Funny Children's Stories

The Irregular Verb

Our English teacher is kind of nuts. She is very strange and funny. She never comes to our classroom, wearing the same outfit. I do not know what she wears on the days when we do not have English. But for our classes, she always has something different on. Well, of course, not everything, but something is always different.

At first, I thought that our English teacher tore the clothes she had worn before. And since she tore them, she had to wear something else. But later she put on again what she had worn before. Then I thought that maybe she just mended what she tore.

But the situation repeated itself several times. Then I told Anton about it. But Anton said that he saw nothing strange in this and that she just washed one while wearing the other.

For me, this explanation sounded just plain funny. First, did it mean that she washed all of her stuff every several days? And, second, did she wash her skirt as well? Is it even possible to wash a skirt?

Once I saw our English teacher on the street. She was walking with someone, hand in hand. And I noticed that she was walking with one of the boys from our school. He was a senior – about to graduate.

Why and where she was taking him, I did not know.* But she was wearing an absolutely amazing scarf. And she did not have it on because it was cold outside. She had it on just because it was pretty. And the scarf, it seemed, was very fine and delicate. I thought so because it fluttered even in a slight breeze. And it was very bright. There were lots of red, yellow and other colors on it – and I had never seen such colors on clothes before.

Today, when our English teacher came to our classroom, she was wearing that bright scarf I had already seen on her once in the street. And so she entered the classroom, sat at her desk, opened the grade-book, and said, “Now, the lesson will be recited by…”

She started running her finger down the grade-book. While she was doing that, there was a dead silence in the classroom. Well, during moments like these, there is always a dead silence.

Those of us who had not been called on for a long time quieted down because, first of all, they did not want to attract the teacher’s attention to themselves and, second, because they were leafing through their book, trying to memorize something at the last minute.

Those who had been called on recently also quieted down. Because if they had been recently called on, then they would not be called on again. And since they knew that, they had not studied at all. And so they were especially worried.

And here our English teacher kept looking at the grade-book, going over and over the names with her finger, and finally said, “The lesson will be recited by Pudovkin.”

And everyone was happy that Pud was called on. Everyone was happy because Pud desperately needed to get his grades up. Otherwise, his mother would kill him for his two.* Pud asked our English teacher to call on him many times. But the English teacher just kept telling him that there was no point in calling on him since he did not know anything. And Pud usually said that he still had to get his grades up and that he had studied everything.

So the English teacher called on Pud at last. He slowly went up to the blackboard. When he reached the blackboard, the English teacher asked him to write out the new irregular verbs that had been assigned for us to study.

Pud took the chalk and got ready to write something on the blackboard. He had some cheat-sheets prepared. But he could not figure out which cheat-sheet he needed to use.

The English teacher, who usually never allowed anyone to use cheat-sheets, did not say a word to Pud. Though we all understood that she saw how he was trying to read something from his cheat-sheets. She did not ask him to put away the cheat-sheets and did not say anything at all. She just silently waited to see how this thing was going to end. And, of course, she knew perfectly well that Pud's mom would kill him if he got a two again.

After about twenty minutes there was still nothing written on the blackboard. Then the English teacher declared that she had no choice but to, again, give him a two. And Pud said that he had studied everything.

To that of course, it was expected that the English teacher would say what all teachers said in such cases, “I'm not interested in what you have been studying. I'm interested in what you have learned.” But she just told Pud that he did not have to write anything new. She just asked him to write any irregular verbs in three forms.

Pud again tried to remember something. He wanted to remember something but could not. Then the English teacher asked him to name only one irregular verb in three forms.

She said that if Pud named any irregular verb, only one irregular verb in three forms, then she would immediately give him a three.

Here I decided that it was time for me to help Pud out. So I whispered, “To put, put, put.”

And everyone started to laugh. Everyone laughed because it turned into a very dangerous game of words for Pud. It had a very obvious hint to both his last name and to his fists, heavy as a pood.

The English teacher again said, “Any irregular verb, Pudovkin.”

And again I whispered, “To put, put, put.”

And other kids whispered the same.

Pud, of course, heard everything. But he hated to repeat “To put, put, put.” And the English teacher pretended that she had heard nothing. She repeated that she swore to give Pud a three if he named any irregular verb in three forms.

At this point, everyone in our class began to chant, “To put, put, put. To put, put, put.”

Our English teacher could not stand it anymore and said sternly, “Quiet!” This she said to everyone. And then – only to Pud, “Come on, Pudovkin, please.”

Pud reddened as he had never reddened before. He reddened very much and said, “To put, put, put.”

And then rang the bell.

Everyone jumped up. The English teacher attempted to stop us and have everyone return to their seats. But she could not do anything. She then shouted, “Pudovkin, I give you a three!” And everyone came up to Pud and patted him on the shoulder. Pud was very happy. He smiled. And I think it was the first time I saw Pud smile.

But I did not go up to congratulate Pud. And I did not pat him on the shoulder or anything like that. Because my hint was very doubtful. And who knew how it would turn out for me. Because, you know, Pud’s fists were as heavy as a pood.