Joan's history teacher drones on about French history while showing some slides. Joan's head is down on her desk and she's snoring. The teacher asks a question, and while the resident history nerd, wearing a preppy pink shirt, waves his arm, Joan's snoring becomes more evident in the silence. The teacher picks up a metal garbage can and drops it on the floor from waist height. Joan rears up and says, "I didn't do it!" General tittering. She tells Mr. Dreisbach that she can explain: she was up late studying for AP Chem. He asks, "What was the tragedy at Agincourt?" Joan hems and haws while Pink Shirt Nerd waves his arm with impatience. Mr. Dreisbach says he's prepared to wait until after the bell. Pink Shirt Nerd gives her a look. Joan: "Let's see...we're in France, right?" Pink Shirt Nerd's going to explode if the question is not answered immediately, so he finally blurts out, "Mud! The field. Was a sea. Of mud." The teacher admonishes "Zakheim." Joan claims she had that. Zakheim, who clearly wishes he were teaching this class, lectures her, "The French soldiers and horses floundered in the quagmire. They got slaughtered by the Brits." Mr. Dreisbach: "Yes, thank you, Mr. Zakheim, for that amazing display of restraint." The sarcasm is lost on Zakheim, who gives the teacher a subdued thumbs-up. Shut it, Fonzie.
Mr. Dreisbach carries on: "After the debacle of Agincourt, the French, humiliated, divided, conquered, and then to save the day comes...Jeanne d'Arc, or as we know her: Joan of Arc, the peasant girl who talks to God -- or so the legend says." He switches to a slide of an image of St. Joan. Now he's got Joan's attention. The teacher goes on to say that talking to God wasn't unheard of at the time: "But, uh, Sigmund Freud would have provided Joan of Arc's parents with a different analysis: paranoid schizophrenic with a messianic complex." Joan: "Wait -- she was crazy?" Mr. Dreisbach: "God told her to get together an army to save France from the British. I think we can draw the necessary conclusions." Joan objects: "It doesn't mean she was crazy just because she talked to God." Some students give her weird looks at this point, while the teacher asks if she'd like to contribute another point of view. Luckily for Joan, the bell rings. The teacher reminds them that the test on Wednesday is multiple choice and true/false and counts for half of the semester's grade. He advises them all to get enough sleep. Joan stays at her desk, fixated on the image of St. Joan. Credits.
Helen heaps some food on Joan's plate. Joan's sitting at the breakfast bar as Luke walks behind her, peering at her plate. Irritated, Joan asks, "What?" Luke says, "Hash browns and a bagel? You're renting out a lot of space at the bottom of the food pyramid." Joan asks, "Can't you just say 'carbs to the max' or something remotely normal?" Helen says, "Luke's right. Eat a banana." Will comes in, and Luke immediately asks for fifty bucks. Will jokes about almost making it to his coffee. Helen asks what it's for. Luke: "Thirty-two Cornell-Dubilier inverter-grade capacitors." Will says he just happens to have a few of those in his pocket. That's such a dad thing to say. Helen asks if these "capacitor things" are a necessity. Luke replies, "Well, that just depends if you define necessity as the power of natural law that cannot be other than what it is --" Will's heard enough; he hands him the money. Anything to make the borax stop. Will holds his wallet up, asking, "Anybody else?" Boy, did he just become a father this morning? Never do that. That's, like, one of the rules on page one of the dad handbook ( Money Doesn't Grow on Trees, You Know). Joan says, "You know, my shoe collection is, like, from three years ago..." That's probably because you spend all your money on Dr. Who scarves. Helen tells her she has enough shoes and the bank's closed. Joan can't muster an expression involving much surprise or disappointment. Kevin says his physio's adding up, and he wants to start helping out with that. Helen refuses, saying the money he earns is his spending money. Kevin: "I know the gimp bill's pretty high...and Joan's shoes are ugly." She gives him a sour look. Will says Kevin's not paying for physio and the financial discussion is now over. Joan says she has to go meet Grace. Well, I guess Grace is over being mad at her. Luke asks if he can walk with them. Joan emits a weak, dismissive laugh and says, "That's funny." Kevin says, "Come on, geek, I'll give you a lift." They take off, leaving their parents at the table.
Once they're out of earshot, Will looks at Helen and asks, "We're going to talk about money, aren't we?" She says that physical therapy costs $1200 per month, and they still owe $6000 for the retrofitting of the house for Kevin's wheelchair: "And we have two kids that expect to go to college." I know Kevin was supposed to go on an athletic scholarship, and isn't considered to be all that great a student. But he still doesn't seem like a lost cause as far as college is concerned. Will says that Luke's smart and he'll go on a scholarship. Helen says there's no safety valve for Joan. I dunno. God seems like a heck of a safety valve. Mind you, Helen doesn't know about that. Helen says she knows that Will gets a salary bump when they pick up his contract: "But until then, we have to be careful." Will takes a sip from his picture-of-his-kids mug (Frink: "He loves that mug.") and makes a face like someone put a shot of lemon juice on his coffee. Noticing this, Helen says, "You don't get a salary bump." Will's face persists in its expression of sour lemony pain. Helen: "They might not pick up your contract?" Will says, "Let's not fall off that bridge yet. I've got a good six months to charm people!" Helen openly rolls her eyes. Heh. He insists it'll be fine.
