Finders Keepers (16 page)

Danny, completely wrapped up in his daydream, stealthily crept across the cow pasture towards the buffalo-shaped dogwood bushes on the far side. Holding the lance and atlatl
steady, he began to run, faster and faster… NOW. He let go and the lance shot forward and sailed over the top of the dogwoods in a perfect arc while the atlatl dropped to his feet.

“WOW,” he breathed in triumph.

An enormous bellow shook the evening and a dark shape came charging through the dogwoods, head down and feet pounding.

“Holy cow, I got a real buffalo… and it's real mad.” Terrified, Danny took to his heels and headed towards the fence.

The angry animal pounded closer and closer. Danny could hear it fiercely snorting and imagined he was feeling its fetid breath on his neck. Panic-stricken, he redoubled his efforts, pumping his legs so fast he was almost flying. His fingers barely touched the fence as he vaulted over and collapsed in a heap on the other side.

“Danny, are you OK out there?” called his dad through the kitchen window.

“Er, yes,” Danny called back shakily.

“I forgot to warn you, Mr. McVey's young bull is in the pasture, and he's a bit 'antsy'.”

“You're not kidding,” muttered Danny crossly as he picked himself up and rubbed his bruises and brushed off the mud from his jeans. He peered carefully over the fence.

Deprived of its target, Mr. McVey's bull pawed the ground, butted a fence post half-heartedly and then started eating some grass.

“Hmm, I guess my lance gave you a shock,” muttered Danny ruefully, “but not as big a shock as the one you gave me.” The bull cocked his head, looked restless and started pawing the ground again.

“And now I've got to go and find the darn thing.” Danny shook his fist at the bull from the safety of the fence. “If you've stepped on it I'll personally escort you to the meat packers.” The bull snorted then dropped its head to look for another good clump of grass.

Danny observed the bull carefully. He didn't mind cattle. His Dad used to have a bull, a fat old bull called Angus who was too lazy to run, but this young one was far more
lively. Danny walked slowly along his side of the fence to see what the bull would do.

The bull's head shot up… WHACK! It slammed into the fence post beside him. “Drat,” said Danny. “I'm going to have to think of something to keep you occupied.”

Danny watched the bull for a little longer until it lost interest in him and started to graze again. “OK, so you're into food,” said Danny and he carefully backed away from the fence, ran to the barn, and filled a large pail with oats. As he returned to the pasture the bull watched him, shaking its head from side to side, but it had calmed down enough to allow Danny to climb up the fence and dump the oats out on the other side. Suspiciously it lowered its head and approached the pile of oats, snuffled, sneezed, then started to eat.

Slowly and carefully Danny lowered himself from the fence and quietly walked around the outside of the pasture. The bull, intent on its treat, ignored him. Danny ran silently and swiftly until he was level with the dogwood bushes. He glanced back to check the bull was still occupied, then heart in his mouth, slipped over the fence and stealthily crept across the pasture to retrieve his lance and atlatl.

It didn't take long to find the lance. It was lying by the bushes in full view. Relieved, Danny picked it up and checked down the pasture again. The bushes were now between him and the bull, so they gave him a temporary feeling of safety. He peered through them to look for his atlatl.

The light was fading and it was hard to see just where he'd been standing. It was no good, he was going to have to step out in full view.

The bull had stopped feeding but was standing harmlessly by the fence, not looking his way, so Danny carefully stepped around the bushes and tiptoed into the middle of the field. The bull turned its head. Danny froze, hoping the bull would think he was a tree. While he stood there his eyes frantically raked the ground. Where was the atlatl?

The bull dropped its head to eat again and Danny's breath whooshed out in relief. Simultaneously he saw a
gleaming in the grass, ran forward and scooped up the atlatl.

That did it. The bull turn around and started up the pasture at a fast trot.

“Oh no, not again,” gasped Danny as he sprinted for the fence. “This will kill me.”

A low black shape suddenly streaked past him and, barking loudly, headed towards the bull and danced around its heels, distracting it. Danny leaped nimbly over the fence.

“Good boy Ringo,” gasped Danny as he reached safety. “Come on, let's leave the silly old beast. Time to go in, you've just earned yourself a dog biscuit.”

Boy and dog ran to the house but before Danny closed the kitchen door, he looked back at the pasture.

“You know Ringo,” said Danny thoughtfully. “Those First Nations Hunters must have been the bravest people on earth. Buffalo are a heck of a lot bigger and faster than that bull!”

“Danny, Danny!” Marylise came running across the playing field shouting at the top of her voice. “You're wanted in the office.”

“What's up?” asked Danny anxiously as he passed her.

Marylise shrugged. “Dunno, Mr. Hubner just said to give you the message. But he didn't look mad,” she added.

Danny heaved a sigh of relief and headed for the school office.

“They're not here, they're meeting in the sick room,” said the secretary waving him down the corridor. “You're to wait outside till they're ready.”

Apprehensively, Danny headed for the sick room. “I hope it's just that Carol's here,” he muttered to himself.

The door was closed, but Danny could hear a hum of voices inside. “Good. It is Carol.” Relief washed over him as he recognized her voice, but it was short-lived. His heart gave a lurch when he realized Mr. Berg was also inside… and he sounded angry.

Danny looked up and down the corridor. It was empty, so he hesitantly crept close to the door and listened.

“I'm afraid I cannot agree to that,” Mr. Berg was saying. “If I allow one student to get out of doing the report,
why shouldn't the other students ask for the same privilege?”

Carol's voice was much quieter, but her clear tones still carried well.

