“How about a chocolate party?” suggested Andrea.

  “Yeah!” everybody yelled.

  “Mmmm,” said Miss Daisy. “I like that idea!”

  We all got very excited, because if there is one thing that just about everybody loves, it’s chocolate. Kids started shouting out things we could have at the party, like chocolate cupcakes and chocolate fudge and chocolate bunnies and chocolate ice cream and on and on and on.

  “But wait a minute,” Mr. Klutz said. “What are you going to do to earn this chocolate party?”

  “We could read another million pages,” suggested Ryan.

  “We did that already,” Emily said. “How about a million math problems?” I said.

  “What a wonderful idea!” Miss Daisy beamed. Ever since we taught her how to add and subtract, Miss Daisy loved math.

  “Math is hard,” Ryan said. “How about a hundred math problems?”

  “One million math problems,” Mr. Klutz insisted. “That’s my final offer. Take it or leave it.”

  “We’ll take it!” we all yelled.

  “Agreed. If the kids in our school do one million math problems, I’ll throw a party with so much chocolate, you’ll be sick for a week.”

  “I’ll bring the bonbons,” Miss Daisy volunteered.

  “Hooray!” we all yelled, except for Ryan who looked all mad.

  “I’m not going to spend my free time doing math,” Ryan said. “I hate math. I wouldn’t do extra math if you kissed a pig on the lips.”

  “Okay, as an added incentive,” Mr. Klutz said, “on the night of the party, I will kiss a pig on the lips. Have a nice day.”

  “All right!”

  What a cool, wacky guy Mr. Klutz is! He is the coolest principal in the history of the world.

  7

  Teacher for a Day

  The news about the big chocolate party blew through the school like a hurricane. Even kids who were allergic to chocolate wanted to go, just so they could see Mr. Klutz kiss a pig on the lips.

  “Where is he going to get a pig?” Ryan asked during lunch the next day.

  "He could try A.J.’s house,” Andrea said.

  “That’s so funny I forgot to laugh,” I said.

  “I’m not entirely sure that pigs have lips,” said Emily.

  “Of course they have lips,” I insisted. “If they didn’t have lips, how could they whistle?”

  “You know,” Ryan pointed out, “Mr. Klutz is just trying to trick us into doing lots of math problems. That’s why we’re having a chocolate party.”

  “Who cares?” Michael said. “As long as we get the chocolate.”

  “I think that only students who do math problems should be allowed to come to the chocolate party,” said Andrea.

  “Could you possibly be any more boring?” I asked her.

  As it turned out, everybody was doing math problems. The whole school started doing math problems like crazy. Even Ryan. You would have thought that Mr. Klutz was giving us gold and diamonds instead of chocolate.

  “I did math problems for twenty minutes last night,” Ryan bragged while we were waiting for Miss Daisy after recess.

  “Oh, yeah?” Michael said. “Well, I did math problems for forty minutes last night. Forty is twice as many as twenty. See? I just did another math problem right there!”

  “Well I did math problems for an hour last night,” I said. “That’s fifty whole minutes.”

  “An hour is sixty minutes, dumbhead,” Andrea told me.

  I was going to tell her that Sixty Minutes was a TV show my parents watch, but Mr. Klutz suddenly burst into our classroom. He told us that Miss Daisy had a dentist appointment and we would have a substitute teacher for the rest of the afternoon…Mr. Klutz!

  We all gasped.

  “You’re not a teacher!” I told him.

  “I used to be a teacher,” he said. “I taught for many years before I became a principal.”

  “What did you teach?” Ryan asked.

  “Physics,” he said.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Is that like phys ed?” asked Michael.

  “Mr. Klutz, do you know that this is second grade?” Andrea pointed out. “Physics is something high school students study.”

  “Poppycock!” said Mr. Klutz. “You’re never too young to learn something new. You may find you’re smarter than you think.”

  “Well, if you say so.”

