Exploring According to Og the Frog Page 7

They definitely underestimate my jumping ability.

  I’m disappointed that I’ve been moved from a box to a bowl. I’ll bet Lewis and Clark and Sir Hiram Hopwell were never put into a bowl. At least I can see this new world of the art class counter through the glass.

  “Class, I know you’d all like to see what’s going on, so why don’t you come up a few at a time to watch?” Mrs. Goldman says. “We’ll start with your row, Rosie.”

  Four students make their way up to the sink, where Paul and the other big tads are taking everything out of my tank. All my plants, rocks, the gravel from the bottom—everything!

  “Be careful!” I say.

  The art students at the sink giggle.

  “He sounds silly. Why does he say ‘boing’?” one of the boys asks.

  “That’s the way green frogs talk,” Paul says. “He is a green frog, but his scientific name is Rana clamitans.”

  Back in the swamp, all I knew was that I was a green frog called Bongo. I didn’t know I was a Rana clamitans until I got to Room 26, but it sounds important. That Paul is one smart tad!

  While Mandy, Miranda and Garth scrub all the items from my tank, I turn away because my bare tank is a sad sight to me.

  But I’m cheered when the first group of tads turns to focus on me.

  A girl with a huge smile rolls over in a chair on wheels, like Mr. Brisbane uses. “Hi, Og. Remember me? Rosie?”

  “Of course I remember. Hi, Rosie!” I answer. She is in Miss Loomis’s class.

  “George is quieter now that you’re gone, but I miss you,” she says.

  “I miss you, too! But I don’t miss George!” I reply, remembering how that disagreeable bullfrog used to RUM-RUM at me day and night. Humphrey may be a bit squeaky, but he is not loud and rude.

  As more students come up to view the tank cleaning, Paul patiently explains how he used special tablets to clean the water he’ll be putting in my tank, how bits of food could pollute the water and how they must scrape off any dead skin I’ve shed.

  Some more students come over to see me. I know a few others from Miss Loomis’s class, like Harry, who is often late to class, and the girl with red hair, Kelsey.

  “Hi, Og. Do you like your new class?” she asks.

  “Yes, I do!” I answer. “I liked my old class, too, except for George.”

  Kelsey giggles. “Boing-boing to you, too!”

  After the last group visits me, I figure out that half of the students are from Miss Loomis’s class and half of them come from another classroom.

  I glance over and see that Paul, Mandy, Miranda and Garth are still busy with my tank. If I’m going to go exploring, this is my chance!

  While they’re distracted, I make one huge bounding leap, and ta-da! The rubber band flies off and zooms toward the wall. Luckily, none of the big tads notice. I see a gap in the plastic on one side of the bowl, so I aim right for that spot and hop onto the counter.

  Nobody notices that, either, and I quietly move forward into the Land of Art. And what a strange new land it is!

  I pass a mountain of glue pots stacked on top of one another, and reach a colorful crayon fence. One big leap, and I’m over it! I’m making a lot of progress, and I don’t even have Sacagawea to guide me.

  Just as I head across a cardboard bridge, I hear Rosie’s voice.

  “Og has escaped!” she shouts.

  There’s a lot of commotion as the big tads rush forward, gasping and shrieking.

  “I’ll get him!” Paul says. “Stop, Og! Stop!”

  Did Sir Hiram Hopwell stop halfway through his exploration? Never! And I certainly won’t.

  “Let’s see what he does,” Mrs. Goldman says in a calm voice.

  “Watch it. He might leap off the edge,” Paul warns.

  “We’ll make sure he doesn’t,” the teacher says.

  She is giving me my freedom! No wonder I like her.

  Paul is smart, but he doesn’t realize how smart I am, and there’s no way I’m going to leap off the counter and plunge to the floor!

  I remember Granny Greenleaf saying, “Never leap unless you’re sure you’ll land in a safe place.”

  All eyes are on me as I move forward. I hop past a forest of brushes of all sizes and colors. And then I do a series of leaps over the pink eraser hills.

