Props holding steady for Sars and Kim. Props, also, to Omar, to whom I forgot to give props in the Survivorrecap Glark and I wrote. Omar rules all!
The voice-over of Angela "Davis" Chase muses, "Maybe teachers have a hidden life." She continues over shots of various teachers going through various mundane, teacherly activities -- erasing a blackboard, putting quizzes into piles, struggling to pull down one of those rolled-up maps: "Where they're actually...like, human. Where they have, I don't know, dignity. Or maybe not."
Cut to a classroom full of kids goofing off. Three students walk in wielding a boom box, which is on and blasting some bass-heavy R&B-ish track. "The Voluptuous Horror of" Sharon Cherski giggles as some girl braids her hair. Others draw rude caricatures on the board or play cards. "King Hussein of" Jordan Catalano sleeps with his head on his desk, amid all the noise. Brian "Bumble" Krakow reads, bitterly. Presently the classroom door opens and in walks Robin Colcord, Rebecca's rich boyfriend on Cheers, with a toothpick inexplicably clamped in his teeth. Unless this is Film Appreciation class and he's about to give a lecture as the late Jimmy Cagney, there's no excuse for that. Anyway, no one pays him any attention. He drops his knapsack on the desk, and then sits on it (the desk, not the knapsack). He discards his first toothpick of the episode and takes a box out of his pocket to install another, but not before offering one to Angela and Brian, the only people in the room who appear to have noticed he's there. Reluctantly, the students start taking their seats. The owner of the boom box turns it off and exhorts Mr. Colcord to "speak up, bro!" Another student in a plaid jacket informs Boom Box that Mr. Colcord was offering toothpicks. "Toothpick!" repeats Boom Box, and cracks up. Wait, did I miss the moment in the opening montage when this student was shown with a bong? Or maybe I need one, because I fail to see the humour inherent in the word. As various students continue to fidget, Mr. Colcord strolls over to the window. Plaid Jacket (who brought Boom Box up to speed in re the proffered toothpick) asks Mr. Colcord, "So why are you here? You the new substitute?" "Why am I here? Good question," drawls Mr. Colcord. Oh, lord; he's one of those "challenging" teachers who's all fired up about treating students like adults -- or according to his impression of teenagers' impressions of adulthood. We've all seen Dead Poets Society, right? Well, slap about fifty pounds of hair on Robin Colcord's back and it's "O Captain, My Captain" time. He confirms, in some weird, flat, American accent -- Brooklyn by way of Cardiff, I guess -- that he is the new substitute (so this must be the infamous English Class of Rotating Instructors; so long, Mr. McSoulPatch!); that he is there "simply to get paid" (which earns him a round of rueful chuckles from the students); and that as long as they can all read (not so fast, Catalano!), he doesn't foresee any major problems. With that, he pulls a folded newspaper out of his knapsack and makes to read it, snotting at his students that they may "continue wasting [their] lives."
Sharon haltingly asks whether that means they're dismissed. At the magic word, Jordan groggily pokes his head up. Mr. Colcord reminds us that you can't spell "the Socratic method" without "cram it," asking her, "Do you want to be dismissed?" See, it works on both levels. Sharon demurs that since he'd announced that he'd said all he had to say...and Mr. Colcord makes a big production out of checking his watch and declaring, "I will be here for the forty-seven minutes. Whether you will also be here for that time is, to be candid, your decision." Sharon shrinks into Kyle's Varsity jacket. Jordan languidly puts up his hand and asks, "What's the catch?" Mr. Colcord tells him that there is no catch: "If you don't want to be here, go. I'm not gonna stop you." Jordan immediately climbs out of his desk and heads for the door, whereupon Mr. Colcord admits, "Well, you know, there is just, you know, one catch. We will be discussing you in your absence, but you know, if you don't mind that..." Um, Mr. Colcord? Dial down the "you know"s. Dawson's Creek is thattaway. Jordan sniffs, "Yeah, right." Mr. Colcord assures him "it's no joke," and that he has no lesson planned: "Trashing you in your absence will help pass the time." Angela stares as Mr. Colcord pulls up his socks; the left is white, and the right is black. Um, the city of Tweeville is waiting for you to resume your mayoral duties, Toothpick Tom. Mr. Colcord catches her staring at his socks, and she abruptly sits up and asks what they're supposed to do. Jordan returns to his seat. Mr. Colcord drawls, "I've known you all of five minutes and you want me to tell you what you're supposed to do? Fine. Follow your hearts and veer away from heroin." Angela lets out one explosive laugh and then explains that she meant "in the forty-seven minutes." Mr. Colcord informs her that he knows: "That was sarcasm." And yet, when you have to explain it, it's not funny. Trust me. Brian raises his hand and says that one of the things they were supposed to do this semester was produce an issue of the school's literary magazine, for which each of the students wrote something. However, Miss Mayhew, their old teacher, quit before she could approve their stories. Other students hiss at Brian as he brings Mr. Colcord up to speed; one even brandishes a rubber ball in a threatening manner. Mr. Colcord snorts, "That's a heartbreaking story." Angela conceals her smile behind the heel of her hand. Brian explains that he knows where their magazine submissions are, and asks that Mr. Colcord at least read them so that the students can get credit for them. Mr. Colcord flicks his head and smirks, "Why not?" I think Kelly Wiglesworth is in that class, for real. There's a girl sitting in the front row who looks just like her.
