Ms. Coco Is Loco! by Dan Gutman Page B

yelled all the boys.
    Mr. Klutz loves challenging us to see what we can accomplish.
    After he left, it was time for me and Andrea to go to Ms. Coco’s room.
    â€œArlo, did you know that a beaver can hold its breath for five minutes?” Andrea asked as we walked down the hall. “And that bats sleep upside down in trees?”
    Ugh. She must have finished the letter B in her encyclopedia.
    â€œSure,” I lied. “Any dumbhead knows that stuff.”
    Ms. Coco came running in just as we reached the G and T room.
    â€œSorry I’m late,” she said. “I had to fix my hair.”
    â€œWhy, was it broken?” I asked.
    â€œThat’s mean!” said Andrea.
    â€œI think it’s clever,” said Ms. Coco. “To fix hair is to comb it, and you fix a machine when it breaks. A.J. thought creatively. That’s why I selected him for the gifted and talented program.”
    â€œThank you!” I said, and then I stuck my tongue out at Andrea.
    â€œI’m so excited about National Poetry Month!” said Ms. Coco. “Did you two write your homework poems?”
    â€œI did!” Andrea said, all excited. “My poem is called ‘The Happy Hippo.’ I worked on it all night.”
    Andrea loves animals. She read herpoem about some hippos that have a dumb tea party. It was totally lame.
    â€œLovely,” said Ms. Coco when Andrea finished. “Let’s hear your poem, A.J.”
    So I read my poem:
    Â 
    â€œI like to sit ’round and do nothing.
    Just sit and do nothing at all.
    I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to walk.
    I don’t want to play with a ball.
    I don’t want to eat or play with my feet
    Or work up a sweat or fly in a jet.
    If I could just sit and do nothing
    Just sit there and clear my head
    I’d be the happiest person
    Except that, of course, I’d be dead.”

    I wasn’t sure if Ms. Coco would like the ending or not. Teachers don’t usually go for dead stuff. But when I looked up, there were tears running down her cheeks.
    â€œThat’s the saddest poem I’ve ever heard!” she said, grabbing a tissue to wipe her face.
    â€œHuh?” I said.
    â€œA.J., your poem was simple, yet it was so moving. So honest. So free.”
    I didn’t know what she was talking about. It was just a dumb poem. I wrote it in five minutes during the commercials while I watched TV.
    â€œWhat about my poem?” asked Andrea.
    â€œYours was nice too, Andrea,” said Ms. Coco. Then she took another tissue and started crying again.
    Miss Smarty Pants Know-It-All crossed her arms and looked all mad. I guess she was angry because Ms. Coco liked my poem better than her dumb hippo poem.
    Well, nah-nah-nah boo-boo on her.

4
Shakespeare Was a Dumbhead
    When I got to school the next day, there was a big NATIONAL POETRY MONTH tote board on the front lawn. It said the kids of Ella Mentry School wrote two hundred poems already!
    I didn’t get it. I mean, I could see writing lots of poems if we were going to geta chocolate party or a video games night or something cool. But to have a poet visit our school? No thanks.
    After we pledged the allegiance, Miss Daisy said our homework for April was to write one poem everyday. Ms.
    Coco was going to publish aNational Poetry Month book with some of our best poems in it.

    â€œIsn’t that exciting?” Miss Daisy asked.
    â€œYes!” yelled all the girls.
    â€œNo!” yelled all the boys. Just the thought of writing something every day made me wrinkle up my nose like I smelled something bad.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, A.J.?” asked Miss Daisy.
    â€œI hate poetry,” I said.
    â€œâ€˜Hate’ is not a nice word,” Miss Daisy said. “You shouldn’t say that.”
    â€œThen I strongly dislike poetry,” I said. “I despise poetry. I detest it. I loathe it. I—”
    â€œThat’s enough, A.J.,” said Miss