Mrs. Dole Is Out of Control!

BOOK: Mrs. Dole Is Out of Control!
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My Weird School Daze #1
Mrs. Dole Is Out of Control!
Dan Gutman

Pictures by

Jim Paillot

To Emma

 

 

 

My name is A.J. and I hate school.

But you know what? Soon I won't have to go to school anymore for a long time. You know why? Because today is the first day of June!

Yay! June is the best month of the year because it's when summer starts! Yippee!
No school until September!

Me and the guys were putting our backpacks into our cubbies. It was Michael who started singing the best song in the history of the world.

“No more pencils!”
sang Michael, who never ties his shoes.

“No more books!”
sang Ryan, who will eat anything, even stuff that isn't food.

“No more teachers'!”
sang Neil, who we call Neil the nude kid even though he wears clothes.

“Dirty looks!”
I sang.

That's when Andrea came in. She is an annoying girl with curly brown hair who loves school. Andrea had on her mean face.

“Hey Andrea!” I said. “What's with the mean face? Are you mad because school is almost over?”

“No, Arlo,” said Andrea, who calls me by my real name because she knows I don't like it. “That's not why I'm mad. Did you hear about the PTA election last night?”
*

“No.”

“My mother was running for president,” Andrea said, “but she came in second. So she has to be vice president again.”

“Big deal,” I told Andrea. “If the president
gets assassinated, then your mom will become president.”

“Nobody assassinates PTA presidents, Arlo!” Andrea said, rolling her eyes.

“They do too!” I told her.

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

We went back and forth like that for a while. Sheesh, what a grouch! So what if her mom isn't PTA president? Andrea should take a chill pill.

I went to my seat, which is next to Ryan's.

“Where's Mrs. Daisy?” Ryan asked.

I looked around. Our teacher, Mrs. Daisy, was nowhere to be found. She
usually gets to class early.

Mrs. Daisy used to be called Miss Daisy, but then she got married. Ladies become Mrs. when they get married. Nobody knows why.

Since Mrs. Daisy wasn't around, I crumpled up a piece of paper and threw it at Andrea. It bounced off her head.

“Arlo!” Andrea shouted. “Why did you do that?”

“Does there have to be a reason?”

Suddenly Mr. Klutz came running into the class. He's the principal of Ella Mentry School, and he has no hair at all. Most principals polish their shoes, but Mr. Klutz polishes his head.

“Mrs. Daisy will be late today,” he said. “She has a doctor's appointment.”

“Is Mrs. Daisy sick?” asked Emily, who is Andrea's crybaby friend. She looked all worried, like she does whenever anybody in the world is sick.

“She's fine,” said Mr. Klutz. “Actually, I'm glad Mrs. Daisy is late, because the new PTA president wants to speak to you in private. I'd like to introduce—”

Mr. Klutz never had the chance to
finish his sentence. You'll never believe in a million hundred years who walked into the door.

Nobody! Because if you walked into a door, it would hurt. But you'll never believe who walked into the doorway.

It was Ryan's mom, Mrs. Dole!

Wow! Ryan's mom is the new PTA president!

“Congratulations, Mrs. Dole,” said Mr. Klutz. “I'm sure you'll do a great job.”

Mr. Klutz had to go to a meeting, so he left Ryan's mom to watch us.
*

Mrs. Dole looked a lot like Ryan, except that she's a lady—and old. When she walked into our class, Ryan hid under his desk. I couldn't blame him. That's what I would do if my mom walked into the class. Parents should never come into your class, unless it's your birthday and they're bringing cupcakes for everybody. That's the first rule of being a kid.

“Wow, the president of the PTA is important,” I whispered to Ryan. “That's almost like being president of the United States.”

Ryan slid farther under his desk.

Andrea crossed her arms and said, “Humphf.” Whenever somebody crosses
their arms and says “Humphf,” it means they're mad. Nobody knows why.

“Good morning!” said Mrs. Dole. “Are you kids excited about the end of school?”

“Yes!” said all the boys.

“No!” said all the girls.

“Are you excited about moving up to third grade?” Mrs. Dole asked.

“Yes!” said all the girls.

“No!” said all the boys.

“I was thinking. Wouldn't it be nice to give presents to Mrs. Daisy?” said Mrs. Dole. “She worked so hard for you all year. What would you like to give her?”

“I'll give her a skateboard,” I said.

“That's what
you
want, Arlo!” Andrea said, rolling her eyes.

“Try to think of something Mrs. Daisy would want,” Mrs. Dole said. “What does she like more than anything?”

“Flowers?” suggested Neil the nude kid.

“Shoes?” said Michael.

Suddenly I got the greatest idea in the history of the world.

“Bonbons!” I shouted.

“Yeah! Bonbons!” everybody agreed.

Bonbons are yummy chocolate treats. Mrs. Daisy eats them all the time. (Well, not while she's taking a shower. That would be weird.) She told us that she can eat a whole box of bonbons in one sitting.

Everybody thought giving Mrs. Daisy bonbons was a great idea. Neil the nude kid said I should get the No Bell Prize. That's a prize they give out to people who don't have bells.

“Okay. Your homework is to buy a
present for Mrs. Daisy and bring it to school tomorrow,” Mrs. Dole said. “Any questions?”

“Are we going to get more homework in third grade?” asked Emily.

“I'm not sure,” Mrs. Dole said. “Next year you'll learn the multiplication tables, and you're going to learn all about—”

Mrs. Dole didn't get the chance to finish her sentence, because that's when the strangest thing in the history of the world happened. She started crying!

“You kids are growing up so fast,” Mrs. Dole blubbered. “I can hardly believe that my little baby Ryan is going to be a third grader. It seems like only
yesterday he was in diapers.”

Everybody looked at Ryan, who was still hiding under his desk.

“You wore diapers yesterday?” I asked him.

Mrs. Dole continued. “I remember when all my baby Ryan could say was ‘Goo-goo-ga-ga,' and all he could do was pee. I had to wipe his little bottom for him. And now look at him.”

Everybody looked at Ryan. Mrs. Dole grabbed a tissue from Mrs. Daisy's desk and blew her nose into it. Into the tissue, that is. Blowing your nose into a desk would be weird.

“I'm sorry. I get so emotional over my
baby,” she said, and she ran out the door.

“Is she gone?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah, you can come out from under your desk now,” Michael said.

“Your mom is weird,” I told Ryan.

“I know,” he replied. “She goes overboard a lot.”

“She jumps out of boats?” I asked. “That's
really
weird.”

There were no grown-ups in the room, so I got up and shook my butt at the class. Some of the kids laughed. Then me and Michael and Neil teased Ryan for all
that peeing he did when he was a baby.

“That's what
all
babies do, Arlo,” Andrea said.

“Well, I'm never having a baby,” I told her.

“You can't have a baby, Arlo,” Andrea said. “You're a boy!”

Whew! That was a relief. If babies just pee all day, I wouldn't want to have one anyway.

We had to stop talking about peeing because guess who came into the room at that very second?

It was Mrs. Daisy!

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