Donavan’s Double Trouble

CHAPTER I
HERITAGE MONTH
Donavan, who are you bringing to Heritage Month?” Pooh asked, his words muffled by the chunk of apple in his mouth.
The bell rang. Lunch was over for fourth and fifth graders. Donavan slung his backpack over his shoulder and picked up his lunch tray.
“No one,” he answered, heading for the large green trash can near the exit. Pooh tossed his apple core on the tray and followed Donavan into the noisy hall.
“No one?” Pooh asked, his eyes wide.
“No one,” Donavan repeated, walking faster. “I haven’t been thinking about Heritage Month.”
“Huh? After Valentine’s Day nobody thinks about anything else,” Pooh said, hurrying to keep up. “Hey, wait.”
Donavan could tell by the sound of Pooh’s voice that his friend did not believe him. “I got other things I’m thinking about,” he said, and looked at Pooh as if he were a pesky fly.
“What things?”
“Math things: problems, quizzes, tests, homework.” “Oh!” Pooh knew that math was Donavan’s worst subject. “Well, I got some good, big news. It’s gonna cheer you up.” Pooh waited a few seconds.
“Oh yeah?” Donavan kept walking.
“Pop Grandville is coming to Heritage Month!” Pooh paused. “He’s gonna bring his new film.” Pause. “It’s about kids in a South African township.”
Donavan stopped suddenly. Pooh bumped against his backpack, but he never stopped talking.
“They’re our age and the film shows them hanging out and doing their thing.”
Donavan really hadn’t been thinking about Heritage Month. But he had to admit it, this film might be good. Better than good. Kids from Africa! “We’ll get to hear their music. See the type of video games they play?”
Pooh joined in. “Sports, food, clothes. Man, we get to see how they hang out South African style.”
“Yeah, but this is what I want to see. How they dance!” Donavan stomped his feet and clapped his hands. He danced around in a circle to his own beat.
Several kids stopped and watched. “What
ya doing,
D?” someone asked. Before Donavan could explain, Pooh waved his hand in a warning. Donavan looked up and saw Miss Strickland, the hall monitor, staring in his direction.
“Nothing,” he mumbled, and started walking again. The last thing he wanted was Miss Strickland’s attention. She loved handing out detention slips.
Pooh followed. “Hey, let’s keep this quiet,” he whispered. “I want Pop to be a big surprise. I mean B-I-G big.”
Donavan nodded. “Okay. I just got excited. Your grandpop is so cool. His pictures are in magazines big time.”
“Oh yeah. Do you still have the autographed copy of
National Geographic?”
“Sure do. It was my first autograph.” Donavan shook his head. “I can’t believe I know someone who makes movies. How come he’s not off somewhere filming something?” Pooh was always telling Donavan how he wished his grandfather were around more.
“He is, but when we visited him last summer I told him about Heritage Month. I told him that any family member could come, but that we wanted seniors.”
“Yeah, everybody wants to hear about how things were in the old days,” Donavan agreed.
“My mom and dad explained how Ms. Cassel started Heritage Month so that grandparents and parents could talk to us about family history,” Pooh continued.
Donavan imitated Ms. Cassel’s voice: “Youngsters, you must learrrrrrrrn about your cullllllture.”
“Donnie, you should have heard Pop laugh when I told him about Mr. Reynolds and his bagpipes.”
“Did you tell him how his kilt fell down?” Donavan
gave Pooh a high five. “Yup. And I also showed Pop how Mr. Ang acted out each of the animals in the Chinese horoscope.”
“The tiger, brave and dangerous.” Donavan struck a
pose and raised his fist.
“The dog, loyal and courageous.” Pooh bumped his fist against Donavan’s.
“Pooh, you should have told him about Ms. Martinez’s piñata and how we couldn’t break it no matter how hard we tried,” Donavan said.
“I forgot about that. But I did tell him that the whole school celebrates for a month,” Pooh said. “I told him about the food, the costumes people wear, and a whole bunch of other stuff. He was really into it.” Donavan could tell by Pooh’s voice that his friend was excited. He was laughing and talking at the same time, getting louder and louder with each word.
