Mrs. Roopy Is Loopy!

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Mrs. Roopy Is Loopy! Page 1

by Dan Gutman




  My Weird School #3

  Mrs. Roopy Is Loopy!

  Dan Gutman

  Pictures by

  Jim Paillot

  To Emma

  Contents

  1 That Army Guy

  2 The Librarian

  3 George Washington’s Teeth

  4 Dumbheads

  5 Mrs. Roopy’s Hero

  6 Johnny Applesauce

  7 One Small Step for Man

  8 Nursery Rhyme Week

  9 Mrs. Roopy’s Problem

  10 The Evidence

  11 Just Admit It!

  12 The Proof

  About the Author and the Illustrator

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  1

  That Army Guy

  My name is A.J. and I hate school.

  If you ask me, they shouldn’t teach kids how to read and write in school. They shouldn’t teach math. They should teach kids how to do tricks on their bikes. That’s what I want to learn! But my teacher, Miss Daisy, thinks reading and writing and math are really important for some reason.

  Miss Daisy told us to write a story for homework and draw a picture to go with it. We read the stories out loud the next day in class.

  Andrea Young, who thinks she knows everything, made up a story about a family of flowers who were sad because it was cloudy outside. Then the sun came out and the flowers got happy again.

  It was a really dumb story, if you ask me. Flowers aren’t happy or sad. They just sit there and do nothing. They don’t even have families! But Miss Daisy kept telling Andrea how great the story was.

  My story was about these giant man-eating monsters fighting on trick bikes in outer space until they were all dead. I drew cool pictures to go with it. Emily, this girl with red hair, said my story was scary. But Emily thinks everything is scary.

  Miss Daisy said I had a good imagination, but she asked me if next time I could try to write a story that didn’t have so much violence in it.

  “What’s violent about giant man-eating monsters fighting on trick bikes in outer space?” I asked. Everybody laughed even though I didn’t say anything funny.

  Andrea said maybe I could have the man-eating monsters make up at the end of the story and tell each other they were sorry.

  “Monsters don’t apologize!” I said. Everybody knows that. Andrea doesn’t know anything about monsters.

  We were arguing about it when all of a sudden some funny-looking guy marched into our classroom. He was all dressed up in a fancy army uniform. He had a white wig on his head and a sword in his hand.

  “To be prepared for war is the best way to keep the peace!” the army guy said. Then he marched out of the classroom.

  “Who was that?” asked my friend Michael, who never ties his shoes no matter how many times he trips over the laces.

  “Beats me,” I said.

  “Was that Principal Klutz?” asked my other friend Ryan, who sits next to me in the third row.

  “I don’t know who it was,” Miss Daisy said, “but he is heading for the library. We’d better go check it out! Okay, second graders. Single file!”

  2

  The Librarian

  Michael was the line leader. Andrea was the door holder. We went to the library, which is brand-new and didn’t even exist last year when we were in first grade. They built it over the summer to replace the junky old library we used to have.

  A library is the part in the school where they have hundreds of books that you can bring home with you. You don’t even have to pay for them. And it’s not even illegal! The only problem is you have to bring the books back after you’re done reading them.

  My friend Billy around the corner, who was in second grade last year, told me that if you don’t bring back your library books on time, the librarian locks you in a dungeon under the school. I’m not sure I believe him.

  “Our new librarian is Mrs. Roopy,” Miss Daisy told us as we lined up in the hallway outside the library. “Everybody be on your best behavior so you’ll make a good impression on her.”

  “I’m always on my best behavior,” said Andrea Young. She made a big dopey smile at Miss Daisy. Andrea is so annoying. If somebody told her to be on her worst behavior, she wouldn’t know what to do.

  When we went into the new library, we were shocked. Right in the middle of the room was a giant tree! It had a big tree house at the top near the ceiling and a ladder going up to it.

  “What’s with the tree?” I asked.

  “Beats me,” said Ryan. “How do you think they got it into the library?”

  “Maybe it just grew in here over the summer,” guessed Michael.

  “Trees don’t grow in libraries,” said Andrea, as if she knows anything about trees.

  “They must have built it,” said Emily.

  “You don’t build trees, dumbhead,” I told Emily, and she looked all hurt like she was going to cry.

  The tree was really cool. Some of us started to climb it, but Miss Daisy said we had to get off because it was time for library period to start.

  “Where’s the new librarian?” Ryan asked. We were all looking around, but we didn’t see Mrs. Roopy anywhere.

  Then, suddenly, that army guy with the wig poked his head out of the tree house. He came down the ladder. I think it was a he, anyway. He looked a little like a lady dressed like an army guy.

  When he got to the bottom, the army guy with the wig stood all straight and proud at attention. He gave us a salute.

  “Are you Mrs. Roopy?” I asked.

  “Certainly not,” the army guy said. “My name is George Washington. I am the first president of the United States and father of our country.”

  3

  George Washington’s Teeth

  I’m no dumbhead. My mom told me that George Washington had wooden teeth. So this army guy with the wig couldn’t be George Washington unless he had wooden teeth.

