Clauda Kishi, Middle School Dropout (4 page)

"I - " I started to tell Sandra Katz I wouldn't be able to take the class. But the thought of turning down a once-in-a-lifetime chance was too awful. "I'm not exactly sure if I'll be able to take the class," I said, instead. "I'll have to let you know." "Oh!" she said, sounding surprised. "Is there a problem with scheduling?" She seemed genuinely concerned.
"No, it's just that I have to check with my parents," I explained. "I haven't cleared it with them. Yet." I didn't want to tell her I hadn't even told them about it.
"Well, I certainly hope you'll be able to attend," said Sandra Katz. "Ms. McKay did seem eager to have you in the class." I felt that fluttering again. Serena McKay wanted me! "I'll let you know," I promised. I hung up and paced around the kitchen. How was I going to convince my parents to let me take this class? I wanted to study with Serena McKay more than I'd wanted anything in a long, long time. In fact, the last time I remembered wanting something so badly was when I was almost six and had my heart set on owning Singing Susie, this doll that had a tiny tape recorder hidden in her belly. I'd seen her on TV, and for some reason I felt that I just had to have her. Unfortunately, my parents had a rule against buying "junk" that was sold on TV. Still, I had to have Singing Susie. I begged and pleaded and pleaded and begged. I promised to clean my room, to do all my chores, to be good forever.
Finally, my parents knuckled under and gave me Singing Susie for my birthday. I think I played with her for about a day, and then I went back to my 'crayons and watercolors. And, to be honest, I didn't keep my promise. My room is a mess, my' mom still has ,to nag me about my chores, and I wasn't good forever. Maybe for five minutes, maybe for a whole day, but definitely not forever.
Oh, well.
'I was just a little kid then. Now I'm a mature teenager. Maybe I could make a promise I could follow through on. I thought about it, and came up with a terrific idea. I had a math quiz the next day, and Mr. Schubert had said it was an important one. In fact, he'd had one of those little after-class talks with me, 'during which he told me that failing this quiz would have "major consequences" for me. I wasn't sure what he'd meant by that, but it hadn't sounded good.
I'd been meaning to study for the test, but now I had even more motivation. Suppose I studied really, really hard and did really, really well on the quiz? I could bring it home to show my parents as evidence of my intentions to work harder in school.
Would it work? It had to. No way was I going to miss out on taking Serena McKay's course.
,I decided not to waste any time, so I grabbed a glass of milk and headed upstairs. Then I sat at my desk and went through an entire~ bag of Milky Way miniatures as I studied for the quiz. I studied nonstop until the BSC meeting,, and then studied some more after my friends had left. (I didn't say a thing to anyone about the quiz or about Serena McKay's class. I didn't want to jinx myself.) Not everything I read made complete sense to me. And even though I worked through all the problems at the end of the chapter, I wasn't sure I'd done every one of them right. Still, by the time I closed my math book -late that night, long after a break for 'dinner - I felt pretty sure that I could ace that silly little quiz. In fact, I could hardly wait for math class the next day.
Well, math class came soon enough, and so did the quiz. I did my best on it, but I had a sinking feeling that all that studying hadn't done much good: Fifteen minutes before class was over, Mr. Schubert told us to finish up. I scratched out one last wild guess of an answer to the final question.
"Okay, people, pass your paper to the person on your right," said Mr. Schubert. He strolled up and down the aisles, taking papers from kids who didn't have anybody on their right and delivering them to kids on the other side of the room.
I passed my paper to Rick Chow, giving him a pleading look as I did. Mia Pappas passed her paper to me. Then Mr. Schubert started going over the quiz, discussing each question and giving its correct answer. I checked Mia's paper carefully, and noticed that almost all of her answers were correct. But every time I snuck a peek over at Rick, I saw him making big red "X's" on my paper. When we finished, Mr. Schubert told us to count the wrong answers and put a grade on the top of the paper. I gave Mia a ninety-two. I craned my neck, but I couldn't see what Rick had given me.
I found out, though. Mr. Schubert gave me that gesture again as class was ending, and when I stopped at his desk he held up my paper. It had a big red forty-five on it. I stood stock still and stared at it. I felt like crying.
I think Mr. Schubert knew it, too. He spoke very nicely to me. "Claudia, did you study for this test'?" I nodded, but I couldn't speak.
