school for the top strings when, eventually, all of the strings are needed to make beautiful music. Also, there is a lot of pressure to show that you are gifted when sometimes you only want to be yourself.
No!
By Alvin McCraney, eighth grade
The reason we have elite schools is that we have elite gene pools. Some people are just smarter than others and we have to face that fact. Why hold the smart kids back just sowe can get along with the not-so-smarts? People who know things, who really know things, understand that it’s going to be the smart people who will be the leaders of tomorrow and who will do the inventing, write the books, and create the government that will be of most benefit to all people (including the not-so-smarts!).
Yes!
By Bobbi McCall, eighth grade
The reason we should not have elite schools is that jean pools can be created by anyone.
If I want my jeans shrunk so that they will fit me perfectly I can put them in a big pool created by someone with an IQ of 200 or an IQ of 55. As a matter of fact I left one pair of jeans out on my fire escape by accident and it rained on them and shrank them down. And as far as the leaders of tomorrow … have you ever heard of a war being started by anyone wearing tight jeans? No,you have not. It’s the baggy pants people of the world who start wars! ’Nuff said?
Editor’s note: I am sorry that the representative from
The Cruiser
did not take this subject seriously, as we think she could have made a real contribution.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Papa Was a Strolling Pawn
I met Bobbi at the coffee shop on the first floor of the Brooklyn Public Library. She pointed to an empty table and I grabbed it while she went for sodas. A geeky-looking guy came over and asked if the other two chairs at the table were taken.
“One of them is,” I said.
“Which one?” he asked.
“The one my friend is going to sit in,” I said, pulling his chain.
He looked at both of the chairs, then at me, and then walked away.
Bobbi came back and plopped down. “I forgot to ask you what kind of soda you want,” she said, “so I got an orange soda for me and cola for you.”
“I don’t like cola,” I said.
“Then I spit in the orange soda so I would be sure to get it,” she said, not missing a beat.
I took the cola.
We waited fifteen minutes for Sidney. For some reason I thought he would show up half drugged and maybe smoking a joint or something. He didn’t. We knew he had arrived when the sound level went up about a half twist. A couple of the kids started taking pictures. I turned to see who they were taking pictures of and saw Sidney. He had shown up wearing a suit, a tie, and sunglasses.
“Yo, they’re treating him like he’s a star,” I said.
“In this crowd he is,” Bobbi said, waving past me to some Asian kids sitting across the floor. “These are all chess players from across the country. They’re here to see Pullman play.”
“He really that good?”
“Jamie Pullman played the King’s Gambit against a master last week and cooked him,” Bobbi said. Sidney was just reaching our table. “Pullman goes eighteen hundred to two thousand all year and then busts a master with a King’s Gambit? That’s like you going up against LeBron James one-on-one and shutting him out.”
“How you guys doing?” This from Sidney.
“I’m good,” Bobbi said.
“I’m Zander,” I said. “You can draw your conclusions from that. How you doing?”
“Pullman is playing Sam Manzi,” Sidney said. “No big deal. He’s a world-class hockey player but just a bit above average in chess. You just sit long enough and Manzi gets impatient and starts hurrying up his moves. He’s a fast-twitch dude in a slow-twitch game.”
“Yeah, but if you fall behind Manzi you won’t make it up,” Bobbi said. “But I still don’t know how Pullman got by with the King’s Gambit against a master unless the guy was having a bad day.”
“You ever play Pullman?” I asked Sidney.
“Two
No!
By Alvin McCraney, eighth grade
The reason we have elite schools is that we have elite gene pools. Some people are just smarter than others and we have to face that fact. Why hold the smart kids back just sowe can get along with the not-so-smarts? People who know things, who really know things, understand that it’s going to be the smart people who will be the leaders of tomorrow and who will do the inventing, write the books, and create the government that will be of most benefit to all people (including the not-so-smarts!).
Yes!
By Bobbi McCall, eighth grade
The reason we should not have elite schools is that jean pools can be created by anyone.
If I want my jeans shrunk so that they will fit me perfectly I can put them in a big pool created by someone with an IQ of 200 or an IQ of 55. As a matter of fact I left one pair of jeans out on my fire escape by accident and it rained on them and shrank them down. And as far as the leaders of tomorrow … have you ever heard of a war being started by anyone wearing tight jeans? No,you have not. It’s the baggy pants people of the world who start wars! ’Nuff said?
Editor’s note: I am sorry that the representative from
The Cruiser
did not take this subject seriously, as we think she could have made a real contribution.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Papa Was a Strolling Pawn
I met Bobbi at the coffee shop on the first floor of the Brooklyn Public Library. She pointed to an empty table and I grabbed it while she went for sodas. A geeky-looking guy came over and asked if the other two chairs at the table were taken.
“One of them is,” I said.
“Which one?” he asked.
“The one my friend is going to sit in,” I said, pulling his chain.
He looked at both of the chairs, then at me, and then walked away.
Bobbi came back and plopped down. “I forgot to ask you what kind of soda you want,” she said, “so I got an orange soda for me and cola for you.”
“I don’t like cola,” I said.
“Then I spit in the orange soda so I would be sure to get it,” she said, not missing a beat.
I took the cola.
We waited fifteen minutes for Sidney. For some reason I thought he would show up half drugged and maybe smoking a joint or something. He didn’t. We knew he had arrived when the sound level went up about a half twist. A couple of the kids started taking pictures. I turned to see who they were taking pictures of and saw Sidney. He had shown up wearing a suit, a tie, and sunglasses.
“Yo, they’re treating him like he’s a star,” I said.
“In this crowd he is,” Bobbi said, waving past me to some Asian kids sitting across the floor. “These are all chess players from across the country. They’re here to see Pullman play.”
“He really that good?”
“Jamie Pullman played the King’s Gambit against a master last week and cooked him,” Bobbi said. Sidney was just reaching our table. “Pullman goes eighteen hundred to two thousand all year and then busts a master with a King’s Gambit? That’s like you going up against LeBron James one-on-one and shutting him out.”
“How you guys doing?” This from Sidney.
“I’m good,” Bobbi said.
“I’m Zander,” I said. “You can draw your conclusions from that. How you doing?”
“Pullman is playing Sam Manzi,” Sidney said. “No big deal. He’s a world-class hockey player but just a bit above average in chess. You just sit long enough and Manzi gets impatient and starts hurrying up his moves. He’s a fast-twitch dude in a slow-twitch game.”
“Yeah, but if you fall behind Manzi you won’t make it up,” Bobbi said. “But I still don’t know how Pullman got by with the King’s Gambit against a master unless the guy was having a bad day.”
“You ever play Pullman?” I asked Sidney.
“Two
Similar Books
