Exploring According to Og the Frog Page 2

  As I stare out at the white world, a little song starts forming in my brain.

  It’s a quiet song, like a lullaby, and I imagine I’m singing it to my friends.

  Rock-a-bye, frog friends,

  Down in the ice,

  I hope the dreams

  You’re dreaming are nice.

  When you awaken,

  Down in the deep,

  Think about all

  You missed while asleep!

  The song seems sad, but surprisingly, I feel a whole lot better! (Singing can do that for you. Try it!)

  It wasn’t my choice to move from the swamp to the classroom, but I suddenly see it as a great opportunity that few frogs ever have.

  Unlike my friends sleeping in the swamp, I’m fully awake to see winter. I have dozens of new friends of strange but interesting species. Not only humans, but a hamster! Up until now, I thought Granny Greenleaf and wise old Uncle Chinwag knew everything, but believe me, they’ve never even heard of a hamster.

  I have seen some amazing things back in the swamp. I once saw a water moccasin tie himself in a knot. And I saw a bullfrog with hiccups leap across six lily pads and the back of a snapping turtle, and he lived to tell about it.

  But now a door has opened to the world of humans (and hamsters), and I, an adventurous, roaming green frog, would like to explore it. I want to go where no green frog has dared to go before.

  I’ll make a big splash! I may even become a legend like Sir Hiram Hopwell, the most famous frog ever.

  Tomorrow, when the big tads and Mrs. Brisbane return to Room 26, I will be all ears (even though you can’t see them) and all eyes (which are large and alert) so I can learn more than any frog ever has about all kinds of humans and the human world.

  * * *

  On Monday morning, I feel like a different frog. I’m rested, in great shape and ready to begin my mission.

  When Seth brings Humphrey back to our shelf by the window, he says, “Thanks, Humphrey. I had the best weekend ever!”

  Later I notice something new. Seth starts to fidget, but Humphrey squeaks, and Seth settles down. Then it happens again.

  I’m puzzling over that when the door opens and the principal of Longfellow School, Mr. Morales, walks in. Whenever he enters, my classmates snap to attention. Even Humphrey rushes up his tree branch for a better look.

  And Mr. Morales always wears the most interesting ties! Once he even wore one with funny frogs on it.

  He tells Mrs. Brisbane that he’s stopped in to see how Humphreyville is coming along.

  “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!” my neighbor says.

  “Seems like a great place to live,” Mr. Morales says after looking around. “Good work.”

  After he leaves, our teacher assigns the big tads jobs in the classroom. I don’t understand most of them, like “line monitor” or “pencil patrol.” There are no familiar jobs like “cricket catcher” or “helpful hopper.” But when Miranda is given the job of “animal keeper,” I know that she’ll be looking after Humphrey and me.

  That’s a good thing, because Miranda is as responsible as Cousin Lucy Lou, who never showed up late for Granny Greenleaf’s class and never missed a leaping practice. She wasn’t a high hopper, but she tried harder than any of us.

  Good old Lucy Lou. I wonder if she misses me.

  When the bell rings at the end of the day, Miranda comes over to my tank and bends down so we are eye to eye.

  “Og, I’m going to take really good care of you!” she says. “Because I got the best job!”

  “Thanks, Miranda,” I answer, with a big boing!

  She turns to Humphrey, who is peering out from his cage. “You too, Humphrey! I promise I’ll be the greatest animal keeper ever!”

  He answers with an encouraging “Squeak!”

  Before she heads for the door, I see her check his cage door to make sure it’s locked.

  She is already a first-class animal keeper!

  “Good job!” I tell her.

  But I guess all she hears is “BOING!”

  My Mission Begins

  It’s good to think outside of the swamp once in a while,” Granny Greenleaf told the other young tads and me. “Like Sir Hiram Hopwell, the famed frog explorer.” We all dreamed of being as adventurous as Sir Hiram. “He was as brave as they come, but he wasn’t foolish,” Granny explained. “He planned his expeditions carefully to make sure he didn’t run into trouble. So use your heads, little tads, and try not to get into trouble in the first place!”

