by Dan Gutman
“Welcome to Ella Mentry Idol!” said Ms. Beard. “Today we’re going to see how well these twelve teachers can sing! Sadly, one of them will be eliminated.”
“Awwwwwwwwww.”
“Each of the teachers will sing a song,” said Ms. Beard. “Then we’ll open up the phone lines so viewers can vote for their favorite. The teacher who gets the fewest votes will be eliminated. Is everyone excited?”
“Yeah!” we all screamed.
“Now let’s meet our judges!” said Ms. Beard.
She picked up a jar filled with slips of paper. She shook it up and then picked out three of them.
“Our judges will be . . . Ryan, Andrea, and A.J.! Come on down!”
“That’s me!” Andrea shrieked, jumping up and down.
We went running up to the stage and sat at the table there.
“May I ask a question?” said Andrea. “What does a singing competition have to do with education?”
“I’m glad you asked that question, Andrea!” said Ms. Beard. “Each teacher is going to sing a song about the thing they teach. Let’s start with your art teacher . . . Ms. Hannah!”
Everybody cheered when Ms. Hannah went over to the microphone with a guitar.
“In art,” she said, “sometimes we use tools to build sculptures. So I’d like to sing a song called ‘If I Had a Hammer.’”
Ugh! I knew that song. It’s about a guy who wants a hammer. He sings that if he had a hammer, he would hammer a bunch of stuff all over the world. If that’s not dumb, I don’t know what is.
Ms. Hannah sang the hammer song; and when she was done, everybody clapped.
“Now let’s see what our judges think,” said Ms. Beard. “Andrea, did you like Ms. Hannah’s song?”
“I thought it was lovely,” said Andrea. “I give Mrs. Yonkers a ten.”
Andrea held up a Ping-Pong paddle with a 10 on it, and everybody cheered.
“A perfect score!” said Ms. Beard. “A.J., how do you rate Ms. Hannah?”
“I give her a three,” I said, holding up my paddle. “That song makes no sense at all. If she wants a hammer so badly, why doesn’t she just go to a hardware store and buy one? Hammers don’t cost that much.”
“The song isn’t about hammers, dumbhead!” Andrea said, rolling her eyes. “It’s about peace.”4
“What do you think, Ryan?” asked Ms. Beard.
“I give Ms. Hannah a six,” said Ryan. “She said that if she had a hammer she would hammer in the morning. But I don’t think she should hammer in the evening too. In the dark, she might hammer her thumb and hurt herself.”
“Good point, Ryan,” said Ms. Beard.
“Yeah, and hammering in the evening will disturb the neighbors,” I added. “People are trying to sleep at night. They don’t want to hear a bunch of hammering.”
“Well said, A.J.!” said Ms. Beard. “That’s nineteen points for Ms. Hannah.”
Everybody cheered.
After that, Miss Holly, our Spanish teacher, sang a song called “La Bamba.” Mr. Docker, our science teacher, sang a song called “She Blinded Me with Science.” Mrs. Roopy, our librarian, sang a song about the Dewey decimal system. Miss Laney, our speech teacher, sang a song about the rain in Spain falling mainly on the plain. It made no sense at all. Who cares where it rains? Mr. Loring, our music teacher, sang a song called “Brown Sugar.” That was weird. Why would anybody make a song about sugar?
After that came our computer teacher, Mrs. Yonkers.
“I’d like to sing a song about pork sausages,” she said. “I borrowed the tune of ‘Home on the Range.’ It goes like this. . . .”
“Oh give me some pork
with a knife and a fork,
and potatoes that have been French fried.
It makes a great lunch,
and I’ll eat a whole bunch
with a plateful of beans on the side.
Porky’s pork sausages.
I’d rather eat them than play.
And when I am done,
I’ll take one on a bun
To bring home and eat the next day.”
“What do you think, judges?” asked Ms. Beard.
“That was wonderful!” said Andrea, who thinks that everything grown-ups do is wonderful. “I give it a ten.”
“That was terrible!” I said. “Deaf people all over the world are grateful right now that they didn’t have to hear that.”
