by Dulcinea Norton-Smith –
Jeremy Jack was an incredibly badly behaved little boy. While his school mates took their spelling lists home and practiced hard for their tests, Jeremy took his and tried to make them into anagrams of rude words. When most good children were getting out the glue and glitter to create mini masterpieces for their parent’s Christmas presents, Jeremy was trying to figure out the best way to smuggle slugs into the Christmas pudding. As his class mates worked hard each day and were polite and caring, Jeremy never tired of finding new ways to torture his teachers. It was for this reason that Jeremy’s parents were not exactly looking forward to Parent’s Evening.
As they left to go to their meeting with Jeremy’s teachers, Mum and Dad gave a large wad of money to the babysitter.
“Just don’t let him burn the house down,” Mr. Jack said as they left.
A terrified-looking hamster flew down the stairs with a squeak. The paper airplane it was sitting in crumpled as it hit the wall. Escaping without injury, the hamster scampered into the kitchen and under the fridge. Mrs. Jack sighed and left the house with her husband close behind.
“Byeee,” called Jeremy from the top of the stairs.
The babysitter shot him a horrified look, then hurried into the sitting room, turned the TV up, and blocked the doorway with the sofa.
Fifteen minutes later Jeremy’s parents walked into the big, red, brick school. All around them milled happy smiling parents. They tried not to listen to the snatches of conversation as they passed by.
“I can’t believe Alice is top in math,” said one parent.
“Did you hear what she said about the spelling bee? Luke could win it this year,” said another.
“Always kind and considerate. Beryl always pays attention. I’m so proud!”
With each comment they overheard, Jeremy’s parents walked slower and their heads drooped lower and lower. By the time they reached the door to Jeremy’s classroom, Mrs. Jack had slumped so much that as she walked, her hands dragged on the floor. Mr. Jack’s head hung so low that he could only see his scuffed brown work shoes. Jeremy’s poor parents slumped into the chairs next to the classroom door and waited. Mrs. Jack tried to ignore the butterflies practicing their amazing acrobatic tricks in her stomach and making her sick with nerves. Mr. Jack tried to think about his day at the office and block all thoughts of Jeremy from his mind. The classroom door opened, and the couple worked hard on ignoring the beaming faces of the parents coming out of the room.
Mrs. Jack forced herself to look up. Jeremy’s teacher, Mr. Scott, looked back. The smile on his face slipped off as fast as butter off a hot car roof and was replaced by an apologetic look. “Mr. and Mrs. Jack, come on in.”
Jeremy’s parents stood up slowly as if their bottoms were stuck onto the chairs and their bodies made out of rock. They shuffled into the room after Mr. Scott. The door slammed behind them, sealing their fate and they sat down by his desk.
“So…about Jeremy,” Mr. Scott began.
“Yes,” said Mr. Jack.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Jack.
“Hmmm…” said Mr. Scott.
They all sat in silence, listening to the clock tick. Mr. Jack wished a hole would open up underneath their chairs, and they could drop down all the way through the earth and out the other side. Perhaps in China. Jeremy didn’t know how to get to China. Mrs. Jack wished an elephant would drop from the sky and squash them. They wouldn’t be able to hear what Mr. Scott said if they were trapped under an elephant, and it would be far too heavy for Jeremy to roll off them. It would be safe and warm and quiet being trapped under an elephant.
Mr. Scott took a big breath then began. “Jeremy seems to like art,” he said.
Mrs. Jack brightened up a bit and smiled. Art could bring out Jeremy’s caring and sensitive side.
“Well, the paintings he does show a lot of promise,” said Mr. Scott, “but…perhaps a bit less blood and guts would be good. We are quickly running out of red paint.”
Mrs. Jack slumped again.
“He likes creative writing,” said Mr Scott.
Mr. Jack smiled. He had always hoped for an author in the family.
“He has a very active imagination,” said Mr. Scott. “VERY active. Perhaps he could benefit from writing a little bit less about brain-eating zombies though?”
Mr. Jack slumped. He didn’t particularly want a comic book writer as a son. He had heard they didn’t make very much money.
“History?” asked Mrs. Jack, hopefully.
“Errrm…well he showed a lot of interest when we learned about plagues,” said Mr. Scott, looking apologetic.
“What about his behavior?” asked Mr. Jack, already knowing he wouldn’t like the answer.
“He put worms in the cafeteria spaghetti last week,” said Mr. Scott. “I think it was maggots in the rice the week before.”
“Well, he has always been interested in cooking,” said Mrs. Jack.
“He set off the fire alarm in cooking class by putting his homework in the cake mix then baking it,” said Mr. Scott.
