Tabloidology (4 page)

THREE

T
he next morning, Trixi knocked on Ms. Baumgartner's office door. There was no reply, so she knocked again. “Hello? Ms. Baumgartner? It's me, Trixi. Trixi Wilder. Remember? I was supposed to report to you this morning?” There was still no reply, so she gave the door a nudge, and it swung open.

Ms. Baumgartner was sitting at her desk, staring at a huge pile of intricate origami creatures. Across the office was Mrs. Sledge, standing ankle-deep in dozens and dozens of cranes, elephants, frogs, birds, horses, dogs and cats, all neatly folded out of plain white paper.

“Wow, Ms. Baumgartner,” Trixi said. “The two of you must really be into origami. I particularly like the elephant, although you might want to make it out of more colorful paper next time.”

Ms. Baumgartner looked at Trixi and shook her head. “The photocopier.”

“The photocopier?” Trixi replied.

“Yes, the photocopier,” Ms. Baumgartner said. “The photocopier did this.”

“You mean, the photocopier folded all these animals?”

Ms. Baumgartner just nodded.

“That's incredible!” Trixi said. “That's even more amazing than a toilet reading poetry!”

“Yes, Trixi. It certainly is amazing—but not in a good way,” Ms. Baumgartner said. She picked up a frog and began to flatten out the paper. “Every time a teacher tries to photocopy a worksheet or a test, the copies come out as origami animals. Mr. Wainwright's math test was turned into thirty frogs. Mrs. Donaldson's newsletter came out as twenty-eight paper horses.”

“Is there some special origami setting on the machine or something?” Trixi said.

“Unfortunately not. I checked the user's manual. It copies double-sided booklets with hole punches and staples, but I didn't see any mention of origami animals,” Ms. Baumgartner said.

“That's amazing.”

“It certainly is. But we'll have to get Mr. Pen in here to fix the problem.”

Ms. Baumgartner picked up the phone, but before dialing, she looked up at Trixi and said, “By the way, I think you have a hidden talent.”

“I do?” Trixi said.

“Yes, Trixi, you do. The hall looked spectacular this morning. Here,” she said, picking up a piece of paper off her desk, “have a giraffe.”

The following Thursday, Martin was back behind his table in the hall attempting to sell the latest edition of the
Upland
Green Examiner
.

“Get your paper here!” Martin called. “Read all about it! The latest in school news!”

As usual, the first person to stop by was Trixi Wilder. She snatched up a copy from the pile of papers and began reading through it.

“Hey! I keep telling you, you have to pay before you read it,” Martin said. This time, he stepped out from behind the table and tried to grab the paper back, but Trixi just kept backing away.

“Nothing!” she said. “Not a word! Not a single mention of the most original poetry assignment in the history of poetry assignments.” She stopped and waved the paper in front of Martin. “You don't get it, do you, Marty? People won't buy your paper if your big, splashy, front-page headline is
School Begins
Juice-box Recycling Program.
”

“It's a very important issue, in case you didn't know,” Martin said. “Read the article and find out why!”

“But kids at this school don't really care about the juice-box recycling program.” She flipped to the second page. “And they don't really care about
A Day in the Life of a School Bus Driver
.”

“I wouldn't be so sure of that. I was quite amazed by Mr. Anderson's account of his day-to-day routine,” Martin said. “If you read the whole article, you'll see the great responsibilities and challenges he faces each and every day.”

Trixi kept reading, mumbling, “Weather forecast, lunch-hour hockey league scores, new books in the library and a story about a firefighter doing a presentation for Fire Safety Week. And not one word about the photocopier suddenly folding origami?” Trixi said. “One of the most mind-boggling things this school has ever seen, and you don't even mention it in your paper!”

“Photocopier malfunctions are not newsworthy,” Martin said.

