Bradley's Odyssey Chapter Six

Chapter Six
Super

While the Gods and Goddesses of Education waited, a man dressed in what appeared to be a white bed sheet entered the Board Room. He set a tray of coffee mugs and doughnuts on the table.
“That’s Aid, cup bearer of the gods,” Recess explained to Bradley. “He’s brought us coffee, the elixir of the gods.”
At that moment a window swung open. A light breeze swept into the room along with a paper airplane. The plane floated downward, circling the Board of Education twice. It did a loop-the-loop, before landing on the round table in front of the white director’s chair.
Bradley stepped forward. On top of the airplane, he spotted two things, a pile of paper clips, and a three-inch tall man wearing a white robe. The tiny man had a shock of white hair on the top of his head and a beard hanging to his waist. He climbed off the plane and strode over to a microphone. His voice came over a speaker mounted on the wall.
“Sorry I’m late, staff. As you know, there’s much work needed in the classrooms below.”
Counselor leaned forward in her pink chair. “You haven’t been tossing paper clips at students again, have you, Super?” she asked.
“Only at those not paying attention to their teacher, dear,” Super replied. “I’m afraid, however, that there were many daydreamers today.”
“One of these times you’re going to poke an eye out with those things,” scolded the Goddess of Health and Safety.
At this point Recess raised his rod to gain attention. “Superintendent,” he said. “We have a special guest with us. By my side stands the hero, Bradley.”
The immortals at the table went silent. They set down their coffee mugs and turned toward the boy. Bradley rocked on his heels and waved from his hip.
“Bradley, my boy,” Super called out. “Thanks for coming. What have you been up to lately? Slaying monsters in coat closets? Saving teachers in distress?”
Bradley shrugged. “I’ve just been doing schoolwork and stuff,” he said.
“Well, schoolwork is what we’re here to discuss, my boy,” said Super. “Aid, bring our hero a chair.”
The cupbearer placed a golden director’s chair next to Super. Bradley sat down, smiling nervously around the table.
“Bradley, these are troubled times,” Super said into his mike. “Yesterday, something occurred that disrupted the entire world of education.”
Bradley sat up straight in his seat. “You mean, like last year when the crabby teachers launched Operation Misteach on Apple Island?” he asked.
“Exactly, and you were the hero who stopped them,” said the head god. “But I’m afraid, my boy, the crabby teachers are at it again. This time they’ve unleashed the greatest threat to education ever known.”
“More TV’s?” Bradley guessed.
Super paced back and forth, pulling his beard. “Bradley, an important piece of apparel has fallen into the crabby teachers’ hands,” he said gravely. “You see, my boy, the crabby teachers have stolen the Thinking Cap.”
Bradley screwed up his face. “The Thinking Cap? Like the thing teachers tell kids to put on?”
“The very one,” said the tiny god.
“You mean there really is such a hat?” asked Bradley.
The gods and goddesses around the table nodded.
Academia’s purple tassel whipped back and forth. “The Thinking Cap is the ultimate source of knowledge, Bradley,” she said.
Digit’s infinity symbol spun faster. “It’s the fountain of creativity and inspiration for every student in every school,” he added.
Geo twirled her globe on the end of a finger and remarked, “Whoever wears the Thinking Cap, knows everything about everything, Bradley.”
“And even more important, whoever wears the hat can control the thoughts and minds of anyone else,” said Atom. His leaf crown had slipped over his forehead.
Discipline in the red chair slapped his paddle in his palm. “Think of what that means, Bradley,” he said. “Any crabby teacher who wears the Thinking Cap can drain the brain of every boy and girl.”
“Is that what happened in my classroom today?” asked Bradley. “Is that why I couldn’t think of the answers on my science quiz?”
The immortals nodded again.
“But to fully explain this problem, my boy, it’s best to start at the beginning,” said Super. “Alphabetty, hand me your book.”
Alphabetty rose from her brown chair. She placed the fat book she carried in front of Super. The gold letters on the spine read: TEACHER MYTHS AND LEGENDS. A puff of dust rose into the air when the Goddess of Words opened the cover, careful not to squish the tiny head god.
Super climbed onto page one. Strolling word to word, he began to read.

Author! Author4!

Classroom Observation 8:

"If there's a puddle on the playground there's 100% chance that during the first recess a kindergartener will stand in it."

