The Landry News (8 page)

When everyone had quieted down, Mr. Larson said, “I know you all need to get right to work on the newspaper, but first I want you to watch something I taped on TV late last night.”

He pushed the play button, and a talk-show host told a joke about the president and the vice president telling lies to each other. The TV audience laughed and clapped.

Mr. Larson shut off the TV and pushed the cart aside. He pulled down a rolled up map of the world and tapped the black tip of a pointer onto different countries as he spoke. Mr. Larson said, “If that comedian lived in
this
country or
this
country or
this
country, and if he had told that joke about the president last night, today he would probably be in jail.” Pausing dramatically, he moved the pointer to another
country. “And if that comedian lived in
this
country and told that joke last night about the president, today he would probably be dead.”

Moving the pointer to the United States, Mr. Larson said, “But, of course, that comedian lives in this country, and today he's not in jail, and he's not dead. He's probably sitting somewhere drinking mineral water and thinking of something else to make people laugh again tonight.”

Mr. Larson rolled up the map and walked to the side of the classroom. Picking his way among stacks of magazines and a couple of book racks, he stood next to a bulletin board. The board was incredibly cluttered, but in the center there was a small poster printed in faded blue ink that had never had anything stapled over it. At the top it said:

The Bill of Rights
The Ten Original Amendments
to the Constitution of the United States of America

Mr. Larson put the pointer on the word
Constitution
and said, “Now I know we haven't studied the Constitution yet this year, so I'm going to get to the main point here as quickly as I can. The Constitution is like a list of rules, okay? It's a list of rules that tells how our country's government has to be set up. When the Constitution was first written down, some people said it gave too much power to the government and not
enough protection to ordinary people. And these people said that before they would agree to the rules of the Constitution, there had to be a bill of rights, a
list
of rights that the government could never take away from people. They didn't want the government to start acting like a cruel king—they had already had one of those, and one was enough.”

Mr. Larson tapped on the word
Amendments.
He said, “So they made some
amendments.
This word just means “changes.” The Bill of Rights is contained in these ten
changes
that are now a permanent part of the Constitution.

“Now, this is the main idea I want you to get here. They made these ten original amendments even before anyone would agree to the Constitution itself. And the
First
Amendment is first for a reason. It promises that the government cannot get involved in religion—either for or against it. It promises that people are free to express their opinions and ideas—like that comedian last night. And it also says that there is freedom of the press, that the government cannot decide what a newspaper is
allowed
or
not allowed
to print.”

Ed caught on right away and his hand shot up. “Does that mean we can print anything we want to in
The Landry News?”
he asked.

Mr. Larson said, “Good question, Ed. What do you think about that, Cara? Can you print anything
you want to in
The Landry News?”

Cara hesitated. “I . . . I'm not sure. I mean, I used to put anything I wanted into the paper because I made the whole thing from beginning to end. But now, I . . . I guess if someone didn't like what we wrote, they could keep us from using the printer, or the computer.”

Then Joey said, “But if I used my own computer at home, and I bought my own paper and everything, like, then I could print whatever I felt like, right?”

Sharon's dad was a lawyer. She said, “Yeah, but if you printed a lie about me, my dad would sue you—and then your computer would be
my
computer!”

Mr. Larson said, “You've all raised some good points here. The fact is, when you publish a newspaper, you
do
have to tell the truth. If you get caught lying, someone is likely to sue you—take you to court—like Sharon said. And if a newspaper company publishes the newspaper, then the
owner
of the newspaper gets to decide what may or may not be in the paper.”

It was quiet for a moment. Then Ed asked the question that was forming in everyone's mind. “So who is the owner of
The Landry News?
Cara, right?”

Cara shook her head. “Not really—not anymore. And I feel kind of funny having that still be the name of it. I think maybe we should change it to something different.”

Joey said, “I don't. You started it, and you're still the
editor in chief, so I vote that we keep the name the same.”

Cara blushed at Joey's little speech and blushed even more when the whole class clapped and cheered, agreeing with him.

Mr. Larson brought things back to order. “So that's settled . . . now back to Ed's question about who owns the newspaper . . . LeeAnn?”

LeeAnn said, “Well, the school owns
The Landry News,
right? I mean, like . . . the school buys the paper and the computer and all, so it's the school's, right?”

Mr. Larson smiled. “You could say the owner is the school, and that the head of the school is the principal. But the principal is hired by the school board, and the school board is elected by your parents and the other people in Carlton, and they are the ones who pay the tax money that pays the principal and the teachers, and buys all the paper and the computers and the printers, right?” After a long pause, Mr. Larson said, “There's a lot to think about when you're running a newspaper, isn't there?” And with that the lesson about the Constitution and the Bill of Rights and the freedom of the press was over.

Using the pointer like a gentleman's walking cane, Mr. Larson picked his way through the clutter back to his desk.

It was quiet for another moment or two, and Cara sat there, staring at the Bill of Rights on the bulletin
board. She was wondering how much freedom of the press
The Landry News
really had.

A little suspicion formed in the back of her mind that, sooner or later, she'd find out.

ON THE FIRST Friday in December the ninth edition of
The Landry News
was distributed—over three hundred and
seventy copies.

Sitting at his desk, Dr. Barnes read his copy carefully. And when he turned to page three, Dr. Barnes finally saw what he had been hoping for, week after week. Smack in the center of the page was the article of his dreams, an article that should not have been printed in a school newspaper. And Dr. Barnes was sure that a majority of the school board would agree with him.

A slow smile spread over his face, and in his mind, Dr. Barnes began planning Mr. Larson's retirement party.

