(Print) Use this randomly generated list as your call list when playing the game. There is no need to say the BINGO column name. Place some kind of mark (like an X, a checkmark, a dot, tally mark, etc) on each cell as you announce it, to keep track. You can also cut out each item, place them in a bag and pull words from the bag.
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All of the kids stared at
her with open mouths as
if she had just stepped
off a spaceship from
another planet.
Wish I could do my work in
the early morning before
the sun’s so fierce. But I
don’t complain. I take off
my shirt finally, wrap it
around my head to keep
the sweat out of my eyes,
and I keep on.
His father leaned down
the table and put his big
hand on top of Jess’s
hand. He gave his wife a
quick, troubled look. But
she just stood there, her
eyes full of pain, saying
nothing.
Behind her turned up
glasses, Mrs. Myers’
narrow eyes were full of
tears.
As Mitch whizzed past,
he kicked at Hobie’s
knee. Pain shot through
Hobie’s leg. He crumpled
in a heap.
I’m not staying here,
that’s for sure.”
Rob felt a familiar
loneliness rise up and
drape its arm over his
shoulder.
Free!
March felt perspiration
under his collar. He kept
his restless hands in his
pockets.
The café hung
breathless, like a
pendulum at the top of
its swing.
“Writing is not about magic.
It is about hard work.”
There was a silence in the
room. Papa looked at me.
His eyes were very shiny.
“You know,” said Papa, “I
think you are smarter than
I am.”
My face goes bright red,
I can feel it. Now sweat
is pouring down from my
armpits like somebody
turned on a faucet.
Panic shimmered through
his body, tiny hammers
hitting glass. He could
shatter, he felt, in a
moment, and he gulped
air, trying to calm
himself.
“Look!” She waved her
spelling test. “A gold
star!” She twirled on
tippy-toe. “I didn’t miss a
word!” She spun around
and around like a little
ballerina on a music box.
Dale blinked, and then
smacked himself on the
forehead.
I leap out of bed, thrust
my feet into my
sneakers, and with my
shoelaces flying, I’m
racing through the
kitchen toward the back
door.
March checked the time.
He drummed his fingers
on his leg.
Jess stole a look at
Leslie. Her face, bent
low over the math
sheet, was red and
fierce.
Rob stood and considered
her words. He felt them
on his skin, like shards of
broken glass. He was
afraid to move. He was
afraid of how deep they
might go inside him.
Tabby’s eyebrows
disappeared up into the
scrunchie of her
ponytail.
-Tripping Over the Lunch
Lady by Lee Wardlaw
