Migrating to Michigan by Jeffery L Schatzer Page A

TIME-OUT. He turned to take a look at Mister Adams. Professor Tuesday’s nephew was writing on the wall with a crayon. When he noticed that the professor was looking at him, Mister Adams put his finger by his nose and twisted his hand.
    The professor laughed out loud. “Mister Adams says he’s bored. Maybe we should take another quick trip before we have lunch.”
    He didn’t seem to mind that his nephew had written all over his office wall with a crayon. “You can come out of TIME-OUT now, Mister Adams. But you must not run off again.”
    Mister Adams nodded his head in agreement and climbed down from his chair. He crossed the room and joined us at the table. He seemed to be happy that he was no longer sitting in the corner.
    â€œWhat are we going to see next?” I asked.
    â€œCan we visit Polish immigrants?” Owen asked. “Rachel got to visit Germans. Now it’s my turn. Can we visit the Polish, please, Professor?”
    â€œNot just yet,” said the professor, “I want you to see something else first.”

The Dutch
Holland, Michigan—June 1849
    W e got ready for our third trip of the day into history. I was eager to find out where the professor was taking us. When he returned from taking a peek into the past, his hair and beard were all messed up. After he straightened himself, we stepped through the green cloud. Before long, we were standing on the top of some sand dunes. A big, beautiful lake was off in the distance behind us.
    â€œIt’s very windy today in Holland, Michigan,” the professor said.
    â€œAre we really in Holland?” Rachel shouted above the wind. “Cool, I can’t wait to see the tulips and windmills. My dad even bought me a pair of wooden shoes here when I was little.”
    The professor just smiled and winked twice. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing any tulips, windmills, or wooden shoes. The Dutch have only been here a couple of years. It’s 1849. So, what we see today won’t look much like the Holland, Michigan, of our time.”
    Sand whipped at our backs as Professor Tuesday pulled out his trusty compass. Then he started walking away from the lake and dunes. This time, we all kept a careful eye on Mister Adams. We didn’t want to lose him again.
    Once we got away from the sand dunes, the ground got mucky and swampy. Owen stopped to tie his shoes tightly.
    â€œI don’t want my shoes to come off,” he said with a weak smile.
    â€œGood thinking,” said Professor Tuesday.
    â€œAH-H-H …,” Owen started to sneeze again, but he plugged his nose just in time.
    The farther away we got from the lake and the dunes, the calmer the wind was. We picked our way carefully through the damp, soggy ground and came to a small wooden building. The professor made sure that our Tuesday Translators were on and working. He turned a small knob on each translator so we could speak and understand Dutch. As we peeked into the window, we saw several children inside, seated at benches. The girls wore dark dresses and had bonnets on their heads. The boys wore kneelength pants and white shirts.
    â€œIt’s a school,” I whispered.
    â€œThat’s right,” Professor Tuesday added quietly. “Let’s listen in for a while.”
    We were surprised to hear English. The teacher was giving a lesson on the alphabet. Each child held a small blackboard and wrote letters with chalk. After the alphabet lesson was over, the teacher spoke in Dutch. Our Tuesday Translators went to work changing the Dutch words into English so we could understand. The class started working on arithmetic … addition and subtraction.
    â€œYuck,” Owen said softly, “I don’t like math.”
    â€œMaybe you’d learn to like math if you did your homework for a change,” scolded Rachel.
    Soon, the professor waved for us to follow him, and we continued exploring. Thick, tall pine trees