Cara Landry was having the time of her life.
The Landry News
was growing and changing, and she was keeping up with it. By the fourth edition, Joey had to print on both sides of the sheet; and from the fifth edition on,
The Landry News
had needed a second sheet of paper—for section B.

Cara had to plan each edition. She had to read every story and every feature, plus she would help kids with their rewriting and revising. And on Thursdays, when Joey was assembling everything on the computer screen, Cara often had to cut articles or features that took up too much space.

Cara also had to reject whatever she didn't think would be right for
The Landry News.
Chrissy wanted to start a gossip column called “Hot Stuff” about school romances—crushes, rumors, and who was going to be dumped. When Cara asked if the information in her column would always be true, Chrissy had to agree that private notes passed among friends was the best place for this kind of news. And when Josh wanted to start a weekly ranking of the best fifth-grade athletes, Cara told him the list would have to include girls as well as boys. Josh decided to write a piece about ocean kayaking instead.

With all she had to do for the newspaper—not to mention her other schoolwork—Cara was barely able to find time each week to write her own editorial. The editorial was always the last item in the paper, and by the fifth edition that meant it went on page four.

The front page of
The Landry News
was the general news and information page—the main news stories, a summary of school and town events, and a weekly “Homework Countdown” that listed upcoming fifth-grade tests and project due dates. There was always a photograph,
and if there was room, the front page also included the weekend weather prediction from the United States Weather Service, complete with little drawings that Alan made of sunshine, clouds, droplets, or snowflakes.

The second page was different advice and information columns that kids kept coming up with, like this question-and-answer column about pets.

Pets? You Bet
!

by Carrie Sumner

Dear PYB:

I have a cockatiel bird named Dingo, and all he will say is “pretty bird, pretty bird, pretty bird,” over and over again. I talk to him for an hour every day, and I have tried to teach him to say other words, but he isn't interested. No matter what I say to him, and no matter how many times I say it, all he says is “pretty bird, pretty bird, pretty bird.” It's driving me nuts. Any advice?

From Crazy in Birdland

Dear Crazy:

I think your bird is mad at you because you named him after an ugly Australian wild dog. He wants to make sure that you know he's a bird, and a pretty one, too. Try changing his name to Wing-Ding or SuperBird or Flier, and see if that works. And if it doesn't, maybe you should think
about exactly why you want to be talking to a bird in the first place.

With deep concern, PYB

Alan Rogers had started a column where he interviewed kids about their favorite foods and how they got their parents to buy them.

Snack Attack
!

Dedicated to life, liberty, and the pursuit of junk food

by Alan Rogers

AR: So, JJ, [not his real name] I hear you've perfected a way to get your mom to buy sugary cereal and Pop Tarts every time she goes to the store, even if you're not there to beg for them. Sounds too good to be true. Can you tell us about it?

JJ: Believe me, it's true. But it didn't happen overnight.

These things take time and planning.

AR: What was the first step?

JJ: I asked my health teacher what meal is the most important one of the day.

AR: But didn't you already know the answer?

JJ: Of course. I knew she would say “Breakfast.” And once she did, I went home that afternoon and told my mom that my health teacher said the most important meal of the day is breakfast.

AR: Ahhh! You were laying the foundation, right?

JJ: Exactly. Then I skipped breakfast for the next three days. Mom tried to get me to eat, but I just said, “I don't like anything we have in the house.”

AR: Didn't you starve those mornings?

JJ: I had asked my friend ZZ [not his real name] to bring some toast to the bus stop for me, so I was okay. At the end of three days, I mentioned to my mom that I thought I might like some of those Cocoa Puffs, and that the chocolate and marshmallow Pop Tarts might be something I could eat, too. The next morning, there they were, like magic—right on the kitchen counter.

AR: Well, JJ, that's certainly an inspiring story, and I know our readers will appreciate your sharing it with us all.

There was a book review every week, a video-game tips column, a “Best of the Web” listing, and a “Best TV Movies of the Weekend” column. Since Christmas and Hanukkah were not that far off, there was a “Holiday Countdown”—a column listing the top ten presents that kids on the red and blue teams were hoping for.

Tommy read a lot, and when he was in fourth grade he had started collecting slang expressions that he thought were funny. He eventually discovered that there were whole dictionaries of slang. He asked Cara if he could have a column about slang, and the editor in chief said okay, as long as everything in the column
had a G rating. Tommy agreed, and a column called “That Slang Thang” was born.

Section B—the second sheet of
The Landry News—
was a hodgepodge. If there were some good columns that wouldn't fit on page two, they ended up in section B. There were two regular weekly comic strips and usually a cartoon or two, as well as short stories and vacation travel stories about places kids had visited—like the Grand Canyon or the Field Museum. There were poems and jokes, and LeeAnn had surprised everybody with a completely creepy mystery story that had a new installment every week.

And then, on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, Michael Morton came up to Cara after school at her locker and asked if he could give her a story that a friend of his wanted to have printed in the newspaper. Michael was a computer whiz, the kid who did the “Best of the Web” listing for the paper each week. He kept mostly to himself. Cara said, “Sure, Michael. I'll be glad to look at it.” Cara stuck the sheets of paper in her backpack, grabbed her coat, and ran to catch her bus.

Late that night, Cara remembered the story, got it out of her book bag, and lay across her bed to read it. It was only two pages, written in black ballpoint. There were tons of cross outs and smears on each page, and the writer had pushed down so hard with his pen that the back side of each sheet reminded Cara of Braille, the raised alphabet
for blind people.