Ms. Beard Is Weird!

  Dedication

  To Blake and Colby Wiener

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1 - Hooray for Mr. Klutz!

  2 - Chickie Baby

  3 - Act Normal

  4 - Reality Is Boring

  5 - Ella Mentry Idol

  6 - Dancing with the Teachers

  7 - The Stunt Teacher

  8 - Free for All

  9 - We’re Outta Here

  10 - Very Funny

  11 - Grab That Cash!

  12 - I Hate When That Happens

  About the Author and Illustrator

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  1

  Hooray for Mr. Klutz!

  My name is A.J. and I hate it when a helicopter lands on my head.

  Okay, so a helicopter never really landed on my head. But I’m pretty sure that if a helicopter ever did land on my head, I would hate it. Wouldn’t you?

  My teacher is Mr. Granite, who is from another planet. He’s been pretty angry lately. Every time he tries to teach us anything, an announcement comes over the loudspeaker telling us to go to an assembly. Mr. Granite got so mad that he yanked the loudspeaker out of the wall!

  “Okay, today we’re going to talk about the Civil War,” Mr. Granite told us. “Turn to page twenty-three in your—”

  He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, because you’ll never believe who poked her head into the door at that moment.

  Nobody! It would hurt if you poked your head into a door. Why would anybody want to do a dumb thing like that?

  But you’ll never believe who poked her head into the doorway.

  It was Mrs. Patty, the school secretary!

  “I’ve been trying to reach you,” she told Mr. Granite. “Who yanked your loudspeaker out of the wall? Everyone has to report to the all-purpose room for a surprise assembly.”

  “Not again!” yelled Mr. Granite.

  Surprise assemblies are fun, because you never know what’s going to happen. That’s why they’re called surprise assemblies.

  We had to walk a million hundred miles to the all-purpose room. I don’t know why they call it an all-purpose room, because we can’t use it for all purposes. I mean, you can’t use it to fly into outer space. So why is it called the all-purpose room?

  Anyway, we had to sit boy-girl-boy-girl to make sure we wouldn’t sit next to anybody we liked. I had to sit between annoying Andrea and her crybaby friend, Emily. Ugh, disgusting! I made sure not to let my elbows touch theirs.

  Mr. Klutz, our principal, was up on the stage. He has no hair at all.1

  “Great news, everyone!” Mr. Klutz told us. “Our budget problems are solved. I’m happy to report that we can buy new computers and supplies. We can bring back the art and music programs. We can hire all the teachers who were fired. We can turn on the water fountains again and put toilet paper back in the bathrooms.”

  “Hooray for Mr. Klutz!” Everybody was whistling and cheering and shouting.

  “Where did you get the money to do all those things?” asked our librarian, Mrs. Roopy. “Did you get a grant?”

  “No,” said Mr. Klutz.

  “Are taxes going up?” asked the school nurse, Mrs. Cooney.

  “No,” said Mr. Klutz.

  “Are we going to have a fund-raiser?” asked Dr. Brad, the school counselor.

  “No,” said Mr. Klutz. “The money is coming from the famous TV producer Ms. Beard. She’s making a new reality show, and she’s going to shoot it right here! It is going to be called The Real Teachers of Ella Mentry School.”

  “EEEEEEEEEKKKK!”

  All the teachers were freaking out.

  “We’re going to be on TV!” screamed our speech teacher, Ms. Laney.

  “We’re going to be famous!” screamed our vice principal, Mrs. Jafee.

  “How does my hair look?” screamed our computer teacher, Mrs. Yonkers.

  “What am I going to wear?” screamed our Spanish teacher, Miss Holly. “I have nothing to wear!”

  Teachers are weird.

  2

  Chickie Baby

  Over the weekend my parents had to sign a contract that I brought home in my backpack. The contract said they couldn’t sue anybody if I fell into a well, or got eaten by a lion or run over by a train, or if a helicopter fell on my head during the filming of The Real Teachers of Ella Mentry School.

  When I got to school on Monday morning, everybody was out front, dressed up in their nicest clothes. I had to wear a tie. Ugh. It looked like we were all going to a wedding or a funeral. We had to wear badges, too, so people watching on TV would know our names.