Walter Teach Melon

WT Melon Alphabet: S

S is for Spot: Next time you have writer's block during writer's workshop look up toward the ceiling. A small dot might come floating down and help you with your work. This spot might stay above an i or behind an abbreviation. See Spot! See Spot run/

2ndGraders #26

Bradley's Odyssey Chapter Five

Chapter Five
The Board Room

Bradley climbed down from the bus. At the foot of the stairway stood four women dressed in saffron gowns. The quartet stepped forward, bowing their heads.
“Welcome to the Hall of Education, Noble Hero,” they said as one. “We are the Muses.”
“I am Art,” said the first woman, who held a paintbrush.
“I am Music,” said the next woman, who strummed an autoharp.
“I am Drama,” said the third woman, who wore a smiling mask.
“And I am Poetry,” said the last woman, who waved a ballpoint pen.
Recess leaned toward Bradley’s ear. “The Muses are some of the lesser gods here,” he said. “When we run out of room in the Hall of Education, they’re the first to get tossed out.”
“Please follow us, Noble Hero,” the Muses chorused.
The women escorted Bradley up the flight of stairs. As he climbed, he read the bronze plaque attached to each step.
Grad School
College
High School
Middle School
Intermediate grades
Primary grades
Pre-school
“We’re ascending the Seven Steps of Education,” Recess told him.
Bradley stood on the top step and looked downward. “Man, it seems like I’ve be going to school forever,” he said. “But I’m not even halfway through with it yet.”
The Muses brought Bradley through wooden doors and into a long hallway. Bulletin boards filled with notices lined the walls. Flickering florescent lights lit the way.
Two tall knights dressed in a red armor stood at the end of the hall before a wide glass door. Both of them frowned as Bradley approached.
“Pass, please,” one of them said.
“Greetings, Hall Monitors,” the Muses said together. “The hero Bradley has come to see Super.”
The knights bowed, turned, and opened the glass door. Bradley read the sign: BOARD ROOM, before he stepped into a darkened chamber. He paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim light.
In front of him stood a tall, gray board full of knots, cracks, and splinters. The Muses bowed as they passed it.
“What’s that piece of wood standing there for?” Bradley asked Recess.
“Behold, the Board of Education, Brave Bradley,” the silver god replied. “Many gods believe this ancient plank holds extraordinary powers. But it’s been here so long, we’ve forgotten what good it does.”
Countless glowing TV screens covered the walls of the room. Women and men sat in swivel chairs before the monitors.
“Who are these people?” he asked Recess. “Why are they watching TV?”
The God of Play waved his rod around the Board Room. “This is The Staff, The Faculty, the Immortals of Education,” he said. “Each screen shows a different classroom in the world.”
Bradley stepped behind a goddess dressed in a brown robe. In the crook of her arm, she held a leather-bound book. The screen she viewed showed rows of students writing stories.
The goddess slapped her forehead. “There Pamela goes again,” she exclaimed. “She misspelled friend! Why can’t she remember I before E, except after C?”
Recess leaned toward Bradley. “That’s Alphabetty, Goddess of Words; Written, Spoken and Read,” he whispered. “She and her twenty-six assistants have not been having a red-letter day.”