“What did that have to do with computers?” asked Ryan.
After the twelve teachers had sung a song, the phone lines were opened up, and people all over America had the chance to vote for their favorite. We had to wait a long time while the votes were being counted. Finally, Ms. Beard came out to announce the results.
“The people have spoken,” she said. “Eleven of our teachers will move on to the next round. One of you must leave. But before I say who that teacher is, tell me, A.J., what do you think of pork sausages?”
“I give ’em a ten!” I said, holding up my paddle. “I love ’em!”
“You heard it here, folks!” said Ms. Beard. “The judges agree that pork sausages are great! Now it’s time to reveal which of our teachers got the least votes and will have to leave. That teacher is . . . Mrs. Roopy.”
“Awwwwwwwwwww.”
Mrs. Roopy walked off the stage, her head hanging.
One teacher eliminated, ten to go.
6
Dancing with the Teachers
When we got to the all-purpose room the next morning, there was a big banner across the stage . . .
DANCING WITH THE TEACHERS
The cameras started rolling right away, and Ms. Beard leaped up on the stage.
“Yesterday we saw how well the teachers of Ella Mentry School could sing,” she said. “Today we’re going to see how well they dance!”
There were four pairs of dancers—two teams of Moosketeers and two teams of Hot Dog Heads. Ms. Beard announced that one of the couples would be eliminated. Andrea, Ryan, and I were called up to be the judges again.
“Our first couple will be Mr. Loring and Miss Holly of the Mooseketeers,” said Ms. Beard. “They will be dancing the cha-cha.”5
“I don’t really know how to cha-cha,” said Mr. Loring.
“Me neither,” said Miss Holly.
“Terrific!” shouted Ms. Beard. “Start the music!”
Some weird cha-cha music started playing.
Did you ever see a teacher dance? It’s hilarious. You don’t believe me? Ask your teacher to get up and dance, right now. It will be hysterical. I guarantee it.
Anyway, Miss Holly is really tall, and Mr. Loring is really short. They were stumbling all over and stepping on each other’s feet while they tried to cha-cha. Ryan and I had to do all we could not to fall out of our seats laughing. I was afraid I was going to pee in my pants.
When it was over, everybody clapped and pretended that Mr. Loring and Miss Holly were good dancers.
“I give them a ten!” said Andrea, holding up her Ping-Pong paddle.
“I give them a one,” I said. “They dance like a pair of water buffalo fighting over a piece of meat.”
“I give them a two for effort,” said Ryan.
“Okay! That’s thirteen points,” said Ms. Beard. “Let’s bring on our next couple, Mr. Docker and Ms. Coco of the Hot Dog Heads.”
Everybody cheered. They had to do a dance called the fox-trot. It didn’t look like foxes trotting. It looked more like a bad three-legged race. It was embarrassing just to watch. They weren’t quite as awful as Mr. Loring and Miss Holly, but it was still the funniest thing in the history of the world. We gave them sixteen points, with ten of them from Andrea, of course.
“Next up, Mr. Granite and Miss Laney!” said Ms. Beard. “They will dance the tango.”
I don’t know what “tango” means, but it sure didn’t look like dancing. It looked like Mr. Granite and Miss Laney were trying to stamp out cockroaches. We gave them twenty points.
The last
dance team was Mr. Macky and Ms. Hannah. They had to do some dance called the rumba, and they were actually pretty good. Well, they were good for teachers, anyway. They got a nice round of applause, and twenty-five points.
Finally—and thankfully—Dancing with the Teachers was over. Ms. Beard added up the scores.
“If you ask me, all of these teachers are winners,” she announced, “but two of you must be eliminated today. I’m sorry, but . . . Miss Holly and Mr. Loring will have to go home.”
Three teachers eliminated, eight to go.
7
The Stunt Teacher
We were told to go back to class until the end of the day. Mr. Granite was happy about that. He said we could finally get some work done.
“Today we’re going to talk about—”
But he didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, because you’ll never believe who came running into the door at that moment.
Nobody! Why would you want to run into a door? That would hurt. But you’ll never believe who came running into the doorway.