  The teachers were running around warning us to be on our best behavior for Ms. Beard. She’s a big celebrity, and she was coming all the way from Hollywood. The girls were giggling and talking nervously to each other.

  “My mom took me to the beauty parlor yesterday,” said Andrea.

  “It looks like she took you to the ugly parlor,” I told Andrea.

  “Oh, snap!” said Ryan, who will eat anything, even stuff that isn’t food.

  Andrea stuck out her tongue at me.

  “My mom took me for a pedicure,” said Emily.

  “What’s a pedicure?” asked Michael, who never ties his shoes.

  “That’s when they soak your feet and paint your toenails,” Emily told us.

  “Do you think they’re gonna make a TV show about your toenails?” asked Neil, who we call the nude kid even though he wears clothes.

  “Boys are mean!” said Emily.

  “Do you think this dress makes me look fat?” Andrea asked the other girls.

  “Yes,” I told her.

  “I wasn’t asking you, Arlo!”

  Andrea calls me by my real name because she knows I don’t like it. I wanted to make fun of her some more, but at that moment the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened. A black limousine pulled up at the other side of the playground. It was really long, like somebody took two regular-sized cars and stuck them together. The windows were tinted, so we couldn’t see inside.

  “Ms. Beard is here!” yelled Alexia, who is a girl but pretty cool anyway.

  “Ms. Beard is here!” yelled Ryan.

  “Ms. Beard is here!” yelled Michael.

  In case you were wondering, everybody was yelling that Ms. Beard was here.

  But actually, Ms. Beard wasn’t here. Not yet anyway.

  A bunch of guys got out of the limo. They were carrying cameras and lights and stuff.

  A few seconds later, a helicopter came down from the sky and landed on the playground near the limo. A lady got out.

  “It’s Ms. Beard!” shouted Mr. Klutz.

  Ms. Beard climbed down from the helicopter and got into the limo. Then the limo drove about ten yards to where we were all waiting. I guess Ms. Beard doesn’t like to walk.

  “Remember,” shouted Mr. Klutz, “we want to show Ms. Beard what terrific students we have at Ella Mentry School. Everybody be on your best behavior.”

  “I’m always on my best behavior,” said Andrea.

  What is her problem?

  Ms. Beard got out of the limo and looked around.

  “Welcome to our school,” Mr. Klutz told her. “I’m sure you’ll find our children—”

  He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, because Ms. Beard wasn’t paying attention.

  “Fabulous, Chickie Baby!” she said. “I love children! They’re like grown-ups, only shorter.”

  “We should probably talk about—” said Mr. Klutz.

  “Sure, let’s do lunch, Chickie Baby,” said Ms. Beard.

  “Uh, I just did breakfast,” said Mr. Klu
tz. “And my name isn’t Chickie Baby. It’s Mr. Klutz.”

  “Not now, Chickie Baby,” said Ms. Beard. “Let’s do lunch at lunchtime, sweetie. Have your girl call my girl. We’ll take a meeting.”

  She talks funny.

  The big guys started setting up lights, cameras, and microphones everywhere. Ms. Beard walked around looking us over like a general inspecting the troops.

  “Oh, this is going to be fabulous!” she said. “It will be the first reality show that takes place in a school. The ratings are going to go through the roof!”

  “Are we going to be famous like that Snookie lady?” asked Andrea.

  “That depends on what happens, baby,”2 said Ms. Beard. “This is reality TV. We don’t use scripts. Nobody has any lines. It’s all about reality. We’ll just have to see what happens.”

  “When does the show begin?” asked Neil the nude kid.

  “Right now, baby!” Ms. Beard said, clapping her hands together.

  Somebody gave her a big megaphone, and she shouted into it, “Quiet on the set! We’re shooting The Real Teachers of Ella Mentry School! Lights! Camera! ACTION!”

  3

  Act Normal

  Mr. Klutz reminded us again to be on our best behavior. The morning bell rang, and we rushed up the steps and down the hall to our classroom. It was weird with those guys sticking cameras in our faces.