The god sitting next to Alphabetty wore a yellow robe. Above his yellow hair swirled a sideways figure eight that Bradley recognized as the symbol for infinity. This god’s monitor aired a class in the middle of math period. The teacher held up the flash card 7x7.
“Fourteen? Sixty-three? Forty-two?” the class called out.
The god in yellow groaned.
“That’s Digit, God of Mathematics,” Recess explained. “As you can see, Brave Bradley, the sum total of his day is also not good.”
Bradley followed Recess to another wall where two more immortals sat. The first wore green and a crown of leaves. The second wore blue and carried a small globe.
“Meet the twin gods,” Recess said. “Atom, God of Science and Geo, Goddess of Social Studies.”
Atom watched a class studying pill bugs in a science lab. Never had a group looked so lazy and bored. Geo’s screen showed a class drawing maps of the continents and oceans. One boy labeled Europe as Africa. A girl colored Asia blue and called it the Pacific Ocean.
“What’s going on, Recess?” Bradley asked. “The students on the TV screens are doing the dumbest things. No one is thinking.”
“The crisis will be explained to you shortly,” the silver god replied.
Next Bradley followed Recess to a bank of monitors on the far side of the room. A muscular god dressed in a gray robe sat in a jewel-encrusted wheelchair. He watched a screen showing children working with computers.
“That’s Therapist, God of Special Education,” Recess explained. “In his forge beneath a volcano he welds together the wheelchairs and metal braces children might need. Beside him are Academia, Goddess of Knowledge, Wisdom, and Curiosity.”
Academia wore a purple robe and mortarboard. An owl sat on her shoulder. Her screen displayed a teacher handing back book reports. Each paper had an F on top.
The goddess shook her head, causing the mortarboard tassel to swish across her face. She pulled a cellular phone from a pocket and dialed 911. “Tutor, this is an emergency,” she said. “Get your bow and arrows and fly down to W.T Melon Elementary School. See if you can help the students in the classroom at the end of the hall. Flunk has already been there. Oh, is there anyone who can save the schools now?”
“Whoo! Whoo!” went her owl.
At that moment a bell rang. The gods and goddess left their posts and moved toward a round table in the center of the room. A dozen director’s chairs, each a different color, surrounded it. The immortals sat in the chairs matching the color of their robe. When assembled, they resembled the color wheel Bradley had made in art class. Several gods he didn’t know.
“The god in red is Discipline, God of Classroom Rules and Order,” Recess explained. “You might be familiar with his helpers Detention, Time Out, and Miss Recess.” Bradley noted the long paddle this stern-looking god slapped in his palm.
“The goddess in pink, is Counselor, Super’s wife,” Recess went on. “She’s the Goddess of Children’s Health and Safety.”
“That explains why she’s wearing a bike helmet,” said Bradley.
Four chairs remained empty. Bradley figured the silver one belonged to Recess and the black one was Flunk’s. The orange and white chairs puzzled him.
“The orange chair is reserved for Coach, God of Physical Education,” Recess told him. “He seldom leaves his Gymnasium beneath the ocean. The white chair is where the head god sits. That chair belongs to Superintendent, who we call Super. Super is the god we’re waiting for now.”

