Maybe teachers have a hidden life.
Where they're actually like human.
Where they have, I don't know, dignity.
Or maybe not.
Sorry. Tooth pick? Anybody else?
Tooth pick?
- Way-way-wait. What did he say? - Yo. Speak up, bro.
He said tooth pick. Right? Isn't that what you said?
Tooth pick.
So, why you here? You the new substitute?
Why am I here? Yes, good question. I'm the new substitute.
- Yes. I'm here quite simply to get paid. - Yes, right.
Assuming all of you can read and write...
I don't perceive any emergency situation.
That's all. Continue wasting your lives.
So, are we dismissed?
Do you want to be dismissed?
No, you just said that was all you had to say, so.
I will be here for the next forty-seven minutes.
Whether you will also be here for that time is, to be candid, your decision.
- What's the catch? - No catch.
You don't want to be here. Go. I'm not going to stop you.
Well, you know, there is just one catch.
We will be discussing you in your absence.
But, you know, if you don't mind that.
- Yes, right. - It's no joke. I have no lesson planned.
Trashing you in your absence, will help pass the time.
Right? You know, it could possibly be educational as well.
So what are we suppose to do?
I've known you all of five minutes...
and you want me to tell you what you're suppose to do?
Fine, follow your hearts and veer away from heroin.
No, I meant in the next forty-seven minutes.
I know what you meant. That was sarcasm. What?
One of the things we were suppose to do this semester...
was this issue of the literary magazine.
Like we each wrote something, but Mayhew, that's our teacher...
she never approved the writing or whatever, because she just quit.
- So, we just never did it. - That's a heart breaking tale.
What I meant was that, I know where they are.
I mean, the stuff we wrote. It's in there.
So, could you, just, at least, read it, so we could get credit for it?
Why not.
Wait, so, lets go over it one more time.
Look, you don't even have to be there. This should be me.
Fine.
I'll take him out to dinner and make it clear that we'll redo the job at cost.
Fine. Whatever.
Castro listens to me. He trusts me. I mean, you know, not that he...
No, no, no. You're right. You should handle it.
Anyway, I need you to take Danielle to the cookie booth and back...
- Tomorrow night. - The cookie booth?
It's girl scout cookie time again. I signed her up.
You sign her up. I end up at the booth. Yes, well. Fine.
I'll call Neal and cancel our pool game.
You had plans. Maybe you can call one of the other moms and...
What, and miss the cookie booth?
I almost forgot. One of us has to call Angela's English teacher...
I think her name is Mayhew...
and see if they want us to print the Lit magazine again this year.
I reserved the press time. One of us should call. You should.
You forgot to buy kitty litter again.
I thought you said you would. You know what we need?
A wife.
Well...
I've had the privilege of reading your entries for the Liberty Lit.
And, how shall I describe them? Good question.
Let's see. Boring.
The word boring comes to mind.
Fake. False.
Synthetic. Bogus.
What do these words have in common?
You.
Me?
Yes, what do these words have in common?
I know what you're going to say. That they're synonyms meaning not genuine.
Well, that's true, that's absolutely true.
But what else are they. I mean, how else would you classify them?
- I don't know. - Yes, you do.
You think I'm an idiot?
If I tell you that the class' 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. You're not fooling anyone.
I'm on to you. You know this. You know this.
- Not verbs. Not nouns. But? - Adjectives.
Adjectives!
Don't you dare play dumb with me again.
Now, as for the rest of you...
- How shall I phrase this? - I don't believe this guy.
This is the most God awful crap I've ever read in my life.
Hey, look at that.
Hi.
- Hi. - Hi.
You want to buy some girl scout cookies?
- Not really. - You can owe me the money.
Danielle, leave him alone.
What? You've never seen someone sew on a merit badge before?
It's not a merit badge. It's a proficiency badge.
Hi, Brian. Angela. Brian's here.
Just one box. You can freeze them and eat them later.
- Danielle. - Forget it.
Sorry about that. What have you got there?
Just this thing Angela wrote that I found.