  “How do I look?” Mr. Granite whispered to us as we walked down the hall. “I’m a little nervous. I’ve never been on TV before.”

  “You look like a real TV star, Mr. Granite!” said Andrea.

  What a brownnoser.

  Finally, we got to class and took our seats. There were four cameras and cameramen and long sticks with microphones hanging all over the place. Ms. Beard sat on a chair in the back of the room. I guess she takes her chair with her everywhere, because it had her name on the back of it.

  “Okay, just pretend I’m not here,” Ms. Beard told Mr. Granite. “Act like it’s any other day at school. ACTION!”

  “Uh . . . good morning, boys and girls,” said Mr. Granite. “Today we’re going to . . . uh . . . talk about . . . uh . . . the Civil War. Turn to page . . . uh . . . twenty-three in your books. . . .”

  We all turned to page twenty-three.

  “The Civil War,” Mr. Granite continued, “um . . . uh . . . it wasn’t very . . . um . . . civil at all. Ha-ha. Just a little joke there. Ummmm, I mean . . . can I do that over again, Ms. Beard? I messed up.”

  Ms. Beard jumped up and put her arm around his shoulder.

  “Granite, baby, you just gotta relax,” she said. “Just be yourself. Act normal. Okay? Let’s try it again.”

  Ms. Beard went back to her chair and yelled “ACTION!” again.

  “The Civil War,” said Mr. Granite, “. . . uh . . . ummm, it reminds me of a story my grandmother told me. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.”

  Mr. Granite started telling a story about his grandmother. It went on forever. I thought I was gonna die. It’s hard to sit still without fidgeting. But I kept my feet on the floor and my hands folded on my desk. I didn’t want Mr. Granite to call on me, so I made sure not to look at him. That’s the first rule of being a kid.

  “Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah . . . ,” droned Mr. Granite.

  Suddenly, Andrea raised her hand.

  “Yes, Andrea?”

  “Is it true that the Civil War started in 1861 when eleven Southern states decided to leave the United States and form their own country called the Confederate States of America?”

  Ugh. I hate her.

  “That’s absolutely right!” said Mr. Granite, beaming at Andrea. “I can see you’ve been studying.”

  “I always try my hardest,” Andrea said. Then she made a big smile right into the camera.

  Why can’t a truckload of cameras fall on her head?

  “Beautiful! Cut!” said Ms. Beard. “Okay, guys. Let’s move to the next class.”

  The cameramen started picking up their equipment.

  “When will we be on TV?” asked Andrea.

  “Tonight, baby,” Ms. Beard replied.

  “EEEEEEEEEEK! We’re gonna be on TV tonight!”

  Everybody was freaking out.

  4

  Reality Is Boring

  My parents let me stay up late on Monday to watch The Real Teachers of Ella Mentry School. It was cool to see us all on TV, even if I had to look at Andrea’s big face hogging the screen the whole time.

  The first thing that happened on Tuesday morning was that Ms. Beard rushed into school with her megaphone and told us we had to take a meeting. I mean, have an assembly. I had to sit next to Little Miss Perfect again.

  “I have some good news and some bad news,” Ms. Beard announced when everybody was seated. “The good news is that ten million people tuned in to see The Real Teachers of Ella Mentry School last night.”

  “WOW,” we all said, which is “MOM” upside down.

  “What’s the bad news?” asked Mr. Klutz.

  “The bad news is that nine million of them turned the show off after five minutes,” said Ms. Beard.

  “What?” we all asked. “Why?”

  “Because it was boring, that’s why!” Ms. Beard told us. “Nobody wants to watch polite, well-behaved kids being taught by excellent teachers. They can see that at their own school.”

  “I thought the show was supposed to be real,” said Mrs. Jafee. “Isn’t that why they call it a reality show?”

  “Let me tell you a little secret,” said Ms. Beard. “Reality is boring. People don’t want to watch reality. They want to be amazed. We’ve got to show them something they’ve never seen before. We’ve got to blow their minds!”

  “I thought you told us to act normal,” said Mr. Granite.

