The Report Card Read Free

kid. So I made a miscalculation. Because I thought that once everyone at school had gotten used to the idea that I was pretending to be a cat, they’d pretty much leave me alone.
    But, of course, that wasn’t the way it worked at school.
    Right away Mrs. Bridge called my mom. My mom got upset, and then she told my dad and he got upset.
    I’ve always loved my mom and dad, but they tend to get excited too easily, especially about school stuff. That was why I always kept one part of myself hidden from them—the smart part. So back when I was in kindergarten, my parents didn’t even know I could read. And really, it hadn’t been that hard for me to keep my smart part a secret. My mom was working for a real estate company and my dad was running his own business, and then there was thehousework and the yard work plus three kids to take care of. Fact: My mom and dad have always been busier than sparrows. I never tried to get attention and I didn’t cause any problems, so everyone left me alone most of the time. I was careful never to give my mom and dad anything to worry about. I spent a lot of time looking at books when I was little, and I’m sure they noticed that. But they must have thought I just liked to look at the pictures. And I also spent a lot of time watching TV.
    But it’s not like I was some kind of weirdo zombie tubehead hermit bookworm, because that would have really made them worry. I had friends at day care and in the neighborhood. And I liked to play soccer and mess around outside. Mom and Dad had thought I was an ordinary kid.
    Then I went to school and turned into KinderKat.
    So my mom and dad got worried and they called the principal, Mrs. Hackney. And then the special education teacher and the guidance counselor got involved, and everyone at school decided I had a learning disability. I could feel how they all started looking at me, and Ididn’t like that. I didn’t want people to think there was something wrong with me. So after two weeks I knew I had to stop being a cat.
    But I didn’t want to start being myself. That seemed dangerous too.
    I thought about it and the idea I got was so simple: Don’t be a cat; be a copycat! I decided that every day I would be like a different kid in my class. I would become a living average of all the other children in my kindergarten.
    So one Wednesday morning, instead of getting down under the table, I picked out one kid to copy. I started doing whatever Stephen Curtis was doing—not exactly but pretty close. And he had no idea I was copying him.
    When Stephen sat on a rug square and watched Susan help Mrs. Bridge pick out the right day of the week to hang on the date board, I sat and watched too.
    When Stephen got out a puzzle, so did I, and I took as long to do my puzzle as it took Stephen to do his.
    When Stephen began playing with blocks, so did I, and I tried to make my building look sort of like Stephen’s.
    When Stephen sat at a table and tried to draw the letter A with a pencil, I sat down nearby and worked on the letter B with a crayon. I could have written any letter perfectly, and hundreds of whole words, too. But I made it look like writing a B was as hard for me as writing that A was for Stephen.
    The morning went by quickly, and I was amazed at how many different things Stephen did. Kindergarten took on a new meaning for me. It had become my laboratory.
    The next day I decided to be like Caitlyn. She threaded beads, and so did I. She played in the dress-up corner, and so did I. When Caitlyn colored some butterflies, I did too, and I even joined Caitlyn and three other girls in a game of tag during outside recess. It was another educational day for me.
    Mrs. Bridge was thrilled about the sudden change in my behavior, and so was the special education teacher, and, of course, so were my parents. And once I turned into an average kid, the pressure stopped.
    However, I was just getting started with my