Joan and Grace are walking to school. Grace pontificates: "Joan of Arc was, like, the girl warrior: strapped on chain mail and led men into battle. Naturally, they burned her at the stake." The way Grace says this, you almost think she expects to end up much the same way. Joan asks, "She wasn't crazy, right? I mean, she wasn't a paranoid schizophrenic with a miscellaneous complex?" Hee. Grace asks, "Are you trying to say 'messianic complex'?" Joan guesses so. Grace smirks, "Why're you asking me, like I'm the poster child of sanity?" Joan doesn't answer, so Grace continues, "Anytime you deviate from the norm, the fascists call you crazy. I consider it a badge of honour." Joan: "So...so she wasn't crazy, then?" Grace sighs: "The meter's just run out on my interest, Joan." Grace wanders off toward school, and a voice from nowhere says, "You're not crazy, Joan." Joan looks all around, and finally notices a gardener/arborist/yard maintenance guy up a ladder, smiling at her. He comes down and Joan marches over, saying, "No offense, but the person who makes me feel crazy is in no position to say I'm not!" Tree-Trimming God asks if she even knows what a paranoid schizophrenic is. She does; she says it's a person who hears voices -- for example, from God: "Which is what makes me -- I don't know -- twitchy." Tree-Trimming God tries to give her the assignment, but she wants to talk about Joan of Arc, and wants to know if God was really talking to St. Joan: "And am I -- am I like her?" God tells her to ace the upcoming history test. Joan: "That's unsettling, when God uses slang." You're seeing God in any number of avatars and you're getting assignments from God, and it's the slang that's unsettling? She asks if she's supposed to get an A. Indeed she is. Joan complains, "But I hate history. And this is the Hundred Years' War, which was really...long!" Tree-Trimming God says history's important. I expected him to pull out that Santayana "those who do not remember the past" line. Joan whines, "But Dreisbach is so boring! And history is, like, so over!" Heh. Tree-Trimming God goes off on a tangent, pointing to the tree and explaining that last spring, they didn't cut back the branches so there was too much shade this summer, and too many leaves in the fall, and now the grass is dying: "They have to replant the lawn. That's what happens when you ignore history." So my lawn looks like crap because the owners flunked history? Hmm. Joan sighs and bitches that "the whole metaphor thing is a real pain." She wonders if there's some kind of divine law against being direct. I dunno, but I'd go with the metaphors if I were you, missy. God can be direct, but it ain't always pretty -- ask Moses, Abraham, Jesus, any of those guys. It wasn't called the "furnace of affliction" for the PR value. Tree Trimming God says firmly, "Get an A on the exam." Then he climbs back up the ladder. Joan fumes briefly and then calls up the ladder semi-sweetly, "You know, a lot of people don't like you." Tree-Trimming God: "Tell it to someone who cares!" I might be making up that last comment.
Will is driving through a poor, rundown neighbourhood. At a stop sign, he finds himself in front of a house that clearly seems to be inhabited by a drug dealer, given the coming and going of apparent strangers, not to mention the rap music -- the only thing drug dealers listen to since the early '80s. He writes down the address.
At work, he gives the address to Toni and tells her there's a crack house operating there and to check it out. She says she knows that house, and the DEA's been operating on it undercover for two years. Will: "Two years? What are they waiting for -- permission from God?" Toni: "Waiting to bag the whales." Will: "All they got now are the guppies." Come on -- they've watched a crack house for two years? Doesn't that strain credulity a little? He says the citizens in that neighbourhood shouldn't have to put up with a crack house for one more day. Toni says, "Preaching to the choir." Will says, "Get a warrant."
Someone puts a big pile of books about Joan of Arc (and the Crusades, and the myth of Pope Joan, and the lives of the saints, and medieval Europe) in front of Joan. It's Sammy! She's at the bookstore. Woo! Sammy's back! I've been patient for eight episodes since he first appeared. He announces, "I can't tell you about Joan of Arc, because in order to do that, I'd have to assume you have some basic grasp of anything that happened before, say, the Reagan years." He starts to wander off, as Joan gripes, "I have a test coming up on this, and I have to get an A. Come on, just help me out, okay?" Sammy: "Here's an interesting approach: read the books." Joan says she's been sacrificing valuable study time by working her butt off in the store. Sammy sneers, "Four hours a week? Your butt is barely employed." Joan tries a different tack: "The other day when your wife called and you were playing video games, I told her you were with a customer." Sammy considers this and then decides to play Exposition Fairy: "Joan of Arc met with the Dauphin -- told him he should assume the crown and take back France from the British. Then she got an army together and made that happen. A teenage girl, who managed to drive the British out after years of occupation...and you have trouble working your iPod." Joan says she doesn't, to which Sammy just raises his eyebrows. Joan asks if St. Joan was crazy. Sammy replies, "I tend to avoid people who talk to God, but here again, what she did was impressive." Joan asks if he believes in God. I wonder if she's ever going to get asked that by anybody. Sammy: "'Never converse with the help.' I think Karl Marx said that. Read." Heh. He goes back to whatever he was doing as she mutters, "Oh, man." He comes back and declares, "Joan, I have a master's degree in English literature. I could have done a number of things with my life --" Joan gives him a skeptical look. Sammy: "At least three things. But I chose to open a bookstore because I believe in the power of knowledge, which comes from books. You want to learn something? Read." Frink might need to restrain me soon, since I'm bouncing around and cheering in much the manner I believe sports fans do when their team says or does something pleasing. Yes! Go, reading! Woo! I realize I don't even know any sports chants other than "2-4-6-8" and somehow a number-themed one just seems wrong.
Dinnertime. Helen hands a dish to Kevin, who complains, "We had tuna casserole on Monday." Luke corrects him, saying they had macaroni and cheese then and tuna casserole on Tuesday. Kevin asks, "Are we poor? Because I have a vague memory of lamb chops." Helen claims they're not poor, and tells Joan not to read at the table. What? What? No reading at the table? Gah. In theory I understand where Helen is coming from, but in reality I am one of those people who feels the only time you shouldn't be reading is when you're piloting a vehicle or performing surgery or something. Joan wants to just finish one thing. Will reaches over and lifts the book so he can read the title: "Butler's Lives of Saints?" Helen asks if that's an assigned text. Joan says it's for a history test. Will asks, "You ever notice how the Church has to have a saint for everything?" Helen says saints are important. Will would like to know how. Helen: "They show us how to live." Will: "Name one saint whose life you'd want to emulate." I tell you what, sure as heck not St. Catherine of Siena, with the drinking of the cancerous pus and the anorexia and bulimia and the self-flagellation and all the rest. Will mentions St. Barbara, patron saint of fireworks: "For when all your Roman candles are duds?" Little shout-out to Barbara Hall? Joan ventures gently, "What about St. Joan? She won a whole war." Luke: "You know, I find it unconscionable that science martyrs never get the proper respect." Hee. Frink's all over that. Luke complains that there's no St. Galileo. Kevin says, "Galileo backed down." Luke: "Half-backed down. He was brought up on charges and forced to recant." Joan, again timidly: "Maybe God really does talk to people. Has anyone considered that?" Everyone just lets that pass. Kevin says, "You know, a lot of times when bad things happen to people, like getting burned at the stake, they might've brought it on themselves." Joan bursts out, "Joan of Arc wasn't crazy!" Her family just stares at her. Will asks if they can talk about the weather, and suggests it's unseasonably warm.
