The Day Ms. G Got Mixed Up

Ms. G was the nicest dyslexia intervention teacher at Madden Elementary School. She had curly black hair that peeked out from under her colorful hijab, and her hijab was always perfectly matched to her outfit. She was also famous throughout the entire school for wearing the funniest t-shirts—like "Catzilla" with a giant cat destroying a city, cat selfies with monsters lurking behind them, "Have No Fear the Mexican is Here," and anything Star Wars related. She also carried a giant coffee mug everywhere she went, had cat hair on everything she owned, constantly had her nose buried in a book, and was always getting packages delivered to school from Amazon. Despite being utterly mixed up about almost everything, Ms. G was known as the school's authority on all things grammar and was often called (not to her face, but when speaking of her to others) the Grammar Nazi. She was also an ardent follower of the Oxford comma, frequently checking any writing in the school hallways for missing commas that would cause three siblings to receive their inheritance distributed as 50% to the first named child and 25% each to the remaining two, rather than the intended equal split of 33.33% each. But Ms. G had one tiny problem. She got mixed up about things. A lot.

On Monday morning, Ms. G walked into her special education classroom with a big smile, sipping her enormous coffee mug that said "World's Okayest Teacher." Her bright blue hijab matched her cardigan perfectly, and underneath she wore a t-shirt that said "May the Forks Be With You" with little Yoda holding eating utensils. She quickly glanced at her phone, hoping no one had figured out that @BookPimp was actually her. She also checked her keyboard enthusiast forum notifications—someone had finally posted a review of the new tactile switches she'd been waiting for, and there was already a heated debate about whether Gateron Yellows were truly superior to Cherry MX Reds for that perfect creamy linear feel. "Good morning, class!" she said cheerfully. "Today we are going to have a wonderful day. First, we need to feed the fish."

Tommy raised his hand. "Ms. G, we don't have any fish."

"Of course we do!" she said, setting down her coffee mug. She walked over to the bookshelf and sprinkled fish food all over the books. "There you go, little fishies. Eat up!"

The children giggled. Sarah pointed to the empty fish tank in the corner. "The fish tank is over there, Ms. G. And it's empty."

Ms. G looked puzzled and took a big sip of coffee. She pushed her glasses up her nose. "Oh my! I can't see properly without my eyes. Well, the books looked hungry to me. Maybe I should order some fish on Amazon. Or maybe some new books about fish!"

Next, Ms. G announced it was time for reading practice. "Everyone take out your reading books and turn to page twenty. We are going to practice reading about adding apples."

She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out three real apples. Then she tried to stuff them inside her reading book while balancing her coffee mug in her other hand.

"Ms. G," said Jake, "I think you mean we should read words that look like apples."

"Nonsense!" she replied. "How can you read about apples if you don't have real apples?" She squeezed harder, trying to fit the apples between the pages. The book made a loud CRACK sound.

"Oops," said Ms. G. Apple juice dripped onto her desk, dangerously close to her coffee mug and the stack of books she was planning to read during lunch. "At least I didn't spill my coffee or ruin my books!"

Suddenly, Ms. G's glasses slipped right off her nose and clattered to the floor. She bent down to look for them, squinting around the room.

"Excuse me," she said politely to the pencil sharpener, "have you seen my eyes anywhere?"

The pencil sharpener, of course, didn't answer.

"Oh, you're the strong, silent type," Ms. G nodded understandingly. "I respect that. Let me ask someone else."

She turned to the globe on her desk. "Hello there! You look very well-traveled. Have you seen my eyes? They're about this big," she said, making circles with her fingers.

The children were giggling uncontrollably as Ms. G had a full conversation with the globe.

"What's that? You think they rolled under my desk? Thank you so much for the suggestion!"

Emma finally took pity on her. "Ms. G, your glasses are right by your feet!"

"Oh!" Ms. G put her glasses back on and blinked. "There you are, my trusty eyes! I was just having a lovely chat with our globe friend here. Very helpful fellow."

After reading practice, it was time to work on their funny stories. Ms. G loved writing silly tales with her students—they were all just as easily distracted as she was, which made for wonderfully creative storytelling. She clapped her hands together, accidentally knocking over a small Amazon box on her desk that was filled with lubed Boba U4T switches and a controversial set of Cherry profile PBT keycaps (she knew posting about them would probably get her roasted in the forums, but she secretly loved their sound). She quickly checked the address label, relieved it said "Ms. G" and not her online handle. "Today we are going to continue writing our story about the dancing sandwich. But first, I need to sharpen my pencil."

