Book By Its Cover
There are signs and red flags in public school systems, especially elementary school, that definitely identify people as dorks. For me, although if we are speaking honestly they are too many to count, my red flag was the advanced reading group. It had been established by the time I was in first grade that I was reading well above my normal age bracket. In second grade when other kids were enjoying choose-your-own adventure books and possibly Winnie the Pooh books, I was reading Ray Bradbury’s Dandelion Wine. By Junior High I had read through the majority of all the Stephen King books (including The Stand and It), “Romeo & Juliet”, Great Expectations, and so on.
More to the point, in my advanced reading group- for those who don’t know or who were unaware advanced reading group was that gaggle of kids who were probably pulled out of your elementary school literature class to go to the library and read a completely different book than what you were reading, a book with a study guide. If you are still unaware of what it is I am talking about, then you are those kids that made fun of the advanced reading group for no real reason.
More to the point, in my advanced reading group I had the opportunity to read several books that would lay the groundwork for how I viewed the world in the future. This continued on throughout my school years.
In elementary school I read many formative books. The Borrowers taught me that it is okay to steal because I am cute. The Witches by Roald Dahl provided me with a strong feminine perspective on the world. Little Woman taught me the universal truth that if you are nice and quiet you will either have too many babies or die. The Mixed up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler taught me that running away from your problems is okay only if you are having fun.
In high school I found out that if you are crazy you shouldn’t be allowed to walk the streets (I am the Cheese and I Never Promised You a Rose Garden). From The Chosen and The Promise I learned that it was cool to be half-jewish. I also learned that if you gamble and refuse to get married you will die (The House of Mirth). Very early in life, I learned that it was okay to hate everyone (The Catcher in the Rye).
The most important lesson I learned came from The Westing Game. It was a murder mystery that I had read in elementary school. Nothing to deep or life-affirming, but influential nonetheless. The story is one of those classic whodunits where everyone is suspicious of everyone. Moreover, even the slightest most mundane thing, such as a can of tomato paste or a doorknob causes great panic in people. In a sense, The Westing Game has taught me that blowing things out of proportion is a viable way of life.
I remember, while being sequestered in the library reading The Westing Game, one particular day when all of our paranoia from the book came to a head. I had just finished reading the assigned chapters for the next day, I constantly overread (see: dork), and wanted to finished my study guide packet early so I would have nothing to do that night but play video games. See the truth is, I wasn’t super smart in the intelligence quotient way, but I was smart in the time management way. I knew that if I was good in school, finished my homework early I would always have plenty of time to play video games and eat junk food.
Our study packet was a cruel invention. Instead of giving us questions each time we were assigned chapters, we were given one huge packet full of questions for each assignment and all of the chapters. Then when the book was finished we would write an essay, using our study packets to pull information from, and turn them both in. The intention being that a student could work at his own pace, ahead (see: dork, cross reference: me) if he wanted to. The cruel reality was that it taught you major responsibility. You had to keep track of a single packet of paper for at least three months. If you were like me and had already finished the book and study guide, (see: destined to be virgin until he discovered alcohol), then you had to hold on to that study guide until the due date and just pass your time in the library reading for leisure. I remember Christopher, a friend of mine, had finished over half of his packet for Julie of the Wolves when he left it on the bus. Tragic really. All of that work lost.
More on target, on that particular day I reached for my folder containing my study packet, opened it and slowly gasped as terror set in. It wasn’t there. Where could it have gone.
The Westing Game kicked in. I knew that I had only been away from my folder for five minutes, when I had gone to the restroom. So the culprit had to be someone in the library. Most likely, due to proximity, someone sitting at my study table. I had decided to play it cool.
“Oh, man. I must have FORGOT to bring my study guide today. I guess I will do it tomorrow. I was gonna change all of my answers, since I just KNOW I was all WRONG!” Then my eyes darted around the table. Christopher only looked at me long enough to bring his index finger to his lips to shush me.
“UNLESS,” I continued, “I did bring it and…no. Nevermind.”
“What?” Rachel chimed in.
“UNLESS…someone STOLE it!”
My plan had worked like gangbusters. All advanced reading eyes began darting around from table to table.
Christopher spoke up, “I thought you said you left it at home.”