"Martha" Graham Chase (peering through the back of the family car) and Patty "Arbuckle" Chase (leaning across the front seat) bicker about some work-related thing. Graham asks her to "go over [something] one more time," and she testily cuts him off by assuring him, "You don't even have to be there; this should be me." Graham agrees. They both get out of their respective ends of the car as Patty keeps talking about the meeting (apparently a job was messed up and they'll have to do it over, at cost) and Graham keeps saying "fine" because he doesn't care. Patty tells him she needs him to take Danielle to the "cookie booth" anyway (it's Girl Scout cookie time, and Patty signed her up). Graham snipes, "Oh, you sign her up; I end up at the booth." Patty gives him a slightly apologetic smile, and Graham passive-aggressively announces that he'll cancel his pool game with Neil. Patty snips, "Ohhhhh. You had plans." She starts to suggest that he call another mom and get her to take Danielle, but Graham coos, "What? And miss the cookie booth?" As he takes a bag of groceries toward the house, Patty calls after him to call Angela's English teacher and find out whether the school wants their company to print the literary magazine again this year. Graham, by way of answer, accuses her, "You forgot to buy kitty litter again." They have a cat? News to me. ["Cat = Tino." -- Sars] "I thought you said you would!" Patty squeals. With several grocery bags precariously clutched in her arms, Patty whines, "You know what we need?" Graham balefully waits for the answer. "A wife," she concludes. Heh. That's lame, but I know what she means.
The day (I assume, because everyone's wearing different outfits), the English students watch nervously as Mr. Colcord reads their Lit submissions. He makes faces ranging from derisive to disappointed and finally declares, "How shall I describe them? Good question. Boring. The word 'boring' comes to mind. Fake. False. Synthetic. Bogus. What do these words have in common?" The students look shell-shocked. Mr. Colcord snaps, "You!" and indicates Jordan, who looks up, terrified. "Me?" he stalls. Mr. Colcord lets him off the hook: "Yes, I know what you're going to say -- that they're synonyms [yeah, that's exactly what Jordan was going to say] meaning 'not genuine'....But how else would you classify them?" Jordan mumbles, "I don't know," and Mr. Colcord yells, "Yes! You! Do! D'you think I'm an idiot? If I tell you that the class's work was safe, banal, homogenized, cutesy, appalling -- all of which is true, by the way -- what sort of words am I using? Tell me, don't give me that blank look." Mr. Colcord circles Jordan's desk as Jordan withdraws further into himself and glares back. Mr. Colcord needles him, "You know this, you know this! Not verbs, not nouns, but --" "Adjectives," Jordan spits. "Adjectives! Woo!" exclaims Mr. Colcord, throwing up his hands, and adding, "Don't you dare play dumb with me again. Now as for the rest of you. Um, how should I phrase this?" "I don't believe this guy," Brian mutters. Mr. Colcord is on a roll: "This is the most godawful crap I've ever read in my life." And with either refreshing brio or psychotic rage, he tosses the sheaf of magazine submissions out the classroom window. But you know...they probably were crap. No offense to any sophomores here, but...for the most part, that shit is painful to read. Most of it was probably faux-suicide poetry. Tedious. Self-indulgent. But I'm just guessing. I know it's fictional. Really, I do. Anyway, the students watch in horror as their work flutters down to the ground.
At Chase Place, Danielle "Whatever" Chase, in her Girl Scout uniform (I think -- it's a white blouse and green skirt; hey, I only know from Brownies and Girl Guides), opens the door for Brian. She asks him whether he wants to buy some Girl Scout cookies. Brian declines, and Danielle presses that he can owe her the money. Graham tells Danielle to leave Brian alone, and Brian wanders in, staring at Graham, who has Danielle's sash in his hands. "What?" Graham asks. "You've never seen someone sew on a merit badge before?" Tee hee! Brian looks like he doesn't know where to look until Patty wanders out, briefly greets him, and calls Angela. Danielle keeps harassing him about the cookies until Patty chides her. While they wait for Angela to make an appearance, Patty asks Brian what's in his hand, and he tells her it's "this thing Angela wrote" that he found. Patty takes the paper from him and exclaims, "Her oak tree poem! I loved that one! Why does it have a footprint on it? And where are the others? Weren't we going to print them up?" Now it's Brian's time to shine -- tattle time: "Angela didn't tell you? He threw them out the window." Graham asks to whom Brian is referring, and Brian pouts, "This new substitute who's, like, mentally ill. Seriously." Angela alights on the landing of the stairs and -- somehow managing to infuse an eye-roll into the very tone of her voice -- corrects Brian: "He's not mentally ill." Brian indicates the poem and asks Angela whether she wants it. Patty gets on a rant, saying that Mr. Colcord's defenestrating the papers is "terrible" and that the students all "worked very hard" on those submissions, blah blah blah outragecakes. Angela rolls her eyes -- with her actual eyes this time -- and says she doesn't like the poem very much. Graham says that isn't the point, and Patty backs Graham up by saying that Mr. Colcord is her teacher and should treat their assignments with some respect. Angela glares at Brian and he gives her a "What?" look. Graham and Patty drone on a little while longer about Angela standing up for herself, and Angela snots, "Thanks, Brian." Brian shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
At school, English class is letting out. Students file past Mr. Colcord handing him some assignment or other. Jordan brings up the rear; Mr. Colcord calls him back to say, "I appreciate the fact that you don't want to monopolize the discussion, but, I mean, come on! I need you, do you understand? I need you to TALK MORE!" "O! KAY!" Jordan yells, exasperated, and glances around to make sure no one is watching the exchange. Mr. Colcord picks up a paperback copy of something by Steinbeck (I can't make out the title), and tells Jordan, "You left this behind." Jordan protests that he didn't leave it, and Mr. Colcord snaps, "Just take it, will you? We'll discuss it tomorrow." Jordan reluctantly takes it. Mr. Colcord turns around and sees that Angela's still sitting in her seat; he exhales, "What?" Angela haltingly tells him that she thinks that his throwing the Lit submissions out the window "wasn't right" and showed a lack of courtesy on his part. She adds that the oak tree poem was hers, and that she "put a lot of thought into that." "Did you?" he smirks. Oh, all right -- heh. She asks why he did it, and he repeats the question, adding, "Good question. I did it to clear the slate. I did it to wake you up. I did it to do something to find you. And now, guess what? Here you are, wide awake, right in front of me." Oh, whatever. That's so clichéd I don't even want to expend the energy making fun of him. Okay, just a little: What are you, Lionel Trilling? Get over yourself, you're a sub! If you had any consistent teaching talent, you wouldn't be an academic nomad. Anyway, F.R. Beavis continues, "Wasn't that worth it? I mean, that, uh, poem? That oak tree poem? That was yesterday. What are you going to write today?" "Good question," Angela replies. Ecch, get your own intellectual identity; don't mooch off Toothpick's.