She walked over to the pencil sharpener, coffee mug in one hand. But instead of putting in a pencil, she stuck her finger right into the sharpener and started turning the handle.

"OW! OW! OW!" she yelped, hopping around the room and nearly spilling her coffee.

"Ms. G!" shouted Emma. "You're supposed to sharpen pencils, not fingers!"

Ms. G examined her finger, then squinted at the pencil sharpener. "My eyes must be foggy today," she said, adjusting her glasses. "Well, that explains why it hurt so much. I was wondering why my pencil felt so wiggly. Good thing I didn't drop my coffee!"

The children were laughing so hard that tears rolled down their cheeks. Marcus got so distracted by the laughing that he started writing about Ms. G's finger instead of the dancing sandwich.

At lunch time, Ms. G decided to eat in the classroom with her students. She opened her lunch box and pulled out a sandwich, setting her coffee mug carefully beside it along with the book she was reading. Her phone buzzed with a notification about her latest book review getting 500 likes, and she quickly silenced it. Then another notification popped up—someone in the keyboard forum was asking about wireless versus wired connections, and she was dying to explain why her 60% mechanical keyboard with linear switches was superior for both typing speed and desk space, even though she knew mentioning that she preferred the "thocky" sound of her modded board over the popular "creamy" trend would probably start another flame war.

"Mmm, peanut butter and jelly," she said. But instead of unwrapping the sandwich, she took a big bite right through the plastic wrap.

"BLECH!" She made a terrible face and started spitting. "This sandwich tastes like plastic!"

"That's because you ate the plastic wrap too," said Marcus, giggling.

"Oh!" said Ms. G, taking a swig of coffee to wash away the taste. "No wonder it was so chewy. I thought the cafeteria was trying a new recipe. Maybe I need to clean my eyes," she said, wiping her glasses with her hijab. "Thank goodness for coffee!"

"Can we write about a sandwich that eats plastic wrap?" asked Lily, getting completely sidetracked from her spelling practice.

"What a brilliant idea!" said Ms. G. "Let's add that to our story!"

After lunch, Ms. G's glasses fell off again while she was bending over to pick up her coffee mug. Without her "eyes," she squinted around the room and walked straight up to the coat rack.

"Excuse me," she said politely to the coat rack, "could you help me find the watering can? I need to water the plants."

She waited patiently for an answer.

"Oh, you're busy hanging coats? I understand. You have an important job. Let me ask someone else."

She turned to the filing cabinet. "Hello there, you look very organized. Do you know where I put the watering can?"

The filing cabinet remained silent.

"You don't know either? Well, that's okay. I'll just look for it myself."

"Ms. G!" called out Lily. "Your glasses are on the floor, and the watering can is right behind you!"

Ms. G put her glasses back on and turned around. "Oh! There it is! Thank you, filing cabinet, you were very helpful after all."

She picked up the watering can and walked over to the corner of the room, stepping over another Amazon package that contained both cat toys and a highly controversial full-size wireless keyboard with Cherry MX Blues—she knew the clicky sound would get her absolutely destroyed on the forums since everyone was obsessed with silent switches now, but she secretly loved the nostalgic clickiness even if it wasn't "endgame." She nervously hoped the delivery person hadn't noticed the "BookPimp" name on some of her packages. But instead of watering the plants, she started pouring water all over the coat closet.

"Ms. G," said Lily, "the plants are by the window."

"These coats looked very thirsty to me," Ms. G replied, pausing to sip her coffee. "Look how they're all hanging there with their tongues out. My eyes must need adjusting."

"Those are sleeves, not tongues," said David.

Ms. G squinted at the coats, pushing her glasses up her nose again. "Are you sure? They look awfully droopy. Maybe I should order a plant identification book on Amazon. Or a book about coat care."

Now all the coats were dripping wet. Ms. G looked very proud of herself. Meanwhile, three of her students had gotten distracted by the dripping water and started writing poems about rain instead of practicing their sight words.

During afternoon reading practice, Ms. G decided to read the class a story. She picked up a book and held it upside down, her coffee mug balanced precariously on the edge of her desk next to a stack of her personal reading books. She almost started to say "This book is totally fire, just like I said in my review—" but caught herself just in time.