  “If you’re really George Washington, let’s see your teeth,” I said. The army guy with the wig reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of teeth. Then he wound a little thing on it and the teeth started chattering up and down in his hand.

  Emily took one look at the teeth and ran out of the room crying. That girl cries at anything.

  “Wow!” I said. “Maybe he is George Washington. Those teeth are cool! I wish I had wooden teeth.”

  “You can’t fool me,” Andrea Young said. “You’re not George Washington. You’re Mrs. Roopy, the new librarian, dressed up to look like George Washington. You’re supposed to read stories to us and help us use the computers.”

  “Computers?” George Washington said, his forehead all wrinkly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, young lady. This is the year 1790. Computers haven’t been invented yet.”

  No matter what we said, the army guy with the wig insisted that he was really George Washington. He read us a story about when he was a boy and he chopped down a cherry tree. Then he showed us a bunch of books about the United States. All through library period, the army guy with the wig said that he was George Washington. After a while, we started calling him George Washington.

  “General Washington,” I asked, “may I go to the bathroom?” Everybody laughed even though I didn’t say anything funny. Kids think anything to do with bathrooms is funny. If you want to make your friends laugh, all you have to do is stick your face in their face and say either “bathroom” or “underwear.” It works every time.

  “I’m sorry,” George Washington said. “This is the year 1790. Bathrooms have not been invented yet.”

  It wasn’t an emergency or anything, so I waited. We were allowed to check out any book we wanted from the library. I took out a book about jet fi
ghter planes because it had cool pictures in it.

  For a president, this George Washington guy seemed to know a lot about finding books in the library and checking them out.

  It was time to go to lunch. We all had to salute George Washington as we left the library.

  “Hey, how come you chopped down that cherry tree, anyhow?” I asked him as we left the library.

  “I cannot tell a lie,” he said. “I needed some wood for my wooden teeth.” Then he showed us his chattering teeth again. I’m still not sure if that army guy with the wig was George Washington or not. But he was weird.

  4

  Dumbheads

  I took a seat in the lunchroom next to Ryan and Michael. Ryan stuck two of my carrot sticks in his nose, and I told him I’d give him a nickel if he ate them. He did, too. Me, I won’t even eat carrot sticks before you stick them in your nose.

  “Do you think that guy was really George Washington?” Ryan asked.

  “I don’t know,” Michael said. “What do you think, A.J.?”

  That’s when Andrea Young leaned over from the next table and opened her big mouth.

  “That wasn’t George Washington, you dumb heads!” she said. “That was Mrs. Roopy wearing a powdered wig and an army uniform.”

  She may have been right, but I didn’t want to admit it, because I hate her. Ryan took out a dollar bill from his backpack and looked at the picture of George Washington.

  “He sure looked like George Washington,” Ryan said.

  “George Washington has been dead for like a hundred years!” Andrea said.

  “Even if George Washington was still alive,” Emily said, “I’m sure he would have more important things to do than come to our school and read us stories.”

  That’s when it hit me. If that army guy was really Mrs. Roopy dressed up as George Washington, maybe Mrs. Roopy isn’t a librarian at all!

  “Maybe she’s just pretending to be a librarian,” I said, “just like she was pretending to be George Washington.”

  “Yeah!” Michael said. “Maybe she’s a kidnapper and she’s got our real librarian locked up in an empty warehouse at the edge of town. I saw that in a movie once.”

  “We’ve got to save her!” Emily said with tears dribbling down her cheeks. Then she went running out of the room.

  There was only one way to solve the problem. We cleaned off our trays and went back to our classroom to ask Miss Daisy if George Washington was really Mrs. Roopy in disguise.

  “Don’t be silly,” Miss Daisy said. “As it turns out, Mrs. Roopy is absent today. She’s home sick in bed. It must have been the real George Washington.”

  But what does Miss Daisy know? Everybody knows Miss Daisy is crazy.

  5

  Mrs. Roopy’s Hero

  Everybody in our class was excited before the next library period. We all wanted to see if George Washington would be there again.

  When we got to the library, there was just this lady who looked a little bit like George Washington except she didn’t have on an army uniform or a wig. She looked like a normal lady.

  “Good morning, second graders,” she said. “My name is Mrs. Roopy. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here the other day for your library period.”

  “But you were here!” Ryan shouted.

  “You must be mistaken,” Mrs. Roopy said. “I was home sick in bed.”

  “Can we see your wooden teeth again?” Michael asked.

  “Yeah, can we?”

  “Wooden teeth? Did you know that George Washington didn’t have wooden teeth at all? His mouth was filled with cow’s teeth.”

  “Ewww!” we all shouted.

  I asked Mrs. Roopy, “Did the cow have George Washington’s teeth in her mouth?”

  “But that was you, wasn’t it, acting like George Washington?” said Michael.

  Mrs. Roopy’s forehead got all wrinkly just like George Washington’s did when we told him about computers. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  We all looked at one another. I wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth or not.

