by Dan Gutman
“YOGA?!”
“You mean we’re gonna learn about that little dude in Star Wars?” I asked.
“That’s Yoda, dumbhead,” said Andrea, rolling her eyes.
“I knew that,” I lied.
“My dad told me there was a guy named Yoga who played for the Yankees,” said Michael.
“That’s Yogi, dumbhead,” said Ryan.
“Yoga is a way to achieve inner peace and tranquillity by performing specific body positions.”
I didn’t know what the swami guy was talking about.
“This is the camel pose,” he said, getting down on his knees and leaning his head all the way back. “And this is the cobra pose. And this is the fish pose.”
Swami Havabanana twisted himself up into a bunch of weird positions.
“Can we do the football pose?” asked Neil the nude kid.
“I never heard of that one,” Swami said. “But who wants to try a yoga pose?”
“Me! Me! Me! Me!” shouted Andrea, waving her hand around like she was washing a window.
Andrea volunteers for everything so teachers will like her. If a teacher said they needed a kid to jump off the roof, Andrea would volunteer.
Of course Swami Havabanana picked her.
“I need a boy, too,” he said.
Me and the guys looked at our feet so we wouldn’t get picked. If you look at your feet, the teacher will never call on you. That’s the first rule of being a kid.
The only problem was that Ryan, Michael, and Neil were all fake coughing into their hands and muttering “A.J…. A.J…. A.J.”
“Where is A.J.?” asked Swami Havabanana.
“Over there!” all the guys said, pointing at me. Michael gave me a shove, and Swami told me to stand next to Andrea.
Mrs. Jafee said she had to go check on the other classes.
“I betcha Swami Havabanana will have you guys and gals very relaxed!” she said. “Okeydokey, I’ll be back in a jiffy to see how A.J. and Andrea are making out.”
“Oooooh!” Ryan said. “A.J. and Andrea are going to be making out! They must be in love!”
“When are you gonna get married?” asked Michael.
If those guys weren’t my best friends, I would hate them.
5
I Thought I Was Gonna Die
Swami Havabanana told me and Andrea to stand back-to-back and link our elbows together.
“Ewww, disgusting!” I said. “Her butt is touching my butt.”
“Oh, be quiet, Arlo,” said Andrea.
“This is called the double chair pose,” Swami said. “As you lean against each other, take a few small steps forward.”
I leaned against Andrea and took a tiny step forward. Andrea took a tiny step forward. I took another step forward. Andrea took another step forward. After a few more steps forward, it was like me and Andrea were sitting on back-to-back chairs, except that there were no chairs! It would have been cool if it had been anybody except Andrea.
“See?” said Swami Havabanana. “They are like matching chairs.”
“Oooooh!” Ryan said. “A.J. and Andrea are like matching chairs! They must be in love!”
“Yoga means ‘to join,’” Swami Havabanana said, as he helped me and Andrea up. “It will take us on a journey of discovery as we go in search of the life force that will awaken every cell and balance our mind, body, and spirit.”
“Can we just go play football?” asked Neil the nude kid.
“Football is a game of violence and aggression,” the swami said.
“Yeah,” I told him. “That’s why we want to play it.”
Swami told us all to sit on the floor with our legs crossed. Then we had to take our feet and sort of cross our legs again. I thought I was gonna die. Now I know what it feels like to be a pretzel.
“Very good!” said Swami Havabanana. “That is called the lotus position.”
He taught us a bunch of other positions, like the downward dog, the roaring lion, the flying crow, and the sleeping tortoise.* Swami Havabanana said we could invent our own poses, too.
“Look, I can touch my toes,” said Emily.
“I can crack my knuckles,” said Michael.
“I can crack my nose,” said Neil.
“I can make my eyelids turn inside out,” I said.
“Yoga is fun, is it not?” Swami asked.
“Yes!” said all the girls.
“No!” said all the boys.
