Ungifted by Gordon Korman Read Free Book Online Page B

gifted program.”
    â€œMaybe Noah isn’t wrong about that,” Maria challenged.
    Brian’s brow furrowed. “What are you saying?”
    â€œWhat if,” Maria went on, “our much-vaunted selection system broke down and sent us your average knuckle-dragger?”
    â€œImpossible.” Our principal was adamant. “All our kids have strengths and weaknesses. We seem to have a good sense of Donovan’s weaknesses. It’s a start. Now we have to find his strengths. He wouldn’t be here if they didn’t exist.”
    As the meeting broke up, he pulled me aside. “There’s one more thing.” He hesitated. “You’re not going to like it.”
    I sighed. “Let me guess—Donovan again?”
    â€œThis time it isn’t Donovan. As you may know, all students graduating from middle school are required to complete one quarter of Human Growth and Development.”
    â€œHuman Growth and Development?” I echoed. “You mean sex education?”
    He made a face. “We haven’t called it that in decades.”
    â€œBut what does that have to do with me?” I asked. “They teach that in seventh grade, don’t they?”
    â€œUsually …” The principal took a deep breath. “Your kids don’t have it.”
    I was horrified. “None of them?”
    â€œNone of the big names—Youkilis, Halloran, Garfinkle, Lee. A few transfers took the equivalent at their old schools. And Donovan’s okay—he got the instruction at Hardcastle.”
    â€œHow could we miss that?”
    Brian shrugged unhappily. “Robotics has always attracted our best and brightest. Anything new and innovative and exciting is thrown at your group. They’re always busy. And the last thing anyone thought they needed was to spend hours drawing diagrams of the human body and watching videos on how babies are made.”
    â€œSo what happens now?” I asked wearily. “I have to drop what I’m doing, and spend the rest of the year on … sex ed?”
    He shook his head. “You need a state certification to teach Human Growth and Development. You’re not qualified.”
    â€œSo who is?”
    â€œNobody,” Brian told me. “Beth Vogel has been coming over from Salem to work with our seventh grade, but she’s teaching a full schedule this quarter. The whole district is running on austerity. Staffing is cut to the bone. Believe me, Oz, I’ve been over this every which way with Dr. Schultz. If there were a way out, we would have found it. The state allows us absolutely zero flexibility. Forty hours under a credentialed teacher, with triple time credited for real hands-on experience.”
    â€œThey’re kids, Brian! Where are they going to get hands-on experience of that ? Would we even want them to?”
    â€œWe’re still working on a few possibilities,” he admitted. “They could take the course after school. Or over the summer.”
    â€œThink of the students you’re talking about,” I pleaded. “They take music lessons, learn languages, intern at research labs, work with private tutors. They’re scheduled down to the nanosecond. You’re going to make them give up all that for sex ed ?”
    â€œHuman Growth and Development,” he amended.
    â€œWe ought to be ashamed of ourselves!”
    He nodded grimly. “We are.”
    I was heartsick. “What am I going to tell the kids?”
    â€œDon’t tell them anything yet. Not till we’ve explored every option.”
    Privately, I was hoping that one of my colleagues might bail me out on the Mission Impossible of Donovan and his hidden talents. Every time another teacher approached me, I expected the eureka moment—“I’ve got it! He’s a brilliant …” I didn’t care what came next—writer, physicist, harpsichord player, linguist, chess master, infrared