I was flabbergasted. How dare he use logic on me when I was in the middle of an elaborately and deliberately constructed lie?
“Well, I could have. THOUGHT I did, but now that I think about it. I…distinctly…remember…looking at it this MORNING during attendance.”
Christopher continued, “Are you sure you brought it with you to the library? You could have just left it in the classroom.”
“I…I…I…” I turned stammering into an art form.
“Why are you acting so suspicious?” Rachel had chimed in behind me. “I remember Ben looking at his study guide this morning. And why wouldn’t he bring it to the library. Everyone knows that Ben finishes his assignments early. So, I mean really, how easy would it be to just take it and get ahead ourselves?” She was right. Eyes continued to dart and low murmurs began. Christopher got a little red in the face and sat back down. And I couldn’t help but wonder how it is Rachel saw me look at my study guide during attendance if I hadn’t actually ever pulled it out of my folder until I got to the library.
At this point I had three obvious suspects. There was Christopher, who was obviously attempting to divert our attention. But there was also Rachel. If she could make someone else look guilty then no one would suspect her. But I was onto her. Then there was Carl. He sat in the back of any room and usually smelled. Picked his nose and would cry uncontrollably if he was ever called upon in class. He was highly suspect, if for no more reason than for the fact the he smelled. Smelly people do dangerous things.
Rachel got up to go to use the card catalogue. She slinked away walking backwards the entire time. When she was out of view, Christopher and I dove for her bag. I went through the pockets while he rifled through the folders. Nothing. I knew then I could cross her off my suspects list. My fear that it was Carl. And in order to get my study packet back I would have to brave no man’s land.
Rachel came back to find us cramming things back into her bag.
“Do you honestly think if I took your stupid study guide I would leave it around for you to get?”
Damn that woman and her infernal logic. How could she be so smart? She wasn’t even in advanced math.
The next logical step for me was to finger Christopher for the crime, simply because I refused to walk towards Carl.
“Give it to me Christopher,” I said, “I know you have it.”
“No I don’t,” he squeaked. “Honest.” Rachel, short on patience and long on chutzpah grabbed his bookbag from him and dumped its contents onto the table.
“I’ll make short work of this,” she said and dove in.
No study packet was to be had. My terrified eyes locked into Rachel’s. We both glanced to Christopher who was already trembling in our direction. Slowly we all turned our heads towards Carl. We caught him just in time to see him wiping his latest treasure from his nose under his desk.
“What is he doing?” I whispered.
“He is trying to scare us.” Rachel sottoed back.
“I have to go talk to him,” I gulped.
“Ben,” Christopher interrupted, “I’m going with you. You can’t do this alone.”
“Well if he’s going then I am coming to. Come on.”
All three of us headed over to Carl who was still blissfully unaware that anyone was paying attention to him.
“Hand it over Carl,” Rachel said, charging ahead. Carl looked up at us with sticky fingers and glazed over eyes.
“Hand what over?” he blinked.
“My study packet Carl, we know you took it. You are the only other person reading The Westing Game here.”
“I don’t anyonesh shtudy packet.” I suppose now would be the time to mention Carl’s unfortunate lisp. “Sherioushly.”
“Come on Carl,” Christopher cried, “We always see you staring at us. We know you took it.”
“No, I shwear I didn’t.”
Rachel stepped forward. “Well then,” she barked grabbing his spiral bound notebook, “You won’t mind if I look through thish…this…will you?”
Carl’s hand instinctively lashed out.
“No…wait…give it back.”
But Rachel had already grabbed it, flung it open and began shaking it out. She stopped mid-shake. Her face went white. She dropped the notebook and ran.
We peered to the pages on the floor. There, in pencil lead (No. 2 of course), was an intricate sketch of Rachel. Surrounded by a heart. And little words at the bottom. Before we could pick it up to read the words, Carl had dashed to the ground, snatched it and took off running.
Christopher and I stood there for at least a minute, completely dumbfounded. It was my teacher’s voice that snapped me out of my daze.
“-didn’t you hear me? You left your study packet on top of your desk Benjamin. How are you supposed to do the assignment without the packet? Hmmmmmmmm?”
