8.

On Tuesday morning of Thanksgiving week, the day before the pageant, Mrs. Pidgeon wrote another new word on the board, below AUTHENTIC. She wrote FIASCO. She sighed, and stared at the word.

"Dictionaries, class," she instructed, though she hadn't needed to. The second-graders had already reached for their dictionaries and begun turning to the F section.

Barry Tuckerman waved his hand in the air. "I found it!" he called out. When Mrs. Pidgeon nodded to Barry, he stood and read aloud, "A total failure."

Mrs. Pidgeon sighed. "Correct, Barry. Good dictionary work. The word fiasco means a total failure, especially a humiliating one. Say it after me, class."

"Fiasco. Fiasco. Fiasco," the second-graders said aloud.

The gerbils, usually quiet in their cage in the corner, unexpectedly began to fight. They chittered noisily and chased each other in a circle. A paper thumbtacked to the bulletin board suddenly came loose and fluttered to the floor. The radiator hissed. Outside, it was raining in a steady drizzle.

"What's wrong, Mrs. Pidgeon?" asked Beanie. "You look sad. Did we do something wrong?"

"No, no. You children have all worked so hard. I'm very proud of you," Mrs. Pidgeon said. "But I'm worried about the Thanksgiving pageant," she confessed. "I'm afraid it will be a fiasco."

"No, it won't! Look! I got my cast off!" Ben reminded her, holding up his arm. "And my arm works!"

"We sent the invitations," said Felicia Ann. "And, remember, we put turkey stamps on them?"

"The Muriel's done," Barry pointed out. "It turned out great! We only have to hang it up in the multipurpose room."

"The room mother says the cupcakes are all ready for tomorrow afternoon," Gooney Bird said. "And lemonade."

"Yes, you've all done wonderfully. And all of your mothers are coming? I know yours is, of course, Gooney Bird," Mrs. Pidgeon said. "Everyone else? And some dads? And little brothers and sisters?"

All of the children nodded. "And my auntie," Keiko said.

"And my triplets," Malcolm said, making a face. "I hoped they would get chicken pox, but they didn't."

"Please, please tell me their names," Felicia Ann begged.

"No," Malcolm said with a scowl. "They don't have names."

"Malcolm, Malcolm," Mrs. Pidgeon said, putting her arm gently across his shoulders. "They probably have beautiful names and I hope someday you will tell them to us.

"You children have all worked very hard. It's just that—" She hesitated.

"What?" asked Beanie. "We know all the words to the songs."

"Well, I'm concerned about the songs," Mrs. Pidgeon said. "I'm not really a songwriter, and they seem, well, a little slapdash to me."

She wrote the word on the board.

"Oh, dear," said Ben when he found it in the dictionary. "That's bad."

"I know," Mrs. Pidgeon said, and she wrote the definition on the board: "Careless, hasty, unskillful."

"Our costumes are all made," Tricia added.

"I'm very concerned about the costumes," Mrs. Pidgeon said. "I'm not really a costume designer, and they seem—"

"Slapdash?" asked Tyrone.

"Maybe a little," Mrs. Pidgeon said, "and ill-fitting."

"We know our lines," Nicholas said. "Mine is 'Thank you, good friend Squanto!' I know it by heart."

"I'm concerned about the lines," Mrs. Pidgeon said.

"But you wrote the lines, Mrs. Pidgeon!" Tricia pointed out.

"I know. And I'm not really a writer. The lines are slapdash."

All of the children looked at Mrs. Pidgeon. She looked very sad. Felicia Ann, the most bashful person in the class, went to her and gave her a hug. "You're a very good teacher, Mrs. Pidgeon," she said. "You don't have to be a writer, or a songwriter, or a costume designer, or even a Muriel maker. Because you're a teacher. You taught me to read!"

"Me too!" called Tyrone. "I couldn't read worth nuthin' when I came to this class! Now lookit! I can read a whole dictionary!"

"Me too!" called Ben. "I only could read baby books before, but now I can read whole long words!"

"We all can!" the other children shouted.

Mrs. Pidgeon began to cheer up. She smiled at the children. "Thank you," she said. "I'm sorry that I was depressed for a minute. It's just that the story of the first Thanksgiving is such a truly wonderful story, about becoming friends, and helping one another, and being thankful. I wish I could have presented it better, instead of writing a dumb song about succotash."

"Mrs. Pidgeon?" Gooney Bird Greene said. "I have an idea."