The Landry News Page 6

  Dr. Barnes paced slowly behind her and said, “This is a memorandum to the personnel file of Mr. Karl Larson. I have just concluded a meeting with Mr. Larson. We discussed a newspaper being produced by students in his afternoon class. It appears to be a school newspaper, and I have asked Mr. Larson to show each copy to me before publication so that any objectionable material can be removed before it is distributed. Mr. Larson has insisted that the newspaper is a classroom newspaper and has taken full responsibility for the contents of each edition. He has agreed to supply me with one copy of each new edition that he and his students publish.”

  Stepping over to look over Mrs. Cormier’s shoulder, he asked, “Did you get all that?” Mrs. Cormier nodded. “Good,” said Dr. Barnes. “I’d like three copies for signature sometime tomorrow. Thank you, Mrs. Cormier.”

  As she left his office, Dr. Barnes sat down again and swiveled slowly back and forth.

  His meeting with Mr. Larson had not gone exactly as he had planned. But Dr. Barnes was happy with the results—very happy.

  Mr. Larson had accepted full responsibility for the newspaper and everything in it.

  The more Dr. Barnes thought about that, the better he liked it. All he had to do was wait. One mistake would drop Mr. Larson right into the frying pan.

  CHAPTER 14

  LAW FOR ALL, ALL FOR LAW

  WHEN THE AFTERNOON class came whooping into room 145 on Wednesday, the kids were surprised to see a TV and a VCR on a cart next to Mr. Larson’s desk. Mr. Larson had never showed videos to them before.

  When everyone had quieted down, Mr. Larson said, “I know you all need to get right to work on the newspaper, but first I want you to watch something I taped on TV late last night.”

  He pushed the play button, and a talk-show host told a joke about the president and the vice president telling lies to each other. The TV audience laughed and clapped.

  Mr. Larson shut off the TV and pushed the cart aside. He pulled down a rolled up map of the world and tapped the black tip of a pointer onto different countries as he spoke. Mr. Larson said, “If that comedian lived in this country or this country or this country, and if he had told that joke about the president last night, today he would probably be in jail.” Pausing dramatically, he moved the pointer to another country. “And if that comedian lived in this country and told that joke last night about the president, today he would probably be dead.”

  Moving the pointer to the United States, Mr. Larson said, “But, of course, that comedian lives in this country, and today he’s not in jail, and he’s not dead. He’s probably sitting somewhere drinking mineral water and thinking of something else to make people laugh again tonight.”

  Mr. Larson rolled up the map and walked to the side of the classroom. Picking his way among stacks of magazines and a couple of book racks, he stood next to a bulletin board. The board was incredibly cluttered, but in the center there was a small poster printed in faded blue ink that had never had anything stapled over it. At the top it said:

  The Bill of Rights

  The Ten Original Amendments

  to the Constitution of the United States of America

  Mr. Larson put the pointer on the word Constitution and said, “Now I know we haven’t studied the Constitution yet this year, so I’m going to get to the main point here as quickly as I can. The Constitution is like a list of rules, okay? It’s a list of rules that tells how our country’s government has to be set up. When the Constitution was first written down, some people said it gave too much power to the government and not enough protection to ordinary people. And these people said that before they would agree to the rules of the Constitution, there had to be a bill of rights, a list of rights that the government could never take away from people. They didn’t want the government to start acting like a cruel king—they had already had one of those, and one was enough.”

  Mr. Larson tapped on the word Amendments. He said, “So they made some amendments. This word just means “changes.” The Bill of Rights is contained in these ten changes that are now a permanent part of the Constitution.

  “Now, this is the main idea I want you to get here. They made these ten original amendments even before anyone would agree to the Constitution itself. And the First Amendment is first for a reason. It promises that the government cannot get involved in religion—either for or against it. It promises that people are free to express their opinions and ideas—like that comedian last night. And it also says that there is freedom of the press, that the government cannot decide what a newspaper is allowed or not allowed to print.”