The great mystery was solved. Two weeks later Rachel and Carl were a couple. Well…the sort of couple you could be for being in elementary school. And for some reason the more we talked to him, the less he smelled.
(Note: I am not particularly fond of this piece. I started it long ago, lost sight of my goal and can't seem to fix it. Please, please, please. Any feedback would be appreciated.)
More to the point, in my advanced reading group- for those who don’t know or who were unaware advanced reading group was that gaggle of kids who were probably pulled out of your elementary school literature class to go to the library and read a completely different book than what you were reading, a book with a study guide. If you are still unaware of what it is I am talking about, then you are those kids that made fun of the advanced reading group for no real reason.
More to the point, in my advanced reading group I had the opportunity to read several books that would lay the groundwork for how I viewed the world in the future. This continued on throughout my school years.
In elementary school I read many formative books. The Borrowers taught me that it is okay to steal because I am cute. The Witches by Roald Dahl provided me with a strong feminine perspective on the world. Little Woman taught me the universal truth that if you are nice and quiet you will either have too many babies or die. The Mixed up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler taught me that running away from your problems is okay only if you are having fun.
In high school I found out that if you are crazy you shouldn’t be allowed to walk the streets (I am the Cheese and I Never Promised You a Rose Garden). From The Chosen and The Promise I learned that it was cool to be half-jewish. I also learned that if you gamble and refuse to get married you will die (The House of Mirth). Very early in life, I learned that it was okay to hate everyone (The Catcher in the Rye).
The most important lesson I learned came from The Westing Game. It was a murder mystery that I had read in elementary school. Nothing to deep or life-affirming, but influential nonetheless. The story is one of those classic whodunits where everyone is suspicious of everyone. Moreover, even the slightest most mundane thing, such as a can of tomato paste or a doorknob causes great panic in people. In a sense, The Westing Game has taught me that blowing things out of proportion is a viable way of life.
I remember, while being sequestered in the library reading The Westing Game, one particular day when all of our paranoia from the book came to a head. I had just finished reading the assigned chapters for the next day, I constantly overread (see: dork), and wanted to finished my study guide packet early so I would have nothing to do that night but play video games. See the truth is, I wasn’t super smart in the intelligence quotient way, but I was smart in the time management way. I knew that if I was good in school, finished my homework early I would always have plenty of time to play video games and eat junk food.
Our study packet was a cruel invention. Instead of giving us questions each time we were assigned chapters, we were given one huge packet full of questions for each assignment and all of the chapters. Then when the book was finished we would write an essay, using our study packets to pull information from, and turn them both in. The intention being that a student could work at his own pace, ahead (see: dork, cross reference: me) if he wanted to. The cruel reality was that it taught you major responsibility. You had to keep track of a single packet of paper for at least three months. If you were like me and had already finished the book and study guide, (see: destined to be virgin until he discovered alcohol), then you had to hold on to that study guide until the due date and just pass your time in the library reading for leisure. I remember Christopher, a friend of mine, had finished over half of his packet for Julie of the Wolves when he left it on the bus. Tragic really. All of that work lost.
More on target, on that particular day I reached for my folder containing my study packet, opened it and slowly gasped as terror set in. It wasn’t there. Where could it have gone.
The Westing Game kicked in. I knew that I had only been away from my folder for five minutes, when I had gone to the restroom. So the culprit had to be someone in the library. Most likely, due to proximity, someone sitting at my study table. I had decided to play it cool.
“Oh, man. I must have FORGOT to bring my study guide today. I guess I will do it tomorrow. I was gonna change all of my answers, since I just KNOW I was all WRONG!” Then my eyes darted around the table. Christopher only looked at me long enough to bring his index finger to his lips to shush me.
“UNLESS,” I continued, “I did bring it and…no. Nevermind.”
“What?” Rachel chimed in.
“UNLESS…someone STOLE it!”
My plan had worked like gangbusters. All advanced reading eyes began darting around from table to table.
Christopher spoke up, “I thought you said you left it at home.”
I was flabbergasted. How dare he use logic on me when I was in the middle of an elaborately and deliberately constructed lie?
“Well, I could have. THOUGHT I did, but now that I think about it. I…distinctly…remember…looking at it this MORNING during attendance.”