Mr. Janitor

Who does the cleaning and maintenance work on Apple Island? Mr. Janitor, that's who. It's a big job, since the island is miles long and inhabited by 100o crabby, messy teachers.

Aardvark

The ugly aardvark has a special place,
Considering the whole animal race.

Although it’s slow and not very hairy,
It still comes first in our dictionary.

Author! Author 3!

Bradley's Odyssey Chapter Four

Chapter Four
The Silver Bus Ride

The bus was empty. Bradley swung off his backpack and sat in a seat halfway down the aisle.
“Hello?” he called out. “Is anyone on this bus? Who’s driving this thing?”
Although no one sat in the driver’s seat, the bus started to move. The steering wheel turned, and the gear stick shifted. No one on the playground seemed to notice the silver bus, with only Bradley aboard, leaving the parking lot.
Bradley looked out the window. The sidewalk flowed by at a startling rate. Houses passed in a blur.
“Where’s this bus taking me?” he asked. “What’s Mount Education?”
A tap on his shoulder startled him.
Bradley spun around, but the seat behind him was empty. He faced forward only to feel another tap. Infuriated, he turned again. Once more he found a vacant seat, and once more he faced forward. After a third tap, he turned with a fist raised.
Now in the seat sat a boy with silver skin. He wore a silver sweatshirt and a silver baseball cap with silver wings attached. His silver sneakers bore silver wings as well.
Bradley shook his fist at the boy. “Cut out the games,” he said. “Stop playing around.”
The wings on the boy’s hat and shoes fluttered. “Stop playing around?” he said. “Who would ever want to stop playing around, Brave Bradley?”
The boy held a short silver rod with a chain and ball attached. When he swirled the rod, the ball wrapped and unwrapped around it like a tetherball on a pole.
Bradley made a face. “Who are you? And what are you doing on this bus?”
“My name is Recess,” the boy said. “I am God of Play, God of Games, and Guardian of School Playgrounds. I’m here to see that you get you to Mount Ed safely.”
Bradley looked out the window again. “But I walk this way to school every day,” he said. “I’ve never seen any mountain around here.”
“It’s easy to make a mountain from a mole hill, Brave Bradley,” Recess said. “People do it all the time.”
As the god spoke, Bradley slid back in his seat. The landscape outside the window suddenly changed. The bus was now rolling up a twisting gravel road. Green meadows and fields of sunflowers grew on the slopes by the roadsides.
Bradley peered out one side of the bus, then the other. “Look in that field,” he said. “I see more satyrs like Pen. They’re racing around. They’re all playing games.
Recess swirled his rod some more. “The tall satyr’s name is It,” he said. “He’s playing tag with his buddies Eeny, Meeny, Miny, and Moe. And see the two satyrs by the bushes? Their names are Hide and Seek. The red and green couple just ahead is Red Light and Green Light. And notice the big, burly satyr, Brave Bradley. That’s Simon, and everyone does what he says.”
Bradley pointed to another field. “Look at the horses. No, they’re men. No, their bottoms are like horses and their tops are like men. They’re galloping around, kicking a soccer ball.
“Those are centaurs,” Recess explained. “And they love playing soccer, a game I invented. Keep your eyes open. These slopes are usually filled with wildlife playing more of my playground games.”
Sure enough, the bus entered a forest of trees bearing golden apples. Among the trees, Bradley spotted wood nymphs skipping rope, playing hopscotch, and twirling Hula-Hoops. Nearby, stags with silver antlers ran relay races. By a brook, four water nymphs batted a red ball back and forth.
“They’re playing four-square,” said Bradley. “That’s my favorite game.”
“I’ve watched you play many times,” said Recess. “If four-square were an Olympic sport, you’d surely win the gold medal.
Bradley pointed again, “Hey, look over there,” he said. “Why are all those nymphs chasing that centaur?”
“That centaur’s name is Extra Credit,” Recess explained. “And everyone here likes going after Extra Credit.”
At that moment the silver bus entered thick fog. The scene turned gray and misty.
“I believe you have sunglasses in your backpack, Brave Bradley,” the silver god said. “It would be wise to wear them. We’ll be at the gates of Mount Education shortly.”
Bradley removed his dark glasses from the backpack and put them on. The bus stopped in front of a tall, arched gate made of swirling clouds. Before the gate stood three maidens in white gowns.
“Those are the Three Seasons, Fall, Winter, and Spring,” Recess explained. “They are the gatekeepers of Mount Education.
“What happened to Summer?” Bradley asked.
“She’s always on vacation,” said the god of Play. “That’s why little work gets done around here at that time of year.”
Recess nodded to the Seasons. They pulled the cloudy gates open like curtains on a stage. At once, brilliant beams of sunlight stuck the silver bus. Bradley looked upward and squinted. A round buttery sun hung overhead. He wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn the glowing ball sat inside a yellow school bus that was driving slowly across the sky.
In the distance stood their destination, an enormous, red, wooden structure. Apart from its size, the building resembled a one-room schoolhouse of olden times, complete with a bell tower on top. Minutes later, the silver bus stopped at the foot of a staircase leading to the building’s front door.
Recess stood. “We must hurry, Brave Bradley. The Gods of Education are gathering in the Board Room. Your meeting will soon begin.”
Bradley slung his backpack over his shoulder. “I’m going to a meeting?” he asked. “Uh-oh. Every meeting I’ve been to--meetings with my teacher, meetings with the principal, meetings with my teacher, principal, and parents--has meant one thing, big trouble.”

2ndGraders #25

WT Melon Classroom Observation 7:

“On average 3.4 students per day ask to go to the restroom when they don’t need to.”

Elevator Family France

The French Elevator Family looks much different than the American Elevator Family or the Japanese Elevator Family.

