"Charles" Reading Comprehension Questions

"The day my son Laurie started kindergarten he renounced corduroy overalls with bibs and began wearing blue jeans with a belt; I watched him go off the first morning with the older girl next door, seeing clearly that an era of my life was ended, my sweet-voiced nursery-school tot replaced by a long-trousered, swaggering character who forgot to stop at the corner and wave good-bye to me. He came running home the same way, the front door slamming open, his cap on the floor, and the voice suddenly became raucous shouting, “Isn’t anybody here?” At lunch he spoke insolently to his father, spilled his baby sister’s milk, and remarked that his teacher said we were not to take the name of the Lord in vain. “How was school today?” I asked, elaborately casual."

“Today Charles hit the teacher.” “Good heavens,” I said, mindful of the Lord’s name, “I suppose he got spanked again?”

With the third week of kindergarten Charles was an institution in our family; the baby was being a Charles when she cried all afternoon; Laurie did a Charles when he filled his wagon full of mud and pulled it through the kitchen; even my husband, when he caught his elbow in the telephone cord and pulled the telephone and a bowl of flowers off the table, said, after the first minute, “Looks like Charles.”

“Can this be true about Charles?” I asked my husband that night. “Can something like this happen?” “Wait and see,” my husband said cynically. “When you’ve got a Charles to deal with, this may mean he’s only plotting.” He seemed to be wrong. For over a week Charles was the teacher’s helper; each day he handed things out and he picked things up; no one had to stay after school.

My husband came to the door with me that evening as I set out for the PTA meeting. “Invite her over for a cup of tea after the meeting,” he said. “I want to get a look at her.” “If only she’s there,” I said prayerfully. “She’ll be there,” my husband said. “I don’t see how they could hold a PTA meeting without Charles's mother.” At the meeting I sat restlessly, scanning each comfortable matronly face, trying to determine which one hid the secret of Charles. None of them looked to me haggard enough. No one stood up in the meeting and apologized for the way her son had been acting. No one mentioned Charles.

“We had a little trouble adjusting, the first week or so,” she said primly, “but now he’s a fine helper. With occasional lapses, of course.” “Laurie usually adjusts very quickly,” I said. “I suppose this time it’s Charles's influence.” “Charles?” “Yes,” I said, laughing, “you must have your hands full in that kindergarten, with Charles.” “Charles?” she said. “We don’t have any Charles in the kindergarten.”

“We’re all so interested in Laurie,” she said. “Well, he certainly likes kindergarten,” I said. “He talks about it all the time.” “We had a little trouble adjusting, the first week or so,” she said primly, “but now he’s a fine helper. With occasional lapses, of course.” “Laurie usually adjusts very quickly,” I said. “I suppose this time it’s Charles’s influence.”