It was Ms. Beard, and a camera crew!
“Granite, baby!” she said, throwing her arm around Mr. Granite’s shoulder. “I felt bad about what happened when we filmed you in class. I wanted to give you another chance to be a star.”
“Uh . . . okay,” said Mr. Granite.
All the lights and cameras were set up, and Ms. Beard yelled, “ACTION!”
“Today we’re going to talk about fractions,” Mr. Granite told us. “A fraction is a number that expresses part of a group. The number above the line is called the numerator. The number below the line is called the—”
“Cut!” Ms. Beard yelled. “Granite, baby, you’re putting everybody to sleep with that fraction mumbo jumbo. Try it again, and this time put a little pizzazz into it, will ya?”
“Uh . . . okay. I’ll try.”
“ACTION!”
“If two fractions have the same denominator,” said Mr. Granite, “their sum is the sum of the numerators over the denomina—”
“Cut!” hollered Ms. Beard. “Bring in the stunt teacher!”
“What?” shouted Mr. Granite. “Stunt teacher?”
“I’m sorry, Granite, baby, but this just isn’t working out,” said Ms. Beard. “I gotta bring in somebody who can grab viewers by the eyeballs.”
“You can’t do that!” protested Mr. Granite. “I spent years learning how to teach math.”
“Chill, baby. It’s temporary,” said Ms. Beard. “Where’s my stunt teacher? Where’s Mr. Brown?”
Suddenly, a guy came walking into the class—on his hands. He did a somersault and a cartwheel and jumped up onto Mr. Granite’s desk. He had a big red nose and orange hair sticking out on both sides.
“Hi, boys and girls!” he said in a funny voice, honking his nose.
“Mr. Brown is a clown!” I shouted.
“You can call me Brownie the Clownie!”
Mr. Granite stood there staring with his mouth open. Brownie skipped out of the room and came back with a plate full of pies.
“Fractions are fun, kids!” he said. “If I cut this banana cream pie into eight slices and I eat one of them, how much of the pie did I eat?”
“One-eighth!” yelled Alexia, who is really good in math.
“Right!” said Brownie. “And if I were to take two slices of the pie and throw them at your teacher, how much of the pie would I throw?”
“One-fourth!” shouted Alexia. “Two-eighths is the same as one-fourth.”
“Right!” shouted Brownie. Then he picked up two pieces of pie and threw them at Mr. Granite. They hit him right in the head. Banana cream was dribbling down his face.
Mr. Granite looked like he was going to explode. I had never seen him so mad.
“What if I took a whole pie,” Mr. Granite shouted, “and shoved it in your clownie face?”
Mr. Granite picked up one of the pies and pushed it into Brownie’s face. It was cool!
Then Brownie picked up another pie and threw it at Mr. Granite. But he ducked, and the pie hit Emily in the face instead. She was on the floor, freaking out. Then she went running out of the room. What a crybaby.
“Food fight!” we all hollered.
Mr. Granite and Brownie the Clown were furiously grabbing hunks of pie and throwing them at each other! Gobs of banana cream were flying all over the classroom!
When they ran out of pies to throw, Brownie the Clown and Mr. Granite started wrestling on the floor. It was a real Kodak moment.
Andrea pulled Ms. Beard off to the side.
“I really don’t think this is going to help anybody learn about fractions,” Andrea told her.
“Who cares?” replied Ms. Beard. “It makes great TV! The ratings will go through the roof!”
8
Free for All
When we got to school the next day, everybody was told to go around to the playground. And you’ll never believe in a million hundred years what was back there.
A giant swimming pool! And it was filled with mud!
“Welcome to The Real Teachers of Ella Mentry School!” Ms. Beard said into the camera. “We know the teachers here are great singers and dancers. Today we’re going to see if they’re any good at mud wrestling!”
“Yay!” everybody went except for Andrea, who rolled her eyes and said it looked disgusting.
The teachers were standing at the edge of the pool wearing bikinis. It was hilarious. Believe me, Mr. Docker does not look good in a bikini.