"Once upon a time," she began, "there was a little girl who lived in a house that was... um... very confusing."

"Ms. G," whispered Anna, "the book is upside down."

"No wonder the story doesn't make sense!" Ms. G flipped the book around, accidentally knocking over her coffee mug. "Oh no! My coffee!" She quickly righted the mug, but it was empty. "My eyes were playing tricks on me. That's much better. Now the little girl is right-side up instead of standing on her head. But now I need more coffee so I can read properly."

"Maybe the girl in the story reads upside down too!" suggested Kevin, who had dyslexia and sometimes felt like letters were doing gymnastics on the page.

"What a wonderful idea for our next story!" said Ms. G.

When it was time for their writing exercise, Ms. G announced they would practice spelling by creating word magnets. She pulled out a big horseshoe magnet from the supply closet, which was stuffed full of Amazon boxes containing books, cat supplies, coffee, and various keyboard components including some foam dampening material that she was planning to use for her latest sound modding experiment (she was determined to achieve the perfect balance between thocky and creamy, even though she knew admitting she liked any clicky switches would probably get her banned from half the Discord servers).

"Now, we'll use this magnet to pick up words," she explained, refilling her coffee mug from the coffee maker in the corner. She walked around the room, holding the magnet up to different things. First, she tried to pick up a banana from her lunch.

"Hmm, this banana word must not be magnetic," she said, looking baffled through her glasses.

Then she held the magnet up to the chalkboard. It stuck with a loud CLANG.

"Aha!" she exclaimed, her hijab bobbing as she nodded enthusiastically. "The chalkboard has magnetic words!"

But then she tried to use the magnet to pick up one of her books. When it didn't work, she looked very perplexed.

"This book must be broken," she announced. "Its words aren't magnetic at all. Maybe I should order magnetic books on Amazon."

"Ms. G," said Kevin, "books are made of paper. Paper isn't magnetic."

"Well, that's silly," she replied, taking another sip of coffee and adjusting her eyes. "How are you supposed to pick up words if they won't stick to a magnet?"

The children looked at each other and giggled. Half of them had stopped doing their spelling and started drawing pictures of flying words instead.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Three students from Mrs. Johnson's fourth grade class peeked in. "Excuse me, Ms. G? Mrs. Johnson sent us to borrow some construction paper."

Ms. G turned to answer them, but as she did, her glasses slipped right off her nose and scattered across the floor. She squinted at the three blurry figures in the doorway.

"Oh. My. GOODNESS!" she gasped, her hands flying to her heart. Her coffee mug nearly slipped from her fingers. "I can't believe it! You came! You actually came!"

The three students looked confused. "Um, we just need construction paper?"

But Ms. G was beyond listening. Tears began streaming down her cheeks as she clutched her chest dramatically. "This is the most amazing day of my entire teaching career!" she sobbed with joy. "I've been waiting for this moment my whole life!"

She rushed toward them, arms outstretched, nearly tripping over her own feet. "Oh, Comma! Sweet, beautiful Comma! And you brought Semicolon and Period with you! This is better than Christmas!"

"Ms. G," whispered Emma urgently, "those are just kids from Mrs. Johnson's class!"

But Ms. G was in full fangirl mode now, crying and gesturing wildly. "Please, PLEASE tell my students why the Oxford comma is essential!" she begged, grabbing tissues from her desk to wipe her eyes. "Tell them how you prevent inheritance disasters! How you save families from legal disputes! How you bring clarity to the world!"

The three fourth graders stood frozen in the doorway, completely bewildered.

"You must be the Oxford comma!" Ms. G pointed at the first student, tears still flowing. "Oh, you beautiful, misunderstood punctuation mark! And Semicolon, you sophisticated connector of thoughts! And Period, you decisive conclusion to every sentence!"

She was now crying so hard she could barely speak, like a teenager who had just met their favorite K-pop star. "I have all your grammar books! I follow all the style guides! I've been your biggest fan since college!"

"Ms. G!" called out Tommy. "Your glasses are right there on the floor!"

One of the visiting students slowly picked up her glasses and held them out. "Um, here you go, Ms. G."

Ms. G put her glasses back on, blinking through her tears. She looked at the three perfectly normal fourth grade students standing in her doorway.

"Oh," she said quietly, wiping her eyes with her hijab. "You're... you're just regular children."