“Oh,'” said Mrs. Jack. “He seems to enjoy school. Does he have many friends? He says you are his favorite teacher ever,” she said, sounding as if she were begging for just a tiny bit of good news.
“He has a lot of friends,” said Mr. Scott. “They seem to find his antics funny. It tends to make him worse. I didn’t realize he liked me. He calls me Mr. Snott.”
“Oh, sorry about that,” said Mr. Jack, looking miserable. “Would time out work? Detention? Writing lines? Seeing the headmistress?”
“Tried it all,” said Mr. Scott. “But I do have one more idea.”
Mr. and Mrs. Jack leaned closer. M.r Scott told them his plan.
The next morning Jeremy came downstairs in his usual way by sliding down on a tea tray then somersaulting off the bottom step, crashing into the hall table, and causing the vase on top to wobble. He ran into the kitchen shouting, “Where’s breakfast? I want chocolate spread on toast with chocolate drops and chocolate milk and chocolate cookies.”
Jeremy’s parents sat at the kitchen table and smiled at him.
“There’s your breakfast,” said Mr. Jack, pointing at an apple and a banana on a plate.
“That isn’t enough to keep me going all day. It’s Sports Day,” said Jeremy.
“Well that’s the thing,” said Mrs. Jack. “Mr. Scott thought maybe you needed to be held back a year or two until you learn how to behave. They don’t do Sports Day in your new class.”
“I’m being held back a year?” asked Jeremy. Mrs. Jack couldn’t help but feel a little bit cheery at the shock in his voice.
“More like five years. It’s back to the nursery class with the three-year-olds for you,” said Mr. Jack happily. “Better change out of that uniform,'” he said and held up a pair of dungarees and a top with The Wiggles on it.
“Ha!” said Jeremy, ignoring the offered clothes. A big smile spread across his face. “No more math, no more reading, no more geography, and no more history. I just get to play all day. Wooohooooo!!”
Jeremy Jack skipped to school that day, happier than he had been in a long time, and Jeremy Jack was always pretty happy – even on his grumpy days. He arrived at school and ran to the nursery class as fast as he could. He would be king of the room. All of the three-year-olds were bound to worship someone as old and cool as Jeremy. He walked into the room and saw a bean bag. Cool! He didn’t even have to sit at a desk. He collapsed onto the bean bag, ready to relax and have a nice lazy day.
“Ooofff!” cried Jeremy as a small, freckly little boy landed on Jeremy’s stomach. “Ooofff, ooofff, ooofff!” Jeremy said as three more small children piled on top. Jeremy began to feel a bit sick.
“Off you get everyone,” said the teacher. “Story time.”
The little bundles climbed off Jeremy and ran to the rug. They sat down in a circle with the rest of their school mates.
“Come on, Jeremy,” called Miss Rogers. “Come and sit with your friends.”
Jeremy pushed his way out of the bean bag and went to join the circle. Story time – this nursery deal was great!
Forty minutes later and three stories about Barney the dinosaur –complete with the “I love you, you love me” songs–Jeremy was beginning to change his mind. This was not exactly exciting. The rest of the day was just as bad. Snack time was not what Jeremy had expected. No chocolate, no cake, just apple slices and raisins. All of the building blocks were too big and chunky to build anything special, all of the paintbrushes were too thick to paint one of Jeremy’s usual masterpiece, and in gym class instead of dodge ball (one of Jeremy’s favorite games) the class had to skip in circles to really annoying music and pretend to be flower fairies. NOT COOL!
“Well, Jeremy?” asked his mother that night. “How was your first day in your new class?”
“Awful, stinking, horrible, and terrible,” grumped Jeremy as he slumped down onto the sofa.
“Oh, well,” said Jeremy’s dad, smiling behind his newspaper. “Only a year to go.”
“Nooooooooooooo!” yelled Jeremy and stomped off to his bedroom.
Jeremy’s mother and father chuckled. “How long should we leave him before we tell him it was just for one day and he’s back in his normal class tomorrow?” asked Mr. Jack.
“Maybe we will leave it until the morning,” said Mrs. Jack, grinning.
Moments later Jeremy walked back into the room looking very sorry. “One more year?” he said. “Perhaps I could be convinced to be good if I can get back to my class a bit faster. Let’s negotiate!”
the end.
Question Time
1. What did Jeremy do to the hamster?
2. Why were Jeremy’s parents so sad as they were walking towards their meeting with Jeremy’s teacher?
3. How did Jeremy react when his parents told him he would be in the nursery class?
4. After one day back in the nursery class, what did Jeremy think?
5. What had Jeremy’s parent’s planned to do?