  Ed caught on right away and his hand shot up. “Does that mean we can print anything we want to in The Landry News?” he asked.

  Mr. Larson said, “Good question, Ed. What do you think about that, Cara? Can you print anything you want to in The Landry News?”

  Cara hesitated. “I . . . I’m not sure. I mean, I used to put anything I wanted into the paper because I made the whole thing from beginning to end. But now, I . . . I guess if someone didn’t like what we wrote, they could keep us from using the printer, or the computer.”

  Then Joey said, “But if I used my own computer at home, and I bought my own paper and everything, like, then I could print whatever I felt like, right?”

  Sharon’s dad was a lawyer. She said, “Yeah, but if you printed a lie about me, my dad would sue you—and then your computer would be my computer!”

  Mr. Larson said, “You’ve all raised some good points here. The fact is, when you publish a newspaper, you do have to tell the truth. If you get caught lying, someone is likely to sue you—take you to court—like Sharon said. And if a newspaper company publishes the newspaper, then the owner of the newspaper gets to decide what may or may not be in the paper.”

  It was quiet for a moment. Then Ed asked the question that was forming in everyone’s mind. “So who is the owner of The Landry News? Cara, right?”

  Cara shook her head. “Not really—not anymore. And I feel kind of funny having that still be the name of it. I think maybe we should change it to something different.”

  Joey said, “I don’t. You started it, and you’re still the editor in chief, so I vote that we keep the name the same.”

  Cara blushed at Joey’s little speech and blushed even more when the whole class clapped and cheered, agreeing with him.

  Mr. Larson brought things back to order. “So that’s settled . . . now back to Ed’s question about who owns the newspaper . . . LeeAnn?”

  LeeAnn said, “Well, the school owns The Landry News, right? I mean, like . . . the school buys the paper and the computer and all, so it’s the school’s, right?”

  Mr. Larson smiled. “You could say the owner is the school, and that the head of the school is the principal. But the principal is hired by the school board, and the school board is elected by your parents and the other people in Carlton, and they are the ones who pay the tax money that pays the principal and the teachers, and buys all the paper and the computers and the printers, right?” After a long pause, Mr. Larson said, “There’s a lot to think about when you’re running a newspaper, isn’t there?” And with that the lesson about the Constitution and the Bill of Rights and the freedom of the press was over.

  Using the pointer like a gentleman’s walking cane, Mr. Larson picked his way through the clutter back to his desk.

  It was quiet for another moment or two, and Cara sat there, staring at the Bill of Rights on the bulletin board. She was wondering how much freedom of the press The Landry News really had.

  A little suspicion formed in the back of her mind that, sooner or later, she’d find out.

  CHAPTER 15

  REF MAKES TOUGH CALL

  ON THE FIRST Friday in December the ninth edition of The Landry News was distributed—over three hundred and seventy copies.

  Sitting at his desk, Dr. Barnes read his copy carefully. And when he turned to page three, Dr. Barnes finally saw what he had been hoping for, week after week. Smack in
the center of the page was the article of his dreams, an article that should not have been printed in a school newspaper. And Dr. Barnes was sure that a majority of the school board would agree with him.

  A slow smile spread over his face, and in his mind, Dr. Barnes began planning Mr. Larson’s retirement party.

  Cara Landry was having the time of her life. The Landry News was growing and changing, and she was keeping up with it. By the fourth edition, Joey had to print on both sides of the sheet; and from the fifth edition on, The Landry News had needed a second sheet of paper—for section B.

  Cara had to plan each edition. She had to read every story and every feature, plus she would help kids with their rewriting and revising. And on Thursdays, when Joey was assembling everything on the computer screen, Cara often had to cut articles or features that took up too much space.

