determination.
Fadi walked past the bathrooms, and finally he reached room 145. With a deep breath he turned the knob and entered. Loud laughter and shouts greeted him. Kids were hanging out talking, throwing wads of paper at one another. With a sinking feeling he noted that most of the desks were taken, except for the ones in front. I definitely donât want to sit there .
As curious glances fell his way, he spotted an empty spot on the other side of the room, in the middle of the row. His head ducked down, Fadi hurried across the roomand slid into the seat with a feeling of some relief. He put his backpack under his desk and smoothed out his schedule on the scarred desktop. Ignoring the surrounding cacophony, he noted that math was next. Okay. Math is good and pretty easy . It was followed by science, then lunch. Language arts and physical education rounded out the rest of the day. His heart quickened when he saw he had art later on that week, on Thursday.
As he folded his page and slipped it into his bag, two boys in the back launched paper airplanes at the girls in the second row. It hit the head of a girl with sparkling pink barrettes in her pale yellow hair. With flushed plump cheeks she twisted around in her seat.
âStop that, Ike!â she yelled. She crumpled up the plane and threw it back at a wiry red-haired boy, who Fadi guessed was Ike.
âWhat you going to do about it, Fatty Patty?â mocked Ike.
âYeah, Fatty,â echoed Ikeâs dark-featured friend, his lips curved with laughter. âWhat you gonna do? Eat us?â
âGood one, Felix,â said Ike, giving him a high five.
Felix pretended to run his hands through his black spiky gelled hair and leaned back in his seat.
Patty turned red, sniffed, and turned around.
âIgnore them, Patty,â consoled her friend, shootingthe boys a peeved look. âTheyâre such morons. Have been since kindergarten.â
Wow. These kids have known each other forever, thought Fadi in wonder.
Ike was about to say something in response when the door flew open. A man in a bright yellow-and-purple striped shirt hurried in and closed the door behind him. His hair, slightly past his shoulders, looked like it hadnât been combed in a very long time. âSorry Iâm late, class,â he said. âTraffic got the best of me today. I promise itâll be the last timeâso donât tell the principal.â
Giggles followed his last remark as he picked up a piece of chalk. His arm, along with the rest of his body, flew across the board as he wrote his name.
âIâm Mr. Torres, your homeroom teacher for 6B. Iâll also be teaching World History and Civilizations. So if youâre not supposed to be in 6B, youâre in the wrong room.â
Kids looked around the room, to see if anyone got up to leave.
Fadi peeked at his schedule to double-check. Yup, this is where Iâm supposed to be. There was no need for an embarrassing walk to the correct classroom.
âWell, looks like Iâve got a smart bunch this year,â said Mr. Torres with a grin. He reached into his bag andremoved a sheaf of papers. âHere are the announcements for this week and the lunch menu.â
Fadiâs mind drifted off as Mr. Torresâs words floated over him. He gazed out the window, watching squirrels scamper down the trees, hiding nuts in the lawn. He closed his left eye and fit the bushy-tailed creature into a frame. That would make a great picture, he thought, wishing he was outside with them.
Fadi added a few finishing touches to his drawings of amoebas and other single-celled micro-organisms, which the class had been reviewing. He slowly slipped the pages into his science notebook and waited for the rest of the kids to rush out to lunch. He hadnât said a single word to anyone since homeroom that morning, and no one had made the effort to talk to him, either. Heâd spotted two Afghan kids
Fadi walked past the bathrooms, and finally he reached room 145. With a deep breath he turned the knob and entered. Loud laughter and shouts greeted him. Kids were hanging out talking, throwing wads of paper at one another. With a sinking feeling he noted that most of the desks were taken, except for the ones in front. I definitely donât want to sit there .
As curious glances fell his way, he spotted an empty spot on the other side of the room, in the middle of the row. His head ducked down, Fadi hurried across the roomand slid into the seat with a feeling of some relief. He put his backpack under his desk and smoothed out his schedule on the scarred desktop. Ignoring the surrounding cacophony, he noted that math was next. Okay. Math is good and pretty easy . It was followed by science, then lunch. Language arts and physical education rounded out the rest of the day. His heart quickened when he saw he had art later on that week, on Thursday.
As he folded his page and slipped it into his bag, two boys in the back launched paper airplanes at the girls in the second row. It hit the head of a girl with sparkling pink barrettes in her pale yellow hair. With flushed plump cheeks she twisted around in her seat.
âStop that, Ike!â she yelled. She crumpled up the plane and threw it back at a wiry red-haired boy, who Fadi guessed was Ike.
âWhat you going to do about it, Fatty Patty?â mocked Ike.
âYeah, Fatty,â echoed Ikeâs dark-featured friend, his lips curved with laughter. âWhat you gonna do? Eat us?â
âGood one, Felix,â said Ike, giving him a high five.
Felix pretended to run his hands through his black spiky gelled hair and leaned back in his seat.
Patty turned red, sniffed, and turned around.
âIgnore them, Patty,â consoled her friend, shootingthe boys a peeved look. âTheyâre such morons. Have been since kindergarten.â
Wow. These kids have known each other forever, thought Fadi in wonder.
Ike was about to say something in response when the door flew open. A man in a bright yellow-and-purple striped shirt hurried in and closed the door behind him. His hair, slightly past his shoulders, looked like it hadnât been combed in a very long time. âSorry Iâm late, class,â he said. âTraffic got the best of me today. I promise itâll be the last timeâso donât tell the principal.â
Giggles followed his last remark as he picked up a piece of chalk. His arm, along with the rest of his body, flew across the board as he wrote his name.
âIâm Mr. Torres, your homeroom teacher for 6B. Iâll also be teaching World History and Civilizations. So if youâre not supposed to be in 6B, youâre in the wrong room.â
Kids looked around the room, to see if anyone got up to leave.
Fadi peeked at his schedule to double-check. Yup, this is where Iâm supposed to be. There was no need for an embarrassing walk to the correct classroom.
âWell, looks like Iâve got a smart bunch this year,â said Mr. Torres with a grin. He reached into his bag andremoved a sheaf of papers. âHere are the announcements for this week and the lunch menu.â
Fadiâs mind drifted off as Mr. Torresâs words floated over him. He gazed out the window, watching squirrels scamper down the trees, hiding nuts in the lawn. He closed his left eye and fit the bushy-tailed creature into a frame. That would make a great picture, he thought, wishing he was outside with them.
Fadi added a few finishing touches to his drawings of amoebas and other single-celled micro-organisms, which the class had been reviewing. He slowly slipped the pages into his science notebook and waited for the rest of the kids to rush out to lunch. He hadnât said a single word to anyone since homeroom that morning, and no one had made the effort to talk to him, either. Heâd spotted two Afghan kids
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