At some later date (again, the new outfit is my clue), Rayanne "Steno" Graff accompanies Angela to English. Angela exposits, "You're not in this class." Rayanne replies, "So? Neither are half these kids," and indeed, the room does look much more fully packed than it did a mere three pages ago. Rayanne further exposits that Angela has been talking about Mr. Colcord for three days, and that Rayanne has "gotta view this guy!" The bell rings and the students dutifully take their seats. Through teeth clamped on his omnipresent toothpick, Mr. Colcord snaps, "Get out your notebooks," and strides to his desk. The toothpick calls its agent. Rayanne leans forward and mutters to Angela, "Substitute, my ass. He is the real deal." Mr. Colcord drops his knapsack on his desk and announces that he wants the class to "start over." Brian whines, "Start over on what?" and some other kid (possibly Jordan) pipes up, "I didn't bring a notebook!" A third asks, "Can't you show a movie?" Mr. Colcord ignores them and instructs, "Don't give me anything quaint. I don't want any domesticated animals, or [in Angela's direction] greenery. I want anger. I want honesty. I want nakedness." "I'm right here, baby," purrs Rayanne. Brian raises his hand to spoil everyone's nascent fun, and Mr. Colcord tells him to write down whatever he was going to say. He further instructs that the students should write down things they've never told anyone, themselves included, and that they shouldn't fear exposure since none of them will be putting their names on their papers: "This will be completely anonymous." "Just how I like sex," Rayanne stage-whispers to Angela. Mr. Colcord settles down beside Rayanne and asks, "What about you?" Rayanne stumbles for a minute, and then says, "I'm not in this class." "You're not? Where are you?" asks Mr. Colcord, adding, "How can you say you're not here? You're here -- I see you. Get out your notebook." Rayanne tries another tactic: "I never wrote anything for the Lit." Mr. Colcord snorts, "Yeah, well, then you have an unfair advantage here." Oh, burn! I should think he'd want to teach this class the poetry of Robbie BURNS!
After class, Rayanne and Angela flank "Little" Rickie Vasquez going down a flight of stairs; both girls are squealing about Mr. Colcord. Rayanne: "Tell him about the toothpicks! Tell him about the socks! He always wears one white sock, and one black sock." Very seriously, Rickie declares, "I have got to see the socks."
And...there they are, crossed at the ankles on Mr. Colcord's desk. As he holds forth, all the students lean forward, hanging on his every word. AS IF. All the students, that is, except Brian, who's still pouting. Anyway, the gist of Mr. Colcord's remarks is that their more recent submissions show "signs of life." He asks himself where they go from here, and then congratulates himself, as usual, on his "good question." The answer, apparently: "We go further."
Montage alert! Mr. Colcord lectures. Students laugh, and listen, rapt, and chew on toothpicks -- even Sharon! Between classes, Rickie and Rayanne (and some other random students) stick close to Mr. Colcord in the hall, and laugh uproariously when he makes some remark we can't hear. , we see he's redecorated the classroom with an oriental rug and some candles (oh, now, really, THAT'S TOO MUCH), on which Angela, Rayanne, and their now omnipresent toothpicks recline, writing in their notebooks. Okay, first of all, as much as a student may enjoy writing and have a real talent or flair or passion for it, is a classroom really a place where you explore your muse? Even a classroom with an oriental rug and candles? In my experience, no. And I was using the term "muse" facetiously, for the record. Anyway, Mr. Colcord wanders through his throng of disciples (and Brian, who leans bitterly against the blackboard, writing nothing) and comes to the classroom door. Baldo Civics appears in the window at the top, evidently trying to tell Mr. Colcord something; rather rudely, Mr. Colcord lowers the venetian blind on him.