“Your grandpop is like a celebrity. Everyone’s gonna love him.” Donavan held his hand up and made a victory sign. “Heritage Month is gonna be awesome this year.”
Donavan looked up and saw Eric, his other best buddy, weaving his way through the crowd toward them. The three boys had been friends since kindergarten. Miz Utz, the school’s office manager, always called them “triple trouble.”
“What’s up? Whatsup? Whatsup?” Eric asked, when he caught up with them.
“Hey, where were you at lunch?” Pooh asked.
“Principal’s office.”
“Huh?” said Donavan.
“No trouble.” Eric laughed. “I had to give Ms. Cassel a note from my grandma.” Eric looked left and right and then lowered his voice. “Grandma is coming to Heritage Month. She’s going to teach batik to the fourth and fifth grades.”
Donavan nudged Pooh. They knew that Eric liked
everything he did to be mysterious.
“Nice,” Pooh said.
“What’s batik? Is she weaving something?” Donavan pictured the wooden loom and spinning wheel he’d seen in Eric’s grandma’s workroom.
“No, batik is a different kind of thing,” Eric explained. “She’ll use hot wax and dye.” The boys listened while Eric explained his grandmother’s work in detail, talking as if he were the expert.
“Pop Grandville is coming,” Pooh interrupted Eric.
“And bringing a movie about kids in South Africa,” Donavan added.
“You’re lucky,” Eric said wistfully.
Donavan knew Eric was wishing he had someone as cool as Pop Grandville to bring. He did too. Donavan thought for a moment and could think of no one. Eric cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Earth to Donnie! Earth to Donnie! What you thinking about so hard, homeboy? You got a secret?”
“No. Do you?” Donavan said.
“Maybe,” Eric said, and winked his bringing to Heritage Month?” eye. “Who you”
“No one,” Pooh answered for Donavan.
“No one?” Eric echoed.
“No one,” Donavan said, exasperated. “Gimme a break, y’all. It’s not like I never had a guest. Remember when my grandfather came and showed us how shoes were made in the old days?”
“True, true,” Eric said. “Boy, those shoes looked crazy. I remember a pair that you needed a long, skinny black hook to button.”
“Wouldn’t it be great if we had a triple hitter?” Pooh asked. “All of us together.”
“True, true.” Donavan glanced down the hall and noticed Mr. Sullivan, his math teacher, standing outside his classroom. Math! He had enough troubles on his mind without worrying about who to invite for Heritage Month. “I think Ms. Cassel has enough people,” he said.
“Nope,” Eric said. “I heard her tell Miz Utz that she
wished she had a few more guests.”
“There’s Mr. Sullivan,” Donavan said loudly. “We’d better get to class.”
“Man oh man, it’s lima-bean time.” Pooh shook his head.
“Yup,” Donavan agreed. Whenever one of them had to face something that they hated, they called it lima bean time.
“How you doing in his class, Donnie?” Eric asked.
“The same.” Donavan’s shoulders slumped a little. Eric shook his finger at Donavan and said in a deep voice, “Buddy-boy, math is like lima beans. It puts a bad taste in your mouth.”
Pooh patted Donavan on the shoulder and added,
“But it’s good for you.”
Donavan groaned and followed his friends down the hall.

CHAPTER 2
HAVING A HARD TIME
That class lasted a hundred years!” Donavan pulled his books from his locker and slammed the door. He looked at Eric and frowned. “No matter how much I study, I just bomb out.”
“It stinks,” Eric said. “I know you been trying.”
“Why does Mr. Sullivan keep calling on you?” Pooh said in disgust. “He knows you don’t know the answers.”
“I know half of the answers,” Donavan retorted, pushing past Pooh.
“Pooh,” Eric said, “that didn’t help.” He ran after Donavan.
The boys walked home in silence until Pooh tried again to make Donavan feel better. “Cheer up, Donnie, it’s Friday!”
“Yup, it’s Friday, and you know what they say.” Eric began to rhyme. “No more quizzes, no more books. No more teachers’ dirty looks.”
