My Teacher Is an Alien Read Free

sighed. "Susan, you have to un derstand that not everyone appreciates the finer things in life," he said.
    I guess that wa s as much support as I could ex pect. You know how teachers stick together.
    When I got back to the room that day, it was time for our math test. I finished the test early. I was still feeling cranky about Mr. Smith's reaction to my piccolo, so I decided to write a note about it to Stacy.
     
    "Mr. Smith is a total creepazo id! ' I wrote. That felt so good I decided to keep going. "He has totally ruined this class. Our whole year has gone down the tubes. The man is a total philistine!"
    Philistine was a word I had just learned from my father. It means someone who has no appreciation for art and beauty. I thought it was a neat word, and I was using it every chance I could get.
    A few more sentences and I was really wound up. This note was turning into a humdinger! At the bottom I drew an extra-tall, extra-skinny Mr. Smith holding his ears while I played the piccolo.
    It wasn't a very nice picture. But when I was all done I felt better. I slipped the note under my test and waited for a chance to pass it to Stacy. I began thinking about how she'd react to my picture. I imagined her laughing so hard she fell off her chair.
    Unfortunately, while I was daydreaming, Mr. Smith started collecting our papers. By the time I saw him walking up my row, it was too late to move the note. As I watched in horror, he snatched up my test—and my note along with it.
    A wave of terror washed over me. I watched Mr. Smith walk away with my nasty note.
    I closed my eyes and swallowed.
    I was doomed.

 

     
     
Microsoft Corporation

CHAPTER THREE - An Unearthly Noise
     
    The only thing I could think about for the rest of the day was how I was going to get that note back!
    When we went outside for recess, I pulled Stacy aside to tell her what had happened.
    "What am I going to do?" I wailed.
    "I don't know," she said. "But you'd better do something because if that note has my name on it, Mr. Smith will get mad at me, too."
    "Maybe he won't see it," I said.
    Stacy snorted. "Are you kidding? He's checked every single paper we ever handed in."
    Stacy was right. She always was when it came to that kind of stuff.
    Actually, the heavy-duty checking was probably the best thing about Mr. Smith: he always handed back our papers. Of course, they never had a note or comment on them, just lots of red circles around the mistakes and a grade at the top. I didn't mind that on math papers, but it really annoyed me when it came to my writing. When Ms. Schwartz marked our stories and essays, she had always penciled in comments that showed she was paying attention to our ideas.
    When Mr. Smith handed back an essay, it looked as though he'd been sitting next to an ax murder while he was marking it. The man must have bought red pens by the case. But all he used them for was to circle missing commas and misspelled words. He treated our essays like spelling tests.
    I ask you, what's the point of writing something if that's the only response you get?
    Finally I decided to try to get back into the building to see if I could snatch my note while Mr. Smith was still outside. If it had been Ms. Schwartz, I would have just asked if I could go to the bathroom. But Mr. Smith didn't believe in letting you off the playground for such a frivolous reason. He said by the time you were in sixth grade, you should know enough to take care of things like that in advance. The first three days after Mr. Smith came we had a line of worried-looking kids standing at the door each time recess ended.
    The second-best method for getting off the playground was getting sick.
    "I'll see you inside " I said to Stacy. Then I clutched my stomach, squinched up my face, and staggered over to where Mr. Smith was standing.
    Later, I remembered that he was looking straight at the sun. But right then I was too worried about the note to pay attention to the fact that what he was doing