Free Friendship According to Humphrey by Betty G. Birney Page A

you, I’ll be the first one in line to buy a ticket.”
    Kirk looked as confused as I felt.
    “But . . .” Uh-oh, here came the clincher. “There’s a time to be funny and a way to be funny that’s appropriate. And there’s a time to be funny and a way to be funny that is not. It’s time for you to learn the difference.”
    I waited for a “Chirrup,” or at least an argument, but Kirk remained silent.
    “Why did you pretend to drop a cricket on Heidi’s head?” Mrs. Brisbane asked.
    Kirk shrugged his shoulders. “Because it was funny?”
    “Do you think Heidi thought it was funny?”
    Kirk shook his head.
    “I think you did it to get attention. And if that’s the case, it worked.” I’m not sure, but I think Mrs. Brisbane smiled. “Now, why do you like to get attention?”
    Kirk shrugged again.
    “So people will like you?” the teacher asked.
    “Maybe.”
    “Then I have good news for you. You don’t have to play pranks anymore. People already like you. You’re one of the most popular students I have.”
    I’m not sure, but I think Kirk smiled a little, too.
    “So the next time you think of doing something funny, I want you to think about two things. First: Is it really funny? Or is it hurtful to someone? Second: Are you just doing it to get attention? Can you work on that?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” said Kirk.
    “Because if you continue to act like you acted today, I’m afraid you’re going to be doing a solo comedy act in Principal Morales’ office. And he may not think you’re funny at all.”
    I think Mr. Morales has a good sense of humor. But I also think that Mrs. Brisbane is good at figuring out what’s going in people’s heads. I bet she studied psychology in college.
    Kirk was quiet for the rest of the day. So were Og and the crickets.
    After my classmates went home, Mrs. Brisbane hung around longer than usual. I soon learned why. Aldo came to Room 26 to see her.
    “Mrs. Brisbane, thanks for your call,” he said.
    “And I thank you for coming in early to talk,” she said.
    They looked funny sitting in those little student chairs.
    “I hope you’ll forgive me for reading this application you left behind. It was none of my business,” she explained.
    Maybe not, but I’d made sure it was her business, with a little help from Og.
    “When I saw that you had written in ‘Teaching’ and then crossed it out, I thought perhaps you’d like to talk.”
    “Yes, I would,” said Aldo. He was strangely quiet, and I guess he was nervous, because he kept tugging at his collar. “I was thinking I’d like to be a teacher, but I’m kind of . . . afraid.”
    Mrs. Brisbane listened while Aldo explained his fears about not being smart enough or interesting enough to be a good teacher.
    “Everybody feels that way,” she said with a warm smile. “What makes you think you would like to teach?”
    Was I surprised to hear Aldo talk about how much he liked books, science, history, math, learning . . . how much he liked children! (He didn’t mention hamsters, but I knew how he felt about me.)
    When he was finished, Mrs. Brisbane laughed out loud. “You’d better become a teacher or I’ll be angry with you. You sound like a born teacher!”
    “How can I know for sure?” Aldo asked.
    “Would you like to try it out?” Mrs. Brisbane asked.
    “Try out . . . teaching?”
    “Yes. We’ll pick a day for you to come in and teach a subject to the class. You can pick any subject. See how it feels to be in front of a classroom. See how the students react to you.”
    Aldo rose and began to pace. “That’s a wonderful offer. I don’t know. Sounds good. Maybe.”
    “Please think about it, talk it over with your wife, and let me know,” Mrs. Brisbane suggested. “But you’ll have to do it soon. This application is due in a week.”
    “I will, I will,” said Aldo. “If I could be half the teacher you are, I’d be happy.”
    Mrs. Brisbane laughed. “Thank you, Aldo. But even after all these