Ignatius MacFarland Read Free Page A

would ever choose.
    As I sat in my science class and listened to Mr. Andriasco tell us about how dinosaurs had evolved into birds, I couldn’t concentrate. Since Ben Kramer was sitting in the desk in front of me, and since Ben Kramer weighs about fifty more pounds than I do and Mr. Andriasco couldn’t see me from the chalkboard if Ben was sitting in front of my desk, I was doodling in my notebook instead of taking notes. I couldn’t help it. When I get upset about something, I can’t seem to concentrate on anything except what’s bothering me. And right then, I was drawing spaceships and aliens and whole new worlds in my notebook because that’s what was on my mind.

    “Evolution takes a very, very,
very
long time,” I heard Mr. Andriasco saying as he wrote something on the chalkboard. His voice sounded really far away and echoey to me, like when the TV’s on and you’re about to fall asleep. “All things on this earth evolved through the processes of elimination and mutation. If something was eliminated, its genes ended and it was gone. If something survived, it reproduced and eventually its genes would mutate. And if those new genes made it stronger . . .” Echo echo echo. There were times when Mr. Andriasco could be really interesting but today’s lecture didn’t sound like it was one of them.
    Which is why I was so surprised by what happened next.
    All of a sudden, right as I was drawing a third eye on the alien who was stretching out his hand to shake mine and saying, “Welcome to Gorplock, Iggy,” my notebook flew out from under my pencil.
    “Ah, Mr. MacFarland. I see the world of art is calling to you more strongly than the world of science.”
    I looked up to see Mr. Andriasco standing over me, holding my notebook up to his face, and looking at it. The expression on his face told me that there was a big load of teacher sarcasm headed my way.
    “Perhaps your alien friends here would care to help you with your midterm exams, which you’ll clearly need assistance passing since you don’t seem to think you need to listen to my lecture and take notes.” (Hey, I didn’t say it was going to be
good
sarcasm. He was not a funny guy at all.)
    Mr. Andriasco looked around at my classmates, who all chuckled. I’m sure not one of them found what he said to be the least bit funny but since they wanted to stay out of trouble, they all acted like he was the wittiest guy in the world. Even stupid Frank Gutenkunitz was smiling at him as if Mr. Andriasco were his favorite teacher in all of teacherdom. This is the same Frank Gutenkunitz, mind you, who called Mr. Andriasco “Mole Man” behind his back, because Mr. Andriasco had no chin and a pointy nose and looked like a mole.
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Andriasco,” I said, hoping he would just give me back my notebook and return to the chalkboard. That was my goal.
    Yeah, right, don’t hold your breath.
    “I’m sorry, too, Mr. MacFarland,” he said as he continued to study the drawings in my notebook. “I’m sorry that you’ve decided not to listen to my factually accurate lesson about evolution in favor of misguidedly dreaming about things that have no basis in scientific fact.”
    And then, to my horror, he held out my notebook for the whole class to see, as if he were reading a story from a picture book and showing everyone the drawings. They all leaned forward so that they could get a good long look at my most private doodlings, and then they all burst out laughing. I felt like I was going to throw up.
    “All right, quiet down,” Mr. Andriasco said to the class with a smile that showed he was really pleased with himself. “Mr. MacFarland, I would appreciate it if the only higher form of intelligence you have contact with when you’re in my classroom is me.” And with that, Mr. Andriasco handed me back my notebook and gave me a look that said I’d be in big trouble if he caught me drawing again. Then he walked back up to the chalkboard.
    I looked over