Hi. I’m Candace Fleming and I’m gonna read to you the first chapter of my book, The Fabled Fourth Graders of Aesop Elementary School. The first chapter is called “The Principal Struggles.”
“The soon-to-be fourth graders at Aesop Elementary School had a reputation for being precocious,” said their former first grade teacher, Mrs. Bucky. She ground her teeth. “High energy,” out of their second grade teacher, Mrs. Chan. The muscle beneath her jaw twitched. “Robust,” agreed their third grade teacher, Mr. Frost. He padded his now all-white hair. “Humph,” snorted Bertha Buns, the lunch room monitor.
“Those kids are just plain naughty.” Because she wasn’t a teacher, Mrs. Buns felt free to speak the truth. Mrs. Buns was right. So special were the incoming fourth graders that no teacher dared set foot in what would soon be their classroom. “Not for love or money,” shivered Miss Bucky. “Not for all the tea in China,” shuttered Mrs. Chan. “Egads, no,” yelped Mr. Frost.
It was the last day of summer vacation and Mrs. Struggles, Aesop Elementary’s principal, was at her wits end. “School starts tomorrow and I still don’t have a fourth grade teacher,” she moaned.
“What am I going to do?” “Have you placed a want ad?” suggested Miss Bucky. “Spoken with the superintendent?” suggested Mrs. Chan. “Talked with the school board?” suggested Mr. Frost. “Ha,” Mrs. Buns snorted again. “Call a zookeeper?” Mrs. Struggles ignored the remark.
Defeated, she shuffled into her office and flopped into her chair. “If Aesop Elementary were bigger,” she thought, “I would have separated the troublemakers long ago.” But the school was small. Only one classroom per grade level so the kids had to stay together.
Rubbing her throbbing temples, she sighed, “How I wish a teacher would walk through that door!” At that precise moment, a breeze blew through the principal’s office. It rustled the papers on her desk, rattled the window blinds and flung open the door to reveal a tall, dark man wearing a pith helmet and clutching a copy of the morning’s want ads.
“I am Mr. Jupiter,” he said. “I’ve come about the teaching job.” Mrs. Struggles rubbed her eyes. “Is this a dream?” she wondered. But, no, Mr. Jupiter was still there. “You are looking for a fourth grade teacher, aren’t you,” he asked. Mrs. Struggles nodded.
Her spirits suddenly soared. Waving Mr. Jupiter into a seat she said, “Tell me a bit about yourself.” “Where to begin,” he replied. “My first job was as an assistant dog groomer aboard King Bernard’s yacht, the S.S. Pooch, anchored off the Dalmatian coach.”
“After receiving my degree in nano-thermal economics from Dumber University, I led an expedition in search of the dodo bird. Later I conducted the Timbuktu Philharmonic Orchestra, worked as a translator for Big Foot, became th