Remembering Mrs. Rossi (9780763670900) Read Online Free

wrist. “Don’t be sad,” she says. “I’ll go to school with you sometime, too.”
    “I suppose . . .” Professor Rossi rubs his chin. “No, never mind . . .”
    “Never mind
what
?”
    “Oh, it’s just a silly idea. You know me and my silly ideas.”
    “Maybe it’s a good idea,” Annie says. “Tell it, Daddy!”
    “Okay, then, here’s my idea. Since your school is closed today, you
could
— if you want — come to school with me.”
    “You mean
now
?” Annie gasps.
    “Mm-hmm.”
    “And no Mrs. Peterman? Just you and me?”
    “Just you and me,” he says. “Plus a bunch of college kids. And if you care to do a little spy work,” he adds, lowering his voice, “you will surely catch at least one sleeper in my nine o’clock class. There’s always one who dozes.”
    “Well, Daddy, I hope it’s not boring in your nine o’clock class.”
    “Boring?”
Professor Rossi pretends to be shocked. “As a matter of fact — and you’ll see firsthand — I happen to be a scintillating,
interesting
teacher. And remember, Annie, you have to laugh at my jokes. You can’t fall asleep, either.”
    “Too many rules!”
    “Oh, one more thing. We’ll have cookies in my office later on, and tea.”
    “I don’t like tea,” Annie reminds her father.
    “You
could
pretend. Now hurry up and get ready.” Professor Rossi kisses the tip of Annie’s nose. Then he goes inside to call off Mrs. Peterman.
    Annie quickly dresses: gray skirt, red sweater, warm socks. She brushes her short hair. She brushes her teeth and washes her cheeks and examines the scar on her chin. (It is lovely.) At the front door, she pulls on her boots and coat. It’s time to go to college! Well, nearly. Annie races back to her room. She reaches under the mattress, wriggling her fingers until she feels the familiar cardboard cover of Remembering Mrs. Rossi.
Hello there, best book in the world.
    They aren’t the first ones in new snow this morning, and they don’t go to the park. Nonetheless, Annie and her father make beautiful tracks, and they both carry school bags. Professor Rossi’s is crinkled and brown; Annie’s is blue with a red handle, and Remembering Mrs. Rossi is tucked safely inside. They tramp along in deep snow. They trudge up the steep hill to Broadway, through the tall iron gates, and onto the campus of Columbia University. Sherman Hall is five stories tall, and they clomp up the stairs (too many stairs!) to the very top floor, to room 505. Professor Rossi turns on the light.
     

     
    “It’s so big!” Annie whispers. “Way bigger than room 107.” She looks around at the walls with no pictures. (There are many pictures on all the walls in room 107.) There are no cubbies, either, and no class pet. (Everyone has a cubby in room 107, and they all share the goldfish, Walter and Sue.) In room 107 Annie always sits at the second desk in the third row. In room 505 there are rows and rows of dark wooden desks, and Annie is allowed to sit wherever she wants. From 8:45 a.m. until 8:55 a.m., she tries out seven different desks in seven different rows. In the end she settles on one in the very last row, right under the clock — a perfect spot for spy work.
    The college kids burst in shaking snow off their coats, stamping wet boots. (Three kids aren’t even wearing boots!) Some say, “Morning, Professor Rossi,” and others say, “Hi.” (Some say nothing at all!) The college kids are tall, short, and medium in height. (Two of them look like grownups!) They drop into seats, in groups big and small, talking and laughing. (A few sit alone.)
    On the dot of nine o’clock, Professor Rossi steps forward, and — just like that — a hush falls over room 505. (In room 107 it is never quiet — not even for a second — not until Miss Meadows says, “Quiet down, people.”)
    “I’m pleasantly surprised to see that so many of you made it to class on such a stormy morning.” Professor Rossi smiles in a friendly way as he looks