MARGIE even wrote about it that night in her diary.

On the page headed 17 May 2157, she wrote, "Today

Tommy found a real book!"

It was a very old book. Margie's 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 to — on 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.

2. "Gee," said Tommy, "what a waste. When you're

through with the book, you just throw it away, I

guess. Our television screen must have had a million

books on it and it's good for plenty more. I wouldn't

throw it away."

"Same with mine," said Margie. She was eleven

and hadn't 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."

"What's it about?"

"School."

3. Margie was scornful. "School? What's there to write

about school? I hate 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.

4. 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 wouldn't 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 wasn't 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 marks in no time.

5. The Inspector had smiled after he was finished and

patted Margie's head. He said to her mother, "It's

not the little girl's fault, Mrs Jones. I think the

geography sector was geared a little too quick. Those

things happen sometimes. I've slowed it up to an

average ten-year level. Actually, the overall pattern

of her progress is quite satisfactory." And he patted

Margie's head again.

Margie was disappointed. She had been hoping

they would take the teacher away altogether. They

had once taken Tommy's teacher away for nearly a

month because the history sector had blanked out

completely.

So she said to Tommy, "Why would anyone write

about school?"

6. Tommy looked at her with very superior eyes.

"Because it's 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 don't 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 wasn't 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."

7. "A man isn't smart enough."

"Sure he is. My father knows as much as my

teacher."

"He knows almost as much, I betcha."

Margie wasn't prepared to dispute that. She said,

"I wouldn't want a strange man in my house to

teach me."

Tommy screamed with laughter. "You don't know

much, Margie. The teachers didn't 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."

8. "But my mother says a teacher has to be adjusted to

fit the mind of each boy and girl it teaches and that

each kid has to be taught differently."

"Just the same they didn't do it that way then.

If you don't like it, you don't have to read the book."

"I didn't say I didn't like it," Margie said quickly.

She wanted to read about those funny schools.

They weren't even half finished when Margie's

mother called, "Margie! School!"

Margie looked up. "Not yet, Mamma."

"Now!" said Mrs Jones. "And it's probably time

for Tommy, too."

Margie said to Tommy, "Can I read the book some

more with you after school?"

9. "May be," 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 Sundaybecause her mother said little girls learned better

if they learned at regular hours.

The screen was lit up, and it said: "Today's

arithmetic lesson is on the addition of proper

fractions. Please insert yesterday's homework in the

proper slot."

10. Margie did so with a sigh. She was thinking about

the old schools they had when her grandfather's

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 with the homework and talk about it.

And the teachers were people…

The mechanical teacher was flashing on the

screen: "When we add fractions ½ and ¼..."

Margie was thinking about how the kids must

have loved it in the old days. She was thinking

about the fun they had.