  “Physics is the study of motion and energy and force,” he said. “For example, if I take a blackboard eraser in one hand and a book in the other hand, and I drop them at the same time, which one will hit the floor first?”

  “The eraser!” I said. “It’s smaller and lighter, so it will fall faster. Just like small, light kids run faster than big, heavy kids.”

  “No, the book will hit the floor first!” insisted Ryan. “Bigger and heavier things build up more speed than little things.”

  “I think they’ll both hit the floor at the same time,” said Andrea.

  “Let’s do a test,” said Mr. Klutz.

  He put the eraser in his left hand and a paperback book in his right hand. Then he climbed on top of Miss Daisy’s desk and held both objects up in the air. Then he dropped them.

  The eraser and the book hit the ground at the exact same moment.

  “I told you so,” said Andrea. I think I hate her more every day.

  “According to the laws of physics, all objects fall at the exact same rate,” Mr. Klutz told us. “See? You’re learning physics in second grade!”

  “Wait a minute!” said Michael. “That’s not a fair test because the eraser and the book are almost the same size and weight.”

  “Yeah,” Ryan said. “Try it with different objects.”

  “Okay,” Mr. Klutz said as he picked up a pencil off Miss Daisy’s desk. Then he went over to the windowsill, where Miss Daisy kept her collection of stuffed animals. He picked up a giraffe that was almost as big as I am. “Would this be a fair test?” he asked.

  “Yeah!” we all shouted.

  “Now, which object do you think will hit the floor first?” he said as he climbed up on top of Miss Daisy’s desk again.

  “The pencil!” some of us shouted.

  “The giraffe!” other kids yelled.

  “I think they will both hit the floor at the same instant,” said Andrea.

  “Okay, let’s do a test,” said Mr. Klutz.

  As he raised both his arms in the air, Mr. Klutz put his foot on a crayon that was sitting on Miss Daisy’s desk. It rolled a little. His foot slipped. He wobbled for a moment, trying to keep his balance. Then he pitched headfirst off the desk.

  “Watch out!”

  Crash!

  When he hit the floor, the pencil and the giraffe went flying, and Mr. Klutz’s arms and legs went in different directions. It was just about the funniest thing that ever happened in the history of the world. You should have been there.

  We all ran over to see if Mr. Klutz was okay. He was holding his leg and moaning.

  “See?” Andrea said. “All three objects hit the ground at the same time. The pencil, the giraffe, and Mr. Klutz. So I was right.”

  I hate her.

  8

  Mr. Klutz Puckers Up

  When Mr. Klutz got back from the hospital, we were all relieved to hear that he hadn’t broken any bones. He was limping, though, and told us he would have to use a cane for a week.

  We were afraid he might call off the chocolate party, but he was more excited about it than ever.

  Everybody in the whole school got involved doing math problems so we could win the party, even the teachers.

  During library period, Mrs. Roopy asked us questions like, “If the library had a hundred books and you checked out fifty of them, how many would be left in the library?”

  During music period, Mr. Hynde asked us questions like, “If the school only has ten trumpets and six kids sign up to take trumpet lessons, how many more kids can sign up for trumpet lessons?”

  Miss Daisy made a big tote board so we would know how many math problems we had completed. Every day, she tallied up all the math problems on her tote board.

  It wasn’t long before the school had finished a million math problems.

  Andrea did the problem that put us over the top—of course. I hate her.

  On the night of the chocolate party, you should have seen the gym! They had music and games, and tables were set up with chocolate chip cookies, chocolate cake, chocolate muffins, and even broccoli covered with chocolate. Yuck!

  By the end of the party, I thought I was going to throw up. It was the greatest night of my life.

  At nine o’clock somebody came in with this big pig on a leash. I don’t know where they got it. The zoo, I guess. We all watched as the pig was brought over to Mr. Klutz. He wrinkled his face up and acted like he was all disgusted (Mr. Klutz, that is, not the pig).

