Miss Daisy Is Crazy!

didn’t know how to multiply four times four.
    “Just sound it out, Miss Daisy!” Andrea suggested.
    “R-e-e-d ?” Miss Daisy said.
    “No!” we all shouted.

    “I give up,” she said. “Do any of you know how to spell the word read ?”
    “R-e-a-d,” we all chanted.
    “Wow! I didn’t know that!” marveled Miss Daisy. “You have taught me a lot today.”
    “How did you get to teach second grade if you don’t even know how to spell read ?” asked Ryan.
    “Well, I figured that second graders don’t know how to spell very well, so it wouldn’t matter whether or not I could spell.”
    “I know how to spell lots of hard words,” Andrea Young announced.
    “Me too,” everybody else said.
    “Really?” Miss Daisy said. “Like what?” Everybody started shouting out words and how to spell them, but Miss Daisy stopped us and made us take turns. She had each of us go up to the chalkboard and write three words we knew.
    I wrote tonight, writing, and McDonald’s.
    By the time we were done, the whole chalkboard was filled with words. There wasn’t even any room left for more.
    “Wow!” Miss Daisy said. “You kids have taught me so much this morning. I’m really glad I decided to become a teacher.” 

     

In the lunchroom I opened my lunchbox and saw that my mom had packed me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I traded it with Michael Robinson for his potato chips. Everybody was talking about Miss Daisy.
    “Miss Daisy is crazy,” Ryan said.
    “She’s the weirdest teacher I ever had,” said Emily. “She can’t read, she can’t write, and she can’t even do arithmetic.
    What kind of a teacher is that?”

    “A bad one,” I said.
    “Hey, I just thought of something,” Michael Robinson was able to say even though his mouth was filled with peanut butter.

     “Do you think that maybe Miss Daisy isn’t really a teacher at all?”
    “What do you mean?” Ryan asked.
    “Maybe she’s an impostor,” said Andrea.
    “An impostor? What’s that?” I asked.
    “Somebody who imposts?”
    “No, silly. An impostor is somebody who pretends to be somebody else,” Andrea explained. “She might be a fake teacher.”
    “Maybe Miss Daisy is really a jewel thief or a bank robber,” I guessed. “Maybe she snuck into the school and is hiding so the police won’t catch her.”
    “I think you’re the one who’s crazy.” Andrea giggled, choking on her milk.
    But what if Miss Daisy was a bank robber? Or she could be a horse thief or a cattle rustler or somebody who parks where there is a yellow line on the curb.
    My head was starting to fill with all kinds of awful things Miss Daisy could be.
    “Maybe Miss Daisy kidnapped our real teacher and is holding her for ransom!” I suggested.
    “Wow, you think so?” Emily asked, looking all scared.
    “What’s ransom?” asked Ryan.
    “My mom tells me I’m handsome,” Michael Robinson claimed.
    “Not handsome! Ransom!” said Andrea.
    “I don’t know what it is, but whenever somebody is kidnapped, they get held for it.”
    “In cartoons people who get kidnapped are always tied up to railroad tracks,” I reminded everybody. “Maybe our real teacher is tied up to some railroad tracks right now!”

    “We’ve got to save her!” said Emily, and she went running out of the lunchroom.
    “Wait a minute,” said Michael Robinson.
    “That doesn’t make sense. If Miss Daisy can’t even read or do arithmetic, how is she going to be able to kidnap a teacher and tie her to railroad tracks?”
    “She doesn’t look like a kidnapper to me,” Ryan said.
    “We should tell Principal Klutz,” said Andrea. “He’ll know what to do.”
    “No!” I shouted. “Don’t you see how good we have it? If we tell Principal Klutz how dumb Miss Daisy is, he will fire her and replace her with a real teacher. A real teacher who knows reading and writing and arithmetic. We’ll have to learn all that stuff. You don’t want that, do you?”
    “No way!” said Michael Robinson.
    “I don’t care if she is an impostor or a bank robber or a kidnapper,” I said. “I like her. I say we keep her.”
    “Me too,” Michael Robinson agreed. “I think she’s cool.”
    “Okay, let’s not tell anybody,” I said. “It will be our little secret.”
    We all agreed. Our lips would be sealed. But not sealed with glue or anything. That would be gross.
     

After lunch we had recess, which means we get to go out in the playground and run around. Miss Daisy