Get Out of Bed!

"Get out of bed, you silly fool!
Get up right now, it’s time for school.
If you don’t dress without a fuss,
I’ll throw you naked on the bus!"

"Oh, Mom, don’t make me go today.
I’m feeling worse than yesterday.
You don’t know what I’m going through.
I’ve got a strange, rare case of flu.

"My body aches, my throat is sore.
I’m sure I’m knocking on death’s door.
You can’t send me to school—achoo!—
’Cause everyone could get it, too.

"Besides, the kids despise me there.
They always tease and always stare.
And all the teachers know my name.
When something’s wrong, it’s me they blame."

"You faked a headache yesterday.
Don’t pull that stuff on me today.
Stop acting like a silly fool—
The principal cannot skip school!"

Food Fight

We’d never seen the teachers
in a state of such distress.
The principal was yelling
that the lunchroom was a mess.

It started off so innocent
when someone threw a bun,
but all the other kids decided
they should join the fun.

It instantly turned into
an enormous lunchroom feud,
as students started hurling
all their halfway-eaten food.

A glob went whizzing through the air,
impacting on the wall.
Another chunk went sailing out
the doorway to the hall.

The food was splattered everywhere—
the ceilings, walls, and doors.
A sloppy, gloppy mess was on
the tables and the floors.

And so our good custodian
ran out to grab his mop.
It took him half the afternoon
to clean up all the slop.

The teachers even used some words
we’re not supposed to mention.
And that’s how all the kids and teachers
wound up in detention.

Doing Business

My daddy’s on the phone right now.
He says he’s almost done.
My daddy’s doing business with
a man in Washington.

My mother’s doing business, too.
She’s not at home today.
My mother’s doing business at
her office far away.

And I’ll be doing business with
our brand new pooper-scoop,
’cause my puppy’s doing business on
our newly painted stoop!

Creepy Pizza

I’d like a pizza topped with cheese
then sprinkled with some gnats and fleas,
some centipedes and slimy slugs,
and other creepy, crawly bugs.


I want to add some fingernails
and oyster ooze and crunchy snails
and chicken bones and spoiled meat
and smelly socks from dirty feet.


I want it topped with lots of mold
and gooey boogers (not too old),
a lot of snot, a little spit,
and guts with grimy, grainy grit.


I want the most disgusting crust
with spider webs and day-old dust
and dirt and mud and blood and gore
delivered to my sister’s door.

Clear As Mud

I go to bed each morning.
I wake up every night.
I spill my milk at breakfast,
and then turn on the light.

Each day I miss the school bus.
I never have been late.
I don’t turn in my homework.
My teacher thinks I’m great.

My favorite game is basketball.
I cannot sink a shot.
We haven’t won a single game.
Our team is getting hot!

Last year I was in high school.
Now I’m in second grade.
Next year I’ll be in daycare.
I’ll really have it made!

When I grow up, I'm hoping
a baby I can be:
a pacifier in my mouth,
my cradle in a tree.

This poem’s so confusing.
It’s all so crystal clear.
Perhaps I’ll understand it
when I am born next year.

Class Pest

The boy who sits behind me
Is really, really mean.
He tells me I have cooties and
I smell like a sardine.
He tries to steal my pencils
And my favorite crayons, too.
I wish his folks would move away
And lock him in the zoo.
He cheats on every spelling test
And blames it all on me.
He always pulls my ponytail.
I wish he’d let me be.
He talks too loud, his laugh is weird.
I wish that he were mute.
But the worstest thing about him is…
I think he’s kinda cute.

Chelsea Had Some Chocolate Milk

Chelsea had some chocolate milk
but spilled it on her shirt.
Jackson got his jacket ripped
while rolling in the dirt.

Emily and Isabella
must have had a fight.
Alexander looks as if
he stayed awake all night.

Abigail is absent,
as are Ryan, Ross, and Ruth.
Max is in pajamas,
and Mackenzie lost a tooth.

Brandon broke his glasses.
Sarah’s sweater doesn’t fit.
Jacob has a bloody nose,
and Zoe has a zit.

We should all be crabby,
but we’re smiling anyway.
Our moms and dads are gonna scream—
today is picture day!

Another Note from Mom

I sprang from bed and bumped my head and stubbed my little toe,
then jammed my fingers turning down the blaring radio.
I rubbed my bumps and bruises as the weather lady said,
"Today's the first of April, look for showers overhead."

I trudged downstairs to breakfast, where my bad luck tagged along.
There taped up to the microwave…another note from Mom:

Good morning! Exclamation point—she always starts out nice.
Now comes the part where I get fed her motherly advice.

For breakfast, dear, just help yourself. There's pizza in the fridge.
And as for soda, choose the Sprite—the Coke has lost its fizz.

"Is this a dream?" I said out loud. "There must be some mistake.
I'd better read that through again. I'm only half awake."

I scanned the lines, not once, but twice. Yes, pizza's what it said!
And I could swallow that advice, so I read on ahead:

Please wear your faded jeans to school, those low-cut ones that flare.
And use my mousse to do that sticky-up thing with your hair.

"Is she for real?" I asked myself. What's gotten into Mom?
Whatever it was, I liked it lots, so I continued on:

About your science quiz today—the one on natural gas—
Just tell your teacher that's one subject you don't want to pass!

I know I didn't read that right. I couldn't have, no way!
But there it was in black and white, as plain as night and day.

And then it hit me, why the change: Mom hadn't lost a screw;
My worry-free philosophy had finally gotten through.

Her rules had changed from lame to lax—my mom was cool at last!
These last few months of middle school were gonna be a blast!

I quickly read the last few lines: Enjoy your day at school!
(And don't believe what you've just read…or you're an April Fool!)

Text © Diane Z. Shore, reprinted from Rolling in the Aisles
published by Meadowbrook Press. Illustration © Stephen
Carpenter. Any copying or use of this poem or illustration
without consent is unlawful.