Free Junie B. Jones Is a Graduation Girl by Barbara Park Page A

your first.”
    I springed up again. “And guess what else, Mrs.? I am not even afraid of first grade anymore! ’Cause I'll be getting big feet and brains!”
    Mrs. said
sit down
to me. Then she told us more about graduation.
    She said that as a treat for our families, we will be making them special graduation invitations. And so that will be our activity for the day!
    “Yippee!” I said. “I love making invitations, Mrs.! On account of that does not even sound like learning!”
    After that, I clapped and clapped.
    And all of Room Nine clapped with me.
    ’Cause graduation week was starting off like a charm!

I sat at my table very nice.
    Mrs. passed out colored paper for our invitations.
    Also, she passed out curly ribbon. And lace. And paste. And bottles of sparkly glitter.
    “Just as a reminder,” she said, “we do not paste glitter in our eyebrows. And we do not put lace up our noses. And above all… we do
not
glue curly ribbon to our heads and pretend that it's long hair.”
    She looked and looked at me.
    I squirmed in my seat a little bit.
    ’Cause that woman has a memory like a hawk, I tell you.
    Finally, Mrs. went to the board. And she picked up her chalk.
    “On the inside of our cards, we're going to write a poem about graduation. Does anyone have any ideas for the first line?”
    My friend named Grace waved her hand all around in the air.
    “Roses are red! Roses are red!” she called out.
    “YES!” hollered Room Nine. “ROSES ARE RED!”
    Mrs. smiled. She wrote it on the board for us.
    “Okay. Now what about the second line?” she asked.
    Room Nine hollered again.
    “VIOLETS ARE BLUE! VIOLETS ARE BLUE! VIOLETS ARE BLUE!”
    Mrs. wrote that line, too.
    “Very good, class,” she said. “Now who can think of the third line? Maybe we should try to mention something about
graduation
in this one. Does anyone have any ideas?”
    A shy boy named William stood up next to his table.
    “Graduation is here,” he said kind of nervous.
    Mrs. grinned real big. “Excellent job, William! Excellent!”
    She printed it on the board.
    “All right. There's just one more line to go,” she said. “Let's try to make the last word rhyme with the word
blue
, okay?”
    She read the first three lines out loud to us.
    “Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Graduation is here …”
    Room Nine thought and thought.
    Then—all of a sudden—rhymes started coming from all over the place!
    “My dress will be
new
!” called Lucille.
    “My dad's name is
Lou
!” called Jamal Hall.
    “We made it!
Woo-boo
!” called Lynnie.
    Just then, Paulie Allen Puffer springed right out of his chair. And he started laughing his head off.
    “THE ZOO IS P.U.!” he shouted his loudest.
    And then all of Room Nine laughed ourheads off, too! ’Cause
P.U.
is the silliest rhyme we ever heard of!
    Mrs. clapped her mad hands together. “Boys and girls! That's
enough
,” she grouched.
    She hurried to Paulie Allen Puffer's table. And she put him back in his seat.
    “I do not appreciate that kind of behavior, young man,” she said. “We're trying to write a nice class poem here, Paulie Allen. And your rhyme was entirely inappropriate.”
    After that, I tried to stop giggling. But that silly poem kept on staying inside my head.
    And then, out of nowhere, another funny poem popped right into my brain! And I couldn't even hold it inside me!
    I quick jumped up on my chair.
    “ROSES ARE RED,
    VIOLETS ARE BLUE.
    GRADUATION IS HERE,
    AND YOUR FEET SMELL LIKE
STINK!” I shouted.
    After that, Room Nine could not even control themselves again. ’Cause that poem was the funniest thing they ever even heard!
    My teacher's eyes got big and wide at me.
    “Junie B. Jones! Didn't you hear a word I just said?” she said very annoyed.
    Then Mrs. hurried to my table.
    And she took me into the hall.
    And she pointed me straight to the office.

The office is where Principal lives.
    I know my way there by heart.
    There is a typing lady