和訳お願いします。
翻訳機はなしでおねがいします。
Margie made a face. "School? What's there to write about school? I hate school." Margie always hated school, but now she hated it more than ever. The mechanical teacher had been giving her test after test in geography. She had been doing worse and worse. In the end, her mother had shaken her head sadly and sent for the County Inspector.
He was a little man with a red face. He had a whole box of tools with dials and wires. He smiled at her and gave her an apple. Then he took the teacher apart. Margie had hoped he wouldn't know how to put it together again. But he knew how, all right.
After an hour or so, there it was again - large and black. It had a big screen, on which all the lessons were shown and the questions were asked. That wasn't so bad. The part she hated most was the slot where she had to put the homework and test papers. She always had to write them out in a punch code they made her learn when she was six years old. The mechanical teacher calculated the mark in no time.
The inspector had smiled after he had finished, and patted her head. He said to her mother, "It's not the little girl's fault, Mrs. Jones. I think the geography part was geared a little too quickly. I've slowed it up to an average 10year level. In feet, the overall pattern of her progress is quite satisfactory." Again he patted Margie's head.
Margie was disappointed. She had been hoping they would take the teacher away. They had once taken Tommy's teacher away for about a month, because the history part had not worked.