“I am not asking for Danny to be excused doing the report, Mr. Berg. I am asking for him to be allowed to present his work in a different manner. By insisting that Danny present his report in written form you are allowing him only to show how badly he can write and spell. You are not giving him a chance to share his knowledge of the subject he's chosen. What are you testing the students on Mr. Berg… indepth knowledge of the subject they have researched, or writing and spelling skills?”

“Ms. Wakefield,” said Mr. Berg grimly, “spelling and writing skills are an integral part of education.”

“Of course,” agreed Carol. “But Danny is a student who has a learning disability in that area. Are we going to prevent him shining in other areas because we insist on him presenting information only in the ways he finds difficult?”

“So you think Danny's pretty bright?”

Danny strained but couldn't hear Carol's answer.

There was a pause.

“Look Ms. Wakefield, I'm not sure how much Danny's going to be able to do even if I let him attack his project a different way. Between you and me I think some of the learning disability stuff is a cop out. But I'm willing to give the kid a chance. He's had a tough year and a bit of a break might help his confidence and self-esteem. Let me just figure something out for a second.”

In the silence Danny heard a faint rustle of paper then the rumble of Mr. Berg's voice again.

“I have set up the project marks in 5 groups: 20% for presentation, 20% for content, 20% for research, 20% for organization of the information, and 20% for writing and spelling.”

Danny could hear the smile in Carol's voice. It was a nice smile. “So if Danny doesn't present a written report, he could still get 80% of his marks?”

“I suppose so,” agreed Mr. Berg gruffly. “But what makes you think that Danny Budzynski would get anything like that?”

“Because,” Carol's voice was softer now, “all he needs is a chance to prove to you just how bright he is.”

Shaken, Danny moved away from the door, leaned his back against the cold concrete wall, and slipped down till he was sitting on the floor. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. “Mom always said eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves,” he thought. “But I can't figure out if what I heard is good or bad. Am I dumb or not?” Danny stuck his head in his hands and waited for his brain to stop whirling.

The voices in the sick room rose and fell for some time, then suddenly the door opened and Mr. Berg strode out. Danny shrank into the wall, relieved when his teacher marched the opposite way without noticing him.

Light footsteps came to the doorway and Carol looked up and down the corridor. Her face brightened. “Ah. There you are, Danny. What are you doing on the floor?”

Sheepishly Danny scrambled to his feet. “Just waiting,” he mumbled.

Carol stood aside while Danny entered the sick room, then she carefully closed the door, came over and looked searchingly at his tense face.

“What's the matter, Danny?”

Danny dropped his eyes.

“Danny Budzynski, have you been listening at doors?” Carol wagged her finger in mock anger then came over to him, put her arm around him and hugged hard. “So now you're all mixed up and don't understand anything?”

Danny swallowed hard and nodded.

“Well sit down, and I'll try and explain.” Carol ignored the chairs and led Danny over to the bed where they could sit side by side.

“Are you worried?”

Danny gulped. “Kind of. Mr. Berg sounded mad.”

“He wasn't really. He was just annoyed with me because
I challenged him to rethink his teaching approaches.” Carol gave Danny another squeeze. “Besides, Mr. Berg is fair and he never stays angry for long.”

“He thinks I'm dumb though. He doesn't believe I can do things,” Danny muttered dully.

“Mr. Berg's a good teacher, Danny. He'll give you a chance, then it will be up to you to make the best use of it. OK?”

“OK.”

“So… do you want to know about your brain? It's pretty neat!”

“I guess so,” said Danny unenthusiastically.

“You've got a good brain, Danny. The tests show that not only are you very bright, but you have what is probably one of the best brains in the class.” Carol grinned. “Surprised?”

Danny looked thunderstruck. “As good as Marylise?”

“Maybe even better,” said Carol firmly.

“Then how come I'm so stupid?”

“You're not stupid, it's those glitches. The glitches affect your writing and spelling, and your ability with numbers. If you didn't have to write things down you would pass nearly all your tests with top marks because you understand most of the information.”

Danny thought carefully. “That makes sense,” he agreed. “I know things and I know what words I want to use. They just don't come out right.”

“Everyone learns in different ways,” Carol continued. “You learn mainly through seeing, touching, and experiencing, not from reading and writing. You find school difficult, because you are being asked to write down what you've learned. Because you can't do that, there is nothing for teachers to mark so they can't figure out how much you know.”

Danny nodded sadly. “So I'll always be bottom of the class.”

“No,” said Carol. “This is the exciting part. We'll find some ways for you to work using your best skills. What
are you best at… the thing you do most of without any effort?”

“Talking,” said Danny cheekily.

“Right,” laughed Carol. “So we are going to start by letting you present your report not in written form, but by talking.”

For once Danny was speechless.

“There are going to be some big changes in your life Danny, and they will help you immensely.” Carol patted his knee. “Are you having trouble absorbing all this at once?”

“I… I guess so…. It's kind of hard to think straight.” Danny stammered.

“That's shock. Don't worry about it. Just hang onto the fact you're really bright and we are going to find some ways around your brain glitches.”

Danny nodded.

Carol leaned over the side of the bed, pulled up a paper carrier bag, and took out two small boxes. “Here. These are to help you with your work.”

Danny took the smallest one first and opened it. “A
CALCULATOR
!” he yelled. “A calculator! Hey, now I can do my times tables.” Danny pressed buttons frantically. “What's 9 times 7, Carol… Do you know?”

Carol laughed and shook her head.

“It's 63!” Danny turned the calculator around so she could see the answer. “Let's try a hard one… What's 1897 times…”—Danny thought for a minute— “er…. 42?”