Next, we had to lie on the floor and practice breathing, which made no sense at all because any dumbhead knows how to breathe. Breathing is way overrated.
“Breathe in…and breathe out,” said Swami Havabanana. “Are you breathing?”
“Yesssssssssssssss…,” we all said.
Swami told us that deep breathing calms the nervous system. What’s up with that? It’s called the nervous system. It’s supposed to be nervous.
“Let go of the tension in your muscles,” he said. “Are you relaxing?”
“Yesssssssssssssss…”
“Feel the soothing calmness take over your inner being….”
“Yesssssssssssssss…”
“Only when the mind is still can the true essence of life be achieved. Find your deepest self….”
“Yesssssssssssssss…”
“Feel the flowing life energy.”
“Yesssssssssssssss…”
“Can you see the universe unfolding in your mind?”
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…
I was having a dream about Yoda and Yogi doing yoga on YouTube. Then they all started fighting. Yoda had a light saber, and Yogi had a baseball bat. It was a cool dream. But suddenly I heard somebody shouting.
“WAKE UPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!”
I opened my eyes. Mrs. Jafee was standing there with her hands on her hips. When ladies put their hands on their hips, it means they’re mad. Nobody knows why.
“The children were very much relaxed, as you requested,” said Swami Havabanana.
“You put them to sleep!” Mrs. Jafee shouted.
“It is but a fine line between sleeping and waking,” said Swami Havabanana.
“It’s also a fine line between gettin’ hired and fired!” Mrs. Jafee yelled. “Get outta here! You’re fired!”
“I must go?” asked Swami Havabanana.
“You betcha!” Mrs. Jafee said. “Beat it! And take your doggone bed of nails with you!”
She chased Swami Havabanana out of the gym.
Mrs. Jafee is daffy!
6
Stonewall Jackson
Every Tuesday after fizz ed we go see Mrs. Roopy in the media center. It used to be called the “library,” but over the summer they changed it to the “media center.” Nobody knows why.
When we got there, Mrs. Roopy wasn’t around, but a guy with a beard was standing at attention in a gray army uniform. He looked a lot like Mrs. Roopy, except that he only had one arm.
“Mrs. Roopy?” we all asked.
“Roopy? Never heard of her,” the army guy said. “General Stonewall Jackson, at your service. I am one of the most important Southern generals of the Civil War.”
“You couldn’t possibly be Stonewall Jackson,” Andrea said. “The Civil War took place a hundred and fifty years ago.”
“Yes, don’t I look young for my age?” said Stonewall Jackson.
I was almost sure he was really Mrs. Roopy in a Stonewall Jackson costume. Mrs. Roopy is loopy.
“What happened to your arm?” Neil the nude kid asked.
“Sit around me on the floor and I’ll tell you,” Stonewall Jackson said. “It was May second,
1863, at the Battle of Chancellorsville. In the fog of war, my own men shot me by accident. The doctors had to remove my arm to save my life.”
“WOW,” we all said, which is “MOM” upside down.
“Why do they call you Stonewall?” asked Ryan.
“It was at the Battle of Bull Run in 1861,” Stonewall whispered. “My Virginia brigade was getting beaten badly. One of my men saw me and said, ‘Look, there stands Jackson like a stone wall.’ The men were so inspired, they went on to victory. Yep, that’s how I got this nickname.”
Suddenly, the strangest thing in the history of the world happened—the lights went out. It was completely dark in the media center. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face.
“What happened?” somebody said.
“Everyone remain calm,” said Stonewall Jackson. “The power must have gone out.”
“Nope,” said a voice from the other end of the media center. “I turned out the doggone lights.”
“Who said that?” asked Stonewall Jackson.
“Me,” said the voice, “Mrs. Jafee.”
“Why did you turn out the lights?” Ryan asked.
