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“I am?” Stephen asked.
“Certainly,” said Mrs. Jewls. “The tie didn’t make you important. It doesn’t matter what you wear on the outside. It’s what’s underneath that counts.”
“Underneath?” asked Stephen.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Jewls. “If you want to be great and important, you have to wear expensive underpants.”
“Oh,” said Stephen.
Mrs. Jewls had on a flowered tank top and a grass skirt.
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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.”