"I see," he said. "Well then, what that tells me is that you really don't understand the material. I'm going to recommend - no, I'm going to require - that you find a tutor and do some catching up." I nodded again. I was already thinking that my plan to impress my parents was ruined. How would I ever convince them. now? No way could I even mention the math quiz.
"I'm going to send this quiz home with yoU, along with a note. I want your parents to sign the quiz so I can be sure they understand what's happening here. All right?" He peered up at me.
That did it. A couple of tears squeezed out, before I could stop them.
"It's okay, Claudia," Mr. Schubert said gently. "I'm sure you'll do fine as soon as you have a little extra help." He had no idea that my life had just been ruined.
I nodded one last time, took the quiz and the note, and ran out the door.
That night, after dinner, I showed my parents the quiz and the note and we had a long family conference about my problems in math. I also broke down and told them about the trouble I was having keeping up in my other subjects. I thought they'd be mad, but I think they saw how upset I was. So instead of being mad, they were just sad - which was even worse, in a way.
"Oh, honey," said my mother, patting my hand. "I had no idea you were having such a hard time in school." "We'll find you a good tutor," said my dad, patting my other hand. (I was sitting between them on the couch.) Janine reached over and patted my foot (she was sitting on the rug). "There's a girl in my physics class who's looking for tutoring jobs," she offered. "Her name's Rosa. I think you might like her, and she'd be a very competent tutor." "I know you can catch up if you put your mind to it," added my mom supportively.
I hoped she was right. I was beginning to wonder. Meanwhile, I still wanted to take that art class. "Listen, there's something I need to ask you," I began, crossing my fingers.
They listened carefully to' everything I told them. And I think they both felt proud when I told them about Serena McKay's opinion of my work. But neither of them seemed to think it was a good idea for me to take the class.
I felt like I was six years old again, begging for Singing Susie. "This class means so much to me," I pleaded. "And I won't have another chance like this anytime soon. Please?" Dad and Mom exchanged a look. I could see that they wanted to say yes. "It just seems that the last thing you need right now is anything that will distract you from your schoolwork," said Mom.
I had a sudden flash -' a great idea., "How about if we see it as a motivation instead of as a distraction?" I asked. "I want to take this class more than anything. How about this? I'll make a promise to you. If you let me take Serena McKay's class, I'll do anything it takes to 'bring my grades up. Anything!" I meant every word I was saying, and I think my parents knew it. They exchanged another look, and after a few endless seconds I saw my mother give my father a tiny nod.
I knew, even before she spoke, that the answer was yes.
Chapter 6.
"Milky Way?" I asked. "Or do you prefer Snickers?" I rummaged around in the bottom of my desk drawer.
"I'm fine, thanks," said Rosa.' "Really. I had an apple before I came over." I thought about explaining my theory that chocolate is an important part of everyone's daily diet, but decided against it. Rosa looked like the type who might come back at me with a full-scale lecture on the Nutritional Needs of the Average Adolescent.
Rosa, as I'm sure you've figured out, is my tutor. My parents don't waste any time, that's for sure. Once they'd heard I needed a tutor, that was it. After our family meeting, Mom called Janine's classmate and set up a tutoring session for the very next afternoon.
Janine had come home in' time to be there when Rosa arrived and to make introductions. She and Rosa seemed to be two of a kind, even though Rosa is a little older. She's an actual college freshman. As Janine showed Rosa where to hang her jacket, they made what I could only guess were physics jokes, using words like "inertia," and "mechanical advantage." They cracked themselves up, but I didn't even giggle. I felt as if I came from a different planet.
Not that Rosa is some brainy nerd. She's cool. She even knows a thing or two about how to dress. That first day, she was wearing overalls, Doc Martens, and a funky black newsboy cap, turned sideways. Her black hair is cropped short and she has that "waif" look, with big dark eyes and pale skin.
Anyway, there we were up in my room. I'd been stalling as long as I could, but that offer of a candy bar seemed to be the last dodge I could come up with, and Rosa knew it.
"I think we should start," she said softly, giving me an "I-know-what-you're-up-to" look.
"Okay," I said meekly, remembering the promise I'd made to my parents.
"First of all, I'll have to assess your needs. Which subject do you feel you need the most help in?" Rosa leaned toward me and looked me straight in the eye.
I gulped. "Um, math?" I said. "I just failed a test." "Okay," said Rosa, writing something in a little book she'd pulled out of her backpack. "And what about science? Are you keeping up?" "Not really," I confessed.