Helen and Will are getting ready for bed and arguing about whether or not Joan's going through a phase. Helen says it's not. Will asks, "Well, why were all the other things phases and this isn't?" Helen: "Because this is different." Will wonders if mothers come with some kind of a handbook. Yeah, they do, and it's called If You Don't Stop Doing That, Your Face Will Freeze That Way. So do fathers, and like I said earlier, you need to read yours. Helen says Joan's been doing a lot of strange things, and thinks destroying Adam's artwork is a symptom. She adds that it's not like Joan to be obsessed with saints. I don't know if reading one book makes you obsessed with its subject. If so, I'm in a lot of trouble here, baby. Will thinks it could be a lot worse. Helen wonders if he wants to wait until it gets worse before they do something: "Kevin's still struggling with his anger, Luke's getting ignored, you're under a lot of pressure at work...I feel like I'm holding up a house of cards." Will says they're just dealing with family issues; Helen doesn't think they're doing so well. She wants to see a family therapist, and reminds him they promised to take Joan after her art show freak-out. Will: "Nobody said we all had to go." Helen also reminds him that Dr. Slater told them after Kevin's accident that they should all get counselling. Will's not jazzed about the idea of sharing their problems and emotions with a stranger: "It's an expensive form of whining. We're doing okay." Helen says that saying that out loud repeatedly doesn't make it true: "I want us to do the best we can. I want us to be a strong family again." She sighs. Will points out that Dr. Slater never told them where they could get the money for a therapist. Doctors are usually not too helpful on that front. Helen suggests getting a second job; Will flat-out nixes that idea. Helen: "Or we could go to a priest. Priests are...free." Man, if Father Mallory thinks Joan and Helen individually are a handful...picture him with the whole family. Anyway, Helen knew the right button to push. After a pause, Will asks, "Could you find us a cheap therapist?" Let's hope it's one of those areas where you don't necessarily get what you pay for.
Will, Toni, and a bunch of cops bust the crack house.
Mr. Dreisbach hands out the history test, expressing his hope that Joan slept well. She says she didn't, because she was up late reading history. Mr. Dreisbach sneers, "Oh, I'm sure." He reminds them only to use #2 pencils. Joan insists she did study, and she learned stuff: "Like Joan of Arc wasn't a schizo, for example. And they didn't kill her for hearing voices; they killed her for wearing pants." Mr. Dreisbach ignores her. Joan carries on, saying St. Joan's trial was totally corrupt and she was a scapegoat. Mr. Dreisbach says, "Tell me on the test, Joan!" Joan sighs and grouses, "You're teaching the whole thing wrong." Yeah, that oughta help your grade. The other students all look at Joan. Her teacher takes off his glasses to peer at her. Joan says, "Well, what really happened is these bossy judges forced her to wear pants in the courtroom. Made it look like she was a witch, which totally gave them permission to fry her." Pink Shirt Nerd, who today is Yellow Crew Neck Nerd, anxiously asks if this is going to be on the test. Mr. Dreisbach replies, "Don't ask me -- apparently my authority counts for nothing." He tells them to start the their tests.
Joan sits down on a bench at a bus stop to a woman wearing jeans and layers of grey sweatshirt/T-shirt/vest-type stuff. She's crocheting. She says, "Prepare for some advice. Are you ready? Because it's pretty cerebral." Crocheting God has an interesting voice. Joan turns to look at her. Crocheting God says, "Nobody likes a smartass." ["Yeah, now you tell me." -- Sars] Joan asks if she's talking about her and her teacher. Crocheting God says, "He deserves your respect. He's your teacher." Joan: "He's a loser." Crocheting God says, "When Paul Dreisbach was young, he played saxophone in a jazz band and he was really good. Turned down a scholarship at Juilliard because music was only his second love. His first love was history. In fact, it was his passion." Isn't this a little more backstory than we usually get from God? Isn't God usually a little more cryptic? Joan says that's a little weird. Crocheting God says Dreisbach became a teacher because he wanted to share that passion with others. Joan asks her to stop mentioning the word "passion" in conjunction with her teacher: "It's giving me...a bad picture." Crocheting God says, "If you make snap judgments about people and are unwilling to look into their past, you'll never begin to understand them." Joan insists he's a dweeb. Crocheting God says again that he's her teacher. Joan says she doesn't like him. Crocheting God packs up her crocheting as the bus arrives and says, "You don't have to like him. Let him teach you."