, Mr. Colcord walks around the class with a paper bag full of (presumably) the students' papers; the students each draw a sheet of paper. The desks are now arranged in a semi-circle. Wow, it's like a consciousness-raising session. How '70s. Mr. Colcord taps Sharon on the head, continuing to pass out papers, and says they'll start with her. "Just read it?" she asks, and then grouses that she can't read the anonymous student's handwriting, but he tells her to read it anyway, and she does; it's a poem about trying on clothes. Another student (Daryl) reads about someone looking in someone's window. Rayanne hisses at Angela that Mr. Colcord changed his socks, and Angela hisses back that she's trying to listen. Mr. Colcord harangues the class to forget grammar and spelling (which he wouldn't say if he'd ever visited the boards on this site devoted to a certain program about a pre-fabricated boy band that shall go unnamed), and various students read: "When I'm a mother, I'll get revenge. I'll ask questions that miss the entire point." "My father decides how much cars were worth before they were totalled; that's his job." "I can forgive you, but I want to kill your dog." "I'll smile when you want to kill me. I'll throw away your favourite skirt, and never admit it." "If I drive myself and his favourite car off a bridge, what would be the estimated damages?" Mr. Colcord compliments the last author for finding an ingenious way to trash his father. Rickie says that his piece has a title: "It's called 'A Fable.'" Cut to Angela, whose smile fades ever so slightly. "Once upon a time there lived a girl. She slept in a lovely little cottage made of gingerbread and candy. She was always asleep. One morning she woke up, and the candy had mold on it. Her father blew her a kiss and the house fell down. She realized she was lost. She found herself walking down a crowded street, but the people were made of paper, like paper dolls. She blew everyone a kiss goodbye, and watched while they blew away." A nervous titter ripples through the class, and Mr. Colcord asks, "Why are you laughing?" A student previously identified as Yvette snickers, "Because it doesn't make any sense!" Angela leans morosely on the heel of her hand. Mr. Colcord tells Yvette, "Yeah, that's true, but it does better than make sense: It makes you feel! Makes you wonder. [to Angela] Wakes you up." Angela smiles back.
Mr. Colcord asks whether everyone has read. Brian purses his lips and breathes, "Uh..." "Brian. Read," commands Mr. Colcord. Brian shows he has a pair, and defies Mr. Colcord: "I'm not going to read this." They argue a moment, and then Brian spits, "It's called 'Haiku for Him.'" He takes a breath and proceeds: "He peels off my clothes / like a starving man would peel an orange / His lips taste my juicy..." Various students whoop until Brian gives up: "I refuse to read this." Mr. Colcord makes a show of sauntering over, plucking the page out of Brian's hand, and reads it himself: "His lips taste my juicy sweetness / My legs tangle with his / We become one being / A burning furnace in the cold cement basement of love." Dude, that's not a haiku. Mr. Colcord editorializes: "Hormones. What would we do without them?" As the camera pulls back, I see that the desks aren't even in a semi-circle, they're all just strewn about haphazardly, with no evident pattern. Whatever. One student asks who wrote the last submission. Everyone laughs. Mr. Colcord asks whether what he's just read is a real haiku. ("Good question," except I already answered it, suckah.) No one answers immediately, and Mr. Colcord asks Jordan, who, predictably, doesn't know. Mr. Colcord stomps over to browbeat him some more: "Yeah, well, find out, huh?" He throws a dictionary at Jordan and asks him to look up "haiku." Rayanne raises her hand and asks, "Just 'cause it's not a real haiku doesn't mean you're not going to print it in the paper, right? 'Cause it's real, in the sense that it's true to life." An outraged Brian squeals, "You're going to print that in the Lit?!" "I don't see why not," Mr. Colcord drawls. The bell rings and everyone starts flooding out, handing back the anonymous submissions. Angela comes up to Mr. Colcord and tells him, "That was mine. I mean, not the haiku thing, but..." "Yeah, I know which one was yours," Mr. Colcord replies, brightly (if dismissively) and then calls out to Jordan, who's slinking toward the door. Stung, Angela looks down at her notebook.
When they're alone, Jordan and Mr. Colcord sit side by side. Mr. Colcord firmly asks, "What's that word?" Jordan regards his fingernails and fidgets. Graham wanders toward the doorway from the hall as Mr. Colcord presses Jordan, "What's the sound? Okay, finish the chapter and the ten poems tonight." Jordan whimpers, "Are you crazy?" and Mr. Colcord replies (wait for it...), "Yeah, good question." He gives Jordan a little primer on the haiku (seventeen syllables, whatever, we all know what a haiku is) and dismisses him. Jordan stomps out, past Graham, who haltingly tells Mr. Colcord who he is and that he intends to print the Lit. Mr. Colcord wearily gets up and listens impatiently. Graham asks for the Lit submissions, mumbling something about having to have them all in by the morning, and Mr. Colcord lifts up the desk in which he was just sitting, slams it back down on the floor, and snaps, "You know that kid who just left here? That extremely smart kid? ["Are we still talking about Jordan, here? 'Extremely hot,' maybe, but smart? I don't see it." -- Ed.] It seems nobody ever bothered to notice that he never quite learned how to read." Graham looks scared. Mr. Colcord adds (rather unnecessarily) that it pisses him off. He busts out a toothpick -- just one, you know, to calm his nerves -- and offers one to the shell-shocked Graham, who takes it, and stares. Take a picture, it'll last longer. Or just try to find a Cheers rerun.
At home, Patty sits on the bedroom floor sifting through the Lit submissions, and bossily tells Graham that they have to figure out which one is Angela's. Graham says nothing, but grouchily pads past her to the bathroom. Patty asks him whether Brian was right about Mr. Colcord: "Was he really mentally ill?" Graham offers, "He didn't give me any Kool-Aid to drink, or anything like that. Actually, he's a pretty cool guy." Patty informs Graham that substitutes aren't "cool," and Graham insists that Mr. Colcord is, and Patty suggests that maybe he isn't a substitute: "Maybe he's a narc." "Maybe you're a narc," Graham cracks, stretching across the bed and reaching down beside Patty for a handful of Lit submissions. Patty declares that they need a sample of Angela's handwriting ("What are we, the KGB?" Graham asks), and opines that the submissions are "weird." She offers up a eulogy for the lost oak tree poem, and hopes aloud that Angela's isn't "the one where they kill the dog." Heh. Graham chuckles briefly, then reads the first bit of the submission in his hand and mutters, "Uh. Mayday." Patty delightedly asks if it's Angela's, then snatches it out of Graham's hand. As she reads, her face falls. "'My juicy sweetness'?" Graham quotes. "It's the end of the world," Patty breathes. Yeah, for Camille, maybe. Whoops! Did I say that out loud? Patty decisively slams the paper down on the bed and declares that she won't print it. Graham, thinking she's exaggerating, picks it back up and laughingly reminds her about "freedom of expression." "Screw it!" Patty replies tartly. "I'll call the substitute person and explain -- I mean, come on! That doesn't belong in the Lit!" "In the cold cement basement of love," Graham intones. They stare at each other a moment, and Graham asks, "You don't think --" "No! We don't even have a basement!" Patty replies. Heh. She tries to grab it from him, but Graham pulls it away too quickly and snaps, "Hey, get your own!" Hee!