"Yes ma'am," said the first student. "We just need construction paper."

Ms. G's face turned bright red underneath her hijab. "Of course you do. I'll just... I'll get that for you." She hurried to the supply closet, still sniffling. "I'm sorry. I thought you were... well, it doesn't matter what I thought."

As she handed over the construction paper, she whispered, "If you ever meet any actual punctuation marks, please tell them I said hello."

The fourth graders nodded politely and hurried away, probably to tell their teacher about the crying grammar lady.

Ms. G's students sat in stunned silence for a moment before Marcus raised his hand. "Ms. G, do you really love commas that much?"

"More than coffee?" she said, taking a big swig from her mug. "Well, let's not get carried away."

Near the end of the day, Ms. G decided the classroom was too messy. "Time to clean up!" she announced, stepping over several Amazon packages filled with books, cat toys, and her latest controversial keyboard purchase—a gaming keyboard with RGB lighting that she knew would absolutely destroy her credibility in the enthusiast community, but she secretly thought the rainbow backlighting was pretty and it had surprisingly decent PBT keycaps for the price point. "Everyone needs to put things where they belong."

She picked up the stapler from her desk. But instead of putting it in the desk drawer, she opened the supply closet and tried to hang it on a coat hook.

"There," she said, satisfied. "The stapler looks very nice hanging up."

The stapler immediately fell to the floor with a loud THUD.

"Hmm," said Ms. G, sipping her coffee thoughtfully and pushing her eyes up her nose. "It must not want to hang up today."

Then she picked up a piece of chalk and tried to put it in the fish tank.

"Ms. G," said Rachel, "chalk goes in the chalk tray."

"But the fish tank looks so empty," Ms. G replied. "I thought the chalk might like to go swimming. Or maybe I should order some fish on Amazon. And a book about fish care."

"We still don't have any fish," reminded Tommy.

"Oh, right," said Ms. G. "Well, maybe the chalk can pretend to be a fish while I read about real fish."

"Can we write a story about chalk fish?" asked Sarah, completely forgetting about the spelling words she was supposed to be organizing.

Just then, her glasses slipped off her nose again and fell behind the fish tank. Ms. G squinted around the room, then walked up to the American flag in the corner.

"Pardon me," she said very respectfully, "but I seem to have lost my eyes again. You haven't seen them, have you?"

She waited politely for the flag to respond.

"Oh, you're being patriotic and standing at attention? I admire that. Let me ask someone else."

She walked over to the classroom skeleton (left over from a science lesson) and tapped it on the shoulder. "Excuse me, sir, you look like you've seen a lot in your time. Have you happened to see my eyes?"

The skeleton swayed slightly from her tap.

"Oh, you're pointing! Thank you so much!" Ms. G looked in the direction the skeleton was "pointing" and found her glasses behind the fish tank.

"You're very helpful," she told the skeleton as she put her glasses back on. "I can see why you're the backbone of this classroom!"

Finally, it was time to go home. Ms. G stood by the door to say goodbye to each student, her coffee mug in one hand and her phone in the other. She was nervously checking to make sure none of her BookPimp notifications were visible on her screen while pretending to look at her Amazon cart for new books, cat supplies, and the latest artisan keycap set that cost more than most people's entire keyboards—she knew she'd never admit to spending that much in the forums, especially since they weren't even the "approved" GMK profile that everyone worshipped.

"Have a wonderful afternoon," she told each child. "Don't forget to walk your homework and feed your backpack."

"Ms. G," giggled Sophie, "I think you mean do our homework and pack our backpack."

"Are you sure?" asked Ms. G, looking up from her phone and adjusting her colorful hijab. "I could have sworn backpacks got hungry. Maybe I should order backpack food on Amazon. Or a book about proper backpack care."

As the last student left, Ms. G sat down at her desk. She looked around the classroom at all the wet coats, the books covered in fish food, the broken reading book, the chalk in the empty fish tank, and the pile of Amazon boxes in the corner filled with books, coffee, cat supplies, and keyboard components. She opened her phone and quickly posted a book review under her BookPimp handle, then switched to the keyboard forum to debate the merits of tactile versus linear switches, making sure to lock her classroom door first. She was dying to defend her controversial opinion that properly lubed Cherry MX Browns could actually sound decent with the right mods, even though she knew such blasphemy would probably get her downvoted into oblivion.

