stay-at-home vacation can be a lot of fun,” the teacher said.

  Joey shrugged. “It was okay. I played with my dog, Skipper, a lot.” He reached in his box and pulled out a Frisbee. “He likes to catch this. He can leap way up and catch it in his teeth. He never misses. See? There are teeth marks all around the edge.”

  I was starting to like Joey, but when I heard about Skipper’s leaping and his teeth, I wasn’t so sure. My experience with dogs has taught me that they are not especially friendly to hamsters and other small, furry creatures.

  Mrs. Brisbane glanced down at the class list. “And who else is left? Phoebe Pratt?”

  The girl called Phoebe didn’t stand up. She just sat there, staring down at her table.

  “I forgot,” she said.

  “You mean you left your box at home?” Mrs. Brisbane asked.

  Phoebe shook her head.

  “No. I forgot to make a box.” The girl looked miserable.

  “Well, you can tell us what you did anyway.” It was nice of Mrs. Brisbane not to be mad at Phoebe.

  Slowly, the girl stood up. “I had a stay-at-home vacation, too,” she said. “But I don’t have a dog.”

  “Can you think of anything fun that you did?” Mrs. Brisbane asked.

  Phoebe thought for a few seconds. “I played games with my grandmother,” she said.

  Mrs. Brisbane asked questions about what kind of games Phoebe liked to play, but I could tell that the girl was embarrassed that she didn’t have a summer box.

  So was I.

  “Thanks for sharing, Phoebe. You may sit down now,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “It’s almost time for recess, so please put your boxes away. But before you go outside, I need to find an assistant for Rosie.”

  Not even one second went by before the girl named Holly waved her hand, shouting, “Me! Me! Oh, please, I’ll do it!”

  “Very well, Holly,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “You and Rosie stay behind for a minute so I can tell you what to do.”

  That annoying bell rang again and the students all left the room, except Holly and Rolling-Rosie.

  Mrs. Brisbane explained that Holly would make sure the path was clear for Rosie’s wheelchair, help her if she couldn’t reach something, see that she got outside safely in an emergency and anything else that Rosie needed her to do.

  “I’ll do a good job,” Holly said.

  “I’m sure you will.” Mrs. Brisbane turned to Rolling-Rosie. “You’ll have to make sure that Holly knows when you need help.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Rosie said with a big smile. “I don’t need much help at all.”

  Mrs. Brisbane smiled back. “Then I think it’s time for you girls to go out to the playground.”IT

  She watched as Holly swung the door wide open for Rosie’s wheelchair and closed it again when they were in the hall.

  Then she turned to Og and me. “We have the whole year ahead of us to get to know these students.”

  These strange students were staying? For the rest of the year?

  Then she said, “So far, so good.”

  So far, I couldn’t see anything good about the first day of school. I was too busy wondering what all my old friends from Room 26 were doing. And trying to figure out exactly where they were.

  HUMPHREY’S RULES OF SCHOOL: If your teacher asks you to bring something to class, try not to forget. Of course, sometimes the teacher forgets to tell you what to bring, and that makes you feel BAD-BAD-BAD.

  3

  Rules-Rules-Rules

  Usually I enjoy a nice morning nap. But there was so much going on that morning, I didn’t have time to settle in for a doze until the strange students left for recess. But my nap didn’t last long, because when the students returned, I heard Mrs. Brisbane talking and she sounded WORRIED-WORRIED-WORRIED.

  “Harry didn’t come back,” she said. “Did anyone see him on the playground?”

  “Sure,” Simon said. “We shot some hoops.”

  “What happened to him?” she asked.

  Simon shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Mrs. Brisbane frowned. “I may have to send someone to look for him.”

  “I’ll find him!” said Holly, waving her hand. “Send me.”

  Just then, the door opened and Mrs. Wright, the physical education teacher, entered, pulling Harry along with her.

  “Mrs. Brisbane, I believe Harry is your student,” she said. “I found him on the playground, loitering.”

  Loitering? That was a new word to me. I wished I had a dictionary in my cage. Then Mrs. Wright added, “When the bell rings, students should not dawdle.”

  Dawdle? That was a funny word, too.

  “I thought his teacher solved his problem last year,” Mrs. Wright said. I noticed the silver whistle around her neck and crossed my paws that she wouldn’t blow it. “But I see she didn’t.”