“During the Civil War they didn’t have electric lights,” Mrs. Jafee told us. “So people had to get used to being in the dark. And studies show that children learn better in total darkness. I learned that in graduate school. You’re not distracted by anything in the dark. It’s easier to focus your attention. Okeydokey, I’ll be back in a while to see how you guys and gals are making out in the dark.”
“Eww, disgusting!” we all said.
“I’m scared,” said Emily, the big crybaby.
“Shhhhh, it’s okay,” Stonewall Jackson whispered. “Let me tell you another Civil War story. It was during the Battle of Gettysburg. A young woman named Jennie Wade was baking bread in her house when she was hit by a stray bullet. She was the only civilian killed during the Battle of Gettysburg.”
“WOW,” we all said, which is “MOM” upside down.
“That’s so sad!” said Emily, who thinks everything is sad.
That’s when an announcement came over the loudspeaker.
“Stonewall Jackson, please report to the office,” said Mrs. Patty, the school secretary.
“I’ll be right back to finish the story,” said Stonewall Jackson. “Please remain calm and be on your best behavior.”
As soon as Stonewall Jackson left, I got up and shook my butt at the class. But nobody laughed because it was really dark and they couldn’t see me.
“It’s spooky in here,” said Emily.
Somebody started making scary mouth sounds. I think it was Ryan.
“It would be cool if a zombie came in here right now,” I said.
“Arlo, stop trying to scare Emily,” said Andrea.
“I am a zombie!” Michael said in a zombie voice. “A killer zombie.”
“I’m a robot killer zombie,” said Ryan.
“I’m a psycho robot killer zombie,” said Neil the nude kid.
“Ow!” said Emily. “A.J. poked me!”
“I did not!” I said. “It must have been one of those zombies.”
“Stop pushing!” said Andrea.
After that, I’m not exactly sure what happened. Kids were climbing all over me. It was just a jumble of voices.
“Ow, my head!”
“Get off!”
“Get your foot off my face!”
“I hit my head on the pencil sharpener!”
“I think I saw a ghost!”
“I want my mommy!”
“Where’s the light switch?”
“Help! I can’t breathe!”
“We’re all going to die!”
“We’re trapped! There’s no way out!”
“Run for your lives!”
Suddenly, the lights went back on. Mrs. Jafee and Stonewall Jackson were standing in the doorway. The whole class was a big pile of bodies all over the floor. I was at the bottom of the pile.
“What’s going on in here?” demanded Mrs. Jafee.
You could have heard a pin drop. I looked at Michael. Michael looked at me. Ryan looked at me. Neil looked at me. Andrea looked at me. Everybody was looking at me.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I had to think fast.
“We were…acting out the Battle of Gettysburg,” I said.
“Hmmmmm,” said Mrs. Jafee. “Studies show that students learn best when they are doing what they are learning. Excellent! I’m glad you’re getting into the spirit of Civil War Week.”
7
A New Way to Learn
When I woke up on Wednesday morning, my mom told me to put on my bathing suit.
“Do I have the day off from school?” I asked hopefully. “Are we going to the beach?”
“No,” my mom said. “I got an email from Mrs. Jafee that said everybody has to wear a bathing suit today.”
That’s weird! As I crossed Walnut Street in front of the school, the first person I bumped into was Andrea.
“Do you like my new swimsuit, Arlo?” she asked me. “It has polka dots on it.”
“So does your face,” I said.
Andrea was going to say something mean to me, but she didn’t get the chance. Because as we came around the corner to the side entrance of the school, we saw the strangest thing in the history of the world.
There was a swimming pool in the playground!
“WOW,” I said, which is “MOM” upside down.
Me and Andrea went running over to the pool. Mrs. Jafee was standing there in her bathing suit with some kids.
“Where did you get the swimming pool, Mrs. Jafee?” Andrea asked.
“From Rent-A-Pool,” she said. “You can rent anything.”
Mrs. Jafee told us to go to our class. She said she would call us down when it was our turn to use the pool.