  Even though I’ve roamed far from McKenzie Marsh, I have never seen sights like these!

  I’ve been out of my tank for a while now and I’m starting to feel dry, so I turn around and head back to the sink. The water is running, and it looks like a waterfall. We only had a waterfall in the swamp after a huge rain—and it was a tiny dribble.

  This waterfall looks inviting and powerful, so I hurry toward it.

  “Sorry, Og,” Paul says. “The sink might be dangerous.” Doesn’t he realize that I know how to swim?

  Boom! The bowl comes down over me like a dome.

  I am busted! But I have taken a leap into a world that I’m pretty sure no other frog has seen before.

  Paul turns the bowl right side up, and Miranda gently lifts me up and sets me inside. After Mandy pours in some of the treated water, Garth puts a thick book over the top, leaving a tiny gap for air.

  I’m not going to try to pop that top.

  Mrs. Goldman leans in close. “Og, you are a bold and beautiful frog,” she says.

  And she is one bold and beautiful teacher!

  The excitement is over, and the students go back to their seats.

  Then Mrs. Goldman leads a boy up to meet me. I hadn’t noticed him before. But instead of looking at me, he looks down at his shoes.

  “See, Charlie? It’s a frog. And his name is Og,” Mrs. Goldman says, but Charlie doesn’t look up.

  “Can you say hello to Charlie, Og?” she asks.

  “Hi, Charlie!” I say. “BOING-BOING! BOING-BOING!”

  My boings always make the big tads laugh, but not Charlie. He still won’t look at me. I wonder what’s so interesting about his shoes.

  “Doesn’t Og make a funny sound? I think he’s being friendly,” she says. “Let’s say hello.”

  Charlie covers his ears.

  He’s about as friendly as a water moccasin. Or maybe he’s shy, like a deer.

  “Okay, Charlie. You can say hello to Og later,” Mrs. Goldman says, and leads Charlie back to his table.

  While Paul and his crew are putting my things back in the tank, Mrs. Goldman speaks to the class. “Since we’re lucky enough to have Og in class today, let’s try sketching him. Take out a piece of paper and your pencils, and we’ll think about how to draw a frog,” she says.

  They all follow her instructions . . . except for Charlie. Now he stares at his tabletop. It doesn’t look any more interesting than his shoes to me.

  On a whiteboard, Mrs. Goldman starts demonstrating different ways to draw a frog. I stop looking at Charlie and watch her instead.

  It’s fascinating to watch her make a few curved lines and some straight lines look like me!

  She does a sideways drawing and a funny drawing of me looking straight on. She even adds a line that’s my tongue catching a fly. Yum!

  Then the students begin their own drawings. They work quietly, and I am surprised to see that Charlie is drawing something, too.

  I try to hold still as they look up at me and then back to their papers.

  “Mrs. Goldman, we’re finished with the cleaning,” Paul announces. “We need to put Og back in his tank.”

  “BOING!” I say. “Can’t I have a little more time in the Land of Art? Please?”

  “Yes, Paul, go ahead,” Mrs. Goldman tells him.

  I’m impressed how gentle Paul is with me. My tank feels different now, but I can see clearly through the glass. I can’t say it smells different because it doesn’t smell at all.

  At leas
t Miranda, Garth and Mandy have put everything back exactly where it belongs.

  I still think about the swamp. It wasn’t all sunbeams and butterflies there. There was danger all around. So even though there’s no muck or mud in my tank, now it almost feels like home, sweet home, to me.

  As Miranda rolls the cart with my tank on it out of the art room, Mrs. Goldman says, “I hope you’ll bring Og back to model for us again soon, Paul.”

  “I will,” he promises, and that’s good news to me.

  Mrs. Goldman suggests that the big tads say good-bye to me and leads them in a loud round of boings.

  And a few seconds after that, I hear a strange, soft “boing!”

  I glance back and see Charlie looking at me. Is he giving me a crooked little smile?

  I think he likes me, and that makes me hoppy!

  On the way back to Room 26, I add another verse to my song.

