Digital Disaster! by Rachel Wise

secret knock.
    â€œEnter at your own risk, Ms. Martone,” he called out.
    I walked in and he was squinting at his computer, his glasses slipped down
on his nose.
    â€œIs that the new paper template?” I asked after seeing the
screen. It had the Cherry Valley Voice at the top and looked
just like the printed version, except it was blank, just filled with empty boxes where
the articles were supposed to go.
    â€œYes. Isn’t it splendid?” he asked, but he didn’t
sound like he thought it was so splendid.
    â€œYeah, it looks very cool.” I sat down next to him, gazing at
the screen. A ripple of excitement ran through me. The paper was going to look amazing
and all we had to do was drop our text into the boxes. “It’s going to make
things so much easier.”
    â€œThat’s the idea, except I can’t figure out how to get
any text in here,” he said, pointing to one of the empty boxes. “They showed
me several times. I guess it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks.”
    â€œCan I try?” I asked, putting the letter back in my jeans
pocket. I was dying to check out the new online site.
    â€œAbsolutely. I need all the help I can get!” he moved his
chair over.
    I wasn’t a computer whiz like the kids in the IT club, but I knew my
way around. I opened a couple of drop-down menus to find what I was looking for.
    â€œSee, you have to go into ‘cells’ first and then ‘insert
text,’ I said. “Then, if you click here, it will let you type in or drop in
whatever you want.” I typed in, Hi, Mr. Trigg , as an
example and showed him.
    â€œYou’re a brilliant genius!” he said.
    â€œGlad I could be of service.” I smiled. Then I reached into my
pocket and pulled out my letter. “So, um, here’s my latest Know-It-All
letter. Can you take a look? I think it’s pretty good.”
    â€œWell, if you think so, I’m sure it is,” said Mr. Trigg,
pushing his reading glasses up on his nose. He took the letter and started reading.
    â€œHmmmm,” he said after a minute.
    â€œWhat?” I asked. My heart started beating a little faster.
Maybe it wasn’t as good as I thought it was.
    Mr. Trigg lightly drummed his fingers on the desktop. He sat back.
“I think you’re being a little harsh here. Too opinionated. You need to be a
bit friendlier.”
    My heart dropped to my stomach. Wow. How could I have misjudged things
like that?
    â€œBut isn’t that what I’m supposed to be as
Know-It-All?” I asked. “Opinionated?”
    â€œThere’s a difference between sharing an opinion and being
opinionated,” Mr. Trigg said, holding up my letter. “I agree with everything
you said, but just tone it down a bit.”
    I took the letter back from Mr. Trigg. “It’s hard for me to
tone it down. The letter makes me angry. It’s one thing to make your own mistakes,
but to not even care how it affects other people? I just don’t get it. It’s
the same way I feel about the person who hacked into the math exam. What are people
thinking?” I said, my voice getting higher, my hands waving around.
    â€œWhoa! Slow down, Ms. Martone. I see this has tapped into something
for you,” Mr. Trigg said. “Maybe you need a little distance. Put it down for
a while; then give it another whirl.”
    â€œI just work hard to do well and be honest. Aren’t you upset
by it?” I asked. He was a teacher, for crying out loud.
    â€œOf course. But since Dear Know-It-All is anonymous, there’s
nothing I can do about it. These kinds of decisions catch up with you. If Rock Star
isn’t caught now, he or she will have to suffer the consequences at some point.
That I’m sure of. But your job is to offer some sound, levelheaded advice, and I
know you can do that.”
    â€œI hope so,” I said, folding up the letter and putting it in
my pocket.