Her oak tree poem. I loved that one. Why does it have this foot print on it?
Where are the others? Weren't we going print them up?
Angela didn't tell you? He threw them out the window.
Who?
This new substitute who's, like, mentally ill. Seriously.
- No, he's not mentally ill. - He threw them out of the window?
- So, do you want this? Or... - I think that's terrible.
- Mom. - I'm serious.
You worked very hard on that poem.
- You put a lot of thought into it. - It's true. You did.
I don't know. I don't like it that much.
- Honey, that's not the point. - Exactly.
I don't care if he is your teacher, he has to treat you with common courtesy.
Haven't we always taught you to stand up for your rights?
Thanks, Brian.
Jordan? That's your name right. Look, I appreciate the fact...
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.
- Okay. Just, okay. - All right.
- By the way, you left this behind. - I didn't leave that.
Yes, just take it will you? We'll discuss it tomorrow.
- What? - I...
What? Say it.
I just think what you did yesterday wasn't right.
I mean, in terms of common courtesy.
I just think it showed a lack of respect.
You mean when I threw your work out of the window.
Yes.
I mean, that oak tree poem? That was mine.
- I put a lot of thought into that. - Did you?
Yes. I mean, why did you do it?
Why did I do it? 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.
I mean, wasn't that worth it? I mean, that poem.
That oak tree poem.
That was yesterday. What are you going to write today?
Good question.
Rayanne, you're not in this class.
So. Neither are half these kids. Come on.
You've been talking about him for three days. I got to view this guy.
Get out your notebooks.
Substitute my ass. He is the real deal.
I want everyone to start over. From the beginning.
- Start over on what? - I didn't bring a notebook.
Can't you show a movie?
Don't give me anything quaint.
I don't want to see any domesticated animals or greenery.
I want anger. I want honesty.
- I want nakedness. - I'm right here, baby.
- Excuse me. Can I say something? - Nope. Write it down.
Whatever you feel like saying write it down instead.
What you never told anyone. What you never even told yourself.
And don't fear exposure. No one is to put his or her name down.
- This will be completely anonymous. - Just how I like sex.
What about you?
- I'm not in this class. - You're not?
Where are you?
I mean, how can you say you're not here.
You're here. I see you. Get out your notebook.
I never wrote anything for the Lit.
Then you have an unfair advantage.
Tell him about the toothpicks. Tell him about the socks.
He always wears one white sock and one black sock.
I've got to see the socks.
Well, I read all your papers and...
I'm beginning to see signs of life.
Where do we go from here? Good question.
We go further.
Okay. We'll start over here.
- Just read it? - Just read it.
I can't read this person's writing. Yes, read it anyway.
In the fitting room, price tags tickle my shoulder...
as I slip on another dress. I know this one will fit.
This one will make me fly.
Paint a picture. Just talk. Don't try and make it sound like writing. Daryl.
No one knows I come out here nights. I look up, but you're never there.
- Angela. He changed the socks. - Shut up. I'm trying to listen.
And I realize I'm not angry at you. Things change.
If you don't know what you're writing about, no one else will. Yvette.
When I'm a mother I'll get revenge.
I'll ask questions that miss the entire point.
Forget grammar. Forget spelling. Forget the rules.
My father decides how much cars were worth before they were totaled.
I can forgive you, but I want to kill your dog.
Remember, it isn't just the emotion. You have to shape the emotion.
I'll smile when you want to kill me.
I'll throw away your favorite skirt and never admit it.
If I drive his car off a bridge, what would be the estimated damages?
Notice he didn't simply trash his father...
he found an ingenious way to trash him.
This one has a title. It's called A Fable.
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 as they blew away.
- Why are you laughing? - Because it doesn't make any sense.
Yes, that's true. But it does better then make sense.
It makes you feel. It makes you wonder.
It wakes you up.
Okay, has everyone read?
Brian. Read.
- I'm not going to read this. - Just read.
- Look, I really... - Read it!
It's called "Haiku for Him".
He peels off my cloths like a starving man would peel an orange.
- His lips taste my juicy... - Juicy.
