by Dan Gutman
Dedication
Thanks to Donna Deodato, and to my Facebook and Twitter followers.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
1.The FAR Test
2.Practice Makes . . . You Worse
3.Getting Zenergized
4.Toga Party!
5.Sense and Non-Sense
6.Total Relaxation
7.The Big FART
8.The Truth about Ms. Jo-Jo
9.The Big Surprise Ending
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 I should watch my mouth.
“Watch your mouth, A.J.,” my teacher Mr. Cooper is always telling me.
I don’t get it. Grown-ups are always telling me to watch my mouth. How can I watch my mouth? It’s right under my eyes. I can’t watch it.
I can’t watch my ears, either, because they’re over on the sides of my head. I tried to watch them, but they were too far away. I could watch my nose, but then I’d be cross-eyed.
So basically, I can’t watch any of the stuff on my face, unless I look in a mirror.
The point is, I was at Ella Mentry School last week when the whole third grade got called down to the all-porpoise room. I don’t know why they call it the all-porpoise room. There are no dolphins in there.
So we lined up and walked a million hundred miles. When we finally got to the all-porpoise room, you’ll never believe who was up on the stage.
It was Dr. Carbles, the president of the Board of Education!*
He’s a mean man who drives a tank to school. What is his problem? Dr. Carbles was standing next to our principal, Mr. Klutz, who has no hair at all. He used to have hair, but it fell out a long time ago. Nobody knows why.
“Ten . . . hut!” shouted Dr. Carbles.
Why was he counting huts? There weren’t any huts in the all-porpoise room. What do huts have to do with anything? But everybody stood at attention, as if we were soldiers.
“I have an announcement to make,” Dr. Carbles shouted. “I called you in here to tell you blah blah blah blah one week from today all the students at Ella Mentry School will be taking a standardized test blah blah blah blah. You third graders will take the Fundamental Arithmetic/Reading Test.”
Ugh, I hate standardized tests. A big groan spread across the all-porpoise room.
Dr. Carbles held up a sign that said “Fundamental Arithmetic/Reading Test.” We all started elbowing each other and giggling because we realized that the first letters of the Fundamental Arithmetic/Reading Test spelled “FART.”
Anytime anybody says anything that sounds like “fart,” you have to giggle and elbow the person next to you. That’s the first rule of being a kid.
“Quiet!” shouted Dr. Carbles. “Sit down!”
We sat down.
“Dr. Carbles said FART,” I whispered to my friend Michael, who never ties his shoes.
“What do you think is going to be on the F.A.R.T.?” whispered Ryan, who will eat anything, even stuff that isn’t food.
“I heard the F.A.R.T. is really hard,” whispered Neil, who we call the nude kid even though he wears clothes.
“What happens if we fail the F.A.R.T.?” whispered Alexia, this girl who rides a skateboard all the time.
“I’m going to study for the F.A.R.T. as soon as I get home from school,” whispered Andrea, this annoying girl with curly brown hair.
“Me too,” whispered Emily, who does everything Andrea does.
Everybody in the all-porpoise room was buzzing about the F.A.R.T. But not like bees. That would be weird. Mr. Klutz held up his hand and made a peace sign, which means shut up. But everybody ignored him.
“STOP SAYING FART!” shouted Dr. Carbles. “Watch your mouths!”
Even the teachers were freaking out about the F.A.R.T.
“Oh no, not the F.A.R.T.,” groaned Mr. Cooper.
Mrs. Roopy, our librarian, slapped her own forehead. Mr. Docker, our science teacher, rolled his eyes. Mrs. Jaffee, our vice principal, put her head in her hands. One of the other third-grade teachers slumped in her seat. The teachers must hate standardized tests just as much as kids do.
Everybody in the all-porpoise room was complaining about the F.A.R.T.
“Quiet!” shouted Dr. Carbles. “You kids had better score high on the Fundamental Arithmetic/Reading Test. Or else! Blah blah blah blah. Now get out of here! Go back to your classes! Beat it!”
