Educating Esmé Read Online Free PDF Page B

and leave me to this problem.
October 8
    I walked into the classroom. The comic book was sitting in the middle of my desk.
    Returned.
    THANK YOU, GOD!!!
October 9
    Good news! Connie Porter, author of the “Addy” books in the American Girls children’s historical fiction series, is coming to our school on her national tour. Ours is the only Chicago public school she will visit! I arranged it through the children’s bookstore where I used to work, since she was going to do a book-signing there. The publisher was very agreeable, especially since our school is almost all black and Addy is a black character, “determined to be free in the midst of the Civil War” (that’s what it says on the back of the book). They are going to send us an Addy dollworth nearly a hundred dollars to give away and are sending several Addy books so teachers can prepare their classes for the visit. Mr. Turner says we can have an assembly just so long as I take care of everything and he doesn’t have to think about it.
    I’m excited! I am going to start an American Girls club after school. Maybe other teachers will want to start them with their classes, too.
October 13
    I planned to take some students over to a university science fair for children, where we would display our burglar alarm for school backpacks. The field trip was in the evening. I took Kyle and Samantha home with me between school and the trip, because their parents couldn’t accompany them but they wanted to go. We baked a cake and had a nice little tea party. “Not too much sugar, please,” Kyle wagged a finger. “Gotta watch my figure.”
    At the school that evening, we got on a school bus to ride to the fair. The bus was converged upon by gang members, who were throwing rocks at the windows.I watched the windows tremble, the loud cracking, right next to the children’s heads (some of them were only four years old, accompanying older siblings). It was terrifying, there were so many around the bus. They looked old, even my age. Whether they would start shooting at us crossed my mind. It seemed illogical, but I felt afraid. I recognized one eighth-grade boy from our school in the rabble as he threw a rock. I felt angry. The bus pulled away. I felt very, very angry.
    Mr. Turner was there, watching the whole thing from his office window, but he didn’t do anything.
    So the next day, with teacher permission, I confronted Perry, the one boy I recognized. “I know nothing’s going to happen to you for what you did last night,” I said, “but I want you to know that I saw what you did, and I didn’t like what I saw.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou tell me what.”
    â€œYou mean the bus? I didn’t . . . it was . . .” Denial.
    I spoke softly. “Perry, it was you. Your rocks smashed next to the heads of small children. You did an evil thing.”
    â€œIt wasn’t me! It was . . .”
    â€œWhen you’ve got the guts to face what you did and talk about it, I’ve got the time to talk to you. But I don’t have time to waste talking to a cowardly little boy.” I didn’t say it mean, just matter-of-factly.
    He turned back to his classroom, picked up a desk, and threw it. He looked at me, his chest heaving, his eyes wet. I just shook my head, shrugged, and walked away.
    The school counselor said later that Perry was crying half the day, begging to be let out of class to see me. He told her he had to apologize for something. I wonder?
October 15
    Showed
The Miracle Worker.
The kids liked the part where Annie Sullivan and Helen are duking it out over the dinner table. I was jealous that Annie gets to smack her students and I have to be nice. I cried at the end. The kids thought that was funny. I am going to show classic movies after school every two weeks. I am building a marquee with my uncle. I got in trouble for having popcorn in class.
October 19
    HOW TO FOLD A PAPER