Read All About It! by Rachel Wise Read Free Book Online Page B

even think was my fault? Maybe it was my fault.
     But it was truly an accident.
    Michael shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It was an
     accident.”
    Mr. Pfeiffer leaned back against the front of his desk. “We can
     reschedule the interview, kids. Just relax here for as long as you need and then I can
     move some stuff around on my calendar and get you back in here . . .”
    â€œNo, no, I’m fine,” protested Michael. “Really.
     Now that the numbness is kicking in . . .” He winced.
    I felt terrible. “I’m so sorry,” I said finally.
     “I’m really, really sorry.”
    Michael looked up at me and smiled. “It’s fine,” he
     said. “Let’s start the interview.”
    Mr. Pfeiffer looked at him carefully. “If you’re sure . .
     .”
    Michael nodded. “I’m sure.”
    The next twenty minutes were, without a doubt, the most interesting time
     I’d ever spent in school. Mr. Pfeiffer outlined how the new curriculum was
     designed to help students deal with the onslaught of information that grows every day
     from thousands of different directions. He talked about books, magazines, the Internet,
     TV news, social media, libraries, newspapers, blogs, Wikipedia, and how to evaluate the
     quality of your sources, how to incorporate what he called the quantifiable information
     (facts) with qualifiable information (opinions and feelings) to create what he called
     “the whole understanding.”
    At first I had a really hard time listening to Mr. Pfeiffer without
     writing everything down. I was also really nervously looking down at Michael’s
     hand and hoping that I just thought it was swelling. It looked
     kind of puffy. But when I started to relax and really hear what Mr. Pfeiffer was saying,
     I found I was able to ask useful questions and have more of a conversation with him than
     an interview. It was actually fun!Michael was into it too, and it
     felt cool to have a conversation with a grown-up where he wasn’t talking down to
     us, but really explaining himself and making sure we understood. Plus, he was so
     enthusiastic, it was contagious.
    â€œOur goal, in essence, is to have you leave here with the skills
     to be able to tell a great story,” Mr. Pfeiffer said. “Because when you
     think about it, isn’t that what everything comes down to in life? Telling a great
     story?”
    â€œWow,” I said, nodding. “True.”
    â€œVery cool,” agreed Michael.
    â€œAre you going to come to the Parent Teacher Association meeting
     on Thursday?” Mr. Pfeiffer asked. “There should be some lively debate there
     that you might incorporate into your article.”
    I nodded hard. “Definitely!” I said.
    â€œGood.” He nodded happily. “Michael, how’s the
     hand?”
    Michael had it resting out of the ice on a pile of paper towels on his
     lap. “It’s going to be okay, I think,” he said.
    â€œAll right. Well, I’ve got to run to a meetingwith the superintendent of schools. And you know what? I’ll
     see if he’d mind if one of you gives him a call to get a quote for your article,
     okay?”
    â€œThat would be great! Thanks!” I said, standing. “And
     thanks for your time and everything. It was really interesting.”
    Michael stood too. He looked around to see how he was going to carry
     everything.
    â€œHere. I’ll help you,” I offered, reaching for his
     book bag.
    â€œStay back!” he said, half joking. “I don’t need
     another injury.”
    I bit my lip. That was kind of mean. It’s not like I had directly
     hurt him before.
    So Mr. Pfeiffer lifted the ice bucket and Michael’s backpack and
     helped us out through the door.
    â€œMary, will you get Mr. Lawrence an elevator pass, please?”
     he asked his secretary.
    â€œReally, let me