"What a perfectly normal day," she said to herself, smiling and finishing the last of her coffee while opening a new book. She picked up her purse, which was actually her lunch box, and headed for the door.

But as she stood up, her glasses slipped off her nose one final time and clattered to the floor. Ms. G squinted around the empty classroom, and there in the corner sat the computer cart—a tall, rectangular shape that seemed to be... kneeling?

"Oh my stars," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Is that... could it be?"

She stepped closer, her heart pounding. The computer cart's lower shelf did indeed make it look like it was down on one knee.

"Oxford comma?" she breathed, tears immediately springing to her eyes. "Is it really you? Have you come to... to..."

Ms. G's hands flew to her heart as she realized what was happening. "You're proposing! You want to unite our lives in perfect grammatical harmony!"

She began crying tears of pure joy, just like when she thought she'd met punctuation marks earlier. "Yes! YES! A thousand times yes! I've dreamed of this moment since graduate school!"

Ms. G rushed toward the computer cart, arms outstretched. "I accept your proposal, my beautiful, essential, inheritance-saving Oxford comma! Together we'll bring clarity to compound lists everywhere!"

She was so overcome with emotion, so giddy with grammatical bliss, that she swooned dramatically. "This is too much happiness for one grammar teacher to handle!" she declared, fanning herself with her hijab.

And with that, Ms. G fainted dead away, landing softly on the pile of Amazon boxes filled with books, coffee supplies, cat toys, and her latest mechanical keyboard with the tactile switches she'd been so excited about.

The computer cart sat silently in the corner, completely unaware that it had just become engaged to the most mixed-up—but most passionate—grammar teacher in all of Madden Elementary School.

The next morning, the children couldn't wait to see what Ms. G would do next. She was the most mixed-up teacher in the whole school, but she was also the most fun.

And that's exactly how the students of Room 114 A liked it.

"Oh my stars," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Is that... could it be?"

She stepped closer, her heart pounding. The computer cart's lower shelf did indeed make it look like it was down on one knee.

"Oxford comma?" she breathed, tears immediately springing to her eyes. "Is it really you? Have you come to... to..."

Ms. G's hands flew to her heart as she realized what was happening. "You're proposing! You want to unite our lives in perfect grammatical harmony!"

She began crying tears of pure joy, just like when she thought she'd met punctuation marks earlier. "Yes! YES! A thousand times yes! I've dreamed of this moment since graduate school!"

The computer cart sat silently in the corner, completely unaware that it had just become engaged to the most mixed-up—but most passionate—grammar teacher in all of Madden Elementary School.

The next morning, the children couldn't wait to see what Ms. G would do next. She was the most mixed-up teacher in the whole school, but she was also the most fun.

And that's exactly how the students of Room 114 A liked it.

"Oh my stars," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Is that... could it be?"

She stepped closer, her heart pounding. The computer cart's lower shelf did indeed make it look like it was down on one knee.

"Oxford comma?" she breathed, tears immediately springing to her eyes. "Is it really you? Have you come to... to..."

Ms. G's hands flew to her heart as she realized what was happening. "You're proposing! You want to unite our lives in perfect grammatical harmony!"

She began crying tears of pure joy, just like when she thought she'd met punctuation marks earlier. "Yes! YES! A thousand times yes! I've dreamed of this moment since graduate school!"

The computer cart sat silently in the corner, completely unaware that it had just become engaged to the most mixed-up—but most passionate—grammar teacher in all of Madden Elementary School.

The next morning, the children couldn't wait to see what Ms. G would do next. She was the most mixed-up teacher in the whole school, but she was also the most fun.

And that's exactly how the students of Room 114 A liked it.Time to clean up!" she announced, stepping over several Amazon packages filled with books, cat toys, and her latest controversial keyboard purchase—a gaming keyboard with RGB lighting that she knew would absolutely destroy her credibility in the enthusiast community, but she secretly thought the rainbow backlighting was pretty and it had surprisingly decent PBT keycaps for the price point. "Everyone needs to put things where they belong."

She picked up the stapler from her desk. But instead of putting it in the desk drawer, she opened the supply closet and tried to hang it on a coat hook.

"There," she said, satisfied. "The stapler looks very nice hanging up."

The stapler immediately fell to the floor with a loud THUD.