“When I blow my whistle, all the teachers will jump into the pool,” said Ms. Beard. “The first four teachers who climb out will advance to the next round. The others will be eliminated. Is everybody ready?”
“This is gonna be cool!” I said to Michael.
“What are we going to learn from this?” asked Andrea. “It doesn’t sound very educational to me.”
“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong,” said Ms. Beard. “While the teachers are mud wrestling, they also have to recite multiplication tables! On your mark . . . get set . . . GO!”
Ms. Beard blew her whistle. The teachers jumped into the pool. We all started yelling and screaming.
As soon as Miss Small landed in the mud, she started to climb out of the pool, but Mr. Macky grabbed her before she reached the edge and threw her into the middle. She was completely covered in mud. Then Mr. Macky tried to climb out of the pool, but Miss Laney grabbed his leg, and he fell face-first into the mud. He made a big splat.
“Don’t forget about your times tables!” shouted Ms. Beard.
“One times three is three,” yelled Ms. Leakey as she grabbed Ms. Coco and put her in a headlock.
“Two times three is six,” yelled Mr. Granite as he dived on top of Mrs. Yonkers.
Mud was flying everywhere! Every time one of the teachers tried to climb out of the pool, one of the other teachers would pull them back into the mud. It was getting hard to tell who was who, because all the teachers were brown and slimy and slippery.
“Three times three is nine,” yelled Ms. Hannah as she got hit with a mud pie in the face.
“Four times three is twelve,” yelled Miss Laney as she belly flopped into the muck.
“Wow, these teachers are great wrestlers!” shouted Ms. Beard. “And they really know their math!”
Finally, Ms. Leakey and Mr. Macky teamed up to dunk Ms. Coco, and they managed to climb out of the pool together.
“Eat mud, you Hot Dog Heads!” shouted Mr. Macky. “The Mooseketeers rule the pool!”
While they were celebrating, Mr. Granite and Miss Small climbed out of the other end of the pool together. Ms. Beard blew her whistle to signal that the game was over.
“Okay!” she shouted. “The winners are Ms. Leakey and Mr. Macky of the Moosketeers, and Miss Small and Mr. Granite of the Hot Dog Heads. The other teachers are eliminated. Let’s give all our teacher wrestlers a big round of applause!”
We all cheered and whistled and clapped in a circle. Mr. Docker, Ms.
Coco, Miss Laney, Ms. Hannah, and Mrs. Yonkers slowly climbed out of the pool covered from head to toe with yucky mud. They looked like a bunch of chocolate Easter bunnies.
9
We’re Outta Here
When we got to school the next day, Ms. Beard was all excited. She told us that every night, millions more people were tuning in to watch The Real Teachers of Ella Mentry School on TV. Everybody wanted to see who was going to be the winner.
“The ratings are through the roof!” she said.
There were just four teachers left: Mr. Macky and Ms. Leakey of the Mooseketeers, and Miss Small and Mr. Granite of the Hot Dog Heads. After all that singing, dancing, and mud wrestling, they were worn-out, tired, and maybe even a little cranky.
“Okay!” Ms. Beard announced to the camera. “Today our teachers are going to bake cakes. The teacher who bakes the best cake—”
She didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence.
“That’s dumb!” yelled Miss Small. “I don’t want to bake a cake.”
“Me neither,” said Mr. Macky.
“I don’t know the first thing about baking a cake,” said Ms. Leakey.
“This is ridiculous,” said Mr. Granite. “What could baking cakes possibly have to do with education?”
“Nothing,” replied Ms. Beard. “But our research shows that people like to watch other people bake cakes on TV.”
“Well, we’re not doing it!” announced Mr. Granite.
“Yeah!” said Miss Small. “If I have to bake a cake, I’m outta here.”
“Me too!” said Mr. Granite. “Find us something else to do.”
“Uh . . . okay,” said Ms. Beard. “Today our teachers are going to eat bugs. The teacher who eats the most bugs—”
“I’m not eating bugs!” yelled Mr. Macky. He was really mad.
“But our research shows that next to baking cakes, the one thing people like to watch most on TV is other people eating bugs,” said Ms. Beard.