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I'm the new kid. I am tuf. This morning I beat up a kid.
It's only the first day of school for Dexter, but he's already mad at the principal, and the secretary, and the janitor, and the kids who laugh at him. When his teacher tells the class to write a story, Dexter writes about how tough he is -- and how he's already gotten into a fight. Is any of Dexter's story true? Why was the other boy crying before Dexter hit him? And why would the other ...
I'm the new kid. I am tuf. This morning I beat up a kid.
It's only the first day of school for Dexter, but he's already mad at the principal, and the secretary, and the janitor, and the kids who laugh at him. When his teacher tells the class to write a story, Dexter writes about how tough he is -- and how he's already gotten into a fight. Is any of Dexter's story true? Why was the other boy crying before Dexter hit him? And why would the other boy still want to be Dexter's friend?
Even Dexter doesn't know the answers to some of those questions. But as he deals with family problems, a persistent teacher, and a boy who's strangely interested in floor wax, he discovers many surprises hidden in his own tale.
When Dexter presents his perky teacher with his first assignment, it reads, "This morning I beat up a kid. I am tuf." Ms. Abbott pushes him to add details and much more to his story. With each revision readers learn more about why Dexter is angry, confused, worried, lonely, sorry, and why he hit Robin in the bathroom, and they see the developing friendship between the two boys. They discover that on Dexter's first day at his new school, he is left abruptly in a hallway by the school secretary and is laughed at when he falls on a slippery floor. They find out about his father's cancer and that he is living with his grandmother in Kentucky because his parents are at a hospital in Seattle. Slowly, they learn, along with Dexter, that the incident didn't happen exactly as he remembers it. An appropriately happy ending wraps up all of the loose ends. Haddix does an excellent job of capturing the voice of a fourth-grade boy. Dexter is a multifaceted character who thinks about his actions and emotions like a smart, confused kid, never like an adult. Occasional full-page drawings nicely portray the actions and feelings of the characters in this easy chapter book.
—Catherine CallegariCopyright 2006 Reed Business Information.
"A thoughtful choice for reading aloud."
"Haddix does an excellent job of capturing the voice of a fourth-grade boy. Dexter is a multifaceted character who thinks about his actions and emotions like a smart, confused kid, never like an adult. Occasional full-page drawings nicely portray the actions and feelings of the characters in this easy chapter book."
Dexter hated his new school already.
It was only his first day -- barely his first hour. So far Dexter had decided that he hated the principal, the school secretary, and the janitor. He hadn't even met the janitor yet, but he hated him anyway. The janitor had made the floor so shiny and slick that Dexter slipped on it, falling right in front of a bunch of other kids.
Dexter hated those kids, too. They laughed at him.
Now he was standing in front of his new fourth-grade class, a sea of staring eyes.
"Dexter moved here from Cincinnati," his new teacher said. "Dexter, would you like to tell us a little about yourself?"
"No," Dexter said.
The smile on his teacher's face didn't shrink at all.
"Well, that's quite all right, Dexter," she said in a fake, cheerful voice. "I know it can be kind of scary being new."
Dexter wanted to say, Oh, no, I'm not scared. Not me. But the teacher was already showing him to his desk. Her too-wide smile stretched back almost to her ears.
"It's so wonderful that you've joined us today, Dexter, because we're starting on the most exciting writing project," she said as Dexter slipped into his seat.
She was wearing huge star earrings that seemed to twinkle at the class. He could tell already: She was going to be oneof those sparkly, enthusiastic teachers.
He hated that kind of teacher.
"Don't you all want to hear what the project is?" the teacher asked.
"Yes, Ms. Abbott," the whole class except Dexter chorused together.
Disgusting. The other kids were going to be as sparkly and enthusiastic as the teacher.
"Great!" the teacher said. "We're going to be working on the same piece of writing every day for a month! We're going to pretend we're all professional writers, and that's how they work. They don't just write something and say, 'Hurray! I'm done! Isn't this wonderful?' They write a story and then they go back and rewrite it, and revise it, and make it as good as possible. Some writers may rewrite the same story dozens of times! What do you think of that?"
Dexter thought that professional writers must be pretty stupid. He wondered if he should add professional writers to the list of people he hated.