The day, Mr. Colcord is sprawled on his desk in a bizarre and not at all comfortable-looking position -- on his left side, with his left leg dangling off the edge of the desk, and his right bent at the knee, with his right foot flat on the desk. The fuck? Whatever, he's a hippie or something. Patty clicks down the hall and into the doorway, catching Mr. Colcord as he plays his toothpick in and out of his mouth. Is that some kind of come-on? Patty introduces herself, and he sits up and remarks, "I met your husband the other day." Patty confirms that briefly, and then tries to get on with talking about the Lit, but Mr. Colcord interrupts her to say, "He's a lucky man." And if there were a studio audience, here's where they'd interject, "Whoooooooo!" Patty is caught off-guard by the hoary old compliment, and sort of giggles and thanks him and then proceeds, as much "all business" as you can be right after tittering like a schoolgirl: "My husband and I read the stuff that the kids wrote --" "Hope it didn't give him a heart attack," Mr. Colcord cracks. Patty regards him, and Mr. Colcord explains that Graham seemed "a little fragile."
Patty gets shirty: "Actually, it isn't my husband who had the problem." Way to play right into his hands, babe. Didn't you learn anything from your visit with the IRS? Mr. Colcord smiles knowingly. Patty says, "I just think...there's this one piece in particular [producing the non-haiku and handing it to him] that I just don't feel comfortable printing." Mr. Colcord sniffs, "Oh! You're afraid that Angela wrote it." Patty protests (or lies, if you prefer), "This has nothing to do with whether Angela wrote it." "So, this is just censorship for censorship's sake," Mr. Colcord asks, staring her down. "What?" Patty snips, her professional smile still plastered on her face. Mr. Colcord snaps, "Hand them over. I'll type them myself, and I'll have them Xeroxed." Patty descends on him with her furious WASP wrath: "These are children! We are adults! This is not censorship! This is guiding adolescents who need...guidance!" Mr. Colcord calmly replies, "That is a very reasonable opinion, and very clearly stated. Unfortunately, it's manure." Fighting the urge to scratch his eyes out, Patty squints, "Excuse me?" "It's horse manure. I sense you're angry. Are you angry?" "Yes!" Patty hisses. "Yes! I sensed that!" Mr. Colcord chuckles. Dude, don't patronize Patty. That's Angela's job. Patty enunciates, "Why is it manure?" Mr. Colcord declares, "Good question. It is manure because this journal should be about giving these students a voice, not about having their thoughts edited. If these kids aren't afraid to put their hearts on a page, why should we be afraid of them?" With grudging respect, Patty comments, "You should really teach full-time." Mr. Colcord says, "We have a difference of opinion. Fine. Do you think you should be in a position to decide because you have a printing press and I don't?" Patty asks, "Do you expect me to answer that question?" Mr. Colcord says he does, and Patty takes a deep breath and admits, "No, I don't." Mr. Colcord hands the submissions back to her, and makes to leave. Patty stops him before he gets to the door: "So. Did Angela write it?" Mr. Colcord smirks, and leaves without answering. Patty tries not to freak out. And succeeds. For now.
Some indeterminate period of time later, a nice clean box of Lit copies is delivered to the school's main office. A student in a varsity jacket (unnamed, but he was the one in Angela's English class who read the submission about the father who appraised totalled cars) is sitting on the bench to the box, and the moment he notices it's there, he scoops up an armful of Lits and takes off, handing them out to various students in the hall. Mr. Foster walks through the halls, suspiciously eyeing all the students devouring the Lit as no issue of the Lit has probably ever been devoured before. Entering the main office, he sees that all the admin staff members are reading the issue too; he plucks one out of a woman's hand, goes into his own office, and closes the door. After a moment, he screams her name through the door. When she opens it, he tells her he wants to see Mr. Colcord after the final bell.
In the girls' bathroom, a couple of random chicks are stubbing out their cigarettes on the floor and talking shit about the author of the controversial non-haiku.