  * * *

  It’s morning, and already there’s big trouble in Room 26. And I mean BIG!

  Humphrey is trapped in his cage . . . and I can’t do a thing to help him! He looks as miserable as if he were in jail. And I bet he feels like he’s in jail, too!

  The furry guy has a secret way of opening the lock on his cage and getting out. I’ve seen him do it with my own big froggy eyes. Somehow, he always manages to get back in his cage before humans see him.

  Until last night. He opened the lock and scurried over to squeak at me. He was pretty upset about something. I tried to warn him that it was time for Aldo to arrive to clean, but he waited a few seconds too long. Aldo found him on the table!

  After he put Humphrey back in his cage, Aldo took a paper clip and bent it around the door so it couldn’t swing open.

  Poor Humphrey spent the whole night trying to unbend the paper clip with his paws and teeth, but it didn’t work.

  Worse yet, Aldo left a note for Mrs. Brisbane telling her all about what happened.

  And now, in front of the whole class, Mrs. Brisbane is blaming Miranda for leaving Humphrey’s cage door unlocked.

  “BOING-BOING! BOING-BOING!” I try to tell her she’s wrong.

  Humphrey does too. “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!”

  Of course, nobody can understand us.

  “But I did lock the cage,” Miranda tells the teacher. “I remember.”

  I remember, too, but Mrs. Brisbane doesn’t believe her! She is very serious as she says that Miranda didn’t do her job . . . and she tells her to switch jobs with Art.

  I guess everybody makes a mistake now and then, but this time it isn’t Miranda who is in the wrong. It’s our teacher! When Miranda begins to cry, I feel as helpless as a turtle stuck in its shell. Only, I am a frog stuck in a glass box, and I don’t even have a door to jiggle open.

  My mood improves a little bit when Mrs. Brisbane takes the paper clip off my neighbor’s cage to check the lock. She sees that it’s not broken—but Humphrey and I already knew that.

  Despite her tears, Miranda manages to pull herself together and apologize to Mrs. Brisbane.

  That was brave of her! It’s not easy to say you’re sorry when you did your best. But being brave means doing the right thing even if it’s uncomfortable. I wonder if I could do what Miranda did.

  One thing I’ve discovered about humans: They all make mistakes at one time or another. They’re lucky, because if my friends in the swamp make a mistake, it usually means they meet an unfortunate end.

  Mrs. Brisbane may not end up as a snapping turtle’s supper, but she sure made a big mistake.

  * * *

  I’m hoppy that as the week continues, nobody mentions the cage door in class. Every afternoon, Mrs. Brisbane’s students have been sharing their book reports, and today, it’s A.J.’s turn.

  “My book isn’t a made-up story,” he says. “Mine is all true.”

  “That’s fine.” Mrs. Brisbane nods. “That’s called nonfiction.”

  “It’s about as nonfiction as they come,” A.J. says. “It’s called Tales of the Great Explorers, and it tells the stories of real people who made great discoveries—lots of them.”

  I don’t know anything about nonfiction or what that means, but I am interested in making discov
eries. I wonder if there are any frog explorers in the book.

  “Some of them traveled a long way over the sea, like Magellan and Balboa,” he says. “And some traveled a long way over land, like Marco Polo and a guy named Louis Clark.”

  “They were two men,” Mrs. Brisbane corrects him. “Lewis and Clark.”

  “That’s them,” A.J. says. “They explored all the western part of the United States when it was really wild.”

  I find this story very interesting. Almost as interesting as the stories Uncle Chinwag told about the famous frog adventurer, Sir Hiram Hopwell.

  “Then there were explorers who went to outer space. They were astronauts who were launched in spaceships. Neil Armstrong was the first person ever to set foot on the moon.” A.J. holds the book up to show a picture of a person on the moon.