Toni runs down what they netted in the bust: "It's mostly crack, but we found three guns, approximately 2,000 Ecstasy tablets, and almost a kilo of methamphetamine." A guy in a DEA jacket walks up behind them bitching, "Two years! Two. Years." DA Fellowes is with him, as are a bunch of other DEA guys. Angry DEA Guy continues, "Thousands of man-hours. Hundreds of thousands of dollars in federal drug war funds, and you blow it, for a dinky little public relations bust!" Fellowes introduces the guy as Steve Thompson. Will asks, "Are you yelling for my benefit, or to impress your guys? Because if it's for me, you might as well cut it out." Thompson looks around at his guys, and they leave. Will nods subtly at Toni to do the same. Thompson says to Fellowes that they had a deal. Will asks what kind of deal. Fellowes says, "I agreed to lay back on the crack house as long as the DEA kept me informed." Will tells Thompson, "You're a cop...sort of. You know the DA doesn't have the authority to cut that deal." Thompson's not concerned with local politics. Will says it's an enforcement issue: "I'm the police chief. I'm in charge of law enforcement in this jurisdiction, not him." Thompson reiterates that he doesn't care about local politics, and leaves. Fellowes tells him, "You are really starting to burn my ass, Girardi." Will: "And I feel good about it." Fellowes says, "Well, feel good about this: in an effort to cooperate with the Drug Enforcement Agency, I am not going to lay charges against any of the lowlifes you arrested in that crack house. That way, the DEA can continue to monitor their criminal activities." Will says, "It's over. Put them in jail." Fellowes replies, "Better still, it's going to look like the arrests were bad. You're going to wear this. Enjoy your six months as a lame-duck incompetent chief...Chief." He leaves.
AP Chem. The class is doing various experiments. Luke's team manages to elicit a small explosion with whatever they're doing. At Joan's desk, Grace is playing with a glove blown up like a balloon. Adam is hiding under his hood with his heading resting on his hand and his face turned away from Joan. He looks utterly miserable. Joan asks, like nothing much is wrong, "Okay, Adam, what's the formula for calculating the molar volume of carbon dioxide gas?" He doesn't react or respond at all. Joan says, "Hello, Adam? It's Jane, speaking words of English." Grace asks, "Hey, yo, did your photographic memory run out of film?" Joan: "Adam, I told you I was sorry for trashing your sculpture. I am. I am very, very sorry. You don't know how sorry I am." Grace: "Oh, stop pouting. Get back on the blowtorch and fix the dumb thing." Even though Grace doesn't understand the reasons for Adam's art, I'd have thought she would be somewhat more sympathetic to Adam and a little more pissed at Joan, especially since she was already pissed at Joan when it happened. Price sticks his head in and asks Joan to come with him. Joan loses her grip on the blown-up glove she's been holding onto, and it expels all its air into her face with the requisite farty sound. She gives Adam a sad look before leaving. He hasn't moved a muscle.
In Price's office, Joan is told that the highest score she ever got on a history test was a C-. She laughs weakly, saying she sucks at facts. Dreisbach's there, too, as Price holds up her test and says, "Then explain an A+." Joan's eyes widen and she looks at Price, saying, "Wow." Price: "Yeah. Wow. How did you do it?" Joan says she studied. Price: "From zero to sixty in a blink." Well, she wasn't quite at zero. Joan looks pleased, and says with a big smile, "Yeah! I studied." Dreisbach says Zakheim, his best student, got three wrong. Joan asks, "Are you saying I cheated? Because I don't cheat." Her teacher says they want her to take the test again. Joan: "What? Why should I?" Dreisbach says, "Because we're asking you to." Joan stands up, asking, "Agreeing to retake the test, aren't I admitting that I'm a cheater? I'm not going to admit to that because I'm not!" Wait -- while I agree that Price and Dreisbach aren't going about this the right way, wouldn't taking the test again quickly prove whether or not she cheated? But then we wouldn't have this story. ["And it's never made clear whether she has to take the same test, in which case it proves nothing -- depending on the method of cheating they think she used, which is also never made clear, because if she wrote the answers on her hand…eh, forget it." -- Sars] Price tells her to retake the test. She's outraged: "Mr. Price! No!" She hands it to him and storms out to where her mother is, tearfully telling her, "Mom! They want me to say I cheated when I didn't! I'm not a cheater!" Helen tells her to calm down as Price and Dreisbach come out of the office. Joan insists she didn't cheat, as Price says he'll give her until Friday to decide. Helen: "Decide what?" Joan explains they want her to take the test again: "Which is like saying I cheated!" Helen says no one's saying that: "Are you saying that?" Price says they just want her to take the test again: "That should restore the equilibrium." Helen says her daughter doesn't cheat: "So you know what you can do with your equilibrium." Heh. Not too worried about her job, obviously. Price says his request is reasonable. Joan declares she's not taking the test again: "Sometimes you have to take a stand, and this is me, doing that!" She flounces out, while her mother looks tired and dismayed.
The entire Girardi family is sitting around in a therapist's office, sighing, clearing throats, and looking uncomfortable. Helen has her usual "everything's all right" smile plastered on. The therapist asks where they'd like to start. Luke says he's not shy, so he'll jump in. Joan interrupts: "The family thinks I'm crazy!" Helen and Will deny this. The therapist asks Helen why she thinks she's there. She sighs and says, "I think we're experiencing transitional pains because of the accident and because of the move. I think we just need to check in with each other. That was my idea." The therapist asks Will for his answer. Will's honest: "I'm here because my wife wants me to be." Helen doesn't look entirely thrilled with that answer, so Will adds, "Because she thinks it's important." Strike two. "Because...it is important." The therapist looks at Kevin, who says, "I'm good." She asks, "Really?" Kevin replies, "Well, I'm as happy as a gimp can be. Let's put it that way." Luke says he has this problem of nobody listening to him: "It's like I'm invisible." The therapist glances at Luke and then goes back to Kevin, asking, "That's kind of a passive-aggressive statement, isn't it, Kevin?" Will: "Aw, here we go." Therapist: "You object to the terminology?" Will says, "I'm a big believer in resourcefulness, people solving their own problems, that kind of thing."