"We'll start out today just writing the first draft," the teacher said, still all twinkly and cheerful. "Get out a piece of paper and tell me a story. It can be a true story or it can be made up. But" -- her eyes seemed to rest on Dexter for a moment -- "I'd really like it if you could tell me a story that lets me know more about who you are!"
All the other kids started writing right away. Dexter sat frozen at his desk.
"Dexter?" the teacher said. "Don't you have pencil and paper?"
Staring down at his empty desktop, Dexter shook his head. No. He didn't have anything he needed.
"That's okay," the teacher said, slipping a pencil into his hand and sliding paper onto his desk. "I'll send a note home with you tonight to let your parents know what school supplies to buy."
Dexter clutched the pencil so hard he was surprised it didn't snap in two.
"It's my grandmother," he blurted.
"Excuse me?" the teacher said, and for the first time, she didn't look sparkly or twinkly. She looked confused.
"You have to send the note to my grandmother, not my parents," Dexter said, the words coming out in a rush. "I live with her now."
"All right," the teacher said. "No problem. Let's get started writing, okay?"
Maybe it was no problem for her, but now there was a huge lump in Dexter's throat, which made it hard for him to swallow. It kind of made it hard for him to breathe. He stared down at the blank sheet of paper on his desk. Every other kid in the class was writing like crazy. He could hear the pencils racing. He saw one girl already flipping over her sheet of paper, to start on her second page. Dexter couldn't even remember exactly what he was supposed to be writing. Something about letting the teacher know who he was. Fine. He could do that.
He gripped the pencil and printed:
I'm the new kid. I am tuf.
He put the pencil down.
"Some of you who finish early might want to start your revision process now," the teacher said from the front of the room. "Add details, descriptions, examples!"
Dexter picked up his pencil again. His hand shook a little as he wrote:
This morning I beat up a kid.
It was kind of scary seeing those words in black and white. He stared down at his paper, and the words seemed to stare back at him. He put his hands over the paper so all he could see was one sentence: "I am tuf."
I am, he told himself. I am. So there.
"All right, everyone," the teacher said. "Make sure your names are on your papers and hand them in. Even if you aren't done, Marleeza."
A girl in the front, who'd started waving one hand in the air, abruptly put her arm back down.
Someone behind Dexter poked him in the shoulder and handed him a stack of papers. Dexter stuffed his own paper in the middle of the stack, so no one would see it. Then he handed the whole stack to the kid in front of him.
Dexter's stomach churned as he watched the teacher's hands gather all the papers together. Her long fingers smoothed the ragged edges, making the pile neat.
"I'm so excited to start reading these!" the teacher said. "It's almost time for recess anyhow. I'll let you go a few minutes early, to reward you for all your hard work. And when you return, we'll begin workshopping!"
Why did I write that? Dexter wondered. Why?
His hands itched to grab his paper back before the teacher saw it. But how could he do that? What would he tell her?
The paper was lost to him now. The teacher was holding all the papers too tightly.
He squared his shoulders. He tried to ignore the sick twisting in his stomach.
Who cares? he told himself.
He walked out of the room behind the other kids. He didn't let himself look back.
Copyright 2007 by Margaret Peterson Haddix
Excerpted from Dexter the Tough by Margaret Peterson Haddix Copyright © 2007 by Margaret Peterson Haddix. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Posted September 23, 2008
Dexter the tough tells a sweet and sometimes heartbreaking story of a young 4th grader who is forced to move away from his home and friends to move in with his grandma while his mom and dad are on the other side of the country to treat his father's progressive cancer. Dexter has the normal problems of the first day at a new school and has an interesting way of starting his day (readers will realize the title in the first chapter). His first assignment from his teacher is to write a story about himself- an assignment that he struggles with through the entire book. In the end, Dexter becomes friends with an unlikely match and realizes some of lifes hardest lessons. This story is a great way to teach friendship, respect, and life values.
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Posted December 25, 2013
Posted April 12, 2014
Dexter's first day at his new school was not a good day he was already mad at the principal,the secretary,and the janitorI loved this book but try to think about this
What makes a bully?
Will dexter become friends with the kid that he beat up?
Posted December 10, 2013
Posted June 25, 2013