“Not newsworthy?” Trixi said. “Listen to me, Marty. This week at our school, you had two of the greatest stories any newspaper editor could hope for. Just think of the headlines you could have had:
Photocopier Goes Wild! This Week Origami.
Next Week Paper Airplanes?
”

“That's ridiculous,” Martin said.

“Or how about
Toilets Reciting Poetry at Upland Green
School. What Will They Do Next? Sing Opera? Tap Dance?
”

“That's even more ridiculous. In my newspaper, I just report the facts,” Martin said. “My grandfather was a newspaper editor, and he believed in the facts and nothing but the facts. And that's exactly what I've written!”

“Well, no wonder no one buys your paper,” Trixi said. “Facts are boring.” She breezed by Martin and slapped the paper back on the top of the pile as she headed off down the hall.

“Just because you don't like my paper, doesn't mean everyone else thinks the same way,” he said.

Martin sat down behind his table, straightened up the stack of unsold papers and shouted, “Get you paper here! Read all about Upland Green's new outside drinking fountain. Read all about it!” But as long as Martin sat there—through recess, lunch hour and for half an hour after school—not one single copy of the
Upland Green Examiner
was sold.

After school, as Martin packed up his unsold newspapers, Ms. Baumgartner came over to buy a copy.

“How did newspaper sales go today, Martin?”

“Oh, about average,” he replied.

“Still a lot of unsold papers, Martin,” Ms. Baumgartner said, flipping through the stack of newspapers. Martin just shrugged as the principal began to read the paper. “Your stories are all very factual, and as usual your spelling and grammar are impeccable. But have you considered changing the sorts of things you report on in the newspaper? Perhaps you should think about writing articles our students would find a little more…a little more…entertaining.”

Martin leaped to his feet, clutching a copy of the newspaper against his chest. “Ms. Baumgartner, as I told you when I took this job, the purpose of a newspaper is to inform its readers with facts. Entertainment has no place in a school newspaper. If the students of this school want entertainment, let them read comic books!”

Ms. Baumgartner sighed, left her quarter on the table and headed back to her office.

FOUR

T
rixi didn't walk to school the next morning. Her parents brought her. They drove from their home to school in silence. They marched across the parking lot in silence. They stomped up the front walkway to the school in silence, passing Ms. Baumgartner talking to Merlin Pen.

“So, you're sure it's fixed,” Ms. Baumgartner said.

“You bet! It's all fixed and ready to go,” Merlin Pen said with a grin that showed off three missing teeth.

“No more origami animals?” Ms. Baumgartner asked.

“No more origami animals,” Merlin Pen replied.

“What possibly could have happened to make the photocopier fold origami animals?” Ms. Baumgartner said. “I find it mind-boggling that it would do such a thing.”

“These machines aren't simply a collection of nuts and bolts, Ms. Baumgartner. Sometimes they can do things that are downright amazing.” Merlin Pen smiled again, made a deep bow and shuffled off down the sidewalk.

Seconds after Merlin Pen was gone, Trixi's parents barged through the front door with Trixi in tow and headed straight for Ms. Baumgartner's office. The principal followed, closing the door behind her.

“Please, have a seat,” Ms. Baumgartner said, but the Wilders remained standing.

“I don't know what kind of school you run here, Ms. Gaumbartner,” Mrs. Wilder said, “but my husband and I were getting ready for a business trip to New York, and do you know what Trixi did to my dear little white toy poodle, Mitzi? She dyed her hair purple! Did you hear what I said, Ms. Gaumbartner? Purple!”

The principal nodded and said, “Yes, purple. And it's Baumgartner.”

“She said it was some sort of art project. I don't know what strange ideas your teachers have about art, but dying my sweet Mitzi's hair purple is not my idea of fine art!”

“Yes, absolutely,” Ms. Baumgartner said. She glanced over at Trixi, whose eyes were fixed on the tops of her own shoes.

“And this morning, she put glue on the toilet seat! Did you hear what I said, Ms. Gaumbartner? Glue on the toilet seat!”