She made another note.
"Social studies?" she asked gently.
I shook my head. "I'm a little behind," I answered.
"What about English?" Suddenly, I almost felt like crying. I couldn't look at Rosa.
"Having a little trouble there too, huh?" she asked sympathetically.
I nodded.
"It's okay, Claudia, don't worry," said Rosa. "We'll work really hard and you'll be caught up before you know it." She smiled at me encouragingly.
I wanted to believe her. "You don't know how far behind I am," I said.
"Why don't you tell me about it, subject by subject." She pulled my math book off the top of the pile. "So, where are you, and where are you supposed to be?" she asked, flipping the book open.
We went through each subject, discussing the problems I'm having. She looked over my last math test (without commenting on that forty-five, thankfully!), checked out my social studies notes, and read through an essay I'd written for English. I'd left my science notebook at school, in my locker, but I explained to her about how hard it was for me to remember the different kinds of rocks.
She kept making little notes in her book, and murmuring sympathetic comments as I explained how lost I felt in every subject. Finally, we finished going over my situation. I leaned back' and heaved a huge sigh. Then I helped myself to a Milky Way bar. I offered one to Rosa, too, but she shook her head. She was looking over the notes she'd made.
"So, how does it look?" I asked, a little anxiously. "Will the patient survive?" I smiled, to show her I was joking.
She didn't smile back.
"Claudia," she said. "We have some serious work to do. But I think we can put you back on track." She glanced again at the notes she'd made.' "It's obvious to me that you're very intelligent." "Really?" I asked. It felt great to hear that. I know I'm not dumb, but lately I haven't exactly been feeling brilliant. ' "Really," she repeated, meeting my eyes with a serious look. "However, you are lazy, scholastically speaking. And sloppy. And you have terrible study habits, and no idea of how to go about learning the basics 'and then remembering them. You're smart enough to skate along for awhile, but you're going to take a big fall one of these days if you don't buckle down." "I - I don't usually fail tests," I said in a small voice.
"No, I bet you usually pass them, but not by much. And then you immediately forget everything you just learned. Am I right?" I couldn't deny it. She was onto me.
"I used to be the same way," admitted Rosa. "Believe it or not." "I definitely don't believe that. Janine told me you're the best student in her class!" "I do all right in school," said Rosa. "But it doesn't come naturally to me. I've had to work very hard. But it's worth it, to do well." Would it be worth it to me? I wasn't sure. I glanced around my room, looking at some of my more recent art projects. A still life of fruit, done in oil paints. A sculpture of a cat. A watercolor of my mother's garden. A necklace I'd made out of bottle caps and wooden beads that I'd painted with acrylics. All of those things had taken a lot of work, a lot of concentration. But I'd done it gladly, because, for me, art is always worth it. I didn't know if I could ever come to feel the same way about math, or English.
Rosa and I worked hard that afternoon, tackling my math homework. 'We went over every single problem, and she was incredibly patient. Unlike Janine or Stacey, she explained things to me in a way I could understand. She showed me a new way to check my work so I wouldn't make careless mistakes, 'and taught me a great trick for remembering the names of the different kinds of angles.
By the time Rosa left, I felt as if I really might be able to handle whatever Mr. Schubert threw my way. I even planned to ask him if I could take that quiz over again, in' the hope of bringing my grade up.
I was grateful 'that Rosa left at a little after five, before any of my BSC friends showed up. I wasn't sure if I was ready to tell them about all 'the problems I'd been having in school, and it might 'be awkward to introduce them to my tutor.
As it was, she left in plenty of time. I even had a few minutes to put away my schoolbooks and pull out the goodies I'd saved for our meeting: a big box of Milk Duds, a bag of Sour Patch Kids, and, for Stacey and whoever else was in the mood, some nacho cheeseflavored popcorn.
Then, I opened a drawer and pulled out something I'd 'received in the mail just the day before. I looked down at it and smiled. Today was the day. I wanted to forget about all my troubles in school. I wanted to pretend that everything was fine. I wanted my friends to see me as the fun-loving, happy Claudia they knew and loved. If this didn't do the trick, nothing would! I heard the front door slam, and then the unmistakable sound of Kristy thumping up the stairs. Quickly, I shoved 'the tiny box into my pocket. I'd wait until everyone was there.