Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 061

"What do you mean?" I asked her.

"This is the screwiest teaching method I've ever seen," Darcy commented. "I mean, I was taking class when I was as young as these kids. Younger. And I was never in a class like this." "Me neither," I admitted. "My classes were much more disciplined." "Of course they were," said Sue who stood nearby. "I'm not sure what Mme Dupre is getting at." "I don't think she's taking them seriously," Raul said. "They're just a bunch of poor, minority kids to her." "A lot of them are white," I reminded him.

"Even so, they're inner city kids, so to her they don't count," he insisted.

"I don't think that's fair," Mary objected in a soft voice. "She's here teaching them, isn't she?" "I agree," said Vince. "I think we should withhold judgment at this point." I clamped down on my smile as Mary (who was standing behind him) rolled her eyes. Vince had a particularly superior and old-mannish way of speaking.

"Let's discuss this over burgers," said Darcy, pulling the elastic out of her thick red hair. "I'm starving." We changed quickly and met in front of the school. It had already grown dark and a bitter wind was blowing. We walked toward the Burger King with our collars turned up and our heads down against the icy blast.

"I don't know about you guys," said Sue as she pushed open the glass-and-metal door to the Burger King, "but I wouldn't want to walk one more step. I'm freezing." "It is frigid," agreed Vince. (Again I had to avoid smiling. Vince just cracked me up.) I knew I was going to eat supper soon, so I only ordered fries and a Coke. "Maybe that's what I should have," Mary fretted from behind me. "Why did we have to come here, anyway? Everything is loaded with calories." "Have a salad," I suggested.

"Do you know how fattening salad dressing is?" Mary gasped.

"You don't have to order anything," I said.

Mary's eyes darted over to Raul who was at the head of the line to our right. The attendant was busy loading his tray with a large order of fries, a giant burger, and a huge soda. "No, it would look strange if I didn't order," Mary decided. "I'll have a small fries and a small soda," she told the girl behind the counter.

We sat together at a long table. "I wonder if the groups we worked with today will be our permanent assignments," said Sue, unwrapping her cheeseburger.

"Oh, I hope not," said Vince. "I have that little butterball, Yvonne. No matter what I tell her to do, she bounces. I say, 'plie', she bounces. I say 'swing your leg back,' she bounces." "I'll trade her for do-nothing Nora and her friend, Jane," I said. "They are just not interested in the class at all." "Tell me about it." Darcy laughed. "I was amazed that you got them to do anything. I wouldn't want them in my group." "How are you doing with Devon?" Mary asked Raul.

Raul held up his hand while he finished chewing. "He thinks he's a smart guy. I can handle him," he answered finally. "If he gets out of line I'll clobber him." "You can't do that!'' Sue objected.

"Yeah, I know," Raul admitted. "I don't really know what to do with him. He's pretty disorderly, too. He distracts the other kids." "This shouldn't be our problem," said Vince with a french fry poised in his hand. "Mme Dupre is the one in charge." "That's true," Darcy agreed. She turned to Raul. "Do you really think Mme Dupre doesn't expect anything from these kids? Could that be why she's so loose with the program?" "I guess so," he said. "I'm not sure." "Perhaps she shouldn't expect too much," said Vince. "The children are there for fun, not to become ballet dancers." "They should be given a chance like anybody else," Raul insisted hotly.

"I think they are being given a chance," Mary said.

"Only if this program is done right." Raul shook his head sadly. "Sorry if I seem too sensitive about this. But being a minority you become used to getting a raw deal. You get defensive. Haven't you found that, Jessi?" "No . . . not especially," I answered slowly. "I mean, I know what you're saying, but that hasn't been my experience. In some ways I've been very lucky." "Well, I've experienced it and I sure hope that's not what's happening here," he said, biting into his burger.

"It's something to keep an eye out for," I said in a way I thought was very diplomatic.

As I bit into my fry I realized I was having a good time. These kids were talking to me as if I were as old as they were and their equal in every way. I glanced at Mary to see if she was having fun.

All I could read from her expression was nervousness. She'd barely eaten one fry. Instead, she'd broken them in half and was moving them around on her tray. If you weren't paying attention, you might think she'd eaten more than she actually had. Occasionally, she sipped on her soda, but the level hadn't gone down much.

I came up with several reasons why she wasn't eating. Maybe she was nervous. Or maybe she didn't want to spoil her dinner. Or maybe she truly hated fast food. (Dawn would consider eating this kind of food inhuman torture.) Or maybe she was on a diet.

The last reason worried me. It was so out of touch with reality. And here was another puzzling question. Why didn't she just say she wasn't going to eat? No one would have cared. Why try to hide the fact that she wasn't eating?

Before I could worry about it much more, my father walked into the Burger King. I had told him to meet me outside. Nothing against my father. I'm proud of him. But there's nothing like having your father show up to remind everyone that you're only eleven. " 'Bye," I said, quickly gathering up my coat and dance bag. "My ... uh ... ride is here." Everyone waved. "So long, Jessi," said Darcy.

"See you again Tuesday," added Raul.

"Those kids are a bit older than you, aren't they?" said my father as we got into the car. (He is so overprotective!) "Yeah, but they're real nice," I told him. It was true. All of them were nice. Even Vince was okay. And I was especially getting to like Mary. I admired the way she disagreed with Raul, even though she had a crush on him. But I was concerned about Mary's problem with food. I just hoped she was okay.

Chapter 6.

People are so hard to figure out sometimes. I couldn't understand why Mary was so worried about her looks. And I really didn't know what Mme Dupre was thinking.

I couldn't believe that she didn't care about the kids in the class. People in ballet tend to be very intense and serious about whatever they do. Mme Dupre certainly fit into that mold. Her gray eyes were constantly moving, taking in everything. I always had the sense that behind her broad forehead was a brain that was thinking . . . thinking . . . thinking, all the time.

Yet, what the other volunteers said was true. So far, her classes had been very undemanding.

Well, if I thought I was confused before, the next class confused me even more. Mme Dupre suddenly shifted gears.

The first change was that a piano was wheeled into the room and a pianist I'd never seen before - a man in his twenties - came in with it. Mme Dupre clapped her hands sharply for attention. "This is our pianist, Mr. Jon Tsuji," she announced. "He has volunteered to play for our classes." The man smiled and waved as he took his seat behind the piano.

Then Mme Dupre instructed the class to form the groups they had worked in the week before, but she asked each group to get into a line. "Now we will stretch and warm up," she said.

While Mr. Tsuji played a simple, upbeat piece of music, she led the class in a series of warm-up exercises. When that was done, she began a class on the five basic positions for the feet. We volunteers walked up and down each line helping the students.

I was shocked to see Nora and Jane concentrating on placing their feet correctly. I think Mme Dupre had taken them by surprise. (As she had me.) On the other hand, Devon was still goofing around. He was doing exaggerated, silly versions of the positions, while crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue. Of course, all the kids around him were giggling and not paying attention.