Class out of control? Will no regular substitute dare enter the fourth-grade classroom? It's time to press the red button under the office clock to summon Miss Subway, the Substitute of Last Resort. This sub has the right gadgets in her canvas bag to put the fourth-graders back in order.

1. The Red Button

“I quit! No more! So long! Bye-bye! Adios! Don’t ever call me to sub for that fourth-grade class again! Ever! Never! Forever!”
Mr. Muddle, principal of May Day Elementary School, smiled at the large woman standing at the office counter. He checked the clock on the wall.
“But school just started twenty minutes ago!” he said.
The woman’s face was pale. Her jaw trembled, and her eyes were as round as quarters. “That…that class!” she stammered.
The principal clasped his hands as if praying. “Please don’t leave. I need you. The school needs you.”
A small explosion rumbled from the direction of the fourth-grade classroom. The smell of rotten eggs and a loud cheer followed.
The substitute shook her head. “I…I can’t take it anymore.”
“Yes, you can,” Mr. Muddle said. “Since my fourth-grade teacher, Miss Penny, went on sick leave, twelve substitutes have lasted at least a few hours.”
The woman spun toward the school exit. She clutched her canvas bag against her chest. “That class!” she said. “They’re savages. They’re monsters. They’re...they’re hooligans. I have to get out of this school. I must escape before they ruin me!”
“I’ll pay you double,” the principal pleaded. “Triple! I’ll throw in free lunches! No yard duty! You can even have my special parking spot right by the door.”
The sound of drumming—perhaps a dozen students banging on their desktops—echoed down the hallway.
Mr. Muddle voice grew more desperate. “Alright, stay just today, and I’ll give you quadruple pay, a free lunch, no yard duty, VIP parking, and an all-expense-paid trip to Hawaii over Spring Break.”
“Never! Ever! Forever!” the woman whimpered. and she bolted out the door.
The principal let out a long sigh. He turned toward Cassandra, the school secretary, who sat at her desk in the middle of the office.
“What’ll we do?” he said. “What will we do?”
The slender, white-haired secretary shrugged. “I’ve called every substitute on the list,” she said.
“Try the subs in the next school district?” said Mr. Muddle. “Or the next state!”
Cassandra shook her head. “No one will come. Your fourth-grade is legendary across the entire western United States.” She paused “And parts of Canada.”
The principal nodded. “Well, I’ve arranged for the district counselor to observe that class today,” he said. “Once he sees how unruly the fourth-graders are, he’ll have no choice but to approve my plan to break them up and ship them off to other schools in the district. They’ve been together far too long.”
A scream came from down the hall followed by the sound of something heavy crashing to the floor.
“You picked a good day for the counselor to come,” said Cassandra. “Those twenty terrors are in top form.”
Mr. Muddle placed a hand on the secretary’s shoulder. “Dear Cassandra. Sweet, kind Cassandra, you wouldn’t perhaps….”
“Oh, no!” the secretary cried. “You don’t expect me to sub in that classroom. Remember the last time I stood in for Miss Penny. Those twenty troublemakers stapled me to the bulletin board and dumped an entire jar of gold glitter over my head.”
The principal rubbed his chin. “Right,” he said. “That was…unfortunate.”
The drumming from the fourth-grade classroom grew louder, now accompanied with a chant:
“Sink the subs! Sink the subs! Sink the subs!”
“And don’t you dare ask Mr. Squeegee,” said Cassandra. “When our poor custodian subbed in that room, the fourth-graders wrapped him head to toe in Scotch tape.”
Mr. Muddle sighed. “Right. Also…unfortunate.”
The principal paced from one end of the office to the other. Finally, he stopped before a small metal cupboard under the clock.
“There’s only one thing left to do,” he said solemnly.
Cassandra’s eyes widened. “Has it really come to that?”
Mr. Muddle nodded and reached for the key hanging from a chain around his neck. “The last resort,” he said.
He inserted the key into the cupboard lock and turned it. With a click, it opened, revealing a large red button. Beneath it, bold black letters read:

WARNING!
PUSH ONLY AS LAST RESORT!

A rat-tat-tat, a crash, and the sound of shattering glass came from the hallway.
Cassandra clasped her hands tightly. "I’ve been secretary at this school for thirty years,” she said. “No principal has ever pressed that button.”
“This school has never had a fourth-grade like this one,” said Mr. Muddle.
“But what will happen when you press it?” asked the secretary.
“I have no idea. Every school office has a last-resort button like this one. But no principal I know has ever confessed to pressing it.”
From down the hall, the drumming and chanting grew even louder. “Subtract the subs! Subtract the subs!”
“Well, if you’re going to press it, press it,” said Cassandra. “That class can’t be left alone much longer.”
Mr. Muddle’s hand trembled as he extended his pointer finger toward the button. “Yes, this is the last resort,” he muttered. “One…two…three.”
Press.
From somewhere far off, a school bell rang. An instant later, the fourth-grade classroom fell completely silent.

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Contents

1. The Red Button
2. The Seating Chart
3. Desk Spray
4. Voice Control Remote
5. New Pencils and Other Stuff
6. Taking Away Recess
7. Yard Duty
8. Dog Fight
9. Lunch
10. PE
11. Bubble Tag
12. Field Trip
13. To the Line
14. Capturing the Flag
15. The Assembly
16. Disassembly
17. Class in a Box
18. A New Ring Tone
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