  “Harry, why were you late?” Mrs. Brisbane asked the boy. “Did you hear the bell?”

  Harry nodded.

  “Did you see the other students lining up to come inside?” she continued.

  Harry nodded again. “Yes, and I was about to get in line when I noticed this cool anthill near my foot. I almost stepped on it! It was the biggest one I ever saw!”

  “So you lost track of time?” Mrs. Brisbane asked.

  “Yes,” Harry said.

  Mrs. Wright shook her head. “Dawdling.”

  “Very well, take your seat,” Mrs. Brisbane told Harry. “Next time, get right in line.”

  “We do have rules, Mrs. Brisbane,” Mrs. Wright said. “I hope your students obey them.”

  Mrs. Brisbane waited for Mrs. Wright to leave. Then she said, “Speaking of rules, I think it’s time to go over the rules of this classroom.”

  None too soon, I thought.

  There was nothing too surprising about the rules Mrs. Brisbane had printed on the board earlier that morning: 1. Follow directions as soon as they are given.

  2. Raise your hand and wait to be called on before speaking.

  3. Stay in your seat while the teacher is teaching.

  4. Keep your hands, legs and other objects to yourself.

  5. Walk inside the school and use your inside voice.

  6. Treat people the way you’d like to be treated.

  As I read the rules, I wondered how good I was at following them. I try to follow the teacher’s directions. But what can I do if no one gives me directions? For example, what if no one tells me to bring a summer box to school?

  Still, those rules got me to thinking.

  • The rule about raising hands made me miss Raise-Your-Hand-Heidi, who sometimes forgot that rule last year, but I liked her anyway.

  • I can’t stay in my seat because I don’t actually have a seat. But I always try to stay in my cage while the teacher is teaching.

  • I try to keep my paws to myself, and I hope that dogs, cats and other large creatures will do the same.

  • I also try to remember to walk inside the school. But I have to admit, sometimes I roll (in my hamster ball).

  • I always use my inside voice because even when I shout, it’s not very loud.

  • And I treat people the way I’d like to be treated. At least I mean to.

  Then Mrs. Brisbane talked about the consequences of breaking the rules, which made my whiskers wiggle. A warning was bad enough, and so was a time-out. But a note home—eek! I thought that would be terrible until I realized that m
y home actually was Room 26. Next came a phone call home (but I don’t have a phone). And finally, a student who broke the rules again would be sent to the principal’s office.

  I liked Principal Morales a lot. But I didn’t think I’d like to have to go to his office and tell him I’d broken a rule. He’d be unsqueakably disappointed in me.

  I was imagining myself sitting in the principal’s office after breaking one of the rules when I suddenly heard Mrs. Brisbane say, “There is another rule in Room Twenty-six: All students must treat Humphrey and Og with the greatest respect.”

  My ears perked up.

  “Did you hear that, Og?” I squeaked. “She’s talking about us!”

  “BOING-BOING!” Og splashed around in his tank, which made the strange children laugh.

  Mrs. Brisbane explained that the students would get to take turns bringing me home for the weekend, but first they’d have to learn to take care of me. And while Og stayed in the classroom on weekends, because he didn’t need to be fed as often as I did, they would learn to take care of him as well.

  Then the teacher gathered the new group around my cage and put on some gloves so she could show them how to clean my cage.

  “Who wants to hold Humphrey?” she asked.

  Not surprisingly, LOTS-LOTS-LOTS of the new students volunteered.

  Mrs. Brisbane slowly and gently picked me up.

  “Never poke your finger in the cage,” she told the students. “Give Humphrey time to get used to you.”

  “Will he bite?” Phoebe asked nervously.

  “No way!” I squeaked.

  “Humphrey hasn’t bitten anyone yet. But if someone poked a finger in his face, I wouldn’t blame him,” Mrs. Brisbane said.

  “When I had a hamster, he bit my finger,” Joey said. “But my mom said it was because he thought it was a carrot.”

  Mrs. Brisbane nodded. “And if you don’t wash your hands before handling a hamster, he might smell the food you’ve eaten and think you’re something to eat, too.”

  I don’t like to disagree with the teacher, but first of all, many humans have hands that don’t smell like anything I’d want to eat. And I’m smart enough to tell the difference between a carrot and a finger!