I refuse to read this.
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.
Hormones. What would we do without them?
Comments. Questions.
Who wrote that?
Is this a real haiku? Jordan.
- I don't know. - Find out. Look up haiku. Now.
Yes, the ever popular Miss Graff.
Just because it's not a real haiku...
that doesn't mean you're not going to print it in the paper right?
Because it's real, I mean, in the sense that it's true to life.
- You're going to print that in the Lit? - I don't see why not.
All right, Vic.
Get out of here. Give me your work back.
Gently. One at a time. One at a time.
Don't screw them up. Gently. Give me the work.
Don't drop them on the floor. Pick them up.
- That was mine. Not the haiku thing. - Yes, I know which one was yours.
Jordan. Come here. I'm not finished with you yet.
What's that word?
Don't look at the window. What's the word?
What's the sound? Okay.
Finish the chapter and the next ten poems tonight.
What? Are you crazy?
Yeah, good question. Look, this is haiku poetry.
Haiku poetry contains only seventeen syllables per poem.
That ain't a lot syllables. Don't skip any. Get out of my sight.
My daughter is in your class.
I mean, in the class that you're substituting for.
My wife and I, we run a small printing shop.
Actually she runs it. I've come by for the submissions for the Lit.
Angela, forgot to mention that they have to be at the shop by the morning.
You know that kid that just left here? That extremely smart kid.
It seems nobody ever bothered to notice...
that he never quite learned how to read.
I mean, it pisses me off.
Toothpick?
We have to figure out which one is Angela's.
So what is this substitute person like?
- Is Brian right? Is he mentally ill? - Possibly.
He didn't give me any Kool-Aid to drink, or anything like that.
No, actually, he's a pretty cool guy.
Cool? Cool is not what substitutes are.
Substitutes have hard to pronounce last names and bad haircuts.
- This substitute is cool. - He's not a substitute.
- Maybe he's a narc. - Maybe you're a narc.
You know what we need? A sample of her handwriting.
- Who are we? The KGB? - God, these are weird.
I don't know what was wrong with the one about the oak tree.
You don't think she wrote the one where they kill the dog.
- Mayday. - Is that Angela's? Let me see.
- Oh, my God. - My juicy sweetness?
It's the end of the world.
No. No way. I'm not going to print that.
What happened to freedom of expression?
Screw it. Ill call this substitute person and explain.
Come on. That doesn't belong in the Lit.
In the cold cement basement of love.
- You don't think. - No.
We don't even have a basement. Let me see that again.
Hey. Get your own.
Mr. Racine? We spoke earlier. I'm Angela's mother.
- Yes, yes. Hi. - Hi.
- I met your husband the other day. - Right.
- What I wanted to talk about was... - He's a lucky man.
Thank you. My husband and I read the stuff that the kids wrote.
I hope it didn't give him a heart attack.
You know, he seems a little fragile.
Actually, it isn't my husband who had the problem.
Really.
I just think that...
There's this one piece in particular...
that I just don't feel comfortable printing.
You are afraid that Angela wrote it.
This has nothing to do with whether Angela wrote it.
So, this is just censorship for censorship sake.
- What? - Okay. Hand them over.
No, I'll type them myself and I'll have them Xeroxed.
These are children. We are adults. This is not censorship.
This is guiding adolescents who need...
guidance.
That was a very reasonable opinion.
And very clearly stated. Unfortunately it is total manure.
Excuse me?
Its horse manure. I sense you're angry. Are you angry?
- Yes. - Yes, I sensed that.
- Why is it manure? - Good question.
It is manure because this should be about giving students a voice.
Its not about having their thoughts edited.
If these kids aren't afraid to put their hearts on the page...
why should we be afraid of them?
You should really teach full time.
We have a difference of opinion. Fine.
But do you think you should be in the position of deciding...
because you have a printing press and I don't?
- You expect me to answer that? - Yes.
- No. I don't. - Neither do I.
So. Did Angela write it?
I want to see Mr. Racine after the final bell.
Yes, Mr. Foster.