The therapist says she's picking up that Kevin is very angry, and wonders how Will would like to solve that. Kevin looks at him if he's very interested in Will's answer. Will replies, "He's driving. He's working. He's figuring it out. Actually, I'm more concerned about Joan." Joan says, "I told you. This is about me being crazy. So I picked up some strange interests. I mean, kids do that. So I smash a piece of art. I mean, I had my reasons. And the whole cheating thing is completely wack." Will's puzzled about the cheating thing. I guess he hasn't yet heard. Joan insists she didn't cheat and isn't retaking the test. Will asks Helen: "Joan cheated?" Helen says it's just "Price on a tear." She assures him Joan didn't cheat. Will asks, "How could you not tell me about it?" Helen: "This just in, Will: I try to protect you from things if I can." Luke: "You see? This is the problem. I'm the 'good kid,' so I never get any attention." Kevin: "Also, we're poor." Helen says they're not poor. Joan: "We're only here because of me." Helen: "Not true." Naturally, the therapist thinks the problem is a communication issue. Isn't it almost always? I could have pulled that out of my ass when I was three years old. She says they're not communicating, and gives them their assignment for the week, which is to make a special effort to listen and ask each other questions and really absorb the answers. Joan: "Wait, we're going to have assignments?" Heh. She says she can't have any more assignments. She asks the therapist, "Are you the therapist...or are you...you?" She whispers the last word, then puts her hand up by her eyes and whispers, "Blink twice if you know what I mean." The therapist is dumsquizzled and blinks once, in confusion. Joan does this weird exaggerated winking thing behind her hand. The therapist clearly has no idea what Joan's on about, but may be starting to give some credence to Joan's version of why they're all there. Joan shrugs slightly and looks at her family, every member of which is looking at her like she's nuts. She puts her hand down and says, "I'm not crazy."
Joan arrives at school. We can hear Grace's voice yelling, "This affects you, people! You could be ! Rally against injustice! No proof, no test! Support Joan Girardi against the neo-fascists!" Joan sees that Grace has organized a protest on the steps of the school and is handing out flyers outlining her position. Joan comes up the steps and asks Grace what she's doing. Grace: "It's your revolution. Don't you recognize it?" Joan: "Sort of." Grace, who's wearing buttons that read "I Believe Joan" and "No Proof / No Test," says, "It's okay. You've taken a stand, I'll organize the effort." A blonde girl in a navy pinstripe suit and pearls stands nearby. She kind of looks like a very thin, angular version of Lisa Whelchel. She also looks like a future president of the PTA, and she's been half-heartedly handing out flyers and mouthing, "Fight the power." She whines, "Grace, my feet hurt in these shoes." Grace: "Did I ask you to dress like a Republican?" Hee! Grace introduces Joan to Teri Ann, the student body president. Teri Ann says, "I'm not entirely clear on the revolution, but Grace said I had to do it. As student body president, I have to stay in touch with the issues." Also, I'll bet Grace threatened to break her arm. She asks Grace, "What's the issue?" Grace replies, "Recalls are very popular these days. That's all you need to know." Teri Ann goes back to chanting limply, "No proof, no test."
Grace and Joan walk away as Grace admits the slogan needs some work. Joan notices Adam sitting up on the concrete bank alongside the steps and says, "Adam!" He's just sitting there, morose and indifferent, holding out a bag or something with support buttons pinned on it. Joan asks, "Does this mean you're talking to me again?" He says, "Explain the situation, Grace." Joan turns to Grace, who admits, "I told him I'd feed him his hat if he didn't help. So did you put together a list of your demands?" Joan: "My what?" Grace informs her, "You have to have a list of demands. It's, like, in the revolutionary handbook [Mad As Hell and Not Gonna Take It Anymore]." Joan says she'll work on that. Grace goes back to yelling out, "It's a slippery slope, people! Accusing students of cheating without proof? Send a message to the despots!" Joan looks alarmed. I'm not entirely convinced she knows what a despot is. She says, "Grace, it was really nice of you to throw me this...revolution...but if Mr. Price hears about this, he could freak!" "If" he hears about it? "Could" freak? Surely by now she knows him better than that. Grace says that's the plan. Joan looks annoyed. Grace says, "Well, hey, look at me: did you cheat on that test?" A question, perhaps, to have asked before throwing this revolution. Joan says, "No!" Grace: "Do you believe in the writ of habeas corpus?" Joan: "That's the...good rule, right?" Grace explains they have to have evidence to support an accusation of crime. Adam pipes up: "Like when you get caught in the act vandalizing someone's sacred property, yo." Joan: "Adam, please." Grace says, "It's the foundation of a free society. You took the stand; that's the hard part. But let's take this baby all the way!" Joan Jett's version of "Time Has Come Today" begins playing as Grace hands Joan a protest sign and asks, "Are you ready...Girl Warrior?" Joan, confused and hesitant, takes the sign and says, "No proof, no test!" She gets a little vigour: "Support Joan Girardi!" Grace tells her to work on the volume: "But it's a start."
Will goes into a bar to meet Roy, the prickly arson investigator. Will thanks Roy for meeting him, and Roy tells the bartender to get Will a lemonade: "He's on duty." They go to a table as Roy exposits, "Last time we had a chance to chat, we were standing over a charred body. This is better." Will agrees. Roy: "Still, 'Chief of Police and Arson Investigator Have a Drink in Public.' Now that's a headline in this town." Must be an exceptionally boring place. Roy says he knows this can't be a social call. Will says he needs some advice: "Insight, man...maybe just an ear. I don't know." Roy says he started out as a cop and ended up investigating arson: "And you being the shrewd detective, determined that maybe some bridges got burned in that transition." Will admits, "I don't know how to deal with these people. It's like...they don't want anything to change for the good." Roy says it depends who it's good for. Will thinks he was brought in to clean up crime. Maybe, but the town bigwigs didn't mean their own hinky local politics. Roy explains, "You were brought in here under those pretenses. Your real job is to look the other way." Will asks Roy, "What did you not look the other way on?" Roy replies that he doesn't know Will well enough to discuss that. Will confesses, "I don't know how much longer I can do this. On the other hand, I uprooted my family for the job. Everybody's adjusted now -- not to mention financial concerns. But what I really want to know is: when you made the transition, how did it affect you personally?" Roy: "Do you mean...did I cry?" Will's talking about Roy's family, and asks if he's married. Roy says he was: "There were problems before the job switch, but it sure didn't help. I mean, she kept saying she'd stick it out, believed in me, all that. But she never looked at me the same again." Will considers this. Roy adds that he thinks sometimes he should have taken his case to court, but then he'd be unemployed. Roy advises Will, "You have to make a decision about where you're going to do the most good. Your wife, she liked you going in, right?" Will: "I think so." Roy says he'll be okay. Will sips his lemonade. Roy says he has a Tuesday night card game, if Will's ever interested. Will comments, "I remember having friends. It was pleasant." Roy says, "Well, it can be again." They smile at each other. I think Will and Helen could both use some friends.
