"Babysitters Club 122 Kristy In Charge" - читать интересную книгу автора (Babysitters Club)

"Pretty good."
"Don't expect the same of them," she said. "There are one or two decent players. I suspect some of them may be more athletic than they let on. I heard that a few of them take karate."
Things would be different once I was teaching. I was used to helping kids along. You should see some of the Krushers. Bad didn't
even begin to describe them, at least in the beginning. But I've learned that even bad players have a lot of potential. You just need some patience and an upbeat attitude.
For the next half hour, Ms. Walden told me exactly how she wanted the class run - every last detail. She insisted I make sure the students were wearing the proper gym suit and sneakers. She told me exactly when she required them lined up to go out to the field. She told me what indoor soccer exercises to do if it rained. And on and on.
About halfway through I stopped listening. I had no intention of doing things Ms. Walden's way. Her way was the way that caused students to pretend to be sick. My way would show them they were better than they knew, and that gym could be fun and rewarding.
'Are you getting this?" Ms. Walden asked sharply, snapping me back to attention.
"Yes," I answered. "Definitely."
"Good. There's something else you should be aware of. For this unit we're working with Mr. De Young's class." (He's one of the boys' gym teachers - a pretty nice guy.) "That means you'll have to coordinate your lesson plan with the student teacher for that class."
"No problem," I assured her. "Who's that?"
"Gary Retlin."
Can/ Retlin! I hoped I'd heard her wrong.
I glanced over Ms. Walden's shoulder. Gary was talking with Mr. De Young.
No, I hadn't heard wrong.
At that moment, Mr. De Young must have told Gary I'd be his partner. Gary looked around the auditorium and spotted me gaping at him in horror.
In response, he grinned the most obnoxious, self-satisfied, irritating grin I've ever seen in my life.
"What's the matter, Kristy?" Mary Anne asked me at our BSC meeting that afternoon. 'Are you still upset about teaching with Gary Retlin?"
"I think I'm in shock," I told her. "My hands are cold. I'm not thinking clearly. Those are symptoms of shock, aren't they?"
"Yes," Stacey said, "but don't worry, Kristy. Let Gary know who's boss. You can handle him."
"I'm the one who should be in shock," Mallory insisted. "Mrs. Simon told me not to worry, but I don't know. What if they think I'm a total dweeb?"
"You're not a total dweeb, so don't worry about it," I told her.
"It'll be fine," Mary Anne said. "I'm excited about this. Mr. Redmont was so nice. I'm not half as nervous as I was before I spoke to him."
"Mr. Peters was great too," Stacey said. "This is going to be a blast."
"Even though I didn't want to teach, I'm looking forward to being the student of a student," Abby put in. "It'll be a change, anyway."
"It has to be better than regular class," Claudia said as she bit into a Ring-Ding. 'Alan Gray is teaching my social studies class. Can you imagine what a circus that's going to be? I can't wait."
"You want Alan to teach the class?" I asked.
"It beats working," Claudia replied.
Mallory let out a long, sick moan.
"What?" Jessi asked.
"Beats working! That's what the eighth-graders are going to say when they see me walk in. They'll destroy me. They'll goof off. They won't listen. I'll be so embarrassed, I'll want to disappear."
"Mallory, you're a great baby-sitter," I reminded her. "The kids you sit for always listen to you. This isn't going to be so different."
"Of course it's going to be different," Mallory disagreed. Her voice was becoming more
shrill by the moment. "These aren't eight-year-olds - they're eighth-graders!"
I said a few more things, trying to sound encouraging. It seemed the right thing to do. But I wasn't being completely honest. If I were in her shoes, I'd have been just as panicked.
Chapter 7.
"Are you ready for your big day?" Abby asked as she slid into the seat beside me on the bus Monday morning.
"Sure," I replied.
"You've got your lesson plan and everything all mapped out?"
"Not on paper, exactly."
'Aren't you supposed to submit a lesson plan? That's what Anna was doing all weekend - writing up this lesson plan like she was concocting blueprints for a nuclear reactor. Hers is incredibly detailed."
'Anna is teaching music. Gym is totally different," I replied.
"If you say so."
"Well, it is. There's too much movement in sports to chart it all down on paper. You can't know what's going to happen until it gets going. Ms. Walden knows that. I bet she never makes a lesson plan. If she really wants some-
thing on paper, I'll do it at lunch and hand it in afterward. At least by then I'll know what happened and how long it all took."
"I don't think that's the idea," Abby replied. "You're supposed to use it to control how long everything takes. That's what Anna says."
"I told you, Anna is teaching music." I didn't want to talk about it anymore. Abby wasn't even in the program. Why was she giving me such a hard time? I liked the idea of lesson plans, just not for gym class.
Besides, I had other things on my mind. On Sunday afternoon, I'd finally called Gary. It was a chore and I'd kept putting off.
As if she were reading my mind, Abby asked, "Have you talked to Gary about this yet?"
"I tried to. But he's so weird. He actually asked me what the goalie does in soccer."
Abby's eyes widened in disbelief. Then she smiled. "He was busting your chops."