Teacher's Pet Read Free Page B

questions.
    â€œGoing blind has meant a lot of changes for me. Let me introduce you to the newest one. Scout, come.”
    Scout springs into action, happy to be doing something. He trots over to Mr. Carlson and sits at his feet.
    â€œScout is my guide dog.”
    The dog looks up at the sound of his name, his mouth open and tongue hanging out. He is so sweet!
    â€œWhen I have to walk somewhere, Scout acts as my eyes. I give him a direction, like forward, left, or right, and Scout walks that way. His most important job is to keep me safe. He guides me around things, like chairs that aren’t pushed in or garbage cans on a sidewalk.”
    Mr. Carlson leans over and picks up the handle attached to Scout’s harness. Scout stands up. He’s ready to go to work.
    â€œWhen this harness is on, Scout is working. Do not call his name, pet him, whistle, throw things, bark, meow—nothing. If he is distracted, he can’t do his job properly.”
    Darn. What’s the point of having a dog in the room if we have to ignore him?
    â€œScout, forward.”
    With his head up high and eyes ahead, Scout leads Mr. Carlson down the center aisle. In the middle of the room, Mr. Carlson says, “Scout, right,” and the dog turns to the right. Mr. Carlson hesitates, feeling the air with his hand, then turns right.
    â€œWhat do you do in the halls?” I ask. “They’re hard enough to walk in even if you can see.”
    The class laughs, and Mr. Carlson smiles. “Who’s speaking?” he asks.
    â€œMe. Maggie MacKenzie.”
    â€œLet’s just say the halls are a challenge, Maggie. Scout, forward.”
    Scout leads Mr. Carlson forward a few more steps, then stops. They have reached the edge of the room and are standing in front of the counter that runs below the windows.
    â€œGo on, Scout,” Mr. Carlson instructs. “Forward.”
    Scout tilts his head to one side. He’s confused. If he keeps walking, Mr. Carlson is going to run right into the counter.
    â€œYou can’t go any farther,” I say. “You’re at the edge of the room.”
    Mr. Carlson reaches out and knocks his hand on the mice cage. “Oh. Thanks. I guess that’s what Scout was trying to say, too.” His face gets a little red. I think he’s embarrassed. I can tell Scout and Mr. Carlson haven’t been working together for very long.
    â€œWhat are all the animals for?” I ask.
    â€œMeet Carlson’s Critters.” He places his hand on top of the mice cage. “I grew up with small pets like these. We lived in an apartment, and we weren’t allowed to have dogs or cats. I loved these little guys. I almost got thrown out of seventh grade for bringing a gerbil to school in my shirt pocket.”
    I think he’s my dream teacher.
    Scout’s nose quivers as he smells the rodents, but he doesn’t move. I’m impressed. Most of the dogs I know would have jumped up, put their paws on the counter, and knocked over a cage by now.
    â€œI’m looking for a volunteer,” Mr. Carlson says. “I need someone to clean out these cages and help with the critters.”
    My hand shoots up in the air. Scout looks at me and tilts his head to the side.
    â€œIf nobody is interested, the janitors said they would keep doing it, but I think it might be fun...”
    I wave my whole arm. I was born to do this—pick me! Pick me!
    Then it hits me. Oh , duh. Oh , double duh-duh. He can’t see my hand. He can’t see me.
    â€œI’ll do it!” I shout.
    Scout smiles and wags his tail with excitement.
    â€œLet me guess,” Mr. Carlson says. “Maggie MacKenzie. Excellent. That takes care of the introduction. I need someone to pass out the textbooks that are on my desk. We are going to start the year with a quick review of the human body. Open to chapter six, and get out your notebooks. Our first unit is ‘The Eye.”’

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