The Great Expectations School Read Online Free PDF Page A

years and I'm very committed to that. I want to help kids.”
    Mrs. Boyd nodded slightly. “Good, because I can tell you have the teaching gene. Ms. Guiterrez told me about the lesson she sawyou do. She was actually supposed to observe Mr. Rose, but this worked out quite fortuitously. She said your communication skills with the children are exemplary. I went to see for myself and I must say I agree.”
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œHow do you feel about science, Mr. Brown?”
    â€œClueless,” I wanted to respond. Despite science's indisputable importance to the world, I had generally avoided it as a student. I thought of handling wet dirt during my “Soil and Percolation” unit in elementary school.
    My hesitation was noticeable. I was being offered a job as a science cluster teacher. A teacher on wheels. I didn't want that. I wanted my own classroom and my own students: Mr. Brown's class.
    â€œMr. Brown?”
    â€œI'm interested to be part of the P.S. 85 community wherever I can help,” I said.
    â€œGood, because I think you have the teaching gene.”
    â€œThank you.” Here it comes.
    â€œWe need an upper-grade science cluster teacher. Do you want the job?”
    â€œYes… although I think I could really bring the most to the table as a classroom teacher. I think my ability to form relationships with students could create a very positive classroom culture across all subjects for the whole year, particularly with the school's older, more mature students.”
    â€œYou make relationships as a cluster too,” Mrs. Boyd countered.
    â€œThat's true, but an hour or less per week isn't the same as all day every day. Also, I think I could serve as a role model for a set group of kids, being a younger male teacher.”
    â€œOur roster is full right now for classrooms. All I have to offer you is this science position. This is it. Do you want to sign a commitment form?”
    The terrified uncertainty of many of my placementless colleagues and Susan Atero's vanishing made the decision for me.
    â€œYes.” I signed the form and we shook hands. Mrs. Boyd left the room to photocopy the form for my records. In the few seconds that she was gone, I realized that I had been holding my copy of
From the Floor to the Moon.
Jimmarie and I had been looking at it again when Mrs. Boyd called me into the office, and I had taken the book with me.
    When my new principal returned, I asked if I could show her a project I had worked on with a student in Mr. Rose's class. Mrs. Boyd thumbed through the book.
    â€œThis is beautiful. This is fantastic work, Mr. Brown. Hmm. Jimmarie Moreno-Bonilla. Can I keep this and show it off?” She clutched the book eagerly.
    It was my only copy. “Okay,” I said.
    â€œThank you, Mr. Brown. This is terrific.”
    Later that day, I was congratulated by several teachers and administrators like a scout who had earned his stripes. Marianne Renfro, the veteran special ed coordinator and jack-of-all-trades administrator, gave me particularly warm wishes. I greatly appreciated the gesture from Ms. Renfro, since I knew her as a husky-voiced intimidator, feared and respected by students and faculty. “You're gonna make a helluva science teacher, Brown,” she nodded, extracting a Winston from her metallic case.
    I thanked her and mentioned that I was hoping for a classroom to open up.
    â€œSo you want to be the main man straightaway, huh? I respect that. Maybe I can say something to the Queen.”
    A week later, I got the call I had been hoping for. Mrs. Boyd offered me a position teaching a fourth-grade classroom.
    Mr. Brown's class.

August
What Do You Want Us to Do?
    O N MONDAY, AUGUST 18 , the Fellows returned for the long haul, although the first day of school wasn't until September 8 (later than usual to compensate for the sweeping citywide administrative changes). I spent the two weeks off as a recluse, feverishly editing my