To be honest, he has kept us guessing. And I hate to admit it, but sometimes his tricks have been . . . well, not boring. Like the time he challenged the members of the BSC to a mystery war and planted clues all over the school for us to find and figure out. Annoying? Yes. A big yawn? No.

    Anyway, there I was, staring at the back of Cary Retlin's head. Then Mr. Morley - Ted - interrupted my thoughts.

    "Who can tell me what makes a good biography?" He stood in the front of the room, smiling at us. In one hand he held a copy of A Life of Discovery, a book about Eleanor Roosevelt that we had read in class at the beginning of the semester.

    Ted is a terrific teacher. I think he's my favorite this year. And I've only had him for a month! You may be wondering why I call him Ted. It's because he told me to. Well, not just me. He told the whole class to call him that. "It's my name," he said, shrugging. "When I hear 'Mr. Morley' I think people are talking about my dad." It's not always easy to remember to call him Ted, but we try. When we forget, he just smiles. Then we remember.

    Ted is young for a teacher. He's probably twenty-five or something. He's a big guy with black hair and a big black beard. Big hands, big feet, and a big old stomach. He's kind of like a teddy bear, in fact.

    Why has he been our teacher for only a month? He took the place of our regular English teacher, Mrs. Simon, when she had her baby. That wasn't supposed to happen until the middle of January, but the baby had other plans. I guess he wanted to be here for Christmas. Anyway, the baby's fine, but Mrs. Simon started her maternity leave early, so we ended up with Ted ahead of schedule.

    Ted is the best. Everybody loves him. He's not like a regular teacher at all. He runs the class without running it, if you know what I mean. He's definitely in charge, but he doesn't act as if he's smarter or better than his students. He listens to what we have to say, really listens.