Ms. Baumgartner nodded. “Yes. Glue on the toilet seat. And it's Baumgartner—with a
B
.”

“She said it was some kind of science experiment! When I was in school, putting glue on toilets seats was certainly not part of our science curriculum!”

“No, I'm sure it wasn't,” Ms. Baumgartner replied.

“Our daughter has never behaved like this before! There's only one place she could have learned such behavior. And do you know where that is, Ms. Gaumbartner?”

Ms. Baumgartner didn't answer.

“At your school, Ms. Gaumbartner. Yes! At your school! And as far as I'm concerned, it's all your fault! Right, Reginald?” Trixi's mother glared at her husband.

Mr. Wilder was standing by the door, checking his cell phone for messages. “Oh, uh, absolutely,” he mumbled. “Totally the fault of the school.”

“And to make matters worse, Trixi's still getting terrible grades. I was appalled to see the trouble she's having in English class. Her spelling is atrocious and her grammar is just awful. Reginald and I were both honor-roll students all through school, so I don't know what you're teaching at this school, but it isn't working. Right, Reginald?”

“Absolutely. Atrocious,” he said.

“We do everything we can for our daughter,” Mrs. Wilder continued, rapping a scarlet fingernail on Ms. Baumgartner's desk. “We give her piano lessons, swimming lessons, dance classes. We bought her a new computer for her room. Last Easter we sent her skiing with her cousins to Whistler, and last summer she spent seven weeks in Europe with my two sisters! What more can we do? Isn't that right, Reginald?”

“Oh, uh, absolutely,” Mr. Wilder mumbled, checking his watch.

“Granted, our careers keep us both busy, but we're doing our part, Ms. Gaumbartner. Unfortunately, you're not doing yours. Right, Reginald?”

“Oh, uh, absolutely.”

“We expect accountability. We demand that you do something!” Mrs. Wilder straightened her suit jacket and skirt and marched toward the office door. “We'll be back from our business trip in three weeks. By that time, we expect you to have fixed the problem. Right, Reginald?”

“Oh, uh, absolutely,” Mr. Wilder muttered, holding the door open for his wife. Without another word, Mrs. Wilder strode out of the office, followed in silence by Mr. Wilder.

Trixi sat in the small yellow chair and finally looked up at Ms. Baumgartner. She wondered what her principal was going to say. How was she going to
fix the problem
? Would she give her some lines to write? Maybe schoolyard litter duty. Or maybe—worst of all—she'd give her an in-school suspension. Trixi would have to spend every recess and lunch hour sitting in the paper storage room doing math worksheets.

But Ms. Baumgartner didn't say anything. She just took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Twice more, the principal took slow deep breaths. Finally, she looked as if she was about to say something.

But before one word left Ms. Baumgartner's mouth, the office door swung open and three teachers crowded into the office, each waving fistfuls of paper.

“What is it now?” Ms. Baumgartner said.

“It's the photocopier, again!” shouted Ms. Marshall.

“More origami animals?”

“No! It's much worse than that. Every time we run a test through the photocopier, the copies come out with all the answers already filled in!”

“Are you sure?” Ms. Baumgartner said. “That's unbelievable. How could a photocopier do such a thing?”

“Here, look for yourself!” Ms. Marshall said, handing a pile of papers over to the principal.

Ms. Baumgartner carefully examined a few of the copied tests. A geometry quiz had all the shapes drawn in and all the angles measured. A geography review had all the capital cities of Canada filled in, the main exports of South America written down and even a paragraph on the government of Great Britain written out, complete with a topic sentence.

“I won't even bother checking the user's manual on this problem,” Ms. Baumgartner said. “I'm afraid there's nothing we can do until I can get Mr. Pen back to work on the photocopier.”

Ms. Baumgartner picked up the phone, but before dialing, she glanced up at Trixi. “We'll have to talk about our meeting with your parents later, Trixi. You can just head down to your classroom and wait for the bell.”