  When he bent over and kissed the pig on the lips, the whole school went crazy. Even the pig freaked out, oinking and squealing and running around the gym until the grown-ups were able to catch it.

  It was a real Kodak moment, if you ask me.

  9

  I Pledge Allegiance to Mr. Klutz

  “I want to congratulate all you kids,” Mr. Klutz said over the loudspeaker on Monday morning during announcements. “You did it! One million math problems. That’s quite an accomplishment! See, all you needed was a little incentive.

  “This has been such a huge success that I have decided to challenge you again,” he continued. “Election Day is coming up in November. This is a very important day in America. I think every child in this school should write an essay about what it means to have elections. And if you achieve this goal by Election Day, I will climb the flagpole in front of the school and recite the Pledge of Allegience when I get to the top.”

  “I hope he doesn’t hurt himself again,” said Emily.

  “I’ll write my essay during recess,” said Andrea, who always does everything the second any grown-up tells her to instead of waiting as long as possible, like a normal kid.

  “Couldn’t we just write one essay for the whole class?” I asked Miss Daisy. “That would be a lot easier.”

  Mr. Klutz’s voice came out of the loudspeaker again. “I know some of you will ask if you can write a class essay. The answer is no. If you want to see me shinny up the flagpole, each student must write their own essay. That’s my final offer. Take it or leave it. And I’ll tell you what. When we have all the essays, I will send them to the president to read. Have a nice day.”

  The thought of the president of the United States reading our personal words was pretty cool, I had to admit. Everybody finished their Election Day essays so quickly, we were done a week before Election Day. Some kids (like Andrea) even wrote two essays.

  On the morning of Election Day, all the students and teachers gathered on the grass in front of the school. Mr. Klutz came out of the door. He was wearing a red, white, and blue Uncle Sam costume. He also had on sneakers and one of those harnesses that lumberjacks use to climb trees. His leg was all better and he didn’t walk with a cane anymore.

  We all let out a roar when Mr. Klutz started to shinny up the flagpole. I was a little afraid that he was going to fall and break his leg or something, but he didn’t. For a principal, he was a good climber!

  When he got to the top, we all recited the Pledge of Allegience with him. Then everybody let out a cheer.

  When he was sliding down the flagpole, Mr. Klutz got his foot caught in the rope that holds the flag. As he was trying to get his foot loose, his hand slipped and he fell. The next thing we knew, Mr. Klutz was hanging upside down from the flagpole. His Uncle Sam hat fell off.

  Everybody gasped.

  Mr. Klutz was just hanging there, halfway up the flagpole, like he was another flag or something. It would have been the funniest thing in the history of the world if we didn’t honestly think Mr. Klutz was going to fall and land on his head.

  “Help!” he shouted. “My foot is caught in the rope!”

  “Quick! Get some pads from the gym for him to land on!” yelled Mrs. Roopy, the school librarian.

  “Call the fire department!” yelled Mrs. Cooney, the nurse. Everybody was running around like crazy, and nobody knew what to do. It looked like Mr. Klutz would have to just hang there from the flagpole all day.

  “He’ll figure a way out of this,” I told the kids in my class. “When the blood rushes to his head, it helps him think.”

  But it was Miss Daisy who came up with a great idea. She went over to the bottom of the flagpole, where the rope is tied up. She took the knot out and held both ends of the rope tight. Then, slowly and carefully, she began to let out some rope and lower Mr. Klutz down the flagpole, just like he was a regular flag.

  When he reached the bottom, the teachers caught him and loosened the rope from his foot. He was okay, he said, except for the rope burns on his leg.

  “Hooray for Miss Daisy!” our class cheered. After he was back on the ground, Mr. Klutz got up, brushed himself off, and walked up the front steps, like it was totally normal for a principal to hang upside down from a flagpole.

  Mr. Klutz is nuts!