  “Look,” said Ms. Beard. “Normal is boring. If you folks can’t spice things up, The Real Teachers of Ella Mentry School is going to be canceled.”

  “Canceled!?” Mr. Klutz looked all panicked. “Does that mean we won’t get the money you promised?”

  “That’s right, Chickie Baby.”

  “Stop calling me Chickie Baby!” said Mr. Klutz.

  “If the show is canceled, there goes the music and art programs again,” moaned Ms. Hannah, our art teacher.

  “There goes the water fountains,” moaned Mrs. Patty.

  “There goes the toilet paper,” moaned Miss Lazar, our custodian.

  “Hey, lighten up!” Ms. Beard said. “I know how we can make The Real Teachers of Ella Mentry School into a hit. I have a plan. Trust me. Show business is in my blood.”3

  “What’s the plan?” Mr. Klutz asked. “We need to save the show.”

  “People like winners and losers,” Ms. Beard said as she got out a large shopping bag. “So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to divide a group of teachers into two teams. One team will wear hats with antlers on them. They will be called the Mooseketeers. The other team will wear these hot dog hats, and they will be the Hot Dog Heads.”

  Ms. Beard pulled a bunch of hats out of her bag.

  “I’m not wearing a silly hat,” announced Mr. Loring, our music teacher.

  “Then you can’t be on the show,” said Ms. Beard.

  “Where’s my silly hat?” asked Mr. Loring.

  “Okay!” said Ms. Beard. “When I call your name, come up on the stage. The Mooseketeers are . . . Ms. Leakey, Ms. Hannah, Mr. Loring, Mr. Macky, Miss Holly, and Mrs. Yonkers. Come on down!”

  We all cheered as the Mooseketeers ran up on the stage and high-fived each other.

  “The Hot Dog Heads are . . . Mrs. Roopy, Miss Small, Mr. Docker, Mr. Granite, Ms. Coco, and Miss Laney. Come on down!”

  The Hot Dog Heads fist-bumped each other as they ran up on the stage. They all put on their silly hats. The cameramen filmed everything.

  “The Mooseketeers stink!” shouted Miss Laney.

  “The Hot Dog Heads suck eggs!”
shouted Miss Holly.

  “I’m glad to see you teachers are getting into the spirit of the competition,” said Ms. Beard.

  “It’s not nice to call people names,” Andrea said to me. “They’re not setting a good example for children.”

  “Can you possibly be more boring?” I told Andrea.

  Ms. Beard clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention.

  “Over the next few days,” she said, “the Mooseketeers and the Hot Dog Heads will compete in a series of events. A panel of judges will help decide who is the winner, and people at home will be able to vote too.”

  That’s when Little Miss Perfect got up to ask a question.

  “Excuse me,” Andrea said, “but what does this have to do with education? Shouldn’t we be learning things in school?”

  “Booooooooo!”

  “Sit down!”

  Everybody was hooting at Andrea, even some of the teachers. Nah-nah-nah boo-boo on her. It was the greatest moment of my life.

  “Don’t worry,” Ms. Beard said. “You’re going to be learning plenty. And here’s the best part. One by one, the teachers will be eliminated until we’re left with just one winner. That teacher will get the grand prize: a fabulous, all-expenses-paid vacation to anywhere in the world and a year’s supply of pork sausages!”

  “I love pork sausages!” said Ms. Leakey.

  “That reminds me,” Ms. Beard said as she looked into one of the cameras. “Folks, do you like pork sausages? I sure do. And when I want a pork sausage, I reach for Porky’s pork sausages. They’re the best pork sausages in the world, made with the finest pork and no artificial ingredients. So when you want a pork sausage, reach for Porky’s. Okay, let the games begin!”

  5

  Ella Mentry Idol

  Mr. Klutz sent us to lunch so the teachers could get ready. When we got back to the all-purpose room, the stage was decorated with lots of lights and a big sign . . .

  ELLA MENTRY IDOL!

  Ms. Beard came out onstage, followed by the Mooseketeers and the Hot Dog Heads. We all yelled and screamed, but we quieted down when Mr. Klutz made a peace sign, which means “shut up.”