“Okay, Pringle up, everybody,” said Mr. Cooper.
We lined up like Pringles and marched out of the all-porpoise room.
“Left! Right! Left! Right!” shouted Dr. Carbles.
It took a million hundred hours to march back to our classroom. When we passed by the front office, I saw Dr. Carbles yelling at Mr. Klutz.
“At last, I’ll be able to shut down this terrible school,” Dr. Carbles said, rubbing his hands together. “You’ll be finished, Klutz! Finished! For good! Bwa-ha-ha!”
Anytime grown-ups rub their hands together and say “bwa-ha-ha,” you know they want to take over the world. That’s the first rule of being a grown-up.
“But . . . but . . . but . . .” said Mr. Klutz.
I giggled because Mr. Klutz said “but,” which sounds just like “butt” even though there’s only one t.
“Do you think Dr. Carbles would really shut down our school?” asked Andrea.
“He can do anything he wants,” said Alexia. “He’s the president of the Board of Education. That’s like being a king.”
Wait a minute. That’s when it hit me. If Dr. Carbles shuts down our school, we won’t have to go to school anymore.
Sounds good to me!
What’s the problem?
The next day, Mr. Cooper came running into the class, all excited. Mr. Cooper thinks he’s a superhero, and he wears a cape. What’s up with that?
“We have five days to get ready for the F.A.R.T.,” he announced. “We’re not going to let Dr. Carbles shut down Ella Mentry School, are we, kids?”
“No!” shouted all the girls.
“Yes!” shouted all the boys.
“We’re gonna fight for our school!” said Mr. Cooper. “Isn’t that right, kids?”
“Yes!” shouted all the girls.
“No!” shouted all the boys.
There were some basic disagreements about education between the boys and the girls.
“You kids are going to crush the F.A.R.T.!” yelled Mr. Cooper.
“CRUSH . . . THE . . . F.A.R.T.!” Ryan chanted as he stood up. “CRUSH . . . THE . . . F.A.R.T.!”
We all jumped up and started chanting “CRUSH THE F.A.R.T.!”
Chanting is cool. You should chant stuff whenever you can. That’s the first rule of being a kid.
Mr. Cooper lowered his voice to a whisper, like he was going to tell us a big secret.
“I’m going to tell you a big secret,” he whispered.
“Oooh, I love secrets!” said Alexia.
“I went on the internet,” said Mr. Cooper, “and I downloaded a practice F.A.R.T. This will help to prepare you for the real F.A.R.T.”
“I love practice tests!” said Andrea, who loves any kind of test, because it gives her the chance to show everybody how smart she is.
“Me too,” said Emily, of course.
What is their problem? I hate all tests, real or practice.
Andrea waved her hand in the air like she was washing a big window with a sponge.
“Yes, Andrea?” asked Mr. Cooper.
“Is the F.A.R.T. a multiple-choice test?” she asked.
Ugh. I hate mul
tiple-choice tests. A multiple-choice test is a test that has more than one choice for the answers, so it has the perfect name. They give you the right answer. It’s staring you in the face. But they also throw in a bunch of wrong answers so you don’t know which answer is the right one. That’s mean! It would be a lot easier if multiple-choice tests only gave you one choice.*
“No, Andrea,” said Mr. Cooper. “It’s not multiple-choice. The F.A.R.T. is a fill-in-the-blanks test.”
Oh, good! Filling in blanks is a lot easier. You can write anything you want.
Mr. Cooper told us to take out our number two pencils. We all started giggling because Mr. Cooper said “number two.” Anytime a grown-up says “number two,” you should giggle. Because we all know what number two means, and it has nothing to do with pencils.
“I’m going to pass out—” Mr. Cooper said.
“He’s going to pass out!” shouted Ryan.
“Call an ambulance!” shouted Michael.
“I’m going to pass out the practice tests,” said Mr. Cooper.
“Oh,” said Ryan and Michael.
“This will be just like a real F.A.R.T.,” Mr. Cooper explained as he handed each of us a sheet of paper. “The reading questions are on the front, and the arithmetic questions are on the back. You’ll have ten minutes to complete both sides. Ready? Set? Go!”