There's a classroom full of protestors, and Mr. Chadwick is addressing them: "While Mr. Price and I are big fans of free speech and free assembly -- theoretically speaking -- here's how we like to deal with rebellion in school: we shut it down cold." Grace, who's at the front of the room with Joan, mutters, "Typical." Chadwick says, "Ms. Polk, I appreciate your effort to launch your lifelong career as a free radical, but I have a school to run...board of directors to answer to -- not to mention all your parents. I promised their children an education, and I'm going to make sure they get one." Grace: "Civil disobedience, that's not an education?" Price snipes, "We have big thick textbooks that talk all about that, if you'd bother to crack one." Yeah. Read about your rights, and be satisfied. Don't expect to ever actually be able to use them. Joan tells the principal she was wrongly accused and didn't cheat. Price reminds her she has the option of proving that by retaking the test. Joan: "I shouldn't have to prove anything!" Really. I get the teacher's suspicion, but I'd say he needs a lot more proof than this, and that they're not exactly going about this the right way. And I'm not one hundred percent sure what the right way would be, just that this isn't it.
In my second year of university one of my women's studies professors approached me after class, wanting to ask me about a paper written by one of my best friends, who was also in the class. She suspected that my friend might have plagiarized the essay, and wanted me to read it and give her my opinion as to whether I thought my friend could really have written it. I think that was a heck of a position to put me in. I read the paper, and knew right away that my friend hadn't plagiarized it. It was well-reasoned and well-written, and perhaps a little above her usual work, but her usual work was quite good, and I'm still not sure why this prof thought she'd plagiarized it. But I knew for sure my friend had written it: the subject was witchcraft and feminism, and my friend was a neo-pagan/witch herself, and she had discussed all the ideas in the essay with me at length over the years. I knew they were her thoughts and ideas. I knew it was her own writing, because her style was so distinctive. I'm glad I was able to reassure the prof, and I've never to this day told my friend about this (and I'm fairly sure she'll never read this, which is the only reason I'm mentioning it at all). But what if I had thought she'd plagiarized it? I just don't think I should have been put in that position. What if I said she'd plagiarized it, and she hadn't? There have to be better ways to determine academic integrity.
Anyway, Adam decides to pipe up at this point: "Can I just say something? I'm not wearing a button." Price: "You were observed handing them out." Adam: "Technically, holding the bag." Price: "That's why it's called 'left holding the bag,' Mr. Rove." Adam stands up: "Well, um, I'm not really part of this whole revolution. I really don't care what happens here." He walks out while Joan looks slightly hurt. Price demands, "What about the rest of you? Are you willing to 'die' for your beliefs? Symbolically? Because anyone who leaves this school wearing one of those buttons will be suspended until further notice." Grace stands up defiantly, glares at Price, turns to everyone, and says, "Come on." She marches out. They all go with her as Joan Jett starts up again. Price looks cheesed off as Joan looks pleased: "Wow!" She grabs her stuff and leaves. There's been a lot of discussion and debate in the forums about whether the administration has violated any laws or rights in its approach to this uprising. I've heard some convincing evidence both ways, and one thing that seems certain is that different schools, in different places, get away with different degrees of repression. In some schools there seems to be a lot of latitude for political expression on the part of students and in others, not nearly as much. Buttons and armbands might not even be tolerated in some places. In some schools anything the authorities deem "disruptive" can be prohibited. Which makes it kind of hard to comment on what's going on here, other than to say that naturally I sympathize with the students and think Price et al. are being chuckleheads for the most part.
Outside in the hall, Grace says, "That went great!" She's elated. Joan agrees. Grace: "Water's kinda nice swimming against the tide, isn't it? Huh? There's hope for you yet!" It's the most genuinely happy I've ever seen her. Grace punches her on the arm and takes off. Joan passes a bearded guy painting on a ladder, who asks if he can talk to her. God's into ladders this episode. Joan says indifferently about the paint job, "Yeah, it looks great." Painter God says, "I meant about this revolution." Joan turns, and he tells her, "Cut it out." Joan's confused, of course. He repeats, "Cut it out. This wasn't part of the plan." Well...since when are you not in charge of The Plan? She pulls him down from the ladder, asking, "What do you mean? Huh! You said 'study history,' so I did. You said, 'Get an A on the test,' so I did. And along the way I learned about Joan of Arc and figured out the whole martyr deal. And now my word is being challenged, like hers! I'm taking a stand -- it's perfect!" He says, "You do know the end of her story?" Frink and I agree that the guy playing Painter God has a real Jesus'-disciple look about him. ["The actor actually appeared on a Law & Order episode as 'Disciple.' Heh." -- Sars] Joan says they don't burn people anymore. The look in Painter God's eyes is, "Are you sure about that, missy?" Joan asks, "Do they? Especially not kids." Painter God says he's not there to discuss martyrdom with her: "Like most things having to do with me, it's complicated. Retake the test." Joan: "What?" He repeats the instruction. Joan protests, "Admit I was wrong, when I wasn't -- this is what God is telling me to do?"
