a very good imagination. Ms. Bourgeois does, too, and I suspect Ms. Keller thought as much.”
Mr. Rodriguez went on, but I was savoring the words “smart,” “creative,” and “good imagination,” like a delicious ice cream cone. After all, I didn’t hear that kind of stuff too often. Was he telling me the truth, or just trying to make me feel good? If Ms. Bourgeois thought I was so smart, then why was she always yelling at me, just like Ms. Keller did last year?
Mr. Rodriguez was still talking about that awful math test. I wondered if somehow they knew about it in China.
“Your math quiz artwork actually just shows how imaginative you can be!” he said. “But daydreaming can get you into trouble, can’t it?”
“Daydreaming shouldn’t be a crime, Mr. Rodriguez!”
I protested.
“Paige…” Mr. Rodriguez waited until I looked up before he continued. “We want to help you be the best Paige you can be. It’s harder for some students to do things like planning and paying attention than it is for others. They might just come more naturally to other kids.”
“My dad says I can pay attention when I want to,” I said. “After all, he says I would watch Star Warrior all day, every day, if I could. That’s true, I would—because it’s important to me. You know, it’s kind of like this Dr. Kelsey thing: I want to meet her so much that I know I am going to work very hard on my paper. I’m going to apply myself this time.”
Mr. Rodriguez scratched his chin. “Well,” he said, “I believe you. Have you given any thought to how you are going to approach this paper? What will you do first?”
“I don’t know—I guess I’ll just do it.”
Mr. Rodriguez, however, was determined to talk about how I would do it. “Did Ms. Bourgeois suggest an outline first, or does she just want the finished product right before the assembly?”
“I can’t remember exactly… but it can’t be shorter than three pages, and she wants illustrations. I think an outline is due this Friday and the draft next Friday. Anyway, there’s three whole weeks until the actual paper is due. That’s a long time.”
“I have an idea,” Mr. Rodriguez said thoughtfully. “I can see how much you want to meet Renee Lastrapes. If it turns out that even with such a strong incentive, things don’t go quite the way you want, well… will you consider some other options?”
“Sure! No problem!”
“Good girl!” he said, standing up. “Now remember, if you have any trouble, come talk to me. You just tell Ms. Landry that I said it was okay for you to come see me anytime. Anytime at all.”
I blushed. The thought of being able to drop in on Mr. Rodriguez “anytime at all” made me feel pretty good. Maybe he liked me. I stole a glance at him as he got up to leave. He was shuffling around his desk. Out of the corner of my eye he looked a lot like Captain Stone Griffith. Boy, was Breanna going to be impressed!
“Thanks, Mr. Rodriguez!” I called, skipping out of his office. “See you later!”
On the way back to class, though, I started to feel bad again. I couldn’t believe my mom actually told Mr. Rodriguez about that AD/HD stuff. My dad would never have done that. I remembered when I told him about what Dr. Learner had said. He really hit the roof!
“What nonsense!” Dad said. “The only problem with you, pumpkin, is that you don’t apply yourself!”
“What does that mean—‘apply myself?’” I asked.
“It just means that you don’t try hard enough. But don’t worry,” Dad said. “Psychologists like Dr. Learner are not real doctors. They have to find something wrong with perfectly normal kids like you and Mark or else they can’t get parents to pay them lots of money to play with their kids once a week. Mark is just high-spirited. He’s a Tom Sawyer type, that’s all.”
I’m not sure what “high-spirited” means, but I’m pretty sure Tom Sawyer is a character on a television show that my dad liked when he was a kid. Anyway, no matter what Dad says, Mark is really hyper. His teachers are always calling Mom about him.
In preschool he ran all around the classroom during story hour. And during his first few weeks of kindergarten, his teacher complained that every time they did art, he mixed all the paints together and snipped the construction paper into such tiny pieces that no one could use it. Once he gets started on an activity, though, there’s no prying him away from it! Unless, of course, you offer him something better, like Mom does.
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