The Report Card by Andrew Clements Read Free Book Online Page B

to know about your grades. It’s perfectly clear to me now that you are not a below-average student, or even an average student. Far from it. And you’ve been hiding that from me and everyone else at school.” She paused with her head tilted as she figured out something else. Then she said, “And your parents don’t know how bright you are either, do they?” I shook my head. “So why have you been keeping this a secret?” she asked.
    I told her the truth in the simplest way I could. I said, “I didn’t want to be different all the time. I mean, I am different, and I know that. I just didn’t want everyone else to treat me that way. Because it’s not their business.”
    Mrs. Byrne nodded slowly. “I can understand that, I think. But why the low grades?”
    I had to trust her. I had no choice. I said, “Idid that on purpose. I’m trying to do something . . . about grades. Everyone makes way too big a deal about them.”
    Mrs. Byrne’s eyebrows scrunched together above her nose. She shook her head and said, “But why get Ds? How can that help?”
    â€œWell,” I said, “those Ds already have my teachers and my parents and the principal thinking and talking about grades, right? And I hope they’re going to think a lot more about grades. And tests, too. Because I’ve got sort of a . . . a plan.” Then I looked her right in the eye and said, “Except if you tell on me, I don’t think it will work.”
    No expression. “What are you trying to accomplish with this . . . plan?”
    â€œNothing bad,” I said quickly. I almost started to tell about Stephen, but I didn’t. I didn’t want anyone to think he was involved. So I said, “Most kids never talk about it, but a lot of the time bad grades make them feel dumb, and almost all the time it’s not true. And good grades can make other kids think that they’re better, and that’s not true either. And then all the kids start competing andcomparing. The smart kids feel smarter and better and get all stuck-up, and the regular kids feel stupid and like there’s no way to ever catch up. And the people who are supposed to help kids, the parents and the teachers, they don’t. They just add more pressure and keep making up more and more tests.”
    Mrs. Byrne’s eyes flashed and she shook her head sharply. “But the teachers don’t like all this testing either. And I was not happy when they made me start giving grades in library skills. That’s not what the library is for. So don’t think it’s only the teachers. It’s the school boards. And the state. And the federal government, too.”
    Then her pale cheeks colored, just a hint. Mrs. Byrne tried to hide it, but she was embarrassed by that outburst. She hadn’t meant to show me what she was feeling.
    But she had.
    I pretended not to notice. I said, “Well, anyway, we have to have the tests and the grades, and of course the grades are going to be used to sort us into different levels in sixth grade—the smart kids and the dumb kids. And I don’t likethe way it’s done and I want to try to change some things.”
    Mrs. Byrne said, “Isn’t this dangerous? For you, I mean. Getting such bad grades?”
    I said, “Maybe. But it’s sort of like I have immunity. I’m smart, and I know I’m smart, and I know that when I have to prove I’m smart, I’ll be able to. My grades won’t matter so much, not like they do now for a lot of kids. And even if I do get into some trouble, I don’t care. I’m not doing this for fun. And I’m not doing it for myself.” I paused, and then I said, “And I think I can do it without any help . . . at least, I hope so.”
    That was bait. And Mrs. Byrne knew I was fishing. And she went for the hook anyway.
    â€œWhat sort