Painter God says, "You gave them good reasons to doubt you, Joan. You're a C student -- you suddenly get an A. They're confused." Hey, didn't Rabbi Polonsky advise her to confuse the confusers? He adds, "And then you exacerbated it by being rude to Mr. Dreisbach, embarrassing him in front of his students." I'd say that's what this is really about, frankly. "Maybe he would have given you the benefit of the doubt before that." Joan says, "Those people are willing to get suspended for me. You want me to just back down?" He glances at the button she's wearing; she puts her hand on it. He holds out his hand and says, "Yes. I do." Joan reluctantly removes the button and holds on to it. God takes it out of her hand before she can give it to him. Hmm. That would seem to be an obvious violation of at least one or two of the ten rules creator Barbara Hall set out for the series, the very first of which is "God cannot directly intervene." Rule Five is "Everyone is allowed to say 'no' to God, including Joan." So what's the deal here? Also, wouldn't her parents normally be more involved in this whole brouhaha, especially since Helen works there? Painter God says, "Here's the thing you need to learn from the martyrs, Joan: they did it the hard way. That's what I'm asking of you." He walks away, throwing the button in the garbage on his way. Joan looks weary. Isn't there some grrl band cover version of "I Won't Back Down" they could play here? Ani Di Franco hasn't covered it?
Will and Helen are reading in bed. She comments that he's been on the same page for half an hour. Will says it's a mystery, and he's trying to figure it out. She sighs and asks, "What's wrong?" Will hesitates for a moment, and doesn't takes his eyes off the page when he says, "I hate my job." He closes the book and takes off his glasses, adding, "I don't want to do it anymore." She says, "You're just working things out. You hit a few rough patches." He says that's not it; it's bad: "They didn't hire me to fix things. They hired me to play ball -- politically. I'm just going to keep bumping up against that until they fire me. And they will...fire me." Helen wonders what he wants to do. Will: "I want to rewind my life about two years." Helen: "Yeah. Me too. But what do you want to do?" He says he can't ask them to move again. Helen thinks that going home wouldn't be so bad; they have family and friends there. Will worries about the example it sets for the children: "Retreating in failure? Not to mention...how you see me." She says she just wants him to be happy. He touches her face fondly, and says he needs a glass of something.
In the kitchen, he finds Joan getting a mug of warm milk, and asks if he can join her. She says, "Sure, why not?" He asks why she can't sleep. Joan: "I don't know...something about my life being a big, hairy nightmare." Will: "Tell me about it." Joan does: "All my friends are mad at me. I have to surrender, even though I didn't do anything wrong. When is this kind of thing going to end?" Will says he'll let her know. Joan: "I mean, you would never let anyone push you around." She sits on the counter while Will puts his milk in the microwave and thinks about that. Joan asks, "Daddy, do you ever think about God?" He pauses before telling her, "No. I did too much thinking about him when I was young. My parents were very religious. They forced it on me. But it never made sense. Why was God mad at me? It wasn't my idea to create people and make them flawed." The microwave beeps and Will gets his milk out as Joan says, "It just makes no sense. I mean, he's always bugging me to do the right thing, and I'm like, 'If you're so big on the right thing, then why don't you just make it clear?'" Will looks puzzled and troubled by this comment. He turns to Joan and asks, "God is bugging you?" Joan, realizing her mistake, says casually, "Not me. People. What I mean is, if there's a right thing to do, a right way to be, why isn't it obvious? You know, shouldn't there be a clear choice?" Will responds, "I guess the point is...to figure out how you can do the most good." He walks over to Joan and holds her face in his hands, and then kisses her forehead. Joan says, "Yeah, you're the best person I know and you don't even believe in him." Will's caught off-guard by that, and looks into Joan's eyes. She looks back sadly as he asks, "I'm the best person you know?" She just smiles, almost embarrassed, and he hugs her.
Price pulls something out of a filing cabinet as he says, "I reached out to you in a public forum, and you spit on the olive branch." Joan apologizes quietly and asks if they can just "do this." Price: "You want to admit that you cheated? We don't have to go through with this." What? Even if she did cheat, and if she admitted to it, then what? They just flunk her outright? Or would they make her write another test anyway to get a true mark? This whole storyline's shaky. Joan reiterates that she didn't cheat. Price says, "Admit that you cheated and I won't suspend your friends." Okay, that's complete bullshit. One actually has nothing to do with the other. Joan says in a weak voice, "Just give me the test." Price gloats, "Amazing, how your revolution just crumbled overnight. What's that about? A guilty conscience?" Joan says, "You know, I'm not into this anymore, Mr. Price. I didn't cheat. I really studied. I didn't start this revolution and I didn't want to back down, either. This is all just bigger than me, so please, let me do it the hard way." Price puts the test down on a desk with the regulation #2 pencil and says, "It wasn't I who brought this affair into the hallway." He tells her she has one hour and wishes her luck.
Grace quickly struts out of the school with Joan on her heels. Grace: "I fooled myself into thinking you were a person of substance." Joan: "Oh, don't start!" Grace: "You're nothing but a cream puff...powder puff...nothing puff!" Oh, just kiss already. Joan laughs: "Oh, you're using some puff-related analogy I don't even get!" I'd say Grace is the one who doesn't get it, but whatever. There's Adam, leaning against a wall in the background. Grace stops and turns to Joan: "Well, you backed down, Joan!" Joan insists she had to: "You don't understand! You don't know what I'm up against!" Grace replies, "I know I'm getting suspended a day because of you. We all are. Even Adam." Well, you started the revolution there, Rosa. I don't agree with the punishment, but take some responsibility. Grace hustles off as Joan calls out a tearful apology, saying she didn't mean to get anyone in trouble. She breaks off when she sees Adam standing there, looking deeply wounded. Also? Cute, in a deeply wounded way. He doesn't walk away, but he doesn't look at her either. He's in so many kinds of pain he doesn't know what's going on. He's angry enough not to speak to her, but not angry enough to avoid her altogether. She pleads with him: "Adam. I can't -- I can't stand you being mad at me anymore. I'm sorry for everything. Please, you know me, you know I have...secrets...and things. Like you do, you know...I have reasons." He looks at her with teary eyes and says, "Whatever, Joan." Joan? Joan? Oh, God, I knew it was coming someday, but...