  Been exploring,

  Been exploring,

  Been exploring for a while.

  And I had a really good time,

  Plus I just made Charlie smile!

  Paul smiles, too, when we get back to Room 26. My friends all want to come up and see my clean tank.

  “Wow, how’d you know what to do?” A.J. asks him. “Have you got a frog?”

  “No,” Paul says. “But I read about it on the internet.”

  “It was a lot of work,” Garth says. “But interesting.”

  “Can I help next time?” A.J. asks.

  Richie, Heidi and Gail also beg to help.

  “You’ll all get a turn,” Mrs. Brisbane says. I know why she’s smiling. All the big tads now treat Paul like a member of the class.

  I guess I had a part in that (and my dirty tank, too)!

  Another Journey

  Granny Greenleaf liked to say, “There’s no place like home, no matter where you roam. And don’t forget, you might discover that what’s out there is a lot worse than what’s under your own nose!” But once an explorer gets started, he seems to keep on going. At least Sir Hiram Hopwell did. Lewis and Clark didn’t give up, and once Neil Armstrong was headed to the moon, he kept on going. Once you take the first step, there’s no turning back!

  * * *

  I’ve been so busy, I forget that it’s Friday until mid-morning. This is the day Humphrey usually goes home with a student . . . but since he’s not here, I guess he can’t.

  I make sure to keep my eyes and ears open to see what’s happening in class, the way Humphrey would.

  And what I see and hear surprises even me. “You want to come shoot some hoops with me this weekend?” Richie asks Paul.

  Paul looks unsure and says he’s not good at basketball.

  “I’m not, either,” Richie says. “It’s just for fun.”

  Paul says he’ll ask his mom. Then A.J. chimes in, “Can I come?”

  And before long, Tabitha and Seth are planning to join Paul and his new friends, too. And no one looks happier about that than Paul. Except maybe me.

  Shortly before the bell rings at the end of the day, Heidi blurts out a question. “Where is Humphrey spending the weekend?”

  “At my house.” Mrs. Brisbane smiles. “He’s been with us so long, my husband is going to miss him when he comes back here on Monday.”

  “Well, we miss him now!” Heidi insists.

  She is right. I miss him even more than I expected.

  I wonder if he misses me?

  Mrs. Brisbane glances at the clock. “Don’t forget your math worksheets. And have a great weekend.”

  The bell rings and the students rush out.

  As usual, Garth is the first to leave. He watches that clock like a hungry hawk.

  Mrs. Brisbane hums a little as she straightens her desk. She’s a tidy human. I don’t think she’d like a mucky home.

  Then she comes over to my tank. “Og, you were a big hit with Mr. Morales’s children last weekend, and they’d like to have you back this weekend.”

  I bounce up and down on my rock. “Great!”

  Maybe I can return to Planet Sofa . . . or maybe I will have my own castle!

  “I thought you’d like that,” she says. “He’ll be picking you up soon. Oh, and your clean tank looks very spiffy!”

  Spiffy? I’m not sure what that means, but since she’s smiling, I think it must be something good.

  Mrs. Brisbane puts on her coat and picks up her handbag. “Mr. Morales should be here any minute. He can let himself in.”

  I’m hoppy that I’m going off on another adventure. It was scary leaving the swamp, but now that I have, I want to keep exploring. I think of Sir Hiram, and I’m so inspired, a poem pops into my head.

  A frog said farewell with a wave,

  For adventure is what he did crave.

  He went off on his own

  To explore the unknown,

  Oh, he was uncommonly brave!

  It’s not easy to start, it is true,

  But take the first step, and then two,

  Once you’re out of the swamp

  You may have a grand romp,

  And you’ll learn a great deal about you!

  The door to Room 26 swings open, and there’s the principal. “Sorry I’m late, Og,” he says. “I had a meeting with some parents. But now I’m ready to take you home for the weekend. Brenda and Willy are so excited that you’re coming, they’re about to burst.”

  Sounds messy! But I bounce up and down on my rock. “I am, too!” I say.