Mr. Cooper set a timer. I looked at the first paragraph on the sheet. It said: One day, Tony and Maria were walking home from school. They stopped off at a store that was selling bicycles . . . blah blah blah blah.
There was other stuff about Tony and Maria getting into trouble or something. I didn’t read the whole thing. Then it asked: What is the main idea of this paragraph?
Well, that was easy. I filled in the blank by writing: Tony and Maria should take the bus.
Duh, right? I looked at the next question: Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling after. What is the lesson of this story?
It was obvious! The lesson of the story is that Jack and Jill were dummies who should get water out of the faucet in their house, like normal people. I wrote that down.
“This is a piece of cake,” whispered Ryan, who sits next to me.
Huh? What did cake have to do with anything? Ryan is weird.
I looked at the next question. It was a really long paragraph. I didn’t read every word, but it had something to do with birds and bats. I scanned down to the bottom, where the question was: How are bats different from birds?
That was easy. I wrote this in the blank: You can’t hit a ball with a bird.
I looked at the next question: Look at this picture. What is going to happen next?
I looked at the picture. It was a drawing of a guy carrying an umbrella while two kids were tossing a ball back and forth and some lady was putting food on a picnic table.
What?! Anything could happen next. How was I supposed to know what was going to happen next? I raised my hand.
“How are we supposed to know what happens next?” I asked Mr. Cooper.
“Use your imagination,” he replied.
Hmmm. I used my imagination and filled in the blank: Next, a bear will attack the family and eat them. So instead of the family having a nice picnic, the bear has one.
I answered a few more questions like that. The F.A.R.T. was easy! I was halfway done, and I was crushing it. I gave Ryan a thumbs-up.
I turned over the sheet to work on the math questions. Ugh. I hate math.
The first question had a picture of a shoebox with a bunch of spiders in it. The question was: Is the number of objects in the box odd or even?
Clearly, the answer was: Odd, because it would be odd to put spiders in a shoebox. Who does that? I wrote that down and looked at the next question: A pen costs $7. How many pens could you buy for $35?
Why would I want to buy pens? I can just borrow a pen from Ryan. He has lots of pens. Duh! I wrote that down and moved on to the next question: Your favorite TV show is 30 minutes long. How many episodes can you watch in 2 hours?
Hmmm. That depends on how many TVs you watch at the same time. I wrote down the number 10 and moved on to the next question: Sammy has 32 socks, which he puts into pairs. How many pairs of socks can he make?
How should I know? My mom does the laundry. I wrote: 0.
I looked at the next question: Tommy lost 2 teeth. The tooth fairy left 4 dimes, 3 nickels, and 2 quarters under his pillow. How much money did the tooth fairy leave for Tommy?
Ha, it was a trick question! Everybody knows the tooth fairy doesn’t exist. And if she did exist, she wouldn’t be so cheap. I wrote that down and went on to the next question: A paper clip is made from 6 inches of wire. How much wire would you need to make 5 paper clips?
What?! Who makes their own paper clips? Can’t you just buy them at the store? I wrote that down and looked at the next question: A new skateboard costs $47.99. Joe has $12.54. How much more money does he need to buy a new skateboard?
I know a lot about skateboards. The obvious answer was: No money. I wrote that Joe should wait until his birthday or Christmas so he can get the skateboard for free.
I looked at the next question: You have 8 plums in a basket. You give some of them away, leaving 2 plums in the basket. How many plums did you give away?
Me, I’d give away all the plums. I hate plums. I wrote that down and looked at the next question: Maggie went trick-or-treating and collected 100 candy bars. Her mom took 79 of them away to save for later. How many candy bars did Maggie eat on Halloween night?
A hundred, of course. Maggie found where her mom hid the candy bars and ate them all. I wrote that down.
That was the last question on the page. Time hadn’t even run out yet. That’s how easy the test was.
A minute later, Mr. Cooper’s alarm buzzed.