First of all, whoever wrote it has zero self respect.
I know, I mean, to do it in your basement.
I know, my basement is so filthy.
Plus, she has no self esteem or she'd sign her name.
He said not to sign it, okay? He said it should be anonymous, okay?
It was a rule he made in class, okay?
- Try your own conversation. - Plus a muscle relaxer.
You?
So?
You wrote that haiku poem? You?
Yes. Will you shut up about it?
You wrote it? And you don't want people to know that you wrote it?
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.
Do you know how over my life will be when people find out I wrote it?
Do you know how over mines going to be when they find out that I didn't?
Really?
You mean, people think you wrote it?
Well, yes, I kind of gave off that impression.
So why can't we just let them keep thinking that.
- We could. - Is this a trick or something?
No, it's not a trick. I want people to think I wrote it.
I wish I had written it.
I mean, how did you write something that good?
I don't know. It just kind of came to me.
My favorite part...
is when they become the furnace.
Rayanne, you would not...
- Hi. - Hi.
You will not believe this. You should hear this, too.
- Spit it out. - Foster has the Lit.
Has it, like, every copy except a few that people stole or something.
He won't allow us to distribute it. Because of your haiku thing.
Really?
So Vic says we have several options. We could file a lawsuit...
sue the school for denying us our constitutional rights.
Or we could stage a walk out.
You would not believe how many boxes of thin mints...
Mrs. Casteo bought. Nine.
Vic had the most amazing idea.
We could stage a make believe book burning.
Because, you know, Nazi's burned books.
So, is that what Foster's saying?
That a school should burn books like Nazi's?
Except that Mr. Foster hasn't actually burned anything. Has he?
Has he burned anything? Good question.
No, but it amounts to the same thing.
Vic says that if somebody called a news station and read them our poem...
we'd have camera crews, instantaneously, all over the school.
- Is there anymore brisket? - You call your teacher Vic?
- You call him Vic? - It's his name. And I...
I know I've been talking a lot about him, but he's...
I just respect him, you know. He's smart.
He's an adult I can look up to. Finally.
- What? - Nothing.
Look, sweetie, don't get carried away with this. Okay?
I'm going to count my money again.
I know how easy it is to get caught up in these things. It's exciting.
Exciting? It's not exciting. It's important.
What? You think I'm doing this for excitement? For fun?
Angela.
The point is, we are concerned. We're concerned about your future.
We don't want you doing anything that could get you into trouble.
What about all those boring stories I've had to sit through my whole life...
about how committed you were in the '60s?
About how you believed in things.
- We did. - Right.
Only now you're so terrified of causing trouble...
you can't even see what it means to me.
I say we go to Foster and we tell him we want it. Technically...
it's our property. It's our class work. He has to give it to us.
What did you hear? Where is he?
People are saying everything. That he was fired.
That he was sleeping with a junior. That he was thrown in jail.
Which junior?
Will everyone please take their seats.
I've read the Liberty Lit and found certain materials in it unacceptable.
Those of you who have copies will please bring it to administration.
- Excuse me. - Yes, the young lady right there.
How can you say it's unacceptable if nobody is allowed to see it?
- Yes, what's wrong with it? - Can I just say something?
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?
- Hey, It's Mr. Racine. - People that's enough.
Please remain in your seats.
Mr. Racine. Mr. Racine!
- Come on back! Don't leave us. - Vic, where are going.
Mr. Racine.
There is nothing to see. Kindly take your seats.
All that crap about honesty and truth. And he didn't even teach.
- He did teach. - What?
He was the best teacher I ever had.
Well, he was.
Hey, Vic.
We're upset, you know, about what's been happening.
- Vic, is it true? Are you fired? - Yes, you could say that.
I can't believe this. I can't believe you were fired because of one poem.
Why? You think injustice like that doesn't happen?
It happens every day. Wake up.
Thank you for taking the time to...
for taking the time. Anyway, I'll make this brief.
Let me see. You're daughter is...
Angela. Angela Chase. She's a sophomore.
