Small, pale, red-headed Mia, wearing a blue polo shirt, sits reading in the chair at her desk. She is reading a story about some sort of adventure, some sort of monster. One could tell this by the black-and-white illustrations that grace the pages. Yet this is no “My First Picture Book.” No, there are whole paragraphs on the pages. The book is mostly words. Mia, so captivated by this new ink-and-paper world in which she finds herself, does not notice when the tall, thin, gray-haired teacher with bright blue eyes asks about state capitals and volcanoes. She does not raise her hand excitedly like the other little girl in the white polo. She does not even notice when the big high school students come in to observe her and her classmates and their environment, so colorful, such a far cry from what they are used to in their dull, two-storey building. No, Mia does not notice them. She just keeps on reading her story.