“Pencils down!” he said, and he collected the papers.
“How long will it take to grade the test?” asked Andrea.
“A few minutes,” Mr. Cooper replied.
He sat at his desk to grade the tests. And you’ll never believe who poked his head into the door at that moment.
Nobody! Why would you poke your head into a door? That would hurt. But you’ll never believe who poked his head into the doorway.
It was Mr. Klutz.
“So how did you kids do on your practice test?” he asked us.
“We crushed it!” I told him.
It took a million hundred minutes for Mr. Cooper to finish checking our answers. Finally, he looked up. We were all on the edge of our seats.
Well, not really. We were sitting in the middle of our seats. But there was electricity in the air.
Well, not really. If there was electricity in the air, we all would have been electrocuted. But it was really tense!
“So, how did the kids make out?” asked Mr. Klutz.
Ugh! Gross! We weren’t making out!
Mr. Cooper didn’t look very happy. “They all failed the test,” he said sadly.
WHAT?!
“Even me?” asked Andrea, who never fails anything.
“The whole class failed,” said Mr. Cooper.
Everybody started yelling and screaming and hooting and hollering and freaking out.
“What are we going to do?” shouted Emily. She looked like she was going to cry, like always.
“I can’t believe it!” shouted Michael.
“They’re going to shut down the school!” shouted Neil.
“I’m going to lose my job!” shouted Mr. Cooper.
“Me too!” shouted Mr. Klutz.
“My life is ruined!” shouted Alexia.
“This is going to look bad on my record,” shouted Andrea. “I won’t get into Harvard!”
I looked out in the hallway. And you’ll never believe who was standing out there watching all this.
It was Dr. Carbles. He had a big smile on his face, and he was rubbing his hands together.
T
here were four days until the F.A.R.T., and everybody was stressed about it. That’s when Mr. Klutz came to visit our class again. He was with our school counselor, Dr. Brad, who has crazy hair and looks like a mad scientist in a horror movie.
“Dr. Carbles wants to make you nervous so you’ll fail the F.A.R.T.,” said Mr. Klutz. “So I thought Dr. Brad might be able to help.”
“Zee whole school ees feeling zo much stress,” said Dr. Brad, who talks funny. “Vee all need to calm down about zis test.”
“Dr. Brad thinks he can help us relax,” said Mr. Klutz.
“Yes, I vant to try somezing,” said Dr. Brad. “Zeet down, Meester Klutz.”
Mr. Klutz sat in a chair. Dr. Brad took a shiny metal watch out of his pocket. It was attached to a chain. He dangled the watch in front of Mr. Klutz’s face and began slowly swinging it back and forth.
“Look at zis veddy closely,” Dr. Brad said softly. “Eet vill help you to be calm.”
“Are you hypnotizing me?” Mr. Klutz asked as he stared at the watch.
“Yes,” said Dr. Brad. “See zuh shiny vatch? Stare at eet as eet svings back and forth. Zee eyelids feel a leetle heavy, yes?”
“Heavy . . .” Mr. Klutz mumbled.
I know all about hypnosis. People will do anything when they’re hypnotized. One time, I hypnotized Andrea. She climbed up to the roof of the school and screamed at the police when they tried to get her to come down. That was the greatest day of my life.*
“Stare at zuh vatch as eet svings,” said Dr. Brad, “back and forth . . . back and forth . . . back and forth . . .”
“Back and forth . . .” repeated Mr. Klutz, like a robot.
“Feeling zleepy?” asked Dr. Brad.
“Sleepy . . .” moaned Mr. Klutz.
“Zoon you vill be in a deep zleep,” said Dr. Brad. “You vill be relaxed. You vill be calm. You vill stop stressing about zee test.”
“Relaxed . . . calm,” moaned Mr. Klutz.
“It’s working!” shouted Ryan. “He hypnotized Mr. Klutz!”
That’s when the weirdest thing in the history of the world happened. Mr. Klutz suddenly stood up, flapped his arms, and started to cluck like a chicken.