Plaid Dress: First of all, whoever wrote it has, like, zero self-respect.Okay, thanks for that, Gilbert and Goober. Sharon, brushing her hair in front of the mirror, wheels around and growls, "Look! He said not to sign it, okay? He said it should be anonymous, okay? It was like a rule he made in class! Okay?" Plaid Dress and Blue Vest shoot her "whatever" looks; Plaid Dress recommends that she "try [her] own conversation," and Blue Vest adds, "And some muscle relaxer!" Heh. Rayanne steps out of a stall and sidles up to Sharon, marveling, "YOU?" "So?" replies Sharon nonchalantly. Rayanne, with something like respect, repeats, "You wrote that haiku poem? You?...You wrote it, and you don't want people to know that you wrote it?!" Sharon snorts, "Oh, no. I can't wait for people to find out. I'm looking forward to it. Why are you even talking to me? We have nothing to say to each other." Rayanne continues staring at Sharon as though she'd just grown another head...or were giving some, in front of her. Sharon moans, "Oh, god. Do you know how over my life is will be when people find out I wrote it?" Rayanne replies, "Do you know how over mine's going to be when they find out I didn't?" Sharon apparently hadn't considered this: "Really? You mean...people think you wrote it?" Rayanne admits that she may have given people that impression. Sharon suggests that they continue to allow people to believe that mistaken impression, and Rayanne agrees. Sharon suddenly asks Rayanne if she's playing some kind of trick, and Rayanne quickly answers, "I want people to think I wrote it. I wish I had wrote it...'written' it." Sharon's body unclenches, and Rayanne lowers her voice to ask, "How did you write something that good?" Sharon smiles modestly and says, "I don't know. It just kind of came to me." As it were. Leaning closer, Rayanne murmurs, "My favourite part is when they become the furnace." Sharon beams, but the moment is shattered when Angela comes stampeding in, shrieking at Rayanne. Sharon and Rayanne spring apart. Angela tells them both that Mr. Foster has seized every copy of the Lit, except the stolen ones. She adds, "He's refusing to allow us to distribute it, because of your [indicating Rayanne] haiku thing." Sharon and Rayanne exchange a very subtle look. Nice scene.
Blue Vest: I know! I mean, to do it in your basement?
Plaid Dress: I know! My basement is, like, so filthy! Plus she has no self-esteem or she'd, like, sign her name.
At the Chase Place dinner table, Angela refers to Mr. Colcord as "Vic," and informs Patty and Graham that "Vic" had told the class about their options: file a lawsuit against the school for violating the students' constitutional rights, or stage a walkout. Danielle...whatever. Angela goes on to describe a "make-believe book burning": "'Cause, you know, Nazis burned books. So, I mean, is that what Foster's saying -- that a school should burn books, like Nazis?" Patty gently reminds Angela that Mr. Foster hasn't actually burned any books, "has he?" Angela hands over the eye-rolling reins to me as she repeats, "Has he burned anything? Good question. No. But it amounts to the same thing." She continues by saying that Mr. Colcord told the class that if someone called a news station and read the poem, there would be news crews all over the school. Danielle snorts, "You call your teacher Vic?" Angela admits that she's been talking a lot about him: "I just respect him, you know? He's smart. He's like...he's an adult I can look up to, finally." Graham and Patty give Angela a "what are we, chopped liver?" look; she asks, "What?" and they simultaneously say, "Nothing." Patty recommends that Angela not get carried away in the Lit fight, and Angela silently snatches her napkin off her lap, drops it on her plate, and storms upstairs. Danielle...whatever. Patty follows Angela, saying that she knows "how easy it is to get caught up in things," because such battles are "exciting," and Angela spits, "'Exciting'? It's not exciting, it's important. It's an important issue. What, you think I'm doing this for excitement? For fun?" Patty tells Angela that she and Graham can't help being concerned that Angela will do something that could jeopardize her future. Angela throws their Boomerosity back in their faces: "What about all those boring stories I've had to sit through my whole life about how committed you were in the sixties, about how you believed in things?" Graham says, "We did," only it comes out sounding more like a question. Angela turns on her heel and heads back upstairs, bitterly replying, "Oh, right! Only now you're so terrified of causing trouble you can't even see what it means to me!" Angela gets the last word. Graham and Patty chuckle ruefully at each other, but really, it's clear they've been burned by their adolescent firebrand.
In English class the day, Yvette is exhorting her colleagues to go to Foster and tell him they want the Lit: "Technically, it's our property -- it's our class work. He has to give it to us." Rayanne (who, in a nice bit of continuity, is wearing a Grateful Dead concert t-shirt) and Rickie walk in; Rickie is in the process of telling Rayanne the latest in Colcord news: "People are saying everything -- that he was fired, that he was sleeping with a junior, that he was thrown in jail." "Which jail?" asks Rayanne. The bell rings and Mr. Foster blusters in. The students are plainly unsettled by the change, and regard him warily. No more oriental rugs and candles, I'll bet.
Mr. Foster speechifies: "As some of you know, I've read the Liberty Lit, and found certain materials in it unacceptable. Those of you who have copies will please bring it [sic] to the administrative offices." Angela raises her hand and, when he calls on her, scoffs, "How can you say it's unacceptable when nobody's allowed to see it?" A polite clamor ensues, which Mr. Foster quashes: "That's enough. I must hold school-authorized publications to certain standards of decency. Anyone found distributing the journal will be suspended from school. That's a promise. A new substitute will be here in a minute to work with you until we find a permanent replacement. Is that clear?" Right on cue, Jordan -- leaning out the window -- yells, "Hey, it's him! It's Mr. [Colcord]!" Like the Pavlov's dogs they are, all the kids leap out of their seats at the sound of Mr. Colcord's name and hoof it to the window, where they all start screaming, "Mr. [Colcord]! Mr. [Colcord]!" Mr. Colcord finally looks up at them, and gives them a rather wan raised-fist salute. The kids return it, with about as much conviction. Mr. Colcord books, and the students, disappointed, return to their desks. Angela is the last to pull her head out of the window. Brian whines, "All that crap about honesty and truth...what a jerk! He didn't even teach." Jordan protests, "He did teach! He was the best teacher I ever had." Stunned to hear his voice raised in class, all the students turn and stare at Jordan, who adds, more quietly, "Well, he was." Angela briefly looks up at Mr. Foster, and then jogs out of class, followed by Rickie, Rayanne, and, after a moment, Sharon.
