Ms. Kransky, my language arts teacher, was one of my favorites, because you could tell she wasn’t just counting the years until retirement. Not that I blame teachers who do that by the way—have you ever tried convincing a bunch of middle schoolers that learning is a good thing? It can’t be easy.
But Ms. Kransky was different. She seemed to really care about making a difference in kids’ lives. She had definitely made a difference in mine, starting with the time she told me that poetry didn’t have to rhyme. That was a major breakthrough. Although song lyrics do have to rhyme. That’s a rule that even my dad’s favorite singer, Bob Dylan, wouldn’t break.
And there was one other thing about Ms. Kransky: She hated cell phones. She claimed she didn’t even own one. She was always complaining about how cell phones and Twitter and Instagram were ruining the lives of young Americans.
Which is why I wanted to talk to her.
I got to class a few minutes early, when she was grading papers.
“Ms. Kransky? Can I talk to you for a second?”
She looked up at me and took off her glasses. “Time’s up.”
I wasn’t sure if she was kidding, but I laughed, just to be safe. Then I pointed at my backpack. “You’ll never guess what I have in here.”
She smiled tiredly. “I don’t really have time to guess, Katie.”
“Oh, right.” I reached into the backpack and took out as many phones as I could hold, which was about five. “Ten kids’ cell phones.”
Ms. Kransky squinted her eyes. “And why do you have these phones?”
“A bunch of us thought that we were becoming dangerously addicted to our phones, so we decided to give them up for a week, just to see if we could do it.”
Ms. Kransky’s eyes went wide, then she did something I’ve never seen her do to any student before.
She gave me a hug.
“Katie, you are something else! A true leader!”
I felt proud, but also a little phony, since the real reason I was doing it was because I insulted Nareem by accident, and Jane promised to sing my song. And the only reason other kids joined in was because Eliza is so pretty.
But there didn’t seem to be any point in dwelling on that stuff right then.
“Thanks,” I said, hugging her back. Then I pointed at my backpack. “And also … I thought maybe it’d be a good idea if you held on to the phones for us.”
“Well, wait just a second,” Ms. Kransky said. “I need a little information here. When did this whole thing happen? What if other kids want to join in? I don’t want this to become one of those exclusive clubs that people feel bad about if they’re not part of it.”
Huh. I hadn’t thought about that.
“I have an idea!” Ms. Kransky said, before I’d said anything. “What if we make an announcement to the whole class today, that it’s a class experiment? All kids are welcome to participate, but those who don’t want to can make their own decision.”
I was thrilled. “That’s a great idea!”
“Great,” Ms. Kransky said. “I just need to call everyone’s parents first.”
Wait a second. “Call everyone’s parents?”
Ms. Kransky laughed. “Of course! The school can’t authorize taking away a student’s personal property without notifying their parents. And some of these kids need their phones for important reasons.”
“I thought you hated cell phones!”
“I do,” Ms. Kransky said. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not necessary sometimes. They can come in wonderfully handy. That’s the thing with wonderful things. People love them so much that they become addicted to them, and then they go from wonderful to horrible.” The class started filing in. “So what do you say? Shall we go for it?”
“Go for what?” butted in Charlie Joe, who had just walked into the room. “Does this have anything to do with this crazy no-phone thing?”
I had a decision to make, and I had to make it fast. I decided to keep the phones myself and forget full-class participation. I didn’t want to have to deal with Charlie Joe, who was sure to be annoying about the whole thing. And no offense to parents, but I couldn’t see how involving them in this experiment could end well.
I stuffed the phones back in my backpack. “Thanks anyway, Ms. Kransky. I’ll just hold on to them.”
“I still recommend you all tell your parents. Now go—I gave you way more than a second—even way more than a minute. When am I going to get these papers graded now?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, this should be interesting,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “Keep me posted. And good luck.”