Since Dave and Lynsey had been almost shouting at each other in the middle of the cafeteria, you might think that a lot of the other fifth graders in the room would have tuned in and paid attention to the commotion.You might think that a lot of the kids in the lunchroom already knew about the contest.
But if you thought that, you’d be wrong. And you’d be wrong because you don’t understand just how loud, how incredibly noisy it was in the cafeteria during fifth-grade lunch. And not just on this one day. It was noisy during fifth-grade lunch every day.
And it wasn’t noisy only at lunch. Anywhere a bunch of these fifth graders got together, the talking got out of hand.
That’s why it’s time to tell a little more about this particular set of fifth-grade kids.
Because there’s more to tell.There’s always more.
• • •
A school system really is a little like the army—remember? About how kindergarten is sort of like basic training camp?
Because kindergarten was where Dave and the other new recruits first learned the rules. They learned when to sit and when to stand, when to talk and when to hush, when to walk and when to run, when to eat, and nap, and play, and sing, and draw, and everything else.
Because every system needs rules—no rules, no system.
Most of the rules made perfect sense to Dave and the new recruits, especially rules like this: no fighting, no bullying, no shoving, no spitting, no biting, no stealing, no vandalism, no cutting in line, no snowball throwing, and so on.
For most kids, the really serious rules like that weren’t hard at all.Those were the easy ones.
The toughest rules were ones like, “No running in the halls.”
Hard. “No disorderly behavior on the buses.” Also hard.
“No candy or chewing gum.”
Very hard. But nowhere in the forty-four-page Laketon Elementary School Handbook did it actually say, “No whispering, chatting, talking, calling out, yelling, or shouting in classrooms, in the hallways, in the auditorium, or in the lunchroom.”
True, there was a rule about paying attention in class. And there was a rule about being respectful. And there was a rule about being courteous at all times.
And Dave and his classmates obeyed those rules—or at least, they thought they did. It’s just that they all seemed to think they could talk and be courteous—at the same time. And they all seemed to think they could talk and pay attention—at the same time.
Because none of these kids really meant to be disrespectful or disobedient or discourteous. But none of them wanted to stop talking. Ever.
In fact, this group of kids had been given a nickname by the teachers at Laketon Elementary School, and the name had stuck with them ever since they had all been in first grade together.They were “The Unshushables.”
If Laketon Elementary School had really been like the army, then sometime—probably during
second grade—Dave and Lynsey and all the other recruits would have been lined up out on the playground on a cold, rainy morning, and a gruff man with short hair and shiny shoes would have walked up and down in front of them, shouting right into their faces. And he would have shouted something like this:
“YOU DRIVE ME CRAZY! You call
yourselves STUDENTS? You are a
MISERABLE MOB! You are LOUD,
UNdisciplined, and I WILL not
tolerate your NOISE! When you walk
in MY hallways, you do not SHOUT!
You do not WAVE and YELL and
HOOT when you see your friends. At
an assembly in MY school, you do
NOT whisper and giggle and point
and wave and laugh at your own silly
jokes! And when you come to MY
lunchroom, it is NOT a free-for-all
festival of flap-jawed jibber-jabber!
Lunch is a time to SIT and be QUIET
and EAT. I am going to TEACH you
little motormouth MONSTERS proper
school MANNERS if it is THE LAST
THING I DO! DO I MAKE MYSELF
CLEAR?”
“YES, SIR!”
“QUIETER!”
“ Yes, sir !”
But, of course, Laketon Elementary School wasn’t the army.
However, with Mrs. Abigail Hiatt in charge, sometimes it felt that way. She was a tall woman with a long face, curly gray hair, and bright blue eyes, and she had been the principal at Laketon Elementary School for the past thirteen years.
She gave careful orders, set precise goals, and she demanded results from her teachers, from her office staff, from her custodians, from her cafeteria workers, and from her students and their parents, too. Her school never went over its budget, never missed its academic targets, and the place never felt loose or sloppy or disorderly.
Under Mrs. Hiatt’s watchful eye, group after group of children had wandered into Laketon Elementary School as aimless little kindergartners and marched out six years later as perfectly disciplined young students. Under Mrs. Hiatt’s leadership, the place ran like clockwork.
And then the Unshushables came along. In all her years as principal she had never known a group of kids like this.
And for the past five years, Mrs. Hiatt had been trying to make these kids obey the simplest school rule of all: no talking—except when it’s allowed.
Year after year, memos had been sent home to the parents of Dave and his classmates about too much shouting on the school buses.
Year after year, Dave’s grade had been told how to behave before every assembly.
Year after year, all their teachers had stood out in the hallways to try to keep the noise down before and after school, and especially at lunchtime.
This group had even been given a separate lunch period for the past three years in a row: third-grade lunch, fourth-grade lunch, and this year, fifth-grade lunch. Mrs. Hiatt had made that decision. She didn’t want the noisy behavior of this group to infect the other children at her school. Because year after year, the Unshushables lived up to their nickname.
To be honest, a few of this year’s fifth-grade teachers had already given up.They didn’t have any real hope of changing these kids.They were just trying to cope. Because it was already November, so in
six short months the Unshushables would be gone forever, moved along to the junior high, and next year Laketon Elementary School would be quieter. Much quieter.
But Mrs. Hiatt had not given up, not by a long shot. She still had over half a year with these kids, and she intended to use that time.
Every day the principal stalked the fifth-grade hall.“You there—stop shouting!”
At every assembly, she glared. “And I don’t want to hear even a whisper from our fifth graders, is that clear?”
At every fifth-grade lunch, she walked around the cafeteria with a big red plastic bullhorn, and when the noise became unbearable, she pulled the trigger and bellowed, “STUDENTS! YOU ARE TALKING TOO LOUD!”
Mrs. Hiatt felt sure that this constant reminding had to be having an effect on these kids . . . how could it not? After all, these were good kids . . . right? They had to be making progress . . . didn’t they?
She knew she was being very stern with them, but it was for their own good. And Mrs. Hiatt felt sure that sooner or later, these kids would grow up a little—and quiet down a lot.