Mr. Colcord continues his walk of shame, and the four AWOL students catch up with him outside. Angela feebly says that they're "upset" about what's been happening. Rayanne asks him if it's true that he was fired, and he offers, "Yeah, you could say that." Angela squeaks, "I can't believe you were fired because of one poem." Mr. Colcord turns on her: "Why? You think injustice like that doesn't happen? It happens every day. Wake up!" He storms off. Oh, real mature. Angela watches him go, looking (and, I guess, feeling) impotent.
At some later (but not that much later) time, Jordan walks out of Mr. Foster's office with his head down. Graham, sitting on a bench, watches him go and apparently remembers him as the kid who can't read. He sighs.
Mr. Foster ushers Graham into his office. Graham says, "I'll make this brief --" but Mr. Foster derails him: "Let me see. Your daughter is --" "Angela. Angela Chase? She's a sophomore..." blah blah blah he tells Mr. Foster that he met Mr. Colcord and liked him. Or at least, he's on the point of saying he likes Mr. Colcord, but Mr. Foster -- thinking Graham is about to say the opposite -- interrupts him: "There's no need to go any further. Mr. [Colcord] is out, and will no longer be substitute teaching at Liberty in the foreseeable future." Graham takes a moment, and then tells Mr. Foster that he doesn't want to make trouble, but that Angela really liked Mr. Colcord, and that he got Angela thinking and questioning, and "isn't that what all of this is supposed to be about?...It's just that she was really shaken up. She believes you fired him." Mr. Foster says that he didn't fire Mr. Colcord: "I was strongly considering it, mind you, and then he quit. Right after I showed him this. [He picks up a piece of paper.] It's a copy of a subpoena, addressed to a Mr. Theodore Victor, a.k.a. Victor Racine [Mr. Colcord's real name], stating that the aforementioned Mr. Racine must appear in a New Hampshire court within sixty days for failure to pay child support to a family he deserted months ago....He took one look at that, and walked out that door." "He deserted his family?" Graham whispers. Hey, isn't it incredibly unprofessional of Mr. Foster to show that subpoena -- or even to tell that story -- to Graham? Good question. YES.
Back in the kitchen at Chase Place, Graham has apparently just finished relaying this story to Patty, who is shaking her head. Graham adds, "God, I wish I didn't know. I wish he hadn't told me! ["Um, word." -- Ed.] Now what do I do?" Patty recommends that he tell Angela the truth, and avers that "she can handle it." Graham tells Patty that he remembered to buy kitty litter. "My hero," says Patty, not facetiously.
AVO says...hey! With all the flurry of writing, we've hardly heard Angela's voice-over at all! I guess Mr. Colcord was good for something after all. Anyway, Angela is standing at a fence with a row of mailboxes crudely nailed to it, and is apparently waiting for someone to appear. AVO says, "It's so weird that teachers actually, like, live places." Mr. Colcord wanders out of the opening in the fence, wearing a somewhat more proletarian outfit than he did at school, and doesn't look especially pleased to see Angela there. She tells him she looked him up in the phone book, and that she couldn't believe he was listed. He starts to wander over to his car, and she quickly apologizes, "if that's not the right thing to do." Mr. Colcord simply replies, "What a waste of a Saturday."
Angela awkwardly says, "I heard you left your family -- abandoned them." "I see," he says. Desperately wanting to believe in him, still, she presses, "So are you saying you didn't? I mean, what's the truth?" Mr. Colcord hedges, "Well, there are a couple of truths. One truth is I left my family. The other truth is my wife is far better off without me. Yes. I got out. I escaped. I broke out of a prison of my own making, and many, many people want to punish me for that -- maybe even you." Oh, spare me. Leave your family if you must -- it's shitty, but it happens. But there's no excuse not to pay your child support. Your kids didn't ask to be part of the "prison of [your] own making," so don't give me that Kerouac shit. Angela assures him that she doesn't want to punish him: "I'm trying to --" "'To' what? To understand?" Mr. Colcord asks, continuing, "Look, my struggle for freedom is mine. Get your own. Get out before it's too late, Amanda." Angela starts to snap out of it: "'Get out'? Get out of what?" Mr. Colcord, possibly drunk, raves, "That mind-control factory -- that warehouse they store you in because they don't know what else to do with you." Angela asks, "You're telling me to drop out of high school?" Mr. Colcord smugs, "Good question. Yes. Run for your life. Save your life. Let the walls of your gingerbread house come crashing down." She looks askance, and he snots, "Or not." She fixes him with her gaze and says simply, "It's Angela. And I have to say I don't think leaving high school is the answer. I don't think leaving anything is. The thing is...is I kind of admired you." Mr. Colcord has the grace to look embarrassed, and briskly offers to drive her home.
Turns out Mr. Colcord drives a rather sporty little red convertible. Nope, his "struggle for freedom" is nothing like a mid-life crisis. Not at all. He pulls up in front of Chase Place and Angela climbs onto the curb without looking back. Brian happens to be riding his bike along the sidewalk at the same moment, and he regards her suspiciously. She tries to ignore him, but he stops his bike directly in his path and asks, "So, is there, like, anyone's car you won't get into?" Zing! Looks like Brian's playing Minnesota Fats in a remake of The Zing! Angela snots something sarcastic about living her life to annoy him, and Brian tells her to shut up, adding, "I mean, he's old -- he's a teacher!" Angela giggles, "What -- you think I, like, did something with him?" Brian stumbles, "I don't know! How do I know?" Angela says that he's demented, and views everything in terms of sex, and recaps the last scene for Brian. Brian quietly reminds her, "I have a right not to like him." After a moment, she pensively allows, "That's true. You do." She goes into the house. Brian shakes his head.
