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Ruchama Schnaidman

Something about February makes me feel like I live in Antarctica. No matter how cold it gets, the next day feels colder. And longer. And more boring.

Wednesday, March 05, 2014

Like that dreary Tuesday when I sat in math class, staring out the window. We had homework piled as high as the snow and midwinter vacation seemed like it had happened years ago. I counted the seconds until recess, when suddenly the door to our classroom opened and in walked our principal, Mrs. Sternfeld, holding a pile of papers.

“Good afternoon,” she said. “I think many of you know why I’m here.”

She lifted one of the papers. “Grand Vocabulary Competition,” it said in big letters. A ripple of excitement ran through our class.

“Every year,” Mrs. Sternfeld continued, “fifteen fifth-grade classes compete in vocabulary bees. One winner from each class competes in a grand bee, and the winners from that bee are awarded a trip to a restaurant to have lunch with a famous author.”

My heart began thumping so hard I was sure the whole class could hear. 

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