  Cara also had to reject whatever she didn’t think would be right for The Landry News. Chrissy wanted to start a gossip column called “Hot Stuff” about school romances—crushes, rumors, and who was going to be dumped. When Cara asked if the information in her column would always be true, Chrissy had to agree that private notes passed among friends was the best place for this kind of news. And when Josh wanted to start a weekly ranking of the best fifth-grade athletes, Cara told him the list would have to include girls as well as boys. Josh decided to write a piece about ocean kayaking instead.

  With all she had to do for the newspaper—not to mention her other schoolwork—Cara was barely able to find time each week to write her own editorial. The editorial was always the last item in the paper, and by the fifth edition that meant it went on page four.

  The front page of The Landry News was the general news and information page—the main news stories, a summary of school and town events, and a weekly “Homework Countdown” that listed upcoming fifth-grade tests and project due dates. There was always a photograph, and if there was room, the front page also included the weekend weather prediction from the United States Weather Service, complete with little drawings that Alan made of sunshine, clouds, droplets, or snowflakes.

  The second page was different advice and information columns that kids kept coming up with, like this question-and-answer column about pets.

  Pets? You Bet!

  by Carrie Sumner

  Dear PYB:

  I have a cockatiel bird named Dingo, and all he will say is “pretty bird, pretty bird, pretty bird,” over and over again. I talk to him for an hour every day, and I have tried to teach him to say other words, but he isn’t interested. No matter what I say to him, and no matter how many times I say it, all he says is “pretty bird, pretty bird, pretty bird.” It’s driving me nuts. Any advice?

  From Crazy in Birdland

  Dear Crazy:

  I think your bird is mad at you because you named him after an ugly Australian wild dog. He wants to make sure that you know he’s a bird, and a pretty one, too. Try changing his name to Wing-Ding or SuperBird or Flier, and see if that works. And if it doesn’t, maybe you should think about exactly why you want to be talking to a bird in the first place.

  With deep concern, PYB

  Alan Rogers had started a column where he interviewed kids about their favorite foods and how they got their parents to buy them.

  Snack Attack!

  Dedicated to life, liberty, and the pursuit of junk food

  by Alan Rogers

  AR: So, JJ, [not his real name] I hear you’ve perfected a way to get your mom to buy sugary cereal and Pop Tarts every time she goes to the store, even if you’re not there to beg for them. Sounds too good to be true. Can you tell us about it?

  JJ: Believe me, it’s true. But it didn’t happen overnight.

  These things take time and planning.

  AR: What was the first step?

  JJ: I asked my health teacher what meal is the most important one of the day.

  AR: But didn’t you already know the answer?

  JJ: Of course. I knew she would say “Breakfast.” And once she did, I went home that afternoon and told my mom that my health teacher said the most important meal of the day is breakfast.

  AR: Ahhh! You were laying the foundation, right?

  JJ: Exactly. Then I skipped breakfast for the next three days. Mom tried to get me to eat, but I just said, “I don’t like anything we have in the house.”

  AR: Didn’t you starve those mornings?

  JJ: I had asked my friend ZZ [not his real name] to bring some toast to the bus stop for me, so I was okay. At the end of three days, I mentioned to my mom that I thought I might like some of those Cocoa Puffs, and that the chocolate and marshmallow Pop Tarts might be something I could eat, too. The next morning, there they were, like magic—right on the kitchen counter.

  AR: Well, JJ, that’s certainly an inspiring story, and I know our readers will appreciate your sharing it with us all.

  There was a book review every week, a video-game tips column, a “Best of the Web” listing, and a “Best TV Movies of the Weekend” column. Since Christmas and Hanukkah were not that far off, there was a “Holiday Countdown”—a column listing the top ten presents that kids on the red and blue teams were hoping for.

  Tommy read a lot, and when he was in fourth grade he had started collecting slang expressions that he thought were funny. He eventually discovered that there were whole dictionaries of slang. He asked Cara if he could have a column about slang, and the editor in chief said okay, as long as everything in the column had a G rating. Tommy agreed, and a column called “That Slang Thang” was born.

