Unit 2 The Fun They Had Margie even wrote about it that night in her diary. On the page headed May 17, 2157, she wrote, Today Tommy found a real book! It was a very old book. Margies grandfather once said that when he was a little boy his grandfather told him that there was a time when all stories were printed on paper. They turned the pages, which were yellow and crinkly, and it was awfully funny to read words that stood still instead of moving the way they were supposed toon a screen, you know. And then, when they turned back to the page before, it had the same words on it that it had had when they read it the first time. Gee, said Tommy, What a waste! When youre through with the book, you just throw it away, I guess. Our television screen must have a million books on it and its good for plenty more. I wouldnt throw it away. Same with mine, said Margie. She was eleven and hadnt seen as many telebooks as Tommy had. He was thirteen. She said, Where did you find it? In my house, he pointed without looking because he was busy reading. In the attic. Whats it about? School. Margie was scornful. School? Whats there to write about school? I hat school. Margie always hated school, but now she hated it more than ever. The mechanical teacher had been giving her test after test in geography and she had been doing worse and worse until her mother had shaken her head sorrowfully and sent for the County Inspector. He was a round little man with a red face and a whole box of tools with dials and wires. He smiled at Margie and gave her an apple, then took the teacher apart. Margie had hoped he wouldnt know how to put it together again, but he knew how all right, and, after an hour or so, there it was again, large and black and ugly, with a big screen on which all the lessons were shown and the questions were asked. That wasnt so bad. The part Margie hated most was the slot where she had to put homework and test papers. She always had to write them out in a punch code they made her learn when she was six years old, and the mechanical teacher calculated the mark in no time. Margie was disappointed. She had been hoping they would take the teacher away altogether. So she said to Tommy, Why would anyone write about school? Tommy looked at her with very superior eyes, Because its not our kind of school, stupid. This is the old kind of school that they had hundreds and hundreds of years ago. He added loftily, pronouncing the word carefully, Centuries ago. Margie was hurt. Well, I dont know what kind of school they had all that time ago. She read the book over his shoulder for a while, then said, Anyway, they had a teacher. Sure they had a teacher, but it wasnt a regular teacher. It was a man. A man? How could a man be a teacher? Well, he just told the boys and girls things and gave them homework and asked them questions. A man isnt smart enough. Sure he is. My father knows as much as my teacher. Margie wasnt prepared to dispute that. She said, I wouldnt want a strange man in my house to teach me. Tommy screamed with laughter. You dont know much, Margie. The teachers didnt live in the house. They had a special building and all the kids went there. And all the kids learned the same thing? Sure, if they were the same age. But my mother says a teacher has to be adjusted to fit the minds of each boy and girl it teaches and that each kid has to be taught differently. They werent even half-finished when Margies mother called, Margie! School! Margie looked up. Not yet, Mamma. Now! said Mrs. Jones. And its probably time for Tommy, too. Margie said to Tommy, Can I read the book some more with you after school? Maybe, he said nonchalantly. He walked away whistling, the dusty old book tucked beneath his arm. Margie went into the schoolroom. It was right next to her bedroom, and the mechanical teacher was on and waiting for her. It was always on at the same time every day except Saturday and Sunday, because her mother said little girls learned better if they learned at regular hours. The screen was lit up, and it said: Todays arithmetic lesson is on the addition of proper fractions. Please insert yesterdays homework in the proper slot. Margie did so with a sigh. She was thinking about the old school they had when her grandfathers grandfather was a little boy. All the kids from the whole neighborhood came, laughing and shouting in the schoolyard, sitting together in the schoolroom, going home together at the end of the day. They learned the same things, so they could help one another on the homework and talk about it. And the teachers were people.Margie was thinking about how the kids must have loved it in the old days. She was thinking about the fun they