Principal for the Day Read online

  “Hello to everyone in Mr. Peters’s class,” I said.

  “Hi,” they called back.

  “May I help you with something, Frannie?” Mr. Peters asked me.

  “Today my name is Frankly,” I corrected him. “And today I am your principal.”

  “Yes, we know. We all heard your announcement. Do you need something? You’ve interrupted us in the middle of a story,” Mr. Peters told me.

  “Oh,” I said, feeling a couple of moths fly up in my belly. Mr. Peters’s face was giving me a bad day feeling on my skin.

  “I . . . I . . . I . . .” That is when I realized I had not thought of anything to say to the class. I had to think of something quickly, otherwise I would feel so humilified. That is when I got a geniusal idea.

  “It’s much more fun to hear stories when you have snacks,” I said. That is when the class agreed with me by saying how much they wanted snacks.

  I was already being really helpful!

  “Calm down, everyone,” Mr. Peters told them.

  “We want snacks!” someone yelled.

  “Yeah! Things are more fun with snacks,” someone else called.

  I looked at them and, because I am actually extremely smart about snacks, asked, “What sort of snacks do you want?”

  “Twizzlers!” someone yelled out.

  “Gummy bears! Soda! Swedish Fish!” other kids called.

  “Frannie, what are you doing? You should be in your office doing your job, not interrupting classes that are in progress,” said Mr. Peters in a maddish voice.

  “But I’m the principal today. I can do whatever I want.”

  “No, you may not,” he said as he stood up and walked toward the door. He opened the door and then stood beside it. This meant he was asking me to leave, which I did not prefer.

  “Principal Wilkins does not come by and ask if we need snacks,” said Mr. Peters.

  “That is because we are very different types of principals,” I told him. “I’m a snack kind of principal, and he’s not.”

  “Frannie, please. You need to go back to your office now.”

  I looked back at the class and then at Mr. Peters. That’s when I realized why he was being so scoldish.

  “I will get you a snack, too!” I told him. “Do you love cookies?” I asked.

  That’s when a lot of the kids started to yell for cookies, and Mr. Peters’s face turned extremely pink like a very amazing sunset.

  “Frances Miller, please leave my classroom right now,” he said.

  I turned to all the kids and shrugged, letting them know I would not be getting them snacks however and nevertheless. Then I slunked away toward the next classroom, where I was certainly going to be welcomed.

  But to my horrible surprise, when I walked into Mrs. Baxter’s first-grade classroom, she was worse than Mr. Peters!

  “Frannie, can I help you?” she asked when I walked in.

  “I wondered if anyone wanted any snacks,” I said. “Eating is good for learning.”

  “Yes! Yes! Snacks!” the kids yelled.

  “Frances, please leave immediately. You know better than to barge into a classroom.” She didn’t even get up. She just pointed to the door, which I walked to quickly. Her voice was very strictish. When I shut the door behind me, I heard the class chanting together, “Snacks! Snack! Snacks!”

  Then I heard some stomping, and when I looked back, Mrs. Baxter was pulling down the shade on her classroom door.

  Couldn’t they see I was just trying to be helpful? Certainly my very own class would be very happy to see me. Besides, I couldn’t wait to show them what being Principal for the Day looked like on me. They were going to be really impresstified. Especially Elliott. And also Mrs. Pellington. She’d see me and think, Oh, silly me, thinking Frannie’s curious hands would get the better of her. Look at her being so adult and responsible making sure everyone is okay. She is a genius of the earth!

  My classroom was at the very end of the hall. As I got closer to it, my heart started to get very thumpish. Then, just when I reached my arm out to turn the doorknob, a voice behind me asked, “What are you doing?” It was Cora.

  “Introducing myself to everyone!” I told her.

  “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me in the office?” she asked.

  “I did wait,” I said. “I just waited . . . in this direction.”

  “Frannie, I have a lot to do today. I don’t have time to be chasing you around. I really need you to follow the rules, okay?” Cora said without a smile anywhere on her.

  “Okay,” I said, looking at the ground and feeling a little bit baddish. Then she took my hand and we walked back to my office.

  “Sit back down, Frannie. You have a long to do list, and you’ve only gotten two of them done,” she said.

  I scrunched my face at Cora in my brain where she couldn’t see it.

  “Frankly,” I reminded her. Then I looked back down at the list and read the second thing I was supposed to do: Make twelve photocopies of the absentee list and distribute to all of the faculty.

  I was excited that I got to photocopy so many pieces of paper. But I had a bad day feeling on my skin because I didn’t get to show my class what I looked like being Principal for the Entire Worldwide Day of America. Hopefully, that wasn’t anything a little photocopying couldn’t fix.

  CHAPTER 8

  Just after Cora and I got back to the office, Principal Wilkins walked in.

  “Frannie, what were you doing interrupting classes?” he asked.

  “I wanted to make sure everyone had what they needed,” I explained.

  “Is that on your list of tasks?” he asked.

  I shook my head no.

  “Did Cora tell you to do that?”

  I shook my head no.

  “I’m afraid, then, that this is your first strike, Frannie.”

