Untitled Document

Frindle Young Reader

Andrew Clements
Frindle 975 words

Nick
The way Nick saw it, Linclon Elementary School was pretty dull. It needed a good jolt once in a while, and Nick was just the guy to deliver it. Not that he was a troublemaker. Not Nick Allen. He was just...well, let’s just say that Nick had plenty of ideas, and he knew what to do with them. He felt it was his duty to make school more lively.
Like the time Nick decided to turn Miss Deaver’s room into a tropical island. What kid in the northern hemisphere isn’t ready for a little summer in February? So first he got everyone in his third grade classroom to make small palm trees out of green and brown construction paper and tape them onto the corner of each desk. The teacher thought that was cute.
Next day all the girls wore paper flowers in their hair and all the boys wore sunglasses. Miss Deaver had only been a teacher for about six months, so she was delighted—“So creative!” The next day Nick turned the thermostat up to about 85 degreeswith a little screwdriver he had brought from home, and everyone in the class wore shorts and and tee shirts and no shoes. And when Miss Deaver left the room for a minute, Nick spread about ten cups of fine white sand all over the classroom floor. Miss Deaver was surprised again at just how creative her students could be.
But the sand got tracked out into the hallway where Manny the custodian did not think it was creative at all, and he stomped right down to the office.
The principal followed the trail of sand, and when he arrived Miss Deaver was teaching the hula to a group of girls near the front of the room, and Nick was just spiking a Nerf volleyball over a net made from six tee shirts tied together. The third grade trip to the South Seas ended. Suddenly.
About a year later in the middle of fourth grade Nick learned on a TV show that redwing blackbirds give this high-pitched chirp when a hawk or some other danger comes near. Because of the way sound travels, the hunter birds can’t tell where the high pitched chirp is coming from.
The next day during silent reading, Nick observed that his Mrs. Avery’s nose was curved kind of like the beak of a hawk. So he let out with a high, squeaky “Peep!” Mrs. Avery looked around in confusion, and said “Shhh!” to the class. A minute later Nick did it again. “Peeep!” There was a little giggling from the class. But Mrs. Avery pretended not hear the sound this time, and about 15 seconds later she slowly stood up and walked to the back of the classroom. Very sneaky.
Without taking his eyes off his book and without moving at all, Nick put his heart and soul into the highest and most annoying chirp of all: “Peeep!”
Mrs Avery pounced. “Janet Fisk, you stop that this instant!” Poor innocent Janet was sitting four rows away from Nick. She promptly burst into tears. Mrs. Avery knew she had made a mistake, and she apologized. “But someone is looking for big trouble,” said Mrs. Avery, looking more like a hawk every second.
Nick kept reading. At lunchtime he apologized to Janet and told her he was the one who had made the sound.
“You did?” said Janet. “How?”
So Nick showed her. And Janet’s chirps were even higher. She promised to keep it a secret.
All year long, at least once a week, Mrs. Avery heard a loud peep from somewhere in her fourth grade classroom—sometimes it was a high-pitched chirp, and sometimes it was a very high-pitched chirp. Mrs. Avery never figured out who was making that sound, and gradually she trained herself to ignore it. And for Nick, well, it was just a long science experiment—a very successful one.
And Janet Fisk enjoyed it too.

Mrs. Granger
To get into the middle school in the town of Westfield, you had to get out of Lincoln Elementary School, and to get out of Lincoln Elementary School, you had to get past Mrs. Granger. There were about 150 kids in fifth grade, three different teams of 50 kids each. And there were 7 fifth grade teachers: two math teachers, two science teachers, two social studies teachers, but only one language arts teacher. Mrs. Granger had a monopoly, and a reputation. All the kids knew that at the end of the line, fifth grade, Mrs. Granger would be the one grading their spelling tests and their reading tests, and worst of all, their vocabulary tests—week after week, month after month.
It seems like every language arts teacher in the world enjoys making kids use the dictionary— “Check your spelling. Check that definition. Check those syllable breaks.” But Mrs. Granger didn’t just enjoy the dictionary. She loved the dictionary—almost worshipped it. Her weekly vocabulary list was 35 words long, sometimes longer. As if that wasn’t bad enough, there was a Word For The Day on the blackboard every morning, and when the end of the week rolled around, have pity on the poor fool who had not written each one down and looked each one up and learned each definition—because sooner or later Mrs. Granger would find out.
Her classroom had seven or eight different special dictionaries scattered around, plus there was a full set of 30 regular dictionaries on a shelf at the back of the room. But Mrs. Granger’s pride and joy was one of those huge unabridged dictionaries, the kind of book it takes two kids to carry. It sat on its own little table at the front of her classroom, sort of like a shrine. Every graduate of Lincoln Elementary School for the past 25 years can remember standing at that little table listening to Mrs. Granger’s battle cry: “Look it up! That’s why we have the dictionary.”
Even before the school year started, when it was still summer, Mrs. Granger was already busy. Every parent of every new fifth grader got a letter from her. Nick’s mom read part of it out loud during dinner one night. “...Every home is expected to have a good dictionary in it so each student can do his or her homework properly. Good spelling and good grammar and good word skills are essential for every student. Clear thinking requires a command of the English language, and fifth grade is the ideal time for every student to acquire an expanded vocabulary.” And then there was a list of the dictionaries that Mrs. Granger thought would be “...acceptable for home study.”
Mrs. Allen said, “It’s so nice to have a teacher who takes her work so seriously.”
Nick groaned. Nick had no particular use for the dictionary. He liked words a lot, and he was good at using them. But he figured that he got all the words he needed just by reading, and he read all the time. When he ran into a word he didn’t know, he asked his brother or his dad or whoever was handy what it meant, and if they knew, they’d tell him. But not Mrs. Granger: He could already her voice: “Look it up! That’s why we have the dictionary, young man.”
It was still a week before school and Nick already felt like fifth grade was going to be a very long year.