"Hmm," said Mrs. Castro, sipping her coffee thoughtfully and pushing her eyes up her nose. "It must not want to hang up today."

Then she picked up a piece of chalk and tried to put it in the fish tank.

"Mrs. Castro," said Rachel, "chalk goes in the chalk tray."

"But the fish tank looks so empty," Mrs. Castro replied. "I thought the chalk might like to go swimming. Or maybe I should order some fish on Amazon. And a book about fish care."

"We still don't have any fish," reminded Tommy.

"Oh, right," said Mrs. Castro. "Well, maybe the chalk can pretend to be a fish while I read about real fish."

"Can we write a story about chalk fish?" asked Sarah, completely forgetting about the spelling words she was supposed to be organizing.

Just then, her glasses slipped off her nose again and fell behind the fish tank. Mrs. Castro squinted around the room, then walked up to the American flag in the corner.

"Pardon me," she said very respectfully, "but I seem to have lost my eyes again. You haven't seen them, have you?"

She waited politely for the flag to respond.

"Oh, you're being patriotic and standing at attention? I admire that. Let me ask someone else."

The skeleton swayed slightly from her tap.

"Oh, you're pointing! Thank you so much!" Mrs. Castro looked in the direction the skeleton was "pointing" and found her glasses behind the fish tank.

"You're very helpful," she told the skeleton as she put her glasses back on. "I can see why you're the backbone of this classroom!"

Finally, it was time to go home. Mrs. Castro stood by the door to say goodbye to each student, her coffee mug in one hand and her phone in the other. She was nervously checking to make sure none of her BookPimp notifications were visible on her screen while pretending to look at her Amazon cart for new books, cat supplies, and the latest artisan keycap set that cost more than most people's entire keyboards—she knew she'd never admit to spending that much in the forums, especially since they weren't even the "approved" GMK profile that everyone worshipped.

"Have a wonderful afternoon," she told each child. "Don't forget to walk your homework and feed your backpack."

"Mrs. Castro," giggled Sophie, "I think you mean do our homework and pack our backpack."

"Are you sure?" asked Mrs. Castro, looking up from her phone and adjusting her colorful hijab. "I could have sworn backpacks got hungry. Maybe I should order backpack food on Amazon. Or a book about proper backpack care."

As the last student left, Mrs. Castro sat down at her desk. She looked around the classroom at all the wet coats, the books covered in fish food, the broken reading book, the chalk in the empty fish tank, and the pile of Amazon boxes in the corner filled with books, coffee, cat supplies, and keyboard components. She opened her phone and quickly posted a book review under her BookPimp handle, then switched to the keyboard forum to debate the merits of tactile versus linear switches, making sure to lock her classroom door first. She was dying to defend her controversial opinion that properly lubed Cherry MX Browns could actually sound decent with the right mods, even though she knew such blasphemy would probably get her downvoted into oblivion.

But as she stood up, her glasses slipped off her nose one final time and clattered to the floor. Mrs. Castro squinted around the empty classroom, and there in the corner sat the computer cart—a tall, rectangular shape that seemed to be... kneeling?

"Oh my stars," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Is that... could it be?"

She stepped closer, her heart pounding. The computer cart's lower shelf did indeed make it look like it was down on one knee.

"Oxford comma?" she breathed, tears immediately springing to her eyes. "Is it really you? Have you come to... to..."

Mrs. Castro's hands flew to her heart as she realized what was happening. "You're proposing! You want to unite our lives in perfect grammatical harmony!"

She began crying tears of pure joy, just like when she thought she'd met punctuation marks earlier. "Yes! YES! A thousand times yes! I've dreamed of this moment since graduate school!"

Mrs. Castro rushed toward the computer cart, arms outstretched. "I accept your proposal, my beautiful, essential, inheritance-saving Oxford comma! Together we'll bring clarity to compound lists everywhere!"

And with that, Mrs. Castro fainted dead away, landing softly on the pile of Amazon boxes filled with books, coffee supplies, cat toys, and her latest mechanical keyboard with the tactile switches she'd been so excited about.

The computer cart sat silently in the corner, completely unaware that it had just become engaged to the most mixed-up—but most passionate—grammar teacher in all of Madden Elementary School.

The next morning, the children couldn't wait to see what Mrs. Castro would do next. She was the most mixed-up teacher in the whole school, but she was also the most fun.

And that's exactly how the students of Room 114 A liked it.

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