Bradley's Odyssey Chapter Three

Chapter Three
Pen

The playground was pandemonium. As Bradley walked out the door, shouts and laughter greeted him. Teachers blew whistles, while their students chased each other and horseplayed around them.
The principal, Mr. Homer, stood outside the office. He called into a bullhorn, “Don’t panic, children. The earthquake is over. There’s nothing to be scared about. There could be more aftershocks, so keep calm.”
One quick look around the playground told Bradley his teacher and classmates were absent. Dragging his backpack, he shuffled onto the baseball field. He sat on a bench by home plate.
“They’ll figure out my class is missing soon enough,” he said. “How could I explain that a god named Flunk took them to a place called the Underworld?”
Perhaps roused by the recent vibrations, the birds in the trees squawked loudly. As he listened, Bradley picked out one birdcall unlike any he had heard before.
“That’s not a bird,” he told himself. “Someone’s playing a recorder.” He turned and glimpsed a figure dancing among the trees.
“Hello? Hello?” he called out. “Who’s over there?”
Again he saw the thing. Was it a person? An animal? No, it was both, a creature with the furry legs of a goat and the top half of a man. His ears were pointed, and two short horns sprouted from his forehead. He kicked out his hoofed feet and did a somersault on the leafy ground without missing a note on his instrument.
The performance was so jolly and skillful Bradley couldn’t help clapping. “I know who you are,” he said. “You’re Pan, the satyr. I’ve seen your picture in mythology books.”
The creature stopped dancing. Bradley saw that he hadn’t been blowing into a recorder after all, but a long fountain pen with a broad gold-plated nib.
“No, Brad, my name is Pen,” he said. “I have three brothers, Pan, the wild one; Pin, the sharp one; and Pun, the funny one. I’m the writer in the family.”
Here he swirled the jumbo pen in the air as if writing cursive letters. In front of Bradley’s eyes appeared the word PEN. The word floated away, dissolving like smoke from a campfire.
“But what are you doing at my school?” asked Bradley.
The satyr danced a jig around the bench. “I’m here to write a message for you, Brad, the great hero.”
Bradley groaned. “Not that hero stuff again,” he said. “Listen, Pen, like I told Flunk in my classroom, I’m no hero. I mean I’m even chicken to go into the coat closet with the lights out. The girls call me Rosy because I blush so much; I still can’t dribble a basketball with my left hand, and I cried when that fifth-grade bully, Virgil, pushed my head into the toilet. Would you call that hero material?”
Pen played another tune on his penpipe. “I think you just got out on the wrong side of the desk this morning,” he said at length. “Never deny who you are, Brad. You’re as courageous as Hercules, as crafty as Perseus, and as clever as Theseus. My message for you comes straight from the gods themselves. ”
Before Bradley could ask another question, the satyr wrote more words in the air.
TO THE HERO, BRADLEY,
YOUR ATTENDANCE IS REQUESTED
AMONG THE IMMORTALS ON MOUNT EDUCATION.
ASAP
SIGNED, SUPER
Bradley reread the message before it dissolved. “Super? Who on earth is Super?”
The satyr sat on the leaves with his hairy legs crossed. “Oh, Super isn’t on Earth, Brad,” he said. “And you’ll meet him soon enough. Now we must hurry. There’s little time to lose.”
Again Pen blew on his penpipe. Soon afterward, Bradley heard the roar of an engine. Turning, he spotted a silver school bus driving into the parking lot. Stenciled on its side was a picture of a white horse with wings. Above the bus windshield were the words: MOUNT ED EXPRESS
The bus pulled up next to Bradley’s bench. The door folded open, and a red carpet unrolled to his feet.
Pen sprang up. “You should know, Brad, it’s a great honor to be invited to Mount Education. Few mortals have ever been there. Now won’t you please step onto the bus, and don’t forget your backpack. There are items in there that you will find useful on your long voyage.”
Bradley lifted the backpack off the ground. “But there’s nothing in here but a math book, paper, and stuff,” he said. “And what long voyage? I can’t go on any voyage. I have homework to do after school.”
“Heroes should never worry about homework, Brad,” Pen replied. “They have far more important things to do. Now off you go. Hurry. Hurry.”
While Pen played more music, Bradley trudged up the red carpet. At the foot of the bus steps he stopped.
“One word of warning, Great Hero,” the satyr called to him. “There is trouble brewing here on earth. Once again education is in grave danger, and your skills are needed. Your journey will be hard and perilous. While many of the gods will be there to protect you, you also have many foes.
“Danger? Perilous? Foes?” Bradley recited.
“As my brother Pin says, ‘Keep a sharp lookout,’” Pen went on. “And as my brother Pun says, ‘It’s time to get the shoe on the road.’ Take care, Brad, and whatever you do, don’t lose that backpack.”
Bradley shrugged and mounted the steps. Slowly the door folded behind him.

2ndGraders #24

WT Melon Classroom Observation 6:

“During attendance at least one student will say present instead of here.”

2ndGraders #23

WT Melon Classroom Observation 5:

“A turn is extremely important.”

Homework Load

Not long ago the homework load,
Did Helen little harm.
She walked to school with her books,
Tucked under her arm.

Homework increased until the girl,
Was obliged to pack,
Binders and texts into a sack,
She strapped on her back.

When her spine curved, and her back crooked,
Shoulders begged to sag,
So Helen started pulling books,
In a wheeled luggage bag.