  And it’s true. I haven’t forgotten my last weekend at the Morales’s house and the story of the frog prince.

  I’ve been wondering all week what kind of prince I’d be. I’d like to be a dragon-finding, quest-taking, giant-fighter kind of prince and explore new lands!

  “BOING-BOING!” I say. “Bring it on!”

  * * *

  It doesn’t take long before my tank is bundled up in a quilt, and Mr. Morales hurries me out to the car.

  I don’t enjoy the bumpy ride, but I forget all about it when we get to the house and I hear Brenda and Willy.

  “Og!!!!” they shriek.

  “Quiet down, niños,” their father says. “You’ll scare poor Og.”

  They can’t scare a brave prince like me, but my ears are vibrating like a hummingbird’s wings.

  Mr. Morales sets my tank on the low coffee table and removes the quilt. “So, what have you planned for our friend Og this weekend?” he asks his children.

  Before they can answer, his phone buzzes. “Hello?” he says. “Hi, Dev. Yes, I can talk now . . .”

  He waves at his children, points at the phone and leaves the room.

  “The superintendent,” Brenda says. I can tell from her tone of voice that although Mr. Morales is important at Longfellow School, the superintendent might be even a little more important.

  “So, Og, here’s the plan.” Brenda kneels so she’s looking straight into my tank. “We are going to build you a beautiful castle like my picture, and it will definitely be green.”

  “No way,” Willy argues. “There’s no such thing as a green castle.”

  “There is now,” Brenda says.

  Willy shakes his head. “I looked at a book about frogs in the library. Frogs like damp places and mostly live in muddy ponds or swamps.”

  Ah, yes—I do so love a mucky home!

  “What are we going to make it out of?” Willy asks.

  Brenda thinks. “Blocks or . . . I don’t know . . . cardboard?”

  “The book says frogs like dampness. And damp cardboard won’t work,” Willy says. “But we could use some mud and leaves and green stuff from the backyard.”

  “Ha!” Brenda says. “And where would we build it?”

  “I was thinking . . . maybe in the bathtub,” W
illy explains.

  Brenda is silent as she thinks about this. “But Mom. And Dad!”

  “Oh, yeah.” Willy stops and thinks. “Maybe they wouldn’t understand.”

  When Mr. Morales returns, he looks worried. “The superintendent of schools wants me to draw up an emergency report by Monday, so I’ll be here, but I’m going to be pretty busy,” he says. “And Mom has houses to show tomorrow.”

  “It’s okay,” Willy says. “We can take care of ourselves.”

  Mr. Morales sits on a chair so he is eye to eye with his children. “Yes, niños, I know you can. But you two like to argue and bicker and try to push each other’s buttons. And you know that’s true.”

  Willy and Brenda look away and don’t answer.

  “I need you to get along this weekend,” their dad continues. “Can you help your mom and me out?”

  “Sure they can!” I answer.

  All three of them burst out laughing.

  “I take that ‘boing’ as a ‘yes,’” Mr. Morales says.

  “We’ll try, Dad,” Brenda says.

  Willy nods.

  Mr. Morales wraps his arms around them both. “Gracias,” he says. “And you, too, Og.”

  “No problema!” I tell him.

  * * *

  “So, your father tells me you have a plan for Og this weekend,” Mrs. Morales says when she gets home.

  “We’re building him a castle,” Willy says.

  His mother looks surprised, so Brenda adds, “Like in the story of the frog prince.”

  Mrs. Morales chuckles. “Well, Og is a prince of a frog!”

  Remembering the frognapper’s words, I answer, “BOING-BOING! That’s what people keep saying.”

  But Mrs. Morales looks worried. “But can you two get along? If you can, I’ll be very proud of you.”

  Brenda and Willy look at each other and nod, smiling.

  I am not so sure.

  After dinner, Mr. Morales sets up a board game in the other room, the one he calls a den. I think of a den as a place where skunks, foxes and other creatures live. But so far, the only nonhuman I’ve seen in the house is me!