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Phillip Oakwood and the Terrible Trouble with Teachers: Chapters 6 & 7

Recess was almost over when we knocked politely on the door of Portable Four.

“Come in.” Said a voice from inside.

We entered and found Mr. Dodson seated at his desk. There were bandages on his fingers, and he looked rather unhappy.

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Phillip Oakwood and the Terrible Trouble with Teachers: Chapter 5

“Quick!”  I told Mr. Fletcher. “The other door!” He silently nodded and we all headed for the other door of the gymnasium. Mr. Fletcher unlocked the door just as there was a loud CRASH and the window in the door behind us shattered. A hand reached through the window and began to turn the doorknob from the inside!

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Phillip Oakwood and the Terrible Trouble with Teachers: Chapter 4

Without Sammy, our class now had 21 students. But at school the next day, only 12 were present. No one felt safe anymore. Mrs. Brock tried to act like it was just like any normal school day, but we could all tell it was hard even for her. Besides being popular among students, Sammy had been one of many teacher’s favourite students, including hers.

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Phillip Oakwood and the Terrible Trouble with Teachers: Chapter 3

Suddenly, it hit me: the only place that someone could have gone that quickly was one of the portables, but teachers always locked their portables during assemblies—which meant that the murderer must have had a key! The only people with keys to the portables were the teachers who taught in them, and the principal and vice-principal. Sammy was murdered during the assembly, so the murderer couldn’t be Mr. Hazel, who was at the assembly, along with our principal and vice principal. That still left five possible suspects and one puzzling question: Why was Sammy murdered?

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Phillip Oakwood and the Terrible Trouble with Teachers: Chapter 2

After Lunch, we had an assembly.  While our vice principal spoke on and on about how much money we had raised in our fund raiser and the good that it did to others, assuming that people were listening, everyone was talking about what might have happened to Sammy.

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Phillip Oakwood and the Terrible Trouble with Teachers: Chapter 1

It was just like any average school day at S. L. Cooper Public School. In math class, Mrs. Jones, while ‘teaching’ us about the correct order of operations, had, as usual, used subtraction before exponents, and, as usual, insisted that it was all Harold Xavier’s fault (again).

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The Grinch Who Needed Christmas

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Parody of How the Grinch Stole Christmas! by Dr. Seuss

When the Whos down in Whoville were in the Christmas mood, the Grinch, who lived just north of Whoville, was too. The Grinch adored Christmas, he loved the whole season. That’s just how it is; there isn’t a reason.

When the Grinch was younger, he didn’t have friends. His clothes didn’t follow the fashions or trends. ‘Twas the Christmas season who brought him his peace, though no one would ever buy him a roast beast. To him the meaning of Christmas was joy. Not to miss lots of school or buy a new toy.

Now when December was nearing its end, the Grinch knew that Christmas was rounding the bend. The Grinch wanted to celebrate like he was a Who, but the Whos didn’t like him. That much he knew. The Whos thought the Grinch was scary and mean. All the Grinch’s life, that’s all he had seen.

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The Damage is Done

Montreal – January 27th, 2012 – Baker’s Residence

“Hurry up Emily!” Her mother Mrs. Baker called. “The taxi is here! We have to leave this instant!” Her agitated mother lectured Emily impatiently.

“I’m coming,” Emily spoke, not the least bit rushed. Then she remembered that they were taking the train to Halifax. And we have to check our bags, she thought, so we have to be there one hour and fifteen minutes before our train leaves.

After that Emily was just a blur. She was down the stairs, out the door, and into the cab within the next minute.

The Bakers were going on vacation to Halifax.
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The Doves

“But Nana, why do we have to stay in room 3C? Anyone who knows anything about hotel rooms knows not to sleep on the 3rd floor,” I complained on a cool, warm day in March.

“We’re only staying one night, and ‘anyone who knows anything about hotel rooms knows you die on the second night’,” Nana mimicked.

“I never said that.” Sheesh. Thirty minutes from the orphanage and I hated her already.

“You wanna go back to the orphanage?” Nana yelled in my face.

“NO!” I pleaded. “Please, you don’t know what it’s like back there,” and she didn’t. A twelve foot fence with razor wire surrounded the “home”—a big stone building with microphones and cameras everywhere. It was awful.

“Then shut your mouth.” The yelling continued as Nana pulled open the door to bedroom 3C.

Bedroom 3C was the most luxurious place I had ever seen. The wallpaper had a green background with little doves on it. The room had…

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