As Helen grew, homework did too,
So she had to start,
Pushing her school things to and fro,
In a shopping cart.

What work is was to take work home.
Helen must improve.
She began driving through the halls,
A fork-lift to move.

Soon tractors towed her homework load.
Still she found no luck.
Now Helen had to haul books home,
In a pick-up truck.

Yet nothing stopped the work load’s growth,
The small truck overran.
The girl needed to come to class,
In a moving van.

Finally homework reached its height,
When school closed in the fall.
Teachers had assigned so much work,
Helen couldn’t move at all.

2ndGraders #22

Bradley's Odyssey Chapter Two

Chapter Two
The Earthquake

The floor shook; the ceiling shook; and the walls shook. Bradley stumbled away from the shaking drinking fountain. Trashcans tipped over, and dust rained from the swaying lights.
Burp! Burp! Burp! At last, the earthquake alarm sounded to state the obvious. The school was in the midst of a major earthquake.
Having been through umpteen earthquake drills, Bradley knew he should either duck under a desk or stand in a doorway. But how could he? With the world rocking around him, he could only stand in the hall, legs spread like a sailor on a tossing ship, trying not to topple over.
After fifteen seconds, the quaking stopped. Now Bradley had two choices, head for the playground or rejoin his class.
“I’d hate to miss all the action in the room,” he told himself, and he started back down the hall.
Ribbons of students streamed past Bradley as he fought his way to his classroom. He stood outside the door and listened. Something was terribly wrong. Not a sound came from inside the room. No one was laughing; no one was joking around. He put his ear to the door. Miss Smartt wasn’t even shouting orders.
Cautiously, Bradley opened the door. He took two steps forward and froze. His toes hung over the edge of wide, jagged crack that split the classroom floor end to end.
Bradley stepped backward and dropped to his knees. He peered into the chasm. Black smoke blocked his view, but a low rumble came from far, far, below. He looked from one corner of the classroom to another.
“Miss Smartt and my entire class are gone,” he said aloud. “This earthquake fault must have swallowed them.”
Again the walls rattled. The florescent lights swayed, and the water in the fish tank sloshed onto the shelf.
Bradley dove under one of the few remaining desks.
While the room shook, puffs of smoke rose from the crack. They exploded into dark mushrooms against the ceiling. Now amid the rumble and roar came a new sound.
Thumpety...Thumpety...Thumpety.
“Horses!” said Bradley.
Thumpety...Thumpety...Thumpety.
“And they’re coming this way!”
More smoke belched from the fissure as the galloping grew louder and louder. Suddenly two charcoal-black steeds sprang out of the crack. Their hooves pounded on the classroom floor. Steam shot from flaring nostrils. Their long manes whipped the air as they raised their heads and let out piercing screams.
Four black, marble eyes fixed on Bradley. The horse team pranced forward, drawing a shiny, black chariot into the classroom. In the chariot stood a figure dressed in black armor. A black helmet covered his head. The figure pulled the reins, and the horses stopped inches from where Bradley hunkered.
Bradley’s sweat turned cold. He peered upward. “I-I think visitors are supposed to sign in at the office,” he said.
The figure in black raised a fist. He thumped his chest plate that bore a gold letter F. Laughter boomed from beneath the helmet. “Visitor?” he said. “No, mortal, I’m no visitor. I belong at this school. I belong in every school. For I am Flunk, God of Failure, Forgetfulness and Hurt Feelings. I’m Lord of Losers, Laziness, and the Land of the Underworld. Tell me your name, mortal.”
Bradley gulped. “Bradley,” he peeped. “And I’m not lord of anything. I’m just a B-average student in this classroom.”
At the mention of this name, the horses reared. They scratched the air with their hooves. Their whinnies sent shivers up Bradley’s spine.
“Bradley?” the dark figure exclaimed. Again peals of laughter came from the helmet. “This is Bradley? This sniveling, scrawny boy in short pants is the hero, Bradley? This crawling creature, who the gods call the most cunning, courageous mortal on Earth, is Bradley? Tell me you’re kidding.”
Bradley shrugged. “Perhaps you have the wrong Bradley,” he said.
“Bradley Zimmerman? Room Nine?” Flunk said. “You’re the right Bradley, all right. Which means I created that lovely earthquake and hauled this class to the Underworld all for nothing.”
“You made the earthquake?”
“It’s all my fault,” said the god. “But my trip to the upper world has been a waste of time. I failed to capture the one mortal I was after--you, the great hero, Bradley.”
Bradley drew in a long breath. “Me? What do you want me for? I’m not great. I’m no hero.”
Again the dark god pounded the F on his chest. “Because according to the oracle, Intercom, you are a threat to my plan,” he said. “The Fates have let you escape this time, Bradley. But rest assured, we will meet again. And when that time comes I, Flunk, God of Failure, will not fail a second time to stop you.”
“But I wasn’t doing anything,” said Bradley. “I was just getting a drink of water.”
The black figure yanked the reins. A plume of smoke rose to the ceiling as the horses turned and leaped into the chasm, pulling the Lord of the Underworld behind them.
Bradley rubbed his eyes. “I must to seeing things,” he said. “Maybe I’ve been playing too many video games. I bet my teacher and class are out on the playground with everyone else.”
Bradley’s chair stood nearby. Grabbing his backpack off the back, he stood and stumbled toward the classroom door. In the doorway, he turned to watch the crack in the floor begin to close. Narrower and narrower it became, until it was a slit, until it was gone completely.