  That is when my heart fell all the way to my feet and melted into a big disappointment puddle.

  “It is?” I asked him to make sure.

  “I’m sorry to say, it is. Now, please, stick to your tasks and do exactly as Cora tells you. I don’t want to have to come back up here today,” he said.

  “Sorry, Principal Wilkins. I will,” I said, looking at his shoes. I was too horrendified to look at his face.

  After he left, I showed Cora the list of names I’d gathered so she could see I did my job. Then we walked to a room with two copy machines, a coffeemaker, and a table with two staplers, one three-hole punch, seven small boxes of paper clips, two in/out trays, a hugeish ball made exactly of only rubber bands, a box of tape, and about forty-billion glue sticks!

  Cora explained how to use the copy machine and said, “You need to be very careful about wasting paper. So make sure you line the paper up just so. The more times we make a copy mistake, the more paper we waste, and that’s very bad for trees. Do you understand? ”

  I nodded my head yes to Cora because I did understand.

  Then Cora noticed the coffeepot. “How is there no coffee already?” she asked. I knew this was the type of question that I was not supposed to answer.

  “I’ll be back in one minute, Frankly. Just hit COPY to get started.” Then Cora quickly raced out of the room.

  To make sure the machine was not broken, I decided to do a test. I put my cheek on the glass, then pressed COPY. When a picture of my cheek shot out onto the tray, I thought it looked really fantastical. That is why I put the other cheek down, too, and pressed COPY again. I copied my chin, my forehead, and both of my ears. That is when I knew that I was making a book, actually. And if I was making a book, I’d probably need to use the three-hole punch because my book would be too thick for stapling.

  As I walked over to the three-hole punch, I noticed the label maker. I certainly and actually needed to label my book, so everyone would know what my book was about and also who made it. But before I could even get to that part, Cora came back.

  “How’d it go?” she asked.

  “Great!” I sa
id.

  When she asked if I had made twelve copies, I realized that she wasn’t talking about my book. She was talking about the third task on my list.

  “Oh,” I said. “I didn’t do that job yet.”

  “What have you been doing?”

  “This!” I said, holding up my book.

  “Frannie, didn’t I just explain to you about wasting paper?” I was shocktified that Cora would think copying my face was a waste of paper.

  “You just had your first strike only minutes ago. How can you already be up to your second?”

  I did not realize this was a second strike type of situation.

  “Do I really have a second strike?” I asked her.

  “I’m afraid so,” she said, taking the attendance papers from me to copy herself. I felt very humilified and also shocktified. Did I really have only one strike left? I was going to have to be extra strict with my mouth words and my curious hands.

  Once Cora made the twelve copies, we went from classroom to classroom handing them out. I waved to everyone, and they waved back. That made me feel really important, indeed.

  When we got back to the office, the phones were ringing their necks off.

  “Frankly, go get your task list from your office while I deal with the phones, please.” Cora had a frustrated look on her face again.

  I raced into my office to get the list. On the way there, I noticed something shiny and red out of my eye edge. I turned to look, and on the wall in the corner was the most beautiful box I’d ever seen.

  I didn’t know that microphones lived in drawers, and I did not know that beautiful red boxes lived on walls! It had a big handle in the middle and right above it read PULL FOR FIRE. That is when I realized what it meant exactly. What it meant exactly was this is what Principal Wilkins pulled when he fired a teacher.

  I wondered what happened when you pulled it. Did a little flag come up that said SORRY! YOU’RE FIRED! Did the person getting fired pull it or did the person doing the firing pull it? I was extremely and actually very curious to know what happened when you pulled that handle.

  I stared at the box one more time before I went back to my desk. I had to hurry because I didn’t want Cora to see I was not being concentratish on my task.

  I quickly grabbed the task list off my desk and, just as I reached Cora’s desk, Principal Wilkins came in.

  “Frankly, are you ready to observe the student teachers?” he asked me. The student teachers were not students, actually. They were adults practicing to be teachers.

  I nodded yes. I did not know I’d be going with Principal Wilkins. All of a sudden the moths I felt in Mr. Peters’s class started to fly up inside my belly.

  “We’re going to check in on Judy Miller. She’s student teaching in one of the fourth-grade classes,” he said. Then Cora handed me a pad and a pen for taking notes.

  When we got to the fourth-grade class, Judy Miller welcomed us inside. She said, “Class, we have some special visitors. This is Frankly Miller. She is Principal for the Day.”

  It gave me a good day feeling that she told everyone about calling me Frankly. I took out my notepad and wrote down Judy Miller is friendly.

  “Hi, Frankly!” everyone called at once because they were so excitified to get to meet the actual winner of the Principal for the Day contest.

  “Hi, every single person!” I said.

  “Frannie’s job today is to watch student teachers in action and report on the good things they are doing. So please, don’t mind us. We will just be sitting here for a couple of minutes while you work. Thank you,” Principal Wilkins said. We sat down on cold, gray stools.

  “Thank you, Frankly and Principal Wilkins,” Judy said.

  I wrote down Judy Miller is very polite.

  The student teacher had a professional piece of paper in her hand. That was the third good thing I wrote down about her.

