I liked his office a lot. I liked that there were all these neat little drawings and paintings by students on the walls, framed like they were important.
Mom sat down in a chair in front of Mr. Tushman's desk, and even though there was another chair right next to hers, I decided to stand beside her.
“Why do you have your own room and Mrs. G doesn't?” I said. “You mean, why do I have an office?” asked Mr. Tushman.
“You said she runs the place,” I said. “Oh! Well, I was kind of kidding. Mrs. G is my assistant.”
Mr. Tushman is the director of the middle school,Mom explained. “Do they call you Mr. T?” I asked, which made him smile.
“Do you know who Mr. T is?” he answered. “I pity the fool?” he said in a funny tough voice, like he was imitating someone.
I had no idea what he was talking about. “Anyway, no,” said Mr. Tushman, shaking his head. “No one calls me Mr. T.”
“Though I have a feeling I'm called a lot of other things I don't know about.”
“Let's face it, a name like mine is not so easy to live with, you know what I mean?”
Here I have to admit I totally laughed, because I knew exactly what he meant. “My mom and dad had a teacher called Miss Butt,” I said.
“Auggie!” said Mom, but Mr. Tushman laughed. “Now, that's bad,” said Mr. Tushman, shaking his head. “I guess I shouldn't complain.”
“Hey, so listen, August, here's what I thought we would do today...”
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