PicsArt Always take a banana to a party. The house had a name. The Banana House. It was carved onto a piece of sandstone above the front door. It made no sense to anyone. A banana is not a pistol. Still, please don't point one at me. You can't teach calculus to a chimpanzee. So just share your banana. In between bites of banana, Mr. Remora would tell stories, and the children would write the stories down in notebooks, and every so often there would be a test. The stories were very short, and there were a whole lot of them on every conceivable subject. "One day I went to the store to purchase a carton of milk," Mr. Remora would say, chewing on a banana. "When I got home, I poured the milk into a glass and drank it. Then I watched television. The end." Or: "One afternoon a man named Edward got into a blue truck and drove to a farm. The farm had geese and cows. The end." Mr. Ramora would tell story after story, and eat banana after banana, and it would get more and more difficult for Vi