  Judy Miller is very businessish.

  When I was finished, I looked at Principal Wilkins and nodded to let him know that I wrote down three things like I was supposed to. Just as we were allowed to barge in without getting yelled at, we got up and walked out without having to say good-bye!

  CHAPTER 9

  Cora met me outside of Judy Miller’s classroom and reminded me of the next very important part of the day: LUNCH. At lunch, I was supposed to sit with Judy Miller to discuss some of the things I noticed about her work. Cora also told me to meet her after lunch outside the teachers’ lounge at exactly one o’clock. That gave me one hour to the exact minute to eat.

  Before I looked for Judy Miller, I found Elliott. I wanted to just very quickly tell him about my day and the firing box that I found.

  As soon as I reached Elliott, my classmates turned around and started throwing a million and sixty hundredteen questions at me through the air. A for instance of what I mean is that I heard these questions: They let principals eat lunch? Did you make any laws? Are you ever coming back to our class again? Do you get to write our report cards? A lot of stuff like that.

  “How is it?” Elliott asked me. His eyes were so hugeish, I was afraid they were going to fall right off of his face.

  “It’s really fantastical,” I said. “And, actually, I’m working right this very second!”

  “You don’t look very busy,” Millicent, who was standing behind Elizabeth in line, said.

  “Well, I am,” I told her. “I just finished a machillion jobs and have half a chillion left. In fact, I am not even supposed to be talking to you. I am supposed to be sitting with that student teacher,” I said, pointing to where Judy Miller had just set down her tray.

  “I wish you could eat with us,” Elliott said. This gave me a bad day feeling on my skin because I really wanted to eat with him, too.

  I looked back over at the student teacher table, and since Judy Miller had not even taken one tiny bite of her lunch, I knew I could wait just one more little minute. That is when I got a very good idea. A very good idea that would be extremely fast, as a matter of fact.

  “Are you really extra hungry?” I asked Elliott.

  He looked down at his stomach, which I guess told him that he wasn’t so hungry because when he looked back up at me, he said, “I don’t think so.”

  “Good. I want to quickly show you

  “I’ve seen the principal’s office already,” he said.

  “Elliott!” I scolded.

  “What?” he asked, a little bit confusified.

  “You have never seen it when I was principal. Only when Mr. Wilkins was principal,” I said, a little bit strictish.

  That’s when I saw his face channel change, which meant he knew there was a very big difference.

  “Sorry, Frannie,” he apologized.

  “Frankly!” I corrected.

  “Frankly!” he said. “Let’s go!”

  “Where are you going?” Elizabeth asked, nosy-ish. “You aren’t allowed to leave the cafeteria without an adult.”

  “I am an adult,” I told her.

  “No, you’re not! You’re just a pretend one.”

  “No, I am actually a real one today. And, if you must know, I was going to show Elliott my office.”

  “Can I come, too?” Elizabeth asked.

  “And me?” Millicent lowered her book and asked.

  It was a little nervousing that all these people wanted to come with me and see how professional I was. I didn’t want them to get in trouble, but how could I say no?

  CHAPTER 10

  “Let’s go quickly then,” I said, turning to rush out of the cafeteria when the lunch monitor wasn’t looking.

  The three of them followed me all the way up the stairs and down all the hallways to my very fancy office.

  Since it was my office, I got to walk in first. I showed them what it looked like when I sat at the desk. Once I was at the desk, I realized that they had never seen me on the phone in the principal’s office. I picked up the phone and pretended someone was on the other end. But they didn’t loo
k so impresstified. So I put my briefcase up on the desk and took out my dad’s empty glasses frames and put those on. Now I was sitting at Principal Wilkins’s desk, on the phone, wearing my dad’s glasses. That was going to really wow them. But, when their faces did not look as wowish as they should have, I put my feet up on the desk and leaned back, still holding the phone and wearing glasses so they could see what that looked like.

  “Frannie, this is boring. Show us something good,” Elizabeth said.

  “Frankly,” I reminded her, “is my professional name.”

  “Sorry,” she said.

  “That’s okay,” I told her.

  “Sometimes I forget, too,” I admitted.

  I let everyone sit in the swivel chair for exactly thirty seconds. Then Millicent said that it was time to go because they’d been there a long time. But I didn’t want them to leave. I liked having company in my office.

  “Wait, you can’t go,” I said. “I have to show you something really important.”

  “What?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yeah, what is it?” Elliott wanted to know also. I hadn’t planned on showing this to everyone, but they were all here. So I thought to myself, Why not?

  I walked over to the other side of the room and stood next to the beautiful red box. I pointed to the handle that said PULL FOR FIRE.

  “Wow,” Elizabeth said.

  “What is it?” Elliott wanted to know.

  “What it is, exactly, is the handle you pull when you are going to fire someone.”

  “Really? That’s how you fire someone?” Elliott asked me.

  “Yes, it is a scientific fact that you fire someone by pulling that big, red handle.”

  “What does it do, though? When you pull the handle?” Elliott wanted to know. Elliott and I had very similar brains. That is why he and I thought a lot of the same things.