MVP*:the Magellan Voyage Project

Adam Story tries to circumnavigate the world in forty days by taking only surface transportation. If he can do it, he'll be the youngest human ever to do so and 4 million dollars richer. Read more about Adam's journey in the book MVP*: Magellan Voyage Project,

Bradley's Odyssey Chapter One

Chapter One
Too Hot To Hoot

Bradley’s arms stuck to the desktop. His armpits were sopped, and his feet squished in his sneakers. A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek, off his chin, and plopped onto his science test.
“It’s too hot to think,” Bradley told himself. “It’s too hot to read. It’s too hot to write. It’s too hot to hoot.”
The next question lay below the wet spot on his paper.
5) What planet is closest to the sun?
Bradley checked the thermometer attached outside the window. “It’s too hot to remember,” he said. “The mercury is going to burst out the top of that thing.”
He reached into his desk, tore off the end of a Mars Bar and popped it into his mouth. The next question read:
6) What planet is called the ‘red planet’?
“How should I know?” he said. “It’s just too hot to take a test.”
On the playground, ripples of heat rose off the asphalt. The effect reminded Bradley of a lake, which reminded him of water, which reminded him of the drinking fountain in the hallway--the tall cooler that shot out a high arch of H2O--which reminded him of his terrific thirst.
He folded his test into a fan and waved it before his face. “Would the teacher let me get a drink in the middle of a quiz?” he wondered. “Not a chance. So I’ll ask to go to the Boys’ Room. That might work.”
Miss Smartt, his teacher, sat behind her desk, grading papers.
“Miss Smartt? The Boys’ Room. I gotta go,” Bradley called out. “It’s an emergency. I can’t wait.”
The teacher raised her head. Instead of answering Bradley, however, she remarked, “Class, I’ve just been checking the spelling tests you took this morning. What happened? You all made many mistakes. Some of you missed every word. Let’s put on our Thinking Caps and try a little harder on the science quiz. OK? Bradley, make is snappy.”
Bradley hurried out the door. The drinking fountain stood halfway down the hall. As he hastened toward it, he heard the hum of its motor, keeping the water icy cold.
“It’s too hot to listen to teachers,” he said. “It’s too hot to try. It’s too hot to hoot.”
Once at the fountain, he pressed his bare legs against the frosty, metal sides. He pushed the silver button on top. A worm of frigid water spouted out. Bradley leaned over. He puckered his parched lips as if to kiss the cascading stream.
“I’ll drink the reservoir dry,” he said. “I’ll drink until my belly bursts.”
Closer and closer he drew to the nozzle. The water wet the tip of his nose.
That’s when the earthquake hit.

2ndGraders #21

WT Melon Classroom Observation 5:

"No fair is the most common phrase said by students in all classrooms in the world."

Author! Author2!

WT Melon Alphabet: R

R is for Roger: Roger was the class "pain-in-the-neck" When Roger was outside cleaning erasers, the Chalk Dust Genie suddenly appeared in a cloud of chalk dust. Read what happened next in The Classroom At the End of the Hall.

Author! Author!

Beware! It's April Fools Day!

Wonderful Ones,
Hit on this link Beware! to find out about some classroom creatures that could be lurking in your classroom.
All the best, Walter Teach Melon