  This gets my blood pumping, because sometimes, when I start out with a huge leap, I feel as if I’m being launched into space.

  “He said, ‘One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,’” A.J. continues.

  He sure was a great leaper. Maybe Neil Armstrong was part frog!

  “And did you come away from reading the book with some new ideas?” Mrs. Brisbane asks.

  A.J. thinks for a moment. “At the end, the author says there are still places to explore and discover. I think that would be a cool job!”

  Mrs. Brisbane chuckles. “Yes, indeed—if you like a challenge.”

  Heidi waves her hand wildly until the teacher calls on her.

  “Aren’t there any girl explorers?” She wrinkles her nose. “Were there only boys in the book?”

  A.J. assures her there were girls. “Sure! There are women astronauts. And this one lady, she was the one who led that Louis Clark guy on his journey because she already knew where she was going.”

  “Then why can’t we read about her?” Heidi wants to know. I think it’s a good question.

  “You can,” Mrs. Brisbane says. “There are many good books in the library about female astronauts like Sally Ride, as well as Sacagawea, the Native American woman who guided Lewis and Clark. And you can look up some other explorers, like Amelia Earhart.”

  She glances at the clock. “Looks like it’s time to announce who is taking Humphrey home this weekend,” she says.

  The room gets so quiet, you could hear a mosquito burp.

  When Art is chosen, he looks as pleased as a green frog (me!) with a nice, fresh cricket!

  * * *

  Once Humphrey is gone and the classroom is empty, it’s time for me to get hop-hopping.

  A.J.’s report about explorers has made me even more excited about my new mission to explore the human world. But to succeed, I’m going to have to figure out a way to get out of my tank.

  Oh, yes, I can pop the top off. I’ve already done that a couple of times.

  The problem is this: What happens once I’m out of the tank?

  I need to focus, so I decide to take some time to Float. Doze. Be.

  The gentle movement of the water helps me think, and I realize there are three problems. First, if I do leave the tank, I will start to dry out after a while. Not right away, but it’s always wise to stay a little damp.

  Also, I can pop the top of my tank and get out onto the table, but how do I get back into my tank? It’s not as simple as walking through a cage door.

  Finally, even if I figure out solutions to the first two problems, how do I safely get off the tabletop and into the broader world . . . and back again?

  All this thinking has made me tired, but it takes a long time to fall asleep in the dark silence. In the swamp, night is my most awake time. I miss the sounds of owl hoots, bat wings flapping, singing crickets and the occasional scream of a red fox in the woods. (Well, maybe I don’t miss that last one.)

  I drift off, and when I wake up, sunbeams are dancing across the table. I take that to be a good sign.

  It’s the perfect day to start my new quest to explore the human world!

  I do some warm-up leaps, preparing for the big moment when I pop the top of my tank. My goal is to move it just enough to make room to get out without knocking the top completely off. I work out how many jumps it will take.

  Then I go for a quick dip, to make sure I’m as damp as I can be.

  Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, and I have liftoff! If only Jumpin’ Jack could see me!

  After a nice, soft landing on the sack of Humphrey’s favorite snack, Nutri-Nibbles, I slide down and hop over to the edge of the table. I look down.

  It’s a lot farther than a hop, skip and a jump, believe me. Humphrey slides down the table leg to get to the floor. Then he swings his way back up using the blinds’ cord.

  I could probably manage both the table leg and the swinging if I happened to be a tree frog, which I am not. (Don’t even get me started on those guys. Tiny frogs with their heads in the clouds. I prefer my feet near the ground, thank you!)

  Tree frogs’ toes are as sticky as glue, but my toes are only a little sticky, so I couldn’t walk down the table leg like them. If I tried sliding the way Humphrey does, I’d probably have a very bumpy ride. Or tumble right off and land on my head.

  Next, I examine the blinds’ cord.