She had a substitute teacher in English the past two weeks...
who I met, actually, and who actually seems kind of...
Mr. Chase, there is no reason to go any further.
Mr. Racine is out, and will no longer be substitute teaching at...
Liberty in the foreseeable future.
Look. I don't want to make trouble.
But my daughter, he got her thinking, you know?
And questioning. Which is, I mean...
isn't that what all of this is suppose to be about?
Mr. Chase...
She was really shaken up. She believes you fired him.
Well, that's fascinating. Because I didn't.
- You didn't fire him? - Never had that particular pleasure.
I was strongly considering it mind you and then he quit.
Right after I showed him this. It's a copy of a subpoena...
addressed to a Mr. Theodore Victor aka Victor Racine...
stating that the aforementioned Mr. Racine must appear in a...
New Hampshire court within 60 days for failure to pay child support...
to pay child support to a family he deserted months ago...
etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
He took one look at that and walked out that door.
He deserted his family.
So, that's the story of Mr. Victor Racine.
Whatever his name is. God, I wish I didn't know.
I wish he hadn't told me. Now, what do I do?
You tell her the truth. She can handle it.
- I remembered to buy kitty litter. - My hero.
It's so weird that teachers actually live places.
I looked you up in the phone book.
I couldn't believe you were just right there. I'm sorry if that's not...
- The right thing to do. - What a waste of a Saturday.
I heard you left your family. Abandoned them.
I see.
Are you saying you didn't? What's the truth?
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, including you.
I don't want to punish anyone. I'm just... I'm trying to...
To what? To understand? Look. My struggle for freedom is mine.
Get your own. Get out before its too late, Amanda.
Get out? Get out of what?
That mind control factory. That warehouse they store you in.
Because they don't know what else to do with you.
You're telling me to drop out of high school?
Good question. Yes. Run for your life.
Save your life.
Let the walls of your ginger bread house come crashing down.
Or not.
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.
Come on. I'll drive you home.
- What? - Nothing.
Is there anyone's car you won't get into?
Right. I live my life to annoy you. You're my world.
Shut up. I mean, he's old. He's a teacher.
What? You think I did something with him?
- I don't know. How do I know? - Are you demented?
Do you just view everything in terms of sex?
Not everything.
I had things to say to him. We talked.
- He drove me home. God. - Okay.
I have a right not to like him.
That's true. You do.
- Are you okay? - Pretty much.
You know what this really boils down to, sweetheart?
Every fight is not worth fighting. You're learning that...
Exactly. It's just part of growing up.
And sometimes you have to compromise.
Well, no one should have to compromise their principles, but...
if you never learned to compromise at all, then...
Exactly. Because compromise is...
we all have to compromise. It's part of life. It's a part of marriage.
You're mother and I compromise all the time.
Exactly. And you can't win every fight. You just have to pick your battles.
I know. You're right.
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 foot print.
It should probably be retyped. Still...
I had her as a substitute once. Vic was cool.
Yes, he was.
All in all an excellent example of creative writing.
Which one of you is Angela Chase?
Angela Chase?
Want a copy of the Liberty Lit? It's free.
Liberty Lit? Want a copy? The Liberty Lit? It's free.
- What? - Nothing.
I could take some of those and hand them out upstairs.
Why?
Because I think you're right.
I mean, I also think Vic is a complete degenerate, but...
- This is freedom of speech. - You could get suspended.
So.
Miss Chase. May I speak with you?
- Want a copy of the Liberty Lit? - Maybe later.
Right now Mr. Foster would like to see you in his office.
She's just passing out something that our English class wrote.
Since when is that a crime?
- Would you like to join her, Brian? - I can go by myself.
- Where are you suppose to be? - Computer.
- No. They called you? - Of course they called us.
I can see that you really took what we talked about the other day to heart.
I did.
Do you know what this means? This will go on your record.
- I want it to go on my record. - You want it to?
Okay. Let's just stay calm. We're in the principle's office here.
What is the point of school if you can't say what you're thinking?
Do you have to be the personal spokesperson for the entire school?
You told me to pick my battles. Well