Foreign Teachers

The curse occurs at Madison High School, and it often does. You can get the lowdown from our Miss Brooks, who teaches English there. She always knows which way the wind is blowing. The biggest wind usually blows from the office of our beloved principal, Mr. Conkran.

Whenever he directs his huffing and puffing at me, and he often does, all I can do is baton my hatches and yell, blow me down. And he often does. Last Thursday, for example, when we observed visitors day at Madison, Mr. Conklin arbitrarily ordered me to spend the noon hour directing visitors through the school, instead of merely wasting my time eating lunch.

Next morning I answered the phone at seven o'clock, and once again the voice of the turtle was was heard throughout the day. Get over the school on the double. I have a little chore for you, Miss Brooks.

But Mr. Conklin, can't it wait until I've had breakfast? Don't be selfish. Well, a few minutes later, Walter Denton picked me up and we headed for school. Hallelujah, what a glorious day. Oh, what a beautiful morning!

Everything's going! Destrian seemed to be going the other way, Walter. Slow down. Slow down. Well, you're not in a hurry to see Mr. Conflin. That's the understatement of the year. It's slower, Walter. There are more pedestrians coming up, or going down, as the case may be.

Boy, if there's one thing I can't stand, it's pedestrians. Why don't they get a car and defend themselves? A whole driving on the wrong side of the street. It must be another European. They're all over town, Miss Brooks.

I don't get it. Well, evidently you haven't been reading the papers. A large group sailed over as a unit to see America. Yesterday our mayor gave them the keys to the city. The way they drive, he must have given them the keys to a saloon.