Wayside School Is Falling Down (16 page)

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Chapter 26

The Mean Mrs. Jewls

Everybody in Mrs. Jewls’s class thought she was a very nice teacher.

They were wrong. There is no such thing as a nice teacher.

If you think you have a nice teacher, then you are wrong too.

Inside every nice teacher there is a mean and rotten teacher bursting to get out. The nicer the teacher is on the outside, the meaner the teacher inside is.

As Mrs. Jewls was changing the bulletin board before class, a mean and rotten voice whispered inside her brain. “Give the children lots of busy work today,” it said. “And then make them do it over again if their handwriting isn’t perfect.”

Mrs. Jewls tried very hard to ignore the voice. She didn’t like giving busy work. Instead she tried to teach the children three new things every day. She believed that if they learned three new things every day, they would eventually learn everything there is to know.

There are some classes where the teachers give so much busy work that the children never learn anything.

“What do you care if the children learn anything?” asked the mean and rotten voice. “It’s not your job to teach them. It’s your job to punish them. Keep them in at recess. Hit them with your yardstick!”

The bell rang and all the kids scurried to their desks.

“We are going to learn three new things today,” Mrs. Jewls announced. “How to make pickles, seven plus four, and the capital of England.”

All the children paid close attention.

“The capital of England is London,” said Mrs. Jewls. “Seven plus four equals eleven. And pickles are made by sticking cucumbers in brine.”

On her desk she had a box of cucumbers and a vat of brine for a demonstration.

“Okay, Joe,” said Mrs. Jewls. “How much is seven plus four?”

Joe shrugged.

“But I just told you, Joe,” said Mrs. Jewls. “Weren’t you listening?”

“I don’t know,” said Joe.

“Okay, who can tell me how pickles are made? Yes, Jason.”

“Eleven!” Jason declared.

Mrs. Jewls frowned. “That’s a correct answer,” she said, “but unfortunately I didn’t ask the right question. Can anyone tell me how pickles are made? Yes, Bebe.”

“In London,” said Bebe.

“I suppose they make some pickles in London,” said Mrs. Jewls. “Okay, let’s start again. Calvin, what’s the capital of England?”

“Could you write England on the board?” asked Calvin. “I can do a lot better when I can see the question.”

Mrs. Jewls wrote
England
on the board.

“Oh, okay,” said Calvin, now that he saw the question. “The capital of England is E.”

“Yes, that’s one capital of England,” Mrs. Jewls had to admit. “Okay, I will say it one more time. The capital of England is London.”

“Isn’t that where they make all the pickles?” asked Jenny.

“No, they don’t make all the pickles in London,” explained Allison. “Just eleven.”

“Well, where do they make the rest of the pickles?” asked Stephen.

“Shut up!” shouted Mrs. Jewls. “Well, that does it. You’re all staying inside for recess!”

Everyone stared at her. Mrs. Jewls had never told anyone to shut up. It was against the class rules for anyone to use that expression. If you did, you had to write your name on the blackboard under the word DISCIPLINE.

Mrs. Jewls put her hand over her mouth, then took it away. “Oh dear, I’m very sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

She wrote her own name on the blackboard under the word DISCIPLINE.

“Perhaps you’ll learn the lesson better if you write it down,” she suggested. “Everyone please take out a piece of paper and a pickle.”

Everybody laughed.

“Pencil!” snapped Mrs. Jewls. “I meant to say pencil. It just came out pickle.”

“I didn’t know pickles came from pencils,” said Jenny. “I thought they came from cucumbers.”

“I thought they came from London,” said Todd.

Mrs. Jewls made an ugly face. “Todd, didn’t I just tell you to shut up?” she asked. She picked up her yardstick and held it over Todd’s head. “Well, answer me!” she demanded. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

“Yes,” said Todd.

“How dare you talk back to me!” snapped Mrs. Jewls. “Didn’t I just tell you to shut up?”

Todd kept his mouth shut.

“Well, answer me!” she demanded.

Todd didn’t know what to do. He nodded his head.

“Keep still!” ordered Mrs. Jewls. “Now I don’t want you to say another word, is that clear?”

Todd stared at her.

“Is that clear?” she asked again.

“Yes,” Todd said meekly.

Mrs. Jewls slammed down the yardstick. Todd quickly moved out of the way. The yardstick banged against his desk and broke in half.

Mrs. Jewls stared at the eighteen inches she held in her hand. “Oh my goodness,” she said. “I’m sorry, Todd. I don’t know what’s the matter with me today. I must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

She put a check next to her name under the word DISCIPLINE.

“Okay, let me try to make this very simple,” she said. “If I have seven cucumbers. And then I get four more cucumbers. And then I drop all the cucumbers in brine and take them to the capital of England. What do I have? How many? And where am I?”

“Huh?” said D.J.

“What?” asked John.

“Could you write the question on the board, please?” asked Rondi.

“Shut up!” Mrs. Jewls yelled a third time. In a mocking voice she said, “ ‘Could you write the question on the board, please?’ You kids think you are so cute! Well, we’ll see just how cute you really are.” She picked up the vat of brine from her desk. “How would you like it if I poured this on your heads? You won’t be so cute when you’re all shriveled up and covered with warts, like pickles!”

She walked up and down the aisles carrying the pickle juice and glaring at the children.

No one dared make a sound.

She stopped next to Leslie. “How about you, Leslie?” she asked. “How would you like pickled pigtails?”

Leslie trembled. Her pigtails wiggled.

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“Well, I’m going to ask you three questions, Leslie,” said Mrs. Jewls. “And if you don’t answer them all correctly, I’m going to dump this on your head.”

Leslie gulped.

“Question one,” said Mrs. Jewls. “How much is seven plus four?”

Leslie quickly tried to count on her fingers but she didn’t have enough. “Eleven?” she guessed.

A look off disappointment came over Mrs. Jewls’s face. “Okay, question two: What is the capital of England?”

“L-London,” Leslie said nervously.

“Rats!” said Mrs. Jewls. “Okay, question three.” She looked down at the vat of brine she was holding and shook her head. She thought a moment, then smiled. “What is the name of my cousin who lives in Vermont?”

Leslie had no idea, so she just had to take a wild guess. She closed her eyes and said, “Fred Jewls?”

“Wrong!” exclaimed Mrs. Jewls. She raised the vat of brine high above Leslie’s head and started to tip it over.

Paul jumped out of his seat. Those pigtails had once saved his life. Now it was his turn to return the favor!

He pushed the vat of brine back the other way. He was just trying to push it up straight, but he pushed too hard. It poured all over Mrs. Jewls, drenching her.

Paul froze in terror.