Ms. Coco Is Loco! by Dan Gutman Page A

her encyclopedia.
    â€œSure,” I lied. “Any dumbhead knows that stuff.”
    We walked a million hundred miles until we got to the G and T room. Ms. Coco wasn’t there yet. She has posters of geniuses like Albert Einstein and Thomas Edison and the Beatles on the wall. And there are signs all over the place that say things like THINK! , CREATE! , and INVENT!
    Finally Ms. Coco came running in. She wears tons of makeup on her face and her hair is always in place. I guess that’s why she’s late a lot. It must take a lot of time to make her look good.
    â€œHello!” she said to me and Andrea. “Doyou like yellow Jell-O? I can play the cello. Are you mellow?”
    Ms. Coco is weird.
    â€œWhy are you talking in rhyme?” asked Andrea.
    â€œRhyme?” she said. “Is it a crime to talk in rhyme? I’d rather mime, but that takes more time.”

    â€œI get it!” Andrea said. “You’re talking in rhyme becauseit’s April. It’s National Poetry Month!”
    National Poetry Month?! You’ve gotta be kidding me. Poetry gets a whole month? I wouldn’t give poetry five minutes.
    How come there’s no National Skateboarding Month? Or National Video Games Month? It would be cool to go skateboarding and play video games all month instead of going to school.
    â€œI love poetry,” said Andrea, who loves everything teachers love. “I wrote a poem, and my mom put it on the refrigerator.”
    Andrea’s mom is weird. If she puts poems on the refrigerator, she probably puts food on Andrea’s notebooks.
    â€œIf you ask me, there should be a National Sit Around and Do NothingMonth,” I suggested.
    â€œWhat a great idea, A.J.!” said Ms. Coco. “For homework I’d like each of you to write a poem. A.J., you can write yours about sitting around and doing nothing.”
    â€œBut I was just joking!” I protested. “I hate poetry.”
    â€œCome on, A.J.,” said Ms. Coco. “You’re a poet and you don’t even know it.”
    That is totally not fair. I wanted to sit around and do nothing, not write a poem about sitting around and doing nothing. Poetry is dumb. And now I had extra homework to do.
    I wish I was in the U and U program—ungifted and untalented.

3
Sit Around and Do Nothing Month
    The next morning at the school store, they were selling cool pens that light up. I counted the coins in my pocket—just enough money to buy lunch and nothing else. Bummer in the summer! I wish I brought my lunch from home, like I did in the good old days. Then I could usemy lunch money to buy a pen. But if I brought lunch from home, I wouldn’t have lunch money at all.
    Well, anyway, all I had was enough money for lunch. And if I didn’t eat lunch, I’d starve and die.
    When I got to Miss Daisy’s class, guess who poked his head in the door? Nobody! Because if you poked your head in a door, it would hurt. But Mr. Klutz poked his head in the door way . He is our principal, and he has no hair. Mr. Klutz’s head is so shiny, you can see yourself in it. He must polish it or something.
    Mr. Klutz is nuts.
    â€œI have exciting news!” he said.
    â€œMr. Klutz said he has an exciting nose,” I whispered to Neil Crouch, who we call Neil the nude kid even though he wears clothes.

    â€œApril is National Poetry Month!” said Mr. Klutz. “I thought of a great way to celebrate. If the students of Ella Mentry School write a thousand poems in April, I’ll invite a real live poet to visit us. Isn’t that exciting?”
    â€œYes!” yelled all the girls.
    â€œNo!” yelled all the boys.
    A real live poet? I thought poets all died a long time ago.
    â€œHow about five hundred poems?” Michael asked.
    â€œOne thousand poems,” Mr. Klutz said. “That’s my final offer. Deal or no deal?”
    â€œDeal!” yelled all the girls.
    â€œNo deal!”