Christopher continued, “Are you sure you brought it with you to the library? You could have just left it in the classroom.”
“I…I…I…” I turned stammering into an art form.
“Why are you acting so suspicious?” Rachel had chimed in behind me. “I remember Ben looking at his study guide this morning. And why wouldn’t he bring it to the library. Everyone knows that Ben finishes his assignments early. So, I mean really, how easy would it be to just take it and get ahead ourselves?” She was right. Eyes continued to dart and low murmurs began. Christopher got a little red in the face and sat back down. And I couldn’t help but wonder how it is Rachel saw me look at my study guide during attendance if I hadn’t actually ever pulled it out of my folder until I got to the library.
At this point I had three obvious suspects. There was Christopher, who was obviously attempting to divert our attention. But there was also Rachel. If she could make someone else look guilty then no one would suspect her. But I was onto her. Then there was Carl. He sat in the back of any room and usually smelled. Picked his nose and would cry uncontrollably if he was ever called upon in class. He was highly suspect, if for no more reason than for the fact the he smelled. Smelly people do dangerous things.
Rachel got up to go to use the card catalogue. She slinked away walking backwards the entire time. When she was out of view, Christopher and I dove for her bag. I went through the pockets while he rifled through the folders. Nothing. I knew then I could cross her off my suspects list. My fear that it was Carl. And in order to get my study packet back I would have to brave no man’s land.
Rachel came back to find us cramming things back into her bag.
“Do you honestly think if I took your stupid study guide I would leave it around for you to get?”
Damn that woman and her infernal logic. How could she be so smart? She wasn’t even in advanced math.
The next logical step for me was to finger Christopher for the crime, simply because I refused to walk towards Carl.
“Give it to me Christopher,” I said, “I know you have it.”
“No I don’t,” he squeaked. “Honest.” Rachel, short on patience and long on chutzpah grabbed his bookbag from him and dumped its contents onto the table.
“I’ll make short work of this,” she said and dove in.
No study packet was to be had. My terrified eyes locked into Rachel’s. We both glanced to Christopher who was already trembling in our direction. Slowly we all turned our heads towards Carl. We caught him just in time to see him wiping his latest treasure from his nose under his desk.
“What is he doing?” I whispered.
“He is trying to scare us.” Rachel sottoed back.
“I have to go talk to him,” I gulped.
“Ben,” Christopher interrupted, “I’m going with you. You can’t do this alone.”
“Well if he’s going then I am coming to. Come on.”
All three of us headed over to Carl who was still blissfully unaware that anyone was paying attention to him.
“Hand it over Carl,” Rachel said, charging ahead. Carl looked up at us with sticky fingers and glazed over eyes.
“Hand what over?” he blinked.
“My study packet Carl, we know you took it. You are the only other person reading The Westing Game here.”
“I don’t anyonesh shtudy packet.” I suppose now would be the time to mention Carl’s unfortunate lisp. “Sherioushly.”
“Come on Carl,” Christopher cried, “We always see you staring at us. We know you took it.”
“No, I shwear I didn’t.”
Rachel stepped forward. “Well then,” she barked grabbing his spiral bound notebook, “You won’t mind if I look through thish…this…will you?”
Carl’s hand instinctively lashed out.
“No…wait…give it back.”
But Rachel had already grabbed it, flung it open and began shaking it out. She stopped mid-shake. Her face went white. She dropped the notebook and ran.
We peered to the pages on the floor. There, in pencil lead (No. 2 of course), was an intricate sketch of Rachel. Surrounded by a heart. And little words at the bottom. Before we could pick it up to read the words, Carl had dashed to the ground, snatched it and took off running.
Christopher and I stood there for at least a minute, completely dumbfounded. It was my teacher’s voice that snapped me out of my daze.
“-didn’t you hear me? You left your study packet on top of your desk Benjamin. How are you supposed to do the assignment without the packet? Hmmmmmmmm?”
The great mystery was solved. Two weeks later Rachel and Carl were a couple. Well…the sort of couple you could be for being in elementary school. And for some reason the more we talked to him, the less he smelled.
(Note: I am not particularly fond of this piece. I started it long ago, lost sight of my goal and can't seem to fix it. Please, please, please. Any feedback would be appreciated.)
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