  “If I were George Washington, would I have this?” Mrs. Roopy asked. Then she picked up her shirt and showed us her belly. She had a little tattoo of a heart right over her belly button. It was cool.

  I had to admit that George Washington would never have a heart-shaped tattoo over his belly button. So maybe that army guy with the wig wasn’t Mrs. Roopy after all.

  “Let me show you around the library,” Mrs. Roopy said. “Did you know that books can take you to places you have never been before? They help us explore our world. We have books here on just about every subject you can think of. This is the fiction section. Does anyone know the difference between fiction and nonfiction books?”

  “Nonfiction books are books that are not fiction,” Ryan said. “Because ‘non’ means not, like nonfat milk has no fat in it.”

  “And nonsense has no sense in it,” Michael added.

  “That’s true,” Mrs. Roopy said, “but there’s a little more to it.”

  “Fiction is what you get when you rub two things together,” I said.

  Everybody laughed even though I didn’t say anything funny.

  “That’s friction, A.J.,” Andrea Young said. “Fiction is a made-up story, and non-fiction is based on facts.”

  “That’s correct,” said Mrs. Roopy, and she smiled at Andrea. I wished Andrea would shut up.

  “Oh, who cares what the difference between fiction and nonfiction is?” I said. “All books are boring.”

  Everybody went “Ooooooh!” like I had said something really terrible.

  “But everybody needs to know how to read, A.J.,” Mrs. Roopy said.

  “Not me,” I said. “When I grow up, I’m going to be a trick bike rider because you don’t have to know how to read to do tricks on a bike.”

  “Yeah, me too,” said Michael and Ryan. We told Mrs. Roopy that, every day after school, me and Michael and Ryan ride our bikes together. I learned how to ride a two-wheeler in kindergarten. Now I can do a bunny hop off a bump, and I know the names of all the famous trick bike riders. I have posters of them all over the walls of my room.

  “Gee, I don’t know much about bicycle tricks, A.J.,” Mrs. Roopy said. “But I’ve got posters of my hero on my walls at home too.”

  “Who is your hero, Mrs. Roopy?” Andrea asked.

  “Melvil Dewey.”

  “Melvil Whoey?” I asked.

  “Melvil Dewey was a very famous librarian,” Mrs. Roopy said, and her eyes got all bright and sparkly and excited.

  “Librarians aren’t famous,” I said.

  “Melvil Dewey was,” said Mrs. Roopy. “He invented the number system we use to find books in the library. If it weren’t for Melvil Dewey, we would never be able to find anything.”

  “Wow!” Andrea Young said, as if she was really interested in that boring stuff.

  “So if you want to find books about insects, you’d go to number 595,” Mrs. Roopy said. “And if you want to find books about dinosaurs, you’d go to number 567. Libraries all over the world use the system that Melvil Dewey invented. Today we call it the Dewey decimal system.”

  “Did all the kids at his school make fun of him because his name was Melvil?” I asked. I know that if there was a kid named Melvil in our school, we would make fun of him constantly.

  “I don’t know,” Mrs. Roopy said. “But would you like to hear a song I made up about Melvil Dewey?”

  “Yeah!” we all shouted. Listening to songs had to be better than reading books.

  Mrs. Roopy went into her office and came back with a guitar and one of those harmonica thingys you wear around your neck. She strummed a few chords to warm up.

  “You may have heard a folktale about John Henry, the steel-drivin’ man,” Mrs. Roopy said. “Well, this is the story of Melvil Dewey, the book-sortin’ man.”

  And then she started to sing….

  When Melvil Dewey was a little bitty baby,
/>   The first words he said himself

  Were “I’ve got to get these books off the floor

  And put them on the shelf….”

  Mrs. Roopy sang the whole song and played her guitar and harmonica, too. It was a pretty cool song. This Melvil Dewey guy had a race with a computer to see who could sort books the fastest. Melvil won the race, but right after he sorted the last book, he dropped dead right on the floor of the library. It was cool.

  At the end of the song, Andrea Young got up and gave Mrs. Roopy a standing ovation, so we all had to get up too.

  “That’s the saddest story I ever heard in my life,” Emily said, wiping tears from her eyes.

  At the end of the period, Mrs. Roopy asked us if we had any questions about how to use the library.

  “Is it true that if we don’t return our library books on time you lock us in a dungeon under the school?” I asked. Everybody laughed even though I didn’t say anything funny.

  “Don’t be silly,” Mrs. Roopy said. “The dungeon is on the third floor.” I think she was telling a joke, but I’m not sure.

  6

  Johnny Applesauce

  When we came into the library the next time, a guy with a long beard came down the ladder from the tree house, wearing blue-jean overalls. He was carrying a shovel and a big sack. He had no shoes on his feet, but he was wearing a pot on his head. He looked funny, and he looked a lot like Mrs. Roopy to me.

  “Mrs. Roopy, why are you wearing a pot on your head?” I asked.

 

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