  10

  Mr. Klutz Is Getting Weirder

  “Your Election Day essays were fantastic,” Mr. Klutz told our class the next morning. He had a big bandage wrapped around his head. I’m guessing he must have either crashed his skateboard again or found another flagpole to fall off.

  “Thank you!” we all said.

  “But I was a little surprised by the number of spelling errors I found in them,” he continued. “We need to improve the spelling at our school. So here is what I have decided to do. If you students can write out a list of one hundred thousand spelling words by Thanksgiving, I will dress up in a turkey costume and ride a pogo stick down Main Street.”

  “Yayyyyyyy!” everybody hollered.

  “How about one thousand spelling words?” shouted Ryan.

  “One hundred thousand spelling words,” Mr. Klutz repeated. “That’s my final offer. Take it or leave it. And every word must be spelled correctly. Have a nice day.”

  During lunch, I was sure that Andrea was going to start her list of spelling words just to show how smart she was. But she didn’t. She just kind of sat there, picking at her food quietly.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking,” she finally said. “I’m beginning to wonder if something might be wrong with Mr. Klutz.”

  “Like what?” Emily asked.

  “Maybe he has some kind of a personal problem.”

  “What do you mean?” Michael asked. “Mr. Klutz is a cool guy. Would you rather have a boring principal?”

  “My mother is a psychologist,” Andrea said, “and she says that people sometimes do weird things for reasons that are buried deep within their mind.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “It means she thinks Mr. Klutz is nuts,” said Michael.

  “I didn’t say that,” Andrea went on. “All I’m saying is that maybe he didn’t want to climb up the flagpole. Maybe he doesn’t want to put on a turkey costume. Maybe he just wants people to like him, and the only way he knows to show that is to do nutty things. Maybe he’s a sad, unhappy man. Maybe all he wants is a hug or something.”

  “That’s the saddest story I ever heard!” Emily said. Then she started sobbing.

  Me, Ryan, and Michael looked at one another. We all rolled our eyes up in our heads.

  “Mr. Klutz is cool,” Ryan said. “You’re the one who has some kind of a personal problem, Andrea.”

  “Maybe Mr. Klutz is nuts,” I said. “In fact, maybe he’s not a principal at all. Did you ever think of that? Maybe Mr. Klutz escaped from a home for the criminally insane and he’s just pretending to be a principal. Maybe our real principal is tied up to a chair in the dungeon down in the basement. My friend Billy told me—”

  “There is no dungeon down in the basement,” Emily insisted. “That’s just one of those urban legends.”

  “Sure, that’s just what he wants us to believe!” I told Emily. “He doesn’t want us to know our real principal is tied up to a chair down there. He probably tortures him during summer vacation.”

  “I think you guys are nuts,” Emily said.

  “I’m worried about Mr. Klutz,” Andrea said, biting her fingernails.

  11

  The Last Straw

  I don’t know if all that mumbo jumbo Andrea said was true or not. But I had to admit, Mr. Klutz was acting weirder and weirder.

  After we finished the list of a hundred thousand spelling words and he pogo sticked down Main Street in a turkey costume, he offered to paint his bald head orange if our school got the highest reading score in the county. We did, and he came into school the next day with an orange head.

  Then he offered to let every kid in the school shoot a Ping-Pong ball at him if we collected enough box tops to buy new computers for the school media center. We did that, too.

  It was fun shooting Ping-Pong balls at Mr. Klutz, but even I was beginning to worry that there was something troubling him.

  And then came the day when it was obvious to everybody that Mr. Klutz had gone off the deep end. It was at the end of morning announcements. Miss Daisy had stepped out of the room for a minute.

  “Boys and girls,” Mr. Klutz said over the loudspeaker, “winter vacation is coming up. If the students at our school read with their parents for one million minutes before school lets out, I will bungee-jump off the roof of the school dressed as Santa Claus!”

  Me and Ryan and Emily and Andrea and Michael all looked at one another. “That’s the last straw!” Andrea said.

  “There are plenty of straws,” I told her. “Do you want me to get you one?”