It felt like a million hundred years until Mrs. Patty finally made the announcement over the loudspeaker….
“Will Mr. Granite’s class please report to the playground?”
“Yay!” everybody yelled as we ran out of the classroom. Mr. Granite told us not to run, but we were all so excited to go swimming, it was hard not to. We were all out of breath when we got to the pool.
“Can we go swimming now?” Ryan asked.
“Gee golly, no,” said Mrs. Jafee. “I didn’t get the pool for swimmin’.”
“Why did you get it then?” asked Michael.
“For learnin’!” she said. “Studies show that guys and gals learn better underwater.”
“WHAT?!”
Mrs. Jafee gave each of us a pair of goggles and a sheet of paper that was covered with plastic. The page had a bunch of words on it, like “Lincoln,” “Union,” “Grant,” “Lee,” and “South.”
“What are we supposed to do with this?” asked Neil the nude kid.
“I want you to learn how to spell these Civil War vocabulary words,” she said. “Okeydokey, everybody into the pool!”
“Can’t we just learn the words out here and then go swimming for fun?” asked Michael.
“No!” said Mrs. Jafee, and she pushed Michael into the pool. “You’ll learn better underwater.”
“But I can’t swim!” yelled Emily.
“You’ll learn to swim better underwater, too!” Mrs. Jafee said, pushing Emily into the pool.
Then she ran around pushing the rest of us into the water.
“But this isn’t any fun!” yelled Ryan.
“Who says learnin’ is supposed to be fun?” Mrs. Jafee yelled. “Now get underwater and start memorizin’ those words, doggone it!”
Mrs. Jafee picked up a beach ball and bounced it off Ryan’s head. I ducked underwater because I didn’t want Mrs. Jafee throwing a beach ball at me.
I sat on the bottom of the pool trying to learn the spelling words. When I couldn’t hold my breath anymore, I popped up. Everybody was gasping for breath. Emily looked like she was gonna die.
“Okeydokey!” Mrs.
Jafee said, jumping into the pool. “It’s time for a spellin’ test.”
“You didn’t say there would be a test!” I complained.
“I’m sayin’ it now!” she said. “So get underwater! You’re first, A.J.!”
Mrs. Jafee picked up a beach ball and threw it at my head. I dived underwater.
I opened my eyes, and there was Mrs. Jafee staring at me from a few inches away.
“How do you spell ‘glub’?”* she asked. It was hard to hear her underwater.
“What?” I said.
“Glub do you spell ‘Lincoln’?” she asked.
“L-I-N-C-O-L-glub,” I said.
“Correct,” said Mrs. Jafee, “and glub do you glub glub?”
“Glub?” I asked.
“I said, ‘Glub glub glub glub glub?’”
“Glub glub glub glub?” I guessed.
“Nope, I’m sorry,” Mrs. Jafee said. “The correct glub is glub glub GLUB glub.”
“That’s glub I said!”
“No, you said, ‘Glub glub glub glub,’” said Mrs. Jafee.
“But glub glub glub glub is the same as glub glub GLUB glub,” I explained.
“No it’s not,” she said. “You got one of the glubs wrong.”
By that time I ran out of breath and had to come up for air.
That was the weirdest spelling test in the history of the world.
8
Mrs. Jafee’s Evil Plan
After we dried off and changed clothes, it was time for lunch in the vomitorium. Me and the guys sat at one table. Andrea and her girly friends sat at the next table. Mrs. Jafee was walking around with a basket.
“Who wants a hardtack?” she asked.
“A heart attack?” I asked. “Why would anybody want one of them?”
“No, silly!” Mrs. Jafee said. “Hardtack is a kind of cracker that soldiers ate during the Civil War. It’s made from flour, salt, and water. I baked this batch myself, you betcha!”
Hardtack sounded disgusting. Ryan said he would try a piece, because he will eat anything, even stuff that isn’t food. One time he took a bite out of the seat cushion on the school bus.
