Mr. Klutz Is Nuts! Read Free Page B

everybody let out a cheer.
    When he was sliding down the flagpole, Mr. Klutz got his foot caught in the rope that holds the flag. As he was trying to get his foot loose, his hand slipped and he fell. The next thing we knew, Mr. Klutz was hanging upside down from the flagpole. His Uncle Sam hat fell off.
    Everybody gasped.
    Mr. Klutz was just hanging there, half-way up the flagpole, like he was another flag or something. It would have been the funniest thing in the history of the world if we didn’t honestly think Mr.Klutz was going to fall and land on his head.

    “Help!” he shouted. “My foot is caught in the rope!”
    “Quick! Get some pads from the gym for him to land on!” yelled Mrs. Roopy, the school librarian.
    “Call the fire department!” yelled Mrs. Cooney, the nurse. Everybody was running around like crazy, and nobody  knew what to do. It looked like Mr. Klutz would have to just hang there from the flagpole all day.
    “He’ll figure a way out of this,” I told the kids in my class. “When the blood rushes to his head, it helps him think.” 
    But it was Miss Daisy who came up with a great idea. She went over to the bottom of the flagpole, where the rope is tied up. She took the knot out and held both ends of the rope tight. Then, slowly and carefully, she began to let out some rope and lower Mr. Klutz down the flagpole, just like he was a regular flag.
    When he reached the bottom, the teachers caught him and loosened the rope from his foot. He was okay, he said, except for the rope burns on his leg.
    “Hooray for Miss Daisy!” our class cheered. After he was back on the ground, Mr. Klutz got up, brushed himself off, and walked up the front steps, like it was totally normal for a principal to hang upside down from a flagpole.
    Mr. Klutz is nuts!

“Your Election Day essays were fantastic,” Mr. Klutz told our class the next morning.
    He had a big bandage wrapped around his head. I’m guessing he must have either crashed his skateboard again or found another flagpole to fall off.
    “Thank you!” we all said.

    “But I was a little surprised by the number of spelling errors I found in them,” he continued. “We need to improve the spelling at our school. So here is what I have decided to do. If you students can write out a list of one hundred thousand spelling words by Thanksgiving, I will dress up in a turkey costume and ride a pogo stick down Main Street.”
    “Yayyyyyyy!” everybody hollered.
    “How about one thousand spelling words?” shouted Ryan.
    “One hundred thousand spelling words,” Mr. Klutz repeated. “That’s my final offer.
    Take it or leave it. And every word must be spelled correctly. Have a nice day.” During lunch, I was sure that Andrea was going to start her list of spelling words just to show how smart she was.
    But she didn’t. She just kind of sat there, picking at her food quietly.
    “You know, I’ve been thinking,” she finally said. “I’m beginning to wonder if something might be wrong with Mr. Klutz.”
    “Like what?” Emily asked.
    “Maybe he has some kind of a personal problem.”
    “What do you mean?” Michael asked.
    “Mr. Klutz is a cool guy. Would you rather have a boring principal?”
    “My mother is a psychologist,” Andrea said, “and she says that people sometimes do weird things for reasons that are buried deep within their mind.”
    “What does that mean?” I asked.
    “It means she thinks Mr. Klutz is nuts,” said Michael.
    “I didn’t say that,” Andrea went on. “All I’m saying is that maybe he didn’t want to climb up the flagpole. Maybe he doesn’t want to put on a turkey costume.
    Maybe he just wants people to like him, and the only way he knows to show that is to do nutty things. Maybe he’s a sad, unhappy man. Maybe all he wants is a hug or something.”
    “That’s the saddest story I ever heard!” Emily said. Then she started sobbing.
    Me, Ryan, and Michael looked at one another. We all