Judy Moody Goes to College

Judy Moody Goes to College

Megan McDonald

Language: English

Pages: 160

ISBN: 0763648558

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Reissued in a way-cool paperback design

Judy Moody is in a mood. Not a good mood. And definitely NOT a math mood. The substitute teacher in Class 3T thinks Judy's math skills need improving. So Judy has to start meeting with a math tutor. Does this mean flash cards? Does this mean baby games? Does this mean school on weekends? But when Judy meets her tutor — a sick-awesome college student with an uber-funky sense of style — and gets a glimpse of college life, Judy's bad math-i-tude turns into a radical glad-i-tude. Pretty soon, Judy's not only acing her math class; she's owning it. Time to say good-bye to Judy Moody, old skool third-grader, and say hello to Miss College! Small-tall upside-down backward non-fat capp with extra whip, anyone?

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spider bite. All that did was adjust my attitude from bad to itchy.” “I know something that might help your attitude,” said Chloe. “Don’t say algebra,” said Judy. “How would you like to come to college on Saturday?” “Oh, no. You mean now I have to do math on the weekend, too?” “Not for math, silly. I mean, how would you like to come spend the day with me at college? For fun.” Suddenly, she, Judy Moody, knew what an attitude adjustment felt like. It felt like when you went from a bad mood to

than sick, more powerful than rare. It was sick-awesome. Mad-nasty! Who knew that having a roomie made life so way-not-boring? “Let’s food,” said Chloe. “I’ll take you to the dining hall, Judy. Then you can come to class with me.” “Class?” Judy asked. Class sounded semi-boring, even though college class sounded like something she could brag about later. “Painting class,” said Chloe. “It’ll be fun. I promise.” Bethany Wigmore called after them, “Hit me up later!” On the way to lunch, they

said, cracking herself up. Chloe put her finger to her lips. “In third grade, you’re not allowed to talk when the teacher is talking either,” Judy whispered. “Same-same!” The teacher, Mr. Professor-Who-Likes-Psycho-Paintings, was yakking on forever about shadows in every picture. Shadows this and shadows that. Shadows here and shadows there. Shadows seemed to be very-way-important in art. When the slide show and the yakking were over, everybody got to make paintings of their own. (Finally!)

She poked lots of holes for Band-Aid holes. Then she smeared it with paint and pressed it over and over nine times on one big piece of paper in lots of different neon-bright colors. “My pop art really pops!” Judy told Chloe. “You did that?” said Chloe. “It looks fantastic! I mean it.” Chloe still had not painted one single polka dot. Not even a cat hair. “Aren’t you done yet?” Judy asked. “You are going to get an S for Slow or a T for Turtle in this class.” Chloe laughed. “Okay, let’s go. I

would need a tutor and we would get to go to college, too.” “Like Judy,” said Frank. “You mean you messed up on purpose?” Judy asked. “Yeah, we just thought it up — during morning recess,” said Frank. “Professor Todd!” said Judy. “I think I should get all the math candy, since I’m the only one who took the test for serious. And they should all go to the Attitude Tent.” “Let’s get something straight,” said Mr. Todd. “I realize Mrs. Grossman may have had different rules for the last few weeks.

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