My Weirdtastic School #1: Miss Banks Pulls Lots of Pranks!

Contents
 
 
 Cover
 Title Page
 Dedication
 Contents
 1. Bummer after the Summer
 2. Spelling Can Be Tricky
 3. Pop Quiz
 4. Hunting the Sloof Lirpa
 5. Smell-O-Vision
 6. Won’t Get Fooled Again
 7. Antisocial Studies
 8. This Means War!
 9. The Prank of the Century
 Note to Readers
 About the Author and Illustrator
 Back Ad
 Copyright
 About the Publisher
 
 
 
 
 Guide
 
 Cover
 Contents
 1. Bummer after the Summer
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 Dedication
 
 To Sam Brazzini
 
 
 Contents
 Cover
 Title Page
 Dedication
 1. Bummer after the Summer
 2. Spelling Can Be Tricky
 3. Pop Quiz
 4. Hunting the Sloof Lirpa
 5. Smell-O-Vision
 6. Won’t Get Fooled Again
 7. Antisocial Studies
 8. This Means War!
 9. The Prank of the Century
 Note to Readers
 About the Author and Illustrator
 Back Ad
 Copyright
 About the Publisher
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 My name is A.J., and I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about Oreos. Because that’s what I’m thinking about.
 Oreos are my favorite cookie. How do they get that yummy cream filling inside each one so perfectly? Do they have machines to do that? Or is some guy sitting in a factory squirting the cream into every single Oreo? Man, that guy must be tired at the end of the day! I wouldn’t want to grow up and become an Oreo squirter, that’s for sure.
 My point is: third grade is finally over and I have to start fourth grade now. Bummer after the summer! In fourth grade, we’ll have to learn all new stuff. Harder stuff.
 Of course, Andrea Young, this annoying girl in my class with curly brown hair, is soooooooo excited about moving up to fourth grade. Do you know what the Human Homework Machine did over summer vacation? She didn’t hang out with the rest of us kids. She didn’t play ball or watch TV or play video games.
 No, she studied!
 It’s true! Andrea needs to be smarter than everybody else in fourth grade. What is her problem?
 On the first day of school, I saw Little Miss Know-It-All outside on the steps. She was talking with her crybaby friend, Emily.
 “I went to the beach with my family in August,” Emily said. “It was so much fun!”
 “I taught myself about quadrilaterals and how to do three-digit multiplication,” said Andrea.
 Quadra-what? I had no idea what she was talking about. Why can’t a truck full of quadrilaterals fall on Andrea’s head?
 The rest of the gang was coming up the front steps to school.
 “Who’s gonna be our new teacher?” asked Ryan, who will eat anything, even stuff that isn’t food.
 “Who’s gonna be our new teacher?” asked Michael, who never ties his shoes.
 “Who’s gonna be our new teacher?” asked Alexia, this girl who rides a skateboard all the time.
 In case you were wondering, everybody was asking who would be our new teacher.
 We walked a million hundred miles to room 123, which is the fourth-grade classroom. The sign above the door said MISS BANKS.
 “Who’s Miss Banks?” asked Neil, who we call the nude kid even though he wears clothes. “I never heard of her.”
 “She must be a new teacher,” I said.
 That’s when the weirdest thing in the history of the world happened. As soon as we stepped on the carpet inside the classroom door, there was a weird popping sound.
 POP! POP! POP! POP!
 “Eeeeeeek!” screamed Emily.
 “Help!” shouted Alexia.
 “The aliens have landed!” shouted Ryan.
 “Run for your lives!” shouted Neil.
 
 Everybody was yelling and screaming and hooting and hollering and freaking out. Some lady came running over. She picked up the corner of the carpet.
 “What’s this?” she asked. “Bubble wrap? Hmmm, I wonder who put this bubble wrap under the carpet.”
 “Who are you?” asked Andrea.
 “My name is Miss Banks,” the lady told us. “I’ll be your teacher this year for fourth grade.”
 She went over to the whiteboard and wrote MISS BANKS in big letters. Then she told us to take a seat at the desk that had our name on it.
 When I sat down, a huge farting noise came out from under me! Not just from me. Everybody made a huge farting noise when they sat down.
 “There’s a whoopee cushion on my seat!” yelled Alexia.
 “Mine too!” shouted Emily.
 “Hmmm,” said Miss Banks. “I wonder who put those there. Anyway, we’re going to have a wonderful year together. Does anybody have a question about fourth grade?”
 Andrea was waving her hand in the air like she was trying to signal a plane from a desert island. But I raised my hand, and Miss Banks called on me first. So nah-nah-nah boo-boo on Andrea.
 
 “How old are you?” I asked Miss Banks.
 “That’s not nice, Arlo!” said Andrea, who calls me by my real name because she knows I don’t like it. “You’re not supposed to ask grown-ups how old they are.”
 Why not? Who made that dumb rule?
 “Oh, I don’t mind you asking my age,” said Miss Banks. “I’m one hundred and forty-two years old.”
 “WOW,” everybody said, which is “MOM” upside down.
 “You don’t look that old,” said Ryan.
 “Well, I use a very good