Donavan added a rhyme. “No more pencils, no more chalk. No more teachers’ talk, talk, talk.”
“Hey, that’s cool,” Pooh said, pulling his hat down over his ears.
“It’s not cool, it’s cold.” Donavan’s teeth had started
to chatter. “Spring better hurry up and get here.”
Eric snapped his fingers. “I just remembered some thing that might help you with math.” Donavan looked surprised. He’d thought they were
finished discussing school. “What is it?” he asked cautiously.
“I just remembered something I heard on a TV talk show,” Eric said, thoughtful. “I didn’t hear everything; I was just passing through the living room.” He hesitated.
“What was it, Eric?” Donavan asked impatiently.
“Well, I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of a math block.” He glanced at Donavan, who looked skeptical. Eric continued. “But from what I heard from that expert on TV, I think that’s what you’ve got.”
Pooh looked puzzled. “What in the world is a math block?”
Donavan shook his head. He knew that Eric was getting ready to talk like he was the expert. I hope this makes sense, he thought.
“Well, let me explain.” Eric rubbed his chin. “A math block is when a person just can’t understand math. No matter what they do, or how hard they try, they just don’t get math.”
Donavan continued walking and staring ahead. He already knew that he didn’t get math. So far Eric wasn’t being much help at all.
“Why?” Pooh asked.
“Because something, something they don’t know about is blocking their mind. That something that they don’t know about keeps them from understanding how math works.”
“So what happens to them?” Pooh glanced at Donavan.
“Wellll,” Eric said again, scratching his head this time. “They just keep trying things, everything, any thing, until they have a math breakthrough.” He nodded his head and smiled as if he had just solved the problem.
“What blocks them?” Pooh asked again.
“Pooh, don’t ask so many questions,” Eric said, scowling.
“But really, what blocks them?” Pooh persisted.
Eric shrugged. “I don’t know.” His voice got louder. “I only know that for some reason they can’t under stand math.”
“And?” Pooh continued, and looked over at Donavan.
Eric was so annoyed that his voice boomed. “THEY have to keep trying OLD things, NEW things, ANY THING, until something clicks and breaks through the block.” Eric punched his hands in the air to make his point. “And when that CLICK happens, it’s called a breakthrough.” Eric ignored Pooh and looked directly at Donavan. “Try everything,” he ordered. “Until you break through the block.”
“What if there’s no click?” Pooh asked, hunching his shoulders. “What happens then?”
“Later, guys,” Donavan said, and veered across the street. He knew that Pooh would ask more and more questions until Eric’s answers would get as tangled as a
bowl of spaghetti. He was through listening to them. “Hey, where you going?” Pooh called in surprise.
“Home.” Donavan didn’t turn around. Pooh and Eric looked at each other.
“Pooh, you’re so annoying. Why did you have to ask so many questions?” Eric shook his head.
“I can’t help it,” Pooh said, shrugging. “I was trying to understand the block and then the break and then you added the click. Sorry.”
Eric watched Donavan walk away. “Wellll, maybe he’s thinking about it.” Eric grinned. “Come on, buddy.” “Will just thinking about the math block break it?” Pooh asked.
“Maybe,” Eric said, but he did not sound like he believed it.
“Man oh man,” Donavan mumbled as he walked home. He liked his best buddies, but sometimes he needed to be alone. He didn’t want to hear them talk about his math problems and he definitely didn’t want to think about his math problems. Eric had one thing right: He really had a math block.
Sometimes, in class, Donavan understood the equations and could follow along step by step. But when he went to the board to do a problem or got home and started his homework, he was lost.
“What am I gonna do?” he whispered. Just thinking
about his math problems gave him the blues.
“Hello, young man.”
Donavan looked over his shoulder and saw Mr. Ang walking toward him, carrying a stack of cardboard boxes. The boxes were piled: so high that Donavan could barely see Mr. Ang’s face.
“Hello, Mr. Ang. How ya doing?” He slowed his steps.
“I am doing A-O.K.” Mr. Ang grunted, breathing hard. The boxes looked heavy. Donavan ran ahead and opened the door to the grocery store that the Angs owned.
