Ramona's World by Beverly Cleary Page B

said, “Ramona, bring the note to me.” Trapped, Ramona obeyed.

    Mrs. Meacham read it, smiled, and turned to the chalkboard, where she added one word to the list of Words We Need to Work On. That word was “Ramona.” She then tore up the note and gave a little talk about not confusing n with m . Ramona, along with the rest of the class, then knew Yard Ape had written “Ranoma” instead of “Ramona.” She glanced at him. He was looking straight ahead and even his ears were red. She had never seen Yard Ape embarrassed before. What could he have written in the note?
    At recess all the boys chanted, “Danny loves Ramona! Danny loves Ramona!”
    Daisy asked, “Didn’t you get to read any of it?” Ramona shook her head, more curious than ever. She decided to ask Yard Ape, but he was so busy kicking a ball that he acted as if he had never met her. Oh, well. Now her class would have to study her name in spelling. Ramona liked that.
    Yard Ape continued to avoid Ramona. When he wasn’t paying attention in class, he was busy drawing a wristwatch in ink on his arm. On the bus he sat with the rowdy boys in the last seats.
    As the winter rains beat against the classroom windows, Ramona plodded along with spelling, day after day, spelling most words right if she had worked hard, something she did not often do. On tests, if she spelled them all right, Mrs. Meacham wrote, “Keep up the good work!” on her paper. Ramona sometimes wondered if spelling correctly was worthwhile, because those who spelled all their words right were given what Mrs. Meacham called Reward Words to work on. These were really hard words, some with three syllables. Ramona did not feel rewarded.
    At home Ramona’s parents and sometimes Beezus sat beside her on the couch and went over spelling words with Ramona, who squirmed, unfastened and refastened the Velcro on her shoes, or tried to put one foot behind her head. Her parents sighed. Beezus said, “Oh, grow up, Ramona.”
    â€œI am a potential grown-up,” Ramona said with dignity, pleased to have used a Reward Word. She looked at Roberta lying in her playpen with her chewed-up bear and felt a moment of pity for her baby sister and what lay ahead of her in growing up, especially spelling.
    All this made Ramona feel surrounded by words. There were words everyplace she looked: in books and newspapers, on signs and television, on cereal boxes and milk cartons. The world, Ramona decided, was full of people who used their dictionary skills and probably weren’t any fun.
    Then one day when Ramona was riding on the school bus going to Daisy’s house, she glanced out the window and happened to notice a license plate on a car in the next lane. Instead of numbers it had letters: LIBARY . “Daisy, look!” she said. “They left out a letter.” Ramona was sure of the spelling of library because she went to the branch library once a week and saw the word above the door every time she entered.
    â€œYou’d better tell Mrs. Meacham,” said Daisy.
    The next morning Ramona approached Mrs. Meacham, planted herself squarely in front of her teacher, and said, “I saw a license plate with library spelled with only one r , and that is wrong.”
    â€œGood for you, Ramona,” said Mrs. Meacham. “I know that license plate. It belongs to the county librarian.”
    Ramona was indignant. “If she can’t spell, why is she a librarian? Librarians should know how to spell.”
    Mrs. Meacham laughed and said, “I’m glad you think so, Ramona, but the state of Oregon allows only six letters on personalized license plates. I am sure the librarian is really an excellent speller.”
    â€œOh,” said Ramona, disappointed. She wanted a grown-up to be wrong for a change. She was tired of the rightness of grown-ups.
    That same day, late in the afternoon, when Ramona was grouchy because her mother had