The Phantom Teacher

If there ever was a guy with sugarplums dancing in his head, it was Stinky. He watched Christmas specials on TV every night and spent hours working on his Christmas tree. He made lists and checked them twice; he stared at the packages under the tree and tried to guess what was in them. He is still the only kid I know who sent fourteen letters to Santa in one year.

With the help of his dad, he decorated the front of his house with red and white lights that blinked like a video game gone nuts. It was impossible to look at his house without getting dizzy.

Stinky REALLY liked Christmas.

The more Stinky thought about Christmas, the more he didn’t think about school. Amy and I noticed the problem the second day back from Thanksgiving vacation. Fifteen minutes before school was out Mr. Thomas gave us a math assignment. Everybody panicked, the Kluggy twins looked like they were going to cry until Mr. Thomas said we could take it home for homework.

Stinky and I trudged down the steps and into the snow that covered the schoolyard.

"You ought to see our Christmas tree! It’s bigger than I am, and it has all these lights on it . . . . " He had told me about the same tree on the way to school that morning.

It wasn’t until we got to my house that I was able to squeeze into the conversation, "You want to come in and do the homework?"

"I can’t. My mom and I are going Christmas shopping," Stinky said, "I’ll give you a call when we get back."

The call never came. I finished the math alone just before bedtime.

The next day, after attendance and the pledge, Mr. Thomas stood in front of the rows of desks.

"Please, pass your homework to the front," he announced.

We all started digging through our notebooks and slowly the math papers made their way to the front of the class. As the first person in each row handed him a stack of papers, Mr. Thomas counted them to make sure he had everyone’s paper. He didn’t say anything until he got to Stinky’s row.

"I seem to be one short. Whose paper am I missing?" Mr. Thomas looked down the row of kids and then thumbed through the papers checking names. The class became quiet.

Suddenly a small, weak, somewhat squeaky voice cut through the silence, "I forgot mine at home."

All eyes searched for the voice. Mr. Thomas raised his head and looked directly at Stinky who did his best to crawl inside his desk.

"Erving, I’d like to talk to you at my desk. The rest of you may start writing sentences using the spelling words."

Mr. Thomas walked to his desk and sat down. Stinky didn’t move.

"Erving," Mr. Thomas urged. Stinky later said walking to Mr. Thomas’ desk that morning was the longest walk he had ever made. We all tried to look busy as we listened to Stinky say that he had left his math at home on his desk.

"I’ll bring it in tomorrow, promise," Stinky was talking too fast like he always did when he was nervous. "I did it, really. I just left it on my desk."

"I didn’t say you didn’t do it, Erving, but the paper isn’t here. It does neither of us any good on your desk. I would like you to stay in at recess and do the assignment over."

So while the rest of us played kickball, Stinky did his math. He was so upset; he didn’t get his spelling sentences done. He took them home for homework.

That night Stinky and his mom made a couple million Christmas cookies. Stinky told me all about it as we walked to school, including all the crummy details and some samples.

Mr. Thomas asked for homework the moment everyone was in class, even before the pledge. Stinky walked up to Mr. Thomas’ desk.

Looking at the floor, Stinky spoke quickly and softly, "I left my spelling sentences on the kitchen table last night and this morning my little sister dumped her cereal all over them." I think I saw his knees shaking.

"Well, that’s another recess. This is two days in a row, Erving. Is there a problem I should know about?" Mr. Thomas had a concerned look on his face which was quite a bit different from Stinky’s guilty one.

"No, honest, Mr. Thomas. My sister soaked them with milk when she reached for some toast! I didn’t think you would want them if they were covered with frosted flakes."

Amy leaned forward and whispered, "I bet he didn’t do it at all. I think he’s lying."

"Nah, he wouldn’t lie to Mr. Thomas. Stinky’s smarter than that." I hoped I was right. Later Tim and I chased the Kluggy twins. Stinky did his spelling.

At the end of the day, Stinky still had homework. Three days in a row was a record in our class; nobody ever had that much homework.