“Thank you, Donavan.” Mr. Ang walked up the steps and through the opened door. Donavan followed him inside.
Sharp and spicy smells teased Donavan’s nose. “Something smells good.” He inhaled and tried to guess. “Soup?” Sniff. “Cookies?” Sniff, sniff. “Ummm. Where’s Mrs. Ang? She must be cooking.”
Mr. Ang sniffed the air. “Smells like ginger cakes are baking.” The warmth in the store made his round glasses fog. He dropped the boxes on the floor and reached into his coat. “Whew!” Pulling out his handkerchief, he took off his glasses to wipe them. “Donnie, good to see you. Did you know that I’m coming to Heritage Month?”
Donavan’s mouth dropped open. Mr. Ang smiled.
“Nikki invited me.”
His little sister had done that? “But Mr. Ang, you already came to Heritage Month. Remember? You talked about the Chinese horoscope.”
“Yes. Yes, I remember that. Ms. Cassel invited me, but this time I am Nikki’s guest.” Mr. Ang resettled his glasses on his face.
Donavan still wore a surprised expression. “She didn’t tell me.”
“Hello, word boy.” Mrs. Ang emerged from the back room, carrying her baby daughter. “Still collecting words?”
“Yes. And I still keep them in a jar.” Donavan leaned over and looked at the baby, who gurgled and waved her arms. “Howdy, baby Jolie.”
“Nikki visited us last Sunday to see baby Jolie,” Mr. Ang said. “When Nikki saw my great-grandfather’s abacus on the mantel, she asked me a million questions.”
“Your counting thing?”
“Yes, my counting thing. I told Nikki the history of the abacus and how my great-grandfather, grandfather, and father all used it in China.” Mr. Ang took Jolie from his wife and began making funny faces.
“Did you show her how to use it?” Donavan reached
over to tickle Jolie.
“A little bit. Nikki learns very, very fast. She thought her class might like to know about my ancient calculator.” Mr. Ang kissed the baby’s fingers. “It will be a while before I can come to school for Jolie. I’m so glad Nikki invited me.”
“Me too.” Of course Nikki would like Mr. Ang’s abacus. She loved anything to do with numbers. “Mr. Ang, do you think your abacus could help me?” Donavan asked.
Mr. Ang laughed as though Donavan had told a big joke. “It helped my ancestors, Donavan. I don’t know about now.”
Donovan patted Jolie on the cheek. He really didn’t want to think about math things. “I got to get home. I’ll see y’all later.”
“See you later.” The Angs, even Jolie, waved good bye.
During the walk home, Donavan remembered what Pooh had said about “a triple hitter.” Pooh was right. It would be fun if the three of them could each bring a cool guest to Heritage Month. But who could he ask? He hadn’t been thinking about Heritage Month. Getting his math grade up had been the main thing on his mind.
He’d studied and studied for his last quiz and he thought he’d passed it. But when Mr. Sullivan returned the papers, Donavan looked at the grade circled in red and at the red x’s all over the page and felt hot with shock and disappointment. It was like a firecracker had exploded in his head. He still remembered folding the paper into a tiny square and stuffing it in his backpack. He never wanted to see it again.
He shook the memory out of his head. All I do is think about math, math, and math. I am gonna block my math block out, he thought. Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do. Think about something good.
How can I be part of Heritage Month? he wondered. What can I do? I don’t have a guest or an exhibit. Maybe, maybe… He slowed his steps. Maybe he could be a greeter! The greeters welcomed guests and showed them around the school. All of the greeters were fifth graders, but he might be able to talk Ms. Cassel into letting him join. Maybe Eric and Pooh would want to be greeters too.
“Oh yeah!” He stopped to do a victory dance. He liked this idea. He’d get to meet all the guests before the other kids. He knew for sure he could talk Pooh and Eric into trying to convince Ms. Cassel. He added an extra step to his dance.
I might even get the chance to explain a big exhibit, he thought. If I practice enough I’ll sound like an expert. He was beginning to feel good. He pushed his math problems out of his head.