"Babysitters Club Special Edition Mary Anne's Book" - читать интересную книгу автора (Babysitters Club)

My father put on the serious expression he wore when he was teaching me something such as how to print my name or how to put a napkin on my lap before eating. "Now, Mary Anne," he said, "as you go through school you will find that your teachers all have different teaching styles. They aren't going to change because you don't like the way they act. You are the one who has to adjust. I'm
sure Mrs Frederickson is a fine teacher. And
I know you can be a fine student. If you behave and do your work you two will get along fine. I promise you that. Will you do your very best for me?"
I'd do anything for my father, so I promised him I would be a good girl. But I 'made sure to add, "I still don't like when she yells."
"Just remember," he said, "Mrs. Frederick-son is not yelling at you. She's yelling at other kids. The ones who aren't behaving and doing their work." -
I remembered how Mrs. Frederickson yelled at Claudia for drawing a picture of a rainbow instead of practicing the letter "A." And how she'd yelled at Kristy for getting into a fight with Alan Gray during recess. "I don't like it when she yells at anybody," I told my dad.
"Just as long as you're a good girl, I'm sure everything will be fine," he said.
I nodded. But I wasn't convinced. So far the only good thing about first grade was that Kristy and Claudia were in my class.
Even though Mrs. Frederickson was a yeller, I did all right in first grade. I liked the schoolwork and I especially loved to read. I would have read all the time, if there weren't so many other things I enjoyed doing, such as going to the park with my friends and playing at their houses.
After dinner my dad and I would go into the living room and put music on the tape deck. He would do work he'd brought from the office or read the newspaper, and I would read to myself from my picture books. But when it was time for bed and I was cleaned up and tucked in, my dad would read from a chapter book. That was the best. My favorite chapter book that year was Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery. I understand now that I identified with Anne because she didn't have a mother either.
Sometimes, when Mrs. Frederickson was yelling at the class, I'd think about what had happened in Anne of Green Gables the night before. (I wanted to put my hands over my ears, but that just would have given her one more thing to yell about.)
The best thing about being six was living near Kristy and Claudia. Kristy's and my bedroom windows faced one another and with the blinds up we could see into each other's
rooms. In warm weather we could talk to each other through the opened windows. Our rooms were so close that sometimes I pretended they were in the same house and that we were sisters.
Claudia had a sister, Janine. Janine was in the third grade and was in charge of Claudia, Kristy, and me when we walked to and from school. Claudia didn't always get along with Janine. They're total opposites. Janine is the bookish type who is a genius when it comes to anything having to do with science or math.
Claudia, on the other hand, has trouble with regular schoolwork, but she is a brilliant artist. Unfortunately, most people - including Claudia's parents - make a bigger deal about being a school genius than being an artistic genius. As a result, Claudia often feels bad about herself when she is around her sister. But since I'm also the bookish type, I was fascinated by Janine. What fascinated me the most was that she could read while she walked, just like Belle in Beauty and the Beast. (That movie hadn't come out yet, so Janine was the only one I knew who could walk and read at the same time.) Janine would walk to school with an open book in front of her face. I knew she was really reading because I'd see her turn the pages.
Claudia and Kristy liked that Janine was
reading instead of watching us. "It's just like we're walking alone," said Claudia.
"We're very grown-up," added Kristy.
Meanwhile, at home I was trying to teach myself to walk and read' at the same time. One Saturday afternoon, my dad found me standing in the upstairs hail reading Horton Hears a Who by Dr. Seuss. "Mary Anne, wouldn't you be more comfortable in a chair or on the couch?" -
I looked up from my book. Where was I? I'd thought I was in the Whoville town square, not the hall. "I was practicing walking and reading'at the same time," I explained to- my dad.
"You better stick to doing one thing at a
time," he advised. - -
So life as a six-year-old was interesting, fun, and challenging - until the Mother's Day tea party.
One rainy April afternoon, Mrs. Frederick-son announced, "Every year my first-grade class holds a special tea party for their mothers."
"I don't drink tea," Alan Gray called out.
Mrs. Frederickson yelled at Alan for not raising his hand when he had something to say. Finally, she returned to the subject of the tea. She described how we would decorate the room, what songs we would sing for our
mothers, and what food we would serve. "And we'll make special invitations that you'll give to your mothers," continued Mrs. Fred-erickson.
I was beginning to feel very weird.- I didn't have a mother. What would I do?
Kristy glanced my way and saw the tears forming in my eyes. Her hand shot up.
"Yes, Kristy," Mrs. Frederickson said.
"What if you don't have a mother to bring to the tea?" she asked.
"I was just getting to that," Mrs. Frederickson answered. "If you don't have a mother, or if your mother will be at work and can't take time off, you may invite another special person in your life."
Suddenly there was no need for tears. I could invite my dad to the tea. I remembered how he took a whole morning off from work for our Winter Holiday celebration at school. So I knew he'd try to take time off from work to come to the tea. Wow. A special tea party. I couldn't wait.
That night I told my dad all about the tea party. "A tea party put on by the firstgraders," he said. "What a nice idea. When is it?"
"I don't remember," I replied.
"Well, find out and let me know," he said. -"I'll try to arrange things at the office so I can
attend." He chuckled. "I never thought of first-graders as big tea drinkers."
"You don't just drink tea," I patiently explained. "We're going to have lots of other things to drink. And to eat, too. But I can't tell you. It's a surprise."
"Excellent," he said. "I love good surprises."
As it turned out I was the one who was in for a surprise. And it wasn't a good one.
Just before lunch period the next day, Mrs. Frederickson said we should each stand beside our desk and tell the class who we were inviting to the tea party. The first three kids said they were bringing their mothers. I began to worry that I was going to be the only one who didn't have a mother to bring to the tea. But then Rita stood up and said, "I'm bringing my auntie Marie. She's my godmother." And another kid said that he was bringing his stepmother. I breathed a sigh of relief. It would be just fine for me to bring my dad to the Mother's Day tea. Especially since the girl whose turn came just before mine said she was inviting her grandmother.
My turn. I stood up and said, "I'm inviting my dad to the tea party."
Everyone in the room - except Claudia, Kristy, and Mrs. Frederickson - laughed.
"Your dad!" hooted Alan Gray. "You're inviting your dad to a Mother's Day tea?"
I was overwhelmed by embarrassment. How could I have been so stupid? Everyone else was bringing some kind of mother - a godmother, a stepmother, or a grandmother.,
"Class!" Mrs. Frederickson boomed. I jumped at the sound of her voice, and sat
down. "Quiet down immediately or there will be no Mother's Day tea party."
Through a cloud of tears I saw that Kristy was approaching Alan Gray with her fists raised. "You stupid, dummy, jerkhead," she yelled.
Alan Gray rose to his feet. His fists were raised, too.
My classmates weren't laughing at me any more. All their attention was focused on Kristy and Alan. No one had dared fight in Mrs. Frederickson's classroom before. Now she rushed along the aisle toward Kristy and Alan, her volume rising to the decibels of a rock concert. "Return to your seat immediately, Miss