Round One
The first day of school was always just a get-acquainted day. Books got passed out, a lot of chatter, a lot of “What did YOU do over the summer?” Periods one through six went by very smoothly.
But Mrs. Granger’s class was all business. The first thing they did was take a vocabulary pre-test to see how many of the 35 words for the week the kids already knew. Tremble, circular, orchestra, —the list went on and on. Nick knew most of them. Then there was a handout about class procedures, then a review paper about cursive writing, and then a sample sheet showing how the heading should look on every assignment. No letup for 37 minutes straight.
Nick was a master of the delaying question, the teacher-stopper, the guaranteed timewaster. At three minutes before the bell, in that split second between the end of today’s classwork and the announcement of tomorrow’s homework, Nick could launch a question—he thought of them as mental grenades—guaranteed to sidetrack the teacher long enough to wipe out or delay the homework assignment. Timing was everything. Questions about current events, questions about the college the teacher went to, questions about the teacher’s favorite book or sport or hobby—Nick had been very successful with this tactic in the past.
And here he was in fifth grade, near the end of his very first language arts class with Mrs. Granger, and he could feel a homework assignment coming the way a farmer can feel a rainstorm.
Mrs. Granger paused to catch her breath, and Nick’s hand shot up. She glanced down at her seating chart.
“Yes, Nicholas?”
“Mrs. Granger, you have so many dictionaries, and that huge one especially...where did all those words come from? Did they just get copied from other dictionaries? It sure is a big book.”
Several kids smiled, and a few peeked at the clock. Nick was famous for this, and the whole class knew what he was doing. Including Mrs.Granger. She hesitated a moment, and gave Nick a smile that was just a little too sweet to be real.
“Why, what an interesting question. I could talk about that for hours, I bet.” She glanced around the classroom. “Do the rest of you want to know, too?” There was a lot of eager nodding. “Very well then. Nick, will you do some research on that subject and give a little oral report to the class? If you find out the answer yourself, it will mean so much more than if I just told you. Please have that ready for our next class.” She smiled at him again. Very sweetly. She continued, “Now, the homework for tomorrow can be found on page 8 of your Words Alive book....”
Nick felt the tops of his ears glowing red. A complete shutdown. An extra assigment. And probably a little black mark next to his name on the seating chart. Everything he had heard about this woman was true—don’t mess around with The Lone Granger.

Research
Nick
Of course it was a beautiful September afternoon, bright sun, cool breeze, blue sky. But not for Nick. Nick had to do a little report for the next day, plus copy out all the definitions for 35 words. This was not the way school was supposed to work. He did the definitions first, using the brand new red dictionary that his mom had bought because Mrs. Granger told her to.
Then he turned to the front of the dictionary and saw that there was an introduction to the book called “Words and Their Origins.” Perfect. One stop shopping. Here was all he needed to do his report. It would all be over in a few minutes. Nick could already feel the sun on his face and feel the breeze as he ran outside to play, homework all done. Then he read the first two sentences.:
Without question a modern American dictionary is one of the most surprisingly complex and profound documents ever to be created, for it embodies unparalelled etymological detail, reflecting not only superb lexicographic scholarship, but also the dreams and speech and imaginative talents of millions of people over thousands of years. Every person who has ever spoken or written in English has had a hand in its making.
What? Nick scratched his head and read it again. Not much better. It was sort of like trying to read the ingredients on a shampoo bottle. But he struggled on, and gradually he pieced together some ideas.

Mom Dad Home Room.