Inside Chase Place, Graham and Patty are sorting through many, many boxes of Girl Scout cookies on the dining-room table. Angela picks up a box and heads for the couch. I heard that. Patty asks if she's okay, and Angela mumbles, "Pretty much." She mopily sits down on the sofa and her parents appear and flank her. Graham leans over her and gently says, "You know what this really boils down to, sweetheart? Every fight is not worth fighting." Patty agrees, "It's just part of growing up." Graham tells Angela that sometimes, "you have to compromise." Patty corrects him, "Well, no one should have to compromise their [sic] principles, but if you never learn to compromise at all...." Graham drones on that compromise is "part of life -- it's part of marriage. I mean, your mother and I compromise all the time." "And you can't win every fight," Patty concludes. "You just have to pick your battles." Angela mumbles acquiescently that she knows they're right. Damn, I wish I had some Girl Scout cookies right now.
In class the day, a woman who looks a lot like Rosemary Clooney -- and not the young Rosemary Clooney, either, if you know what I'm saying -- is reading, "'And the oak tree looks down on us still.' Beautiful. Concise, excellent grammar, impeccable punctuation. It is a little difficult to read, of course, with this footprint. [She holds out the paper for the class to see.] It should probably be re-typed. Still, notice how the author...." She drones on as Rayanne and Rickie peer into the doorway. Rickie says he had this woman as a substitute once, and that Mr. Colcord was cool. Rayanne agrees that he was. They book. Back in class, Ms. Clooney asks which of the students is Angela Chase. No one responds. Brian looks at Sharon. Sharon looks away.
We hear the sound of a photocopier chugging away, and see the light of the machine gliding back and forth, as such lights do. Angela picks up a copy of the Lit cover off the tray.
A moment later she's busily distributing the contraband in the hallway. Brian stops dead ahead of her and she defensively says, "What." Brian says, "Nothing," and offers to hand some out upstairs. She asks, "Why?" and he replies, "Because I think you're right. I mean, I also think Vic is a complete degenerate, but this is freedom of speech." Angela reminds him that he could be suspended, and Brian cockily answers, "So?" Baldo Civics strolls down the hall and, after she offers him a copy of the Lit, tells her Mr. Foster wants to see her. Angela receives this news calmly and without surprise. Brian snaps, "She's just passing out something that our English class wrote. Since when is that a crime?" Baldo asks Brian if he wants to join her, and Angela smoothly says that she can go by herself. Brian admiringly watches her go. Or maybe he admiringly watches her ass. Or maybe both. It's hard to tell.
Patty and Graham walk into the main office, where Angela is sitting on the omnipresent bench. Seeing them, Angela groans, "Oh, no. They called you?" Patty, not particularly angrily, says, "Of course they called us!" They sit down beside her, and Patty snarks, "I can see that you really took what we talked about the other day to heart." Angela says, "I did." Patty reminds Angela that this will go on her record, and Angela spits, "I want it to go on my record." Patty repeats, "You want it to?" In a nervous sing-song, Graham reminds them that they're in a principal's office. Oh, cram it, narc. Angela asks Patty, "What is the point of school if you can't say what you're thinking?" Patty rhetorically asks, "Do you have to be the personal spokesperson for the entire school?" Angela declares, "You told me to pick my battles. Well, this is it! It may not be a war protest or a civil-rights demonstration, but it's all I've got. Well, that's not completely true. There are a couple of truths. You said I needed to decide what to fight for, and I decided. I just think it's wrong to censor people and I'm willing to get suspended for it." Before this can sink in for Patty and Graham (though they're both trying to hide proud smiles), Mr. Foster opens his office door and calls them all inside. Angela visibly screws up her courage. Graham pauses at the door to whisper to Angela, "What he did, walking out on his family -- you know that can never happen in our family. You know that, don't you?" He takes her face in his hands. ["Is he trying to convince Angela, or himself?" -- Sars] Patty leans out, between them, and sardonically drawls, "Graham, of course she knows it." Graham mutters, "God, I hate being called to the principal." The Chases (all the ones that matter) file inside.
Mr. Foster reminds Angela that he'd made it clear to her and all her classmates that anyone distributing the Lit would be suspended. He asks if she remembers, and she loudly and succinctly says, "Yes." He points out that she not only distributed it, but reproduced it, using school equipment and supplies. "Yes," she says again. He adds the kicker: She cut English class to do it. "And I also cut Bio yesterday," Angela adds, for good measure. Patty looks away. Mr. Foster asks if she has anything to say in her own defense. "No," Angela says. Mr. Foster adds that he's willing to listen (sure, he's all smooth and sweet when a kid's parents are in the room. He wasn't such a teddy bear when Brian was in the hot seat). Patty starts to interject, but Angela stops her and says, "There's nothing else I want to say." Mr. Foster says, "I see. Well." He looks at Patty and Graham, then Angela, and then says, "I'm not going to suspend you." Graham and Patty exhale, relieved; Angela looks outraged. Mr. Foster explains, "I think Mr. [Colcord] gave you kids very distorted ideas about right and wrong. Angela, this obviously isn't you. I'm willing to forget about this one, isolated incident. It's over." Angela stares back, disappointed.
After the meeting, Patty and Graham steer Angela out into the hall, beaming, their arms around her. AVO recites Angela's Lit piece: "Once upon a time, there lived a girl. She slept in a lovely cottage made of gingerbread and candy." Each parent kisses her, and then they walk off together, leaving Angela to slouch, alone, in the hall. AVO continues: "She was always asleep. One morning she woke up." The bell rings, and students file out. AVO repeats, "She woke up." Did she? Or did she just copy a charismatic teacher without really making any decisions on her own? Good question.