The Time Travelers' Club: Chapter 11 -- Homework

The next day in history class, Sam squirmed in his seat, trying to concentrate on the lesson. All he could think about was Mrs. Steers’ crazy story.  Mr. Martin, the teacher, continued with their study of Victorian England and its empire. 

 

Sam thought Who cares about kings and queens?  Like someone's gonna stop me on the street and be like whose the Queen of England in 1660? Pffft… Mrs. Steers might.  She probably knows them by heart.

Sam found French history offered more interesting stories -- royalties on a one-way trip to the guillotine, rolling heads, blood, riots in the streets…  The French sure knew how to make history interesting.

"Jack the Ripper murdered five women in 1888," said Mr. Martin. Sam perked up.  "Basically, he cut them open and removed internal organs."  Students gasped and murmurs erupted.  "There was some speculation about the Ripper being a doctor or butcher since the victims looked as if they had been dissected. There's even a theory about Jack being a woman.  Mrs. Jack the Ripper."

 

Wow! I wish I had that newspaper from the attic right now, thought Sam.  It would be totally cool to show in class.  Of course, it's a fake… or at least I think it's a fake.   Great!  Now I'm starting to think like crazy Mrs. Steers.

Mr. Martin pointed to an area on the London map hanging on the side wall.   "All were done in the Whitechapel area of East London.  This part of town housed many of the poorest families and many immigrants.  It was a nasty area.  Try to imagine garbage in the streets... or how about throwing the contents of the chamber pot out of the window..."

"Gross!"

"That's disgusting," one girl whispered to her classmate making a grossed-out face.

Sam was enthralled by the unsolved mystery of the killer's identity. Daydreaming for a moment, he drifted off to become a world-renowned famous detective.  He saw himself wearing a Sherlock Holmes deerstalker cap and having a pipe in his mouth talking to the chief inspector of Scotland Yard…

"Well, Inspector, I have the final clue that will lead us to the identity of this serial killer."

"Yes, go on, Mr. Henry," said the Inspector, who surprisingly enough looked like Mr. Martin.  "What have you got?"

"A fingerprint on this newspaper" Sam, the detective, held the one he had found in the attic. "We should be able to identify the killer using it."

"Very good, Mr. Henry, but there is one major flaw …  We have yet to invent fingerprinting!  Didn't you pay attention in Mrs. Wayne's science class when she talked about fingerprints?"

Sam snapped out of his daydream when the real voice of Mr. Martin cleared his throat and ended the story on the famous killer.

"Class, we have finished British History, at least to the later part of the nineteenth century.  Next week, I have decided to move to another part of the world.  We will start talking about Ancient Egypt, instead of American History as I had originally planned.  So, for your assignment, I want you to choose a topic from British History and write a six-page report.  Internet searching should be limited.  No Wikipedia as a primary source. I want you to use books and articles, please.  And be prepared to do a presentation for the class."

Some students groaned at the mention of homework. Others complained about using books.  Others immediately began to discuss what their topic might be.  Before long, the school bell shrilled signaling the end of another day. 

Outside, snow flurries floated down from a grey overcast sky.  Buttoning up his jacket, Sam headed to the public library, wanting to get the good books before anyone else.   When he entered, Emily had finished assisting a stout middle-aged man at the reference desk.

 "Yes, these books are perfect.  Thanks for your help."

"Good," said Emily.  "Glad I could help."

"Hey Mom," said Sam.

"Hey there." Emily hugged Sam, then sat down behind the computer at the desk.  "Looks like we're getting some flurries out there. How was school today?"

"Good.  I have to write a report on something from English history," said Sam.

"Chosen a topic?" asked Emily.

"Yep.  Jack the Ripper," said Sam.  His mom crinkled her nose at his choice of topic.

"Are you sure you don't want something a little less bloody," said Emily.   That did it.  If mom didn't want him to do it, then the topic was right for him.

 "You know how I love mysteries," said Sam settling at a nearby table spreading out papers and his school books.

"Are you sure? If you get nightmares, I'm not going to feel sorry for you."

"Yes, I am sure," Sam answered emphatically, heading to the stacks.

Juggling a stack of books from the English history section, Sam struggled back to the table and settled down to read.  After thumbing through several books, he found information about Jack the Ripper and his five known victims.  One book had crime-scene photographs of the slashed-up bodies of Catherine Eddowes and Mary Kelly.  The body of Kelly hardly looked like a human body. Blood splattered all over and dissected body parts here and there.

 "Hey! I'm talking to you."  A voice broke Sam's concentration.  Looking up from his book, Bon Wilkinson from his class smiled at him.

"What?" said Sam.

"I was asking if I could take a look at some of those," said Bon, pointing at the stack of books.  Her bobbed light brown hair swung as she shook her head.  "You have most of the good ones."

"Sure. I'm not checking them all out.  Just these two."  Sam pulled them towards him. 

Before sitting down, Bon yanked up her black leggings, adjusted her knee-length black skirt, and straightened her beige cashmere sweater.  She was the other loner in his class. She wasn't only the smartest student in the class, but also the toughest.  Sam had witnessed her slug Billy Franks, the class bully.  She had mastered judo and karate. 

Bon sat down across the table from him.  "I've chosen Queen Victoria. She was one of the greatest queens ever.  She and Cleopatra.   Maybe I'll paint a scene of her doing something like sitting on her throne with her crown on her head."  Sam had seen some of Bon's artwork.  She could grow up to be a well-known artist.

"I'm visiting my dad next month," said Bon.  "We'll have to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and take some pics of any paintings they might have of her.  My dad lives in New York City and knows one of the curators, so I'm sure we can get a special tour."

 "How about you, Sam?" asked Bon.

"I'm researching Jack the Ripper," replied Sam.  "Mysteries are one of my favorite subjects."

"Cool," said Bon.  "Are you going to show pictures of his victims?  I hope they're good and bloody!"

Sam glanced at her.  "Really? It doesn't seem like you'd want to see pictures of bloody dead bodies."

"I do!  I totally want to be a doctor."  Bon had surprised him once again. He pictured her as the first female President if not a famous artist.  They settled down to read.

Time passed before he knew it, his mom stood on the other side of the table with a stack of books in her arms.  "Didn't you hear me?"

 "I'm sorry," said Sam rubbing his right eye.  Bon closed her book.

"You must've been into that book," said Emily walking away and pushing a metal library cart.   "Sam, get your books checked out.  I'll be ready in a few minutes."

Sam pushed his notebook into his book bag. "I'm checking these two out.  You can have the rest."

"Thanks.  I'm taking this one on Queen Victoria.  See you later, Sam," said Bon.

"See you at school."  Sam slung the book bag over his shoulder and picked up his chosen books.  He hurried over to the check-out desk where he waited his turn.

 "Hi, Sam," said Mrs. Fessler from behind the counter.  "Working on a school assignment?"

"Yes," said Sam laying the books on the counter and handing over his library card.  "I'm doing a paper on Jack the Ripper for my history class."

Mrs. Fessler scrunched her nose.  "That's a gory topic. Why don't you do something more pleasant like a king?"

"Not into kings, too boring.  I love mysteries and Jack the Ripper is an awesome one."  She handed him his books and he put them in his book bag.

"Have fun. Try not to get nightmares."

Sam thanked her and lingered by the main entrance, watching the flurries.

"Ready to go?" asked Emily.

"Yep. Checked out my books."

They trekked home on their usual route.