1 Jake the Snake

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1 Jake the Snake My name is A.J. and I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that you're reading this book. You're thinking that you're reading this sentence. Now you're thinking that you're reading this sentence.

And now you're thinking that you're reading THIS sentence. But what if you're not reading this book at all? What if you're really asleep right now and you're dreaming that you're reading this book? Hmmm? Or what if this book is really reading you? Or what if you're really holding a magic chicken in your hands that can turn itself into the shape of a book, and you're reading a chicken? Okay, that would be weird. The point is, it was March. And you know what that means—Saint Patrick's Day! It was just one week away. Our class was sitting in the Book Nook of the library at Ella Mentry School. It was story time with our librarian, Mrs. Roopy. She was finishing a picture book called The Legend of Saint Patrick. "...and that's the story of how Saint Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland," read Mrs. Roopy. She closed the book and we all clapped, because that's what you're supposed to do when anybody finishes anything. Nobody knows why. "Any questions?" asked Mrs. Roopy.

Andrea Young, this annoying girl with curly brown hair, raised her hand. Of course. Andrea always raises her hand. I bet that the minute she was born, the first thing Andrea did was raise her hand to ask the doctor a question. "Yes, Andrea?" asked Mrs. Roopy. "Well, I'm half Irish," Andrea said. "Which half?" I asked. "Top or bottom?"

"Arlo!" shouted Andrea. She calls me by my real name because she knows I don't like it. "Left or right half?" I asked. "Please let Andrea speak, A.J.," said Mrs. Roopy. "My mother told me that the story about Saint Patrick never really happened," said Andrea. "He didn't drive the snakes out of Ireland. My mother said they didn't even have snakes in Ireland back in those days." "Hmmmm," Mrs. Roopy said as she wrinkled up her forehead. Grown-ups always say "hmmmm" and wrinkle up their foreheads when they don't know what to say. Nobody knows why. But then Mrs. Roopy smiled. "Wait a minute!" she said excitedly. "This is... a teachable moment!" Oh no. A boring moment is more like it. Grown-ups love teachable moments. That means they get to teach us stuff. And we have to learn stuff. Learning stuff is no fun. That's why I hate teachable moments. "We can do research!" Mrs. Roopy said as she went over to the computer. "We can find out if