Maybe Nick does a little research on the dictionary. Maybe he learns that there are two types of lexicographers. The ones who like to think of the dictionary as an authority, and those who like to think of it as a mirror that reflects usage.
Coinage. Making new words.
Nick’s dictionary. He makes his own.
This particular little revolution began in an unexpected way. M
Nick was good at wondering,
and one day he wondered where the words in the dictionary come from.
So he asked his teacher, Mrs. Granger.
And she said, “People make them up.
When people need new words,
they make up new ones or put pieces of old ones together new ways.
Then, if enough people use a new word long enough,
it ends up in the dictionary.”

That answer got Nick thinking, which is different from wondering.
And whenever Nick stopped wondering and started thinking,
things happened.

The next afternoon Nick walked into the Penny Pantry
and asked the lady behind the counter for a frindle.
Frindle was Nick’s new word.
She squinted at him. “A what?”
“A frindle, please. A black one.”
She leaned over closer and aimed one ear at him. “You want what?”
“A frindle,” and this time Nick pointed at the ballpoint pens behind her on the shelf.
“A black one, please.”
She handed Nick the pen,
he handed her the 49¢, said, “Thank you,” and left the store.

Seven days later Travis stood at the counter of the Penny Pantry.
He was the fifth kid that Nick had sent there to ask for a frindle.
And when he asked, the lady reached right for the pens and said, “Blue or black?”

Nick was standing one aisle away at the candy racks, and he was grinning.
Frindle was a real word. His plan would work.

John, Jake, Dave, Chris, and Travis.
Add Nick, and that’s six kids—six secret agents.
They all took an oath.
From this day on and forever,
I will never use the word PEN again.
Instead, I will use the word FRINDLE,
and I will do everything possible so others will too.
And all six of them signed the oath with Nick’s frindle.
The rest, of course, is history.

Clements • Frindle • 2

School was the perfect place to launch a new word,
and here’s how it all started.
Nick raised his hand during English class and said, “Mrs. Granger, I forgot my frindle.”
Sitting three rows away, John blurted out, “I have an extra one you can borrow.”
Then John made a big show of looking for something in his backpack.
“I think I have an extra one, I mean, I told my mom to get me three or four.
I’m sure I had an extra frindle in here yesterday, but I must have taken it...Wait, ...oh yeah, here it is.”
And then John made a big show of throwing it over to Nick,
and Nick missed it on purpose, and then he made a big show of finding it.
They nearly had to stay after school for clowning around,
but Mrs. Granger and every kid in the class got the message loud and clear.
That black plastic thing that Nick borrowed from John had a funny name...
a different name...a new name—frindle.

On the day of the 5th grade class picture,
Nick and his secret agents whispered something into everyone’s ear.
And when the photographer said, “Say ‘CHEEESE!’”, no one did.
Instead, every kid said “FRINDLE!,” and held one up for the camera.

When kids like a word, they say it all the time.
And the kids at Lincoln Elementary School liked Nick’s new word. A lot.
After just one month,
every student was writing with a frindle.

But not Mrs. Granger.
She made an announcement, and posted a notice.

Anyone who calls a pen a frindle
will stay after school and write this sentence 100 times:
“I am writing this punishment with a pen.”

But that just made everyone want to use Nick’s new word even more.
Staying after school with “The Lone Granger” became a badge of honor.

One day Nick and his friends convinced every kid in the fifth grade
to ask Mrs. Granger if she had an extra frindle.
“She can’t keep everyone after school, can she?”

Clements • Frindle • 3

Almost 70 kids stayed after school with Mrs. Granger that day.
They filled her room and spilled out into the hallway.
The principal had to stay late to help,
and they had to arrange a special bus to get all the kids home.

And the next day, all the fifth graders did it again,
and so did half of the kids in the rest of the school—
over a hundred and fifty kids.
Parents called to complain,
the school bus drivers threatened to go on strike,
and then the School Board got involved.

When the reporter from the local newspaper talked to Mrs. Granger,
she said, “Yes, I have tried my best to fight it.
Such a waste of time and thought!
Of course, it’s just a silly fad,
and when you add an e to fad, you get fade.
And I predict that this fad will fade.”

But after the story was printed in the newspaper,
all the kids at the junior high
and all the kids at the high school
started using the word, too.
And then all the stores in town stopped selling pens
and started selling frindles.

Finally, a TV reporter heard about Nick’s new word,
so there was a story about it on the Six O’clock News.
Then Nick was interviewed on a talk show.
Millions of kids heard about Nick’s new word,
and they started using it, too.

Like I said, the rest is history.
So don’t be surprised—
Some day you’ll open the dictionary
and right there between frim and fringe you’ll see this:

frin•dle (frin‘ dl). n. a device used to make marks with ink [arbitrary coinage; originated by Nicholas Allen (see pen)]

And how does Mrs. Granger feel about all this?
Well, she still writes with a pen.

Back to "How Long" FAQ >>