“Something’s up with Mr. Acevedo,” Red said.
“What makes you say that?”
We were walking down Niagara Drive on our way to school. I was wearing my Dr. Poo-Poo costume.
Today was presentation day.
“Something’s up, Mason Irving.”
“He seemed fine to me.”
During yesterday’s game, the whole time it was raining buckets for Lockport, Coach Acevedo was clapping and cheering and pumping his fists.
But the thing is, when Red says something’s up with someone, something is almost always up. One time, he did the something’s-up thing with Suzanne, and the next day, she came down with the flu and was laid up for a week. Another time, he did the something’s-up thing with my mom, and later that night, she told me how she had to fire three teachers. Last spring, he did the something’s-up thing with Ms. Darling, and as it turns out, she was waiting to hear from her daughter, who was about to give birth.
Mr. Acevedo hadn’t been in school the last two days because of the teacher workshops. We’d only seen him at the games. But he seemed exactly the same to me … not that I’d noticed when something was up with the others.
“Something’s up, Mason Irving.”
* * *
Something was up with Mr. Acevedo.
Walking into Room 208 on presentation day, I expected to see stage lights, theater curtains, and a television studio or a movie set projected on the board. I also expected to see Mr. Acevedo wearing a tuxedo or dressed like an usher or a film director.
But no. None of that.
I checked the board:
I’ll explain everything once everyone is here.
Mr. Acevedo was at his desk. He wasn’t reading a book. He wasn’t wearing his sign. He didn’t have his legs propped up. He just sat there looking like … looking like an ordinary teacher.
Ms. Yvonne was in the room, too, like she always was now during ELA. She sat on a rolling chair next to Red’s seat with a stack of folders in her lap. For the last two days, while Mr. Acevedo was out, Red had gone with Ms. Yvonne. Red always went with Ms. Yvonne when the teacher was absent.
“You okay?” I asked Red.
He nodded. “Thanks, Mason Irving.”
We headed in and sat down.
Grace walked in holding a cardboard cutout of a Fathead-size ear. Hunter and Attie arrived together—he had a saxophone and a flute, she had drumsticks and a small keyboard. Danny came in with a ginormous bowl of restaurant mints. That was his and Diego’s topic: restaurant mints. Melissa wheeled in a large rolling suitcase. X walked in wearing a 1960s wig and carrying a naked mannequin under his arm like a football.
Everyone paused by the door.
Red was right.
Something was up with Mr. Acevedo.
“Spill it, Teach,” Declan said. “What’s going on?”
We all sat in the meeting area. I was on a beanbag in front of the couch. Red sat on the lip of the bathtub next to X. Mr. Acevedo was in his spot.
“Let’s hear it, Mr. A.,” Zachary said. “What’s the deal?”
Mr. Acevedo glanced at Ms. Yvonne in her rolling chair by the door and pulled back his hair. “Nunca digas de esa agua no beberé.”
“Never say don’t drink that water,” Danny translated. “What’s that?”
“Never say from that water I will never drink.” Mr. Acevedo spoke softly.
“What does it mean?” Trinity asked.
“It means don’t say you’ll never do something because someday you may have to do it.” He pulled back his hair again. “That’s the position I’m in.”
“Spill it, Teach,” Declan said again. “What’s up?”
“It’s so disrespectful.” Mr. Acevedo shook his head. “But it’s out of my hands.” He pulled out a booklet from underneath his iPad. “We have to postpone the presentations again until next Wednesday.”
“Is that what I think it is?” Mariam asked, motioning to the booklet.
“It is,” Mr. Acevedo said. “We have to take an ELA benchmark in here on Monday. All the fifth graders in the district are taking it. I just spent the last two days learning all about how to administer a test, report the data, and interpret the results. Fun times. Then yesterday afternoon, I got the e-mail about the benchmark.”
He got the e-mail during the game. That’s exactly what happened. Red picked up on it.
“But we haven’t done any test prep,” Attie said.
“I knew this was going to happen.” Avery slapped her armrest. “I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen. Once they get our scores, they’re—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mr. Acevedo interrupted. “Hold on. Attie, Ms. Goodman, stop.” He rolled up the booklet. “We’re not freaking out in here over this. You’re going to do fine. I guarantee it.”
“Just like you guaranteed we’d win a game this season,” I said.
The words came out on their own. I wished them back the moment they left my lips.
“My bad.” I swallowed.
“It’s all good, Rip,” Mr. Acevedo said. He gripped the booklet with both hands. “For the next few days, I’m expected to review with you, and it’s probably in my best interest to do so.”
“Your best interest?” X said.
“My best interest, X,” Mr. Acevedo said. He glanced at Ms. Yvonne. “Apparently, I’m still neglecting my teacher duties. I’m still not being a good little soldier.” He waved the booklet. “The changes I started making in here after Back-to-School Night weren’t even close to being sufficient. I wasn’t even close to being on the same page as outside forces.” He chuckled. “Some of your parents—how should I put this—some of your parents like to be involved. Very involved. They take a hands-on approach to what goes on in school.”
“Whose parents?” Grace asked.
Mr. Acevedo shook his head. “Apparently, I’m required to have you answer questions in these every day.” He patted the cover of the booklet. “Then I’m required to administer practice assessments every Friday. Then I’m required to submit biweekly progress reports for each of you, reports that identify the skills you’re performing above grade level, at grade level, or below grade level.”
“What does all that mean?” Grace asked.
Mr. Acevedo chuckled. “It means if teachers are required to do all that, then there’s absolutely no time to teach. Which is why once we get past this silliness—and it is silliness—we’re going right back to doing what we’ve been doing and…”
He flung the booklet toward the closet.
“No.” Mr. Acevedo stood up. “I’m not doing this to you. No way.” He drew a circle in the air with his finger. “You came in here today excited for school, and I’m not taking that away. Not like…” Again he pulled back his hair and looked over at Ms. Yvonne. “We’ll review—or pretend to review—today, tomorrow, and Friday, but before we start down that road, we’re seeing a few presentations. I need to see a few presentations. Who wants to be my first victim?”
Hands went up. Many hands.
But before Mr. Acevedo could pick someone, Avery was rolling to the front of Room 208.
We were presenting.