-----Original Message-----
From: Deborah Birkett
Sent: Wednesday November 26, :59
To: sars@televisionwithoutpity.com
Subject: "Joan"
Sarah, I can't finish this recap -- I've sustained a severe aortic injury. I have to go to the ER. Sorry. Maybe Demian can finish it?
D.
-----Original Message-----
From: Sarah D. Bunting
Sent: Wednesday November 26, :42
To: deborah@televisionwithoutpity.com
Subject: "Joan"
Suck it up. It's sweeps, and everyone's busy.
S
Adam walks away, leaving Joan in the breezeway, crushed.
Joan comes to the door of her history class. You can see Painter God on the ladder in the hallway behind her. She hesitates for a moment before going in. She opens the door to the class. Only Mr. Dreisbach is in the room. She says Price sent her to see him. He gestures to her to sit down; she does. He brings over her test, and holds it up in front of her. There's a big A+ circled in red on it. He says, "Congratulations." Joan grasps it, looking relieved. Maybe she thought the first time was just a fluke. I'll bet the second test was a lot harder than the first one, too. She smiles up at him and says, "Thanks." Now would be the time to do a big silly dance and jump around yelling, "In your face, Flanders!" Or, you know, not. He perches on the edge of the desk and says that he was absolutely certain she had cheated. I guess that's as much apology as she's going to get. He says it's because he's been teaching for thirty years: "And I know perfectly well when I'm not getting through to students and I wasn't getting through to you." This, of course, doesn't allow at all for the possibility (and indeed, the actuality) that Joan might have her own reasons and motivations for studying and doing better. Whether it's God telling her to, or her parents saying, "We'll buy you a [fill-in-the-blank] if you get an A on your history test," or Joan herself deciding, "Hmm, maybe I better apply myself if I want to get into college" -- there could be all kinds of reasons why a student might get her act together.
Joan replies, "To be perfectly fair, Mr. Dreisbach, I think you're really only getting through to Steve Zakheim." He knows: "And that's my fault. Somewhere along the line, I...got discouraged and I started...phoning it in. I'm aware. It's a teacher's greatest fear." He sits in a desk near Joan's, saying, "Before this event, I was going to quit. This was going to be my last year and it was causing me a lot of pain because I wasn't going out in a blaze of glory. I was surrendering in defeat, like the French at Agincourt, floundering in the mud of my students' indifference. But I made you care about history, Ms. Girardi." No, you totally didn't, dude. I guess God has reasons for making it look that way, though. He continues, "I don't know how I did it, but I did." Joan's all teary, I guess because she knows the truth. Dreisbach: "And that's the whole point. You inspired me to take back my crown. I thank you." He's a little teary. I'm a little queasy. This is a bit too Touched By An Angel for me -- or rather, since I've never actually seen that, it's a little too much how I imagine that show to be. Don't thank her -- admit you were wrong and apologize, damn it! Joan, eyes brimming, says, "Mr. Dreisbach...you have...no idea how incredibly cool this is." He replies, "Oh yes...I do." Phew. I thought this scene was weak on the first viewing, and it's not improving with repeated exposure. They're doing the best they can with it, though. It's the writing; it's just so much luncheon meat. I would say Randy Anderson's scripts need more work. Joan laughs.
Back in the offices of Budget Therapy. Joan says she'll start, and announces that she retook the test and got an A: "And I, well, sort of saved someone's life." Sure thing. It's not like Dreisbach had the slip noose around his neck and was preparing to kick out the chair, for God's sake. He was just going to retire. Helen asks, "You did?" Joan hedges: "Well, sort of...symbolically. And even though all my friends hate me, I still feel pretty good. Look, I know the only reason we were in therapy was because I acted kind of crazy, but um, as far as I'm concerned, we can all go home now, because the craziness is over. I'm done." The therapist looks at Will and Helen and asks if there's anything they'd like to discuss. Helen says she's starting to think maybe Will was right: "Maybe we all just need to talk to each other and not bring all our problems in here." Will: "Then again, maybe it's best that we get it out in the open." Helen is thrown slightly by this, and she says, "Well, this wasn't for our problems; this was to help the kids." Will says their problems affect the kids. Helen tries to explain to the therapist, "He doesn't mean problem problems." Will: "We're in this forum now; maybe it's best to talk about whatever it is that's really going on." Luke and Joan exchange glances. Will: "Whatever's...causing tension." Helen says she would like to hear more from Luke: "He's right. We don't check in with him enough." Naturally she wants to hear from him, because whatever Luke says will probably be the least threatening thing. Joan pats Luke's hand sarcastically.
Luke, surprised to actually be the focus for a change, says, "Oh...okay...um...I've kind of been dying to talk to someone about M-Brane Theory, and how it...derails where I was philosophically headed..." Kevin suddenly smacks the arm of his chair and shouts, "For God's sake! I can't stand it. Can we -- can we please just talk about the gigantic stain on the carpet?" I'd always heard of it as the elephant in the room, but I guess stain on the carpet works, too. Everyone is a bit stunned by this outburst, as Kevin continues, "We've been dancing around it for almost two years now and it's making me crazy and maybe it's why I'm so pissed off all the time!" Maybe, but I'd imagine becoming permanently paralyzed would be reason enough. "Because no one will say it out loud, so I have to. The accident...it was my fault. This...was my fault. The guys and I were out partying after the game. My friend Andy was wasted. I tried to take his keys. He got pissed off. I was afraid of not...being cool. So I went for the ride." Pause. "I went for the ride. And so...here we all are. I did this." Helen's eyes are filled with tears. Joan looks troubled. Wait -- if he was a passenger, why have there been several references to this being related to Kevin's having a license or being able to drive? He continues, "God didn't do it. The universe didn't conspire. The planets didn't align against me. Can somebody just please say it out loud?" He starts crying as he says, "I did this!" Not the greatest writing, but the acting sold it. The camera fades from shot to shot of each family member's reaction as Kevin sobs. His crying continues over the end credits. No one speaks. No one moves.