  It’s long and is made up of two slender ropes. Near the bottom, they are tied together, forming a little U shape.

  I stare hard at that cord, trying to figure out if I can do anything with it. Humphrey uses it to get back up to our table. He grabs the cord with both paws, wraps his tiny toes around it and swings back and forth. Each time it goes a little higher.

  Then—BING-BANG-BOING!—he lets go of the cord and leaps onto the tabletop!

  It’s incredibly brave of him.

  Or incredibly dumb. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between brave and dumb.

  I’m sure Louie the Loudmouth thought he was being brave and smart when he rum-rummed loudly at a passing group of ducks to ruffle their feathers. But because he wasn’t paying attention, a long-legged crane swooped down and carried Louie away.

  I’ll bet the ducks quacked up about that!

  I’m trying not to do anything too brave or too dumb, but something just right.

  If I can’t grasp the table leg, I can’t grasp the cord, either.

  I stare at that little U-shaped spot some more. It reminds me of a chair. Frogs don’t sit in chairs, of course, but I think I could fit in it. But how would I get there in the first place?

  I look down over the edge of the table again.

  I don’t think I’m brave enough to try it. Or maybe I’m not dumb enough. Either way, I’m going to have to think about how to get down there very carefully.

  I climb up the bag of Nutri-Nibbles and dive back into my tank. At least the glass box is safe, and the water feels good on my skin as I splash around.

  As I drift in the water, I think of a new verse for my song.

  Rock-a-bye gently,

  All through the night.

  Have I solved the problem?

  I must say not quite.

  When I awaken

  And morning is here,

  I hope that the answer

  Will become clear!

  * * *

  The next morning, I stare at the top of my tank. It is still open from my escape yesterday.

  If I do manage to conquer the problem of the cord, I don’t want my teacher and classmates to realize that I’m escaping my glass box.

  But how in the swamp can I put the top back into position?

  It’s a good thing I’m an exceptional leaper: For most of the morning, I leap up and tap the top again and again. Each time, it moves a tiny bit.

  Using the trial-and-error method, I tap it here, tap it there, until eventually it settles back into place.

  It’s
still a little crooked, but maybe no one will notice.

  I think Granny Greenleaf would be pleased, too. After all, she’s the one who taught me, “If at first you don’t succeed, leap, leap again.”

  I still have time for a nice doze, so I’m all rested up when Humphrey and the rest of my friends in Room 26 return from the weekend.

  My furry neighbor seems excited to see me. I wish I could understand what he’s squeaking about, but Art seems happy, so I think he and Humphrey had a good weekend.

  When Paul comes in the room for math class, something is different.

  Usually, Paul hurries to his seat and never says a word—not even to me!

  But today, he seems more relaxed. When he passes by Art’s desk, they bump fists and Paul whispers something in Art’s ear.

  And they describe how Humphrey took an exciting train ride. I thought he went to Art’s house. Did Paul end up there, too? And what train ride? Where did the little guy go?

  All I can tell is that a big change took place over the weekend—Art and Paul are now friends. And Humphrey had something to do with it.

  No time to think about that now because Mrs. Brisbane announces a pop math quiz. I didn’t see this one coming. I hope the big tads don’t pop their tops!

  Paul quickly whizzes through the answers, while Art just stares at the paper. When he finally picks up his pencil, I can tell he’s having a rough time, but he finishes the quiz.

  It takes Mrs. Brisbane all the lunch period and then some to mark the tests. Humphrey stares at her and nibbles his toes. He’s as nervous as a mouse passing by the spooky owl tree at midnight. And there’s nothing more dangerous than that!

  I slip into the water and drift until I hear Mrs. Brisbane announce that she is finished.

  I can see by Art’s smiling face that he did better than he expected.

  Mandy got an F. An F should be a good thing! It could even stand for Frog. But the F makes Mandy look as unhappy as a long-necked crane with a sore throat.