table. Instead he paced around the room, coffee cup in hand, a study in frenetic energy. “Sally? Thoughts?”
“The chicken’s excellent,” she said.
At this rate, the spring pageant was never going to take place.
“I have an idea,” I said. “It’s not a great one, but at least it’s something we could discuss.”
“Go on,” Michael prompted, training his intense gaze my way.
“What if, instead of aiming for a huge theme, we tried doing something smaller? A slice of life kind of thing. There’s a whole storeroom full of records in the basement. I was down there looking at them this morning.”
Ed was already shaking his head, but Michael ignored him. “What kinds of records?”
“So far, I’ve hardly done anything more than open the first box. It was filled with pretty mundane things, a couple of receipts, a bill of sale for some chickens.”
“Chickens!” Ed snorted. “And you thought my pirate idea was bad.”
“I’m not saying we should build the pageant around the chickens.” I decided to ignore him, too. “Just that we might find something useful there. And barring that, we might find enough information about how Joshua and Honoria lived in the early years of this century to reconstruct a day in their lives. I think the kids might enjoy that.”
“Speaking as their history teacher, I think that’s an interesting idea,” Rita said. “Students are always asking why it’s important to study the past. This could be a way to make a piece of that past come alive.”
Sally’s no pushover when it comes to her kids, but even she was nodding. She was probably afraid that a “no” vote might have us all talking to parrots and sewing eye patches come spring. “The idea’s got potential,” she agreed. “You say there’s a whole room filled with records?”
I nodded. “Mr. Hanover gave me the key this morning. So far, I’ve only looked at one box—”
Outside the room, someone ran past the door and down the hall, the tread of their footsteps echoing loudly. As teachers, it was our duty to punish such infractions. We all glanced toward the door, but nobody got up. A moment later, a second set of footsteps, sounding equally hurried, followed. I wondered what was going on.
Michael turned back to me. “Do you have any idea what’s in the rest of the boxes?”
“No,” I admitted. “Judging by what I’ve already seen, I doubt that it’s anything earthshaking. Still, I imagine we’ll be able to reconstruct quite a bit of information about the early years of the school.”
Michael walked over and perched on the edge of the table. “I think Melanie has something here. Unless anyone objects, I say we go with it. A Day in the Life of Joshua and Honoria Howard.”
Broadway would never come calling, but for our purposes, it just might do the trick.
“Who’s going to write the script?” I asked.
“That’s my job,” said Michael. “And I’d like to get started as soon as possible. Keep me informed of everything you find that you think I might be able to use. In fact, I might just go down and have a look around myself.”
As he finished speaking, the class bell rang, long and loud, in the hallway outside.
“That was quick.” Sally stuffed the last bite of crumb cake into her mouth. “Have we been here that long?”
I looked at the wall clock. “No, it’s early. We should have fifteen more minutes.”
“That’s odd,” said Ed. “You don’t suppose one of the little pranksters has sneaked into the office—”
“And rung the bell that would call them back to class early?” Rita asked skeptically. “I doubt it.”
We all heard the sirens at the same time. Automatically, our heads turned toward the window, but since the teachers’ lounge was in the back of the building, facing the parking lot, there was nothing to be seen.
“Fire?” asked Michael.
“No alarm.” I got up and opened the door. “If there were a fire, someone would pull that first thing to
“The chicken’s excellent,” she said.
At this rate, the spring pageant was never going to take place.
“I have an idea,” I said. “It’s not a great one, but at least it’s something we could discuss.”
“Go on,” Michael prompted, training his intense gaze my way.
“What if, instead of aiming for a huge theme, we tried doing something smaller? A slice of life kind of thing. There’s a whole storeroom full of records in the basement. I was down there looking at them this morning.”
Ed was already shaking his head, but Michael ignored him. “What kinds of records?”
“So far, I’ve hardly done anything more than open the first box. It was filled with pretty mundane things, a couple of receipts, a bill of sale for some chickens.”
“Chickens!” Ed snorted. “And you thought my pirate idea was bad.”
“I’m not saying we should build the pageant around the chickens.” I decided to ignore him, too. “Just that we might find something useful there. And barring that, we might find enough information about how Joshua and Honoria lived in the early years of this century to reconstruct a day in their lives. I think the kids might enjoy that.”
“Speaking as their history teacher, I think that’s an interesting idea,” Rita said. “Students are always asking why it’s important to study the past. This could be a way to make a piece of that past come alive.”
Sally’s no pushover when it comes to her kids, but even she was nodding. She was probably afraid that a “no” vote might have us all talking to parrots and sewing eye patches come spring. “The idea’s got potential,” she agreed. “You say there’s a whole room filled with records?”
I nodded. “Mr. Hanover gave me the key this morning. So far, I’ve only looked at one box—”
Outside the room, someone ran past the door and down the hall, the tread of their footsteps echoing loudly. As teachers, it was our duty to punish such infractions. We all glanced toward the door, but nobody got up. A moment later, a second set of footsteps, sounding equally hurried, followed. I wondered what was going on.
Michael turned back to me. “Do you have any idea what’s in the rest of the boxes?”
“No,” I admitted. “Judging by what I’ve already seen, I doubt that it’s anything earthshaking. Still, I imagine we’ll be able to reconstruct quite a bit of information about the early years of the school.”
Michael walked over and perched on the edge of the table. “I think Melanie has something here. Unless anyone objects, I say we go with it. A Day in the Life of Joshua and Honoria Howard.”
Broadway would never come calling, but for our purposes, it just might do the trick.
“Who’s going to write the script?” I asked.
“That’s my job,” said Michael. “And I’d like to get started as soon as possible. Keep me informed of everything you find that you think I might be able to use. In fact, I might just go down and have a look around myself.”
As he finished speaking, the class bell rang, long and loud, in the hallway outside.
“That was quick.” Sally stuffed the last bite of crumb cake into her mouth. “Have we been here that long?”
I looked at the wall clock. “No, it’s early. We should have fifteen more minutes.”
“That’s odd,” said Ed. “You don’t suppose one of the little pranksters has sneaked into the office—”
“And rung the bell that would call them back to class early?” Rita asked skeptically. “I doubt it.”
We all heard the sirens at the same time. Automatically, our heads turned toward the window, but since the teachers’ lounge was in the back of the building, facing the parking lot, there was nothing to be seen.
“Fire?” asked Michael.
“No alarm.” I got up and opened the door. “If there were a fire, someone would pull that first thing to
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