  Section B—the second sheet of The Landry News—was a hodgepodge. If there were some good columns that wouldn’t fit on page two, they ended up in section B. There were two regular weekly comic strips and usually a cartoon or two, as well as short stories and vacation travel stories about places kids had visited—like the Grand Canyon or the Field Museum. There were poems and jokes, and LeeAnn had surprised everybody with a completely creepy mystery story that had a new installment every week.

  And then, on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, Michael Morton came up to Cara after school at her locker and asked if he could give her a story that a friend of his wanted to have printed in the newspaper. Michael was a computer whiz, the kid who did the “Best of the Web” listing for the paper each week. He kept mostly to himself. Cara said, “Sure, Michael. I’ll be glad to look at it.” Cara stuck the sheets of paper in her backpack, grabbed her coat, and ran to catch her bus.

  Late that night, Cara remembered the story, got it out of her book bag, and lay across her bed to read it. It was only two pages, written in black ballpoint. There were tons of cross outs and smears on each page, and the writer had pushed down so hard with his pen that the back side of each sheet reminded Cara of Braille, the raised alphabet for blind people.

  There was no name at the beginning, just the title “Lost and Found.” The story began with this sentence: “When I heard that my parents were getting divorced, the first thing I did was run to my room, grab my baseball bat, and pound all my Little League trophies into bits.”

  Cara was hooked. The person in the story was a boy, and Cara was amazed at how similar his feelings were to the ones she’d had when her dad left. The same kind of anger, the same kind of blind lashing out. And finally, there was the same sort of calming down, facing facts. The story did not end very hopefully, but the boy saw that life would still go on, and that both his dad and his mom still loved him just as much, maybe more.

  When Cara finished reading, she was choked up and her eyes were wet. She noticed that there was no name at the end of the story either. That’s when it hit her that this was not fiction. It was real life. It was Michael Morton’s own story.

  Cara slid off her bed and went out to the living room, drying her eyes on the sleeve of her robe. Her mom was on the couch, watching the end of a show, so Cara sat with her for about five minutes.

  When the show ended, Cara picked up the channel changer and shut off the TV. Then
she handed her mom the story. “Would you read this for me, Mom? Someone wants me to put it in the next edition of the newspaper.”

  Joanna Landry took off her glasses and said, “Why sure, honey, I’d love to.”

  Cara watched her mom’s face as she read, and she saw her mom’s eyes fill up with tears when she got to the end.

  Blinking back her tears, her mother turned toward Cara on the couch and said, “If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you wrote this sad little story yourself, Cara honey. I think it’s awfully good, don’t you?” Cara had brought a copy of each edition of The Landry News home, and Mrs. Landry had proudly taped them all onto the wall in the kitchen. She was thrilled to see Cara doing something so good—and good-hearted—enjoying herself and using her talents. Handing back the smudged pages, her mother asked, “So are you going to put it in the paper?”

  Cara said, “I’m not sure. I think I’d better talk to Mr. Larson about it.”

  And after the long Thanksgiving weekend, Cara had her mom drop her off at school early so she could show the story to Mr. Larson before school.

  Mr. Larson adjusted his reading glasses and took the pages over by the windows where the light was better. Three minutes later, he was finished, and his eyes were shining. “This boy has certainly caught the essence of a hard experience here,” he said, reaching for his handkerchief.

  Cara nodded and said, “So maybe I shouldn’t put it in the newspaper, right?”

  Mr. Larson looked down at the story again, then handed it back to Cara. “Tell me what you think about it, Cara.”

  Cara was quiet while Mr. Larson walked over to his desk, sat down, and picked up his coffee cup. “Well, first of all,” she said, “I’m just sure this is a true story, so it’s like telling the whole school about some family’s private business. Someone might not like that—like the mom or the dad, for instance. Divorce is a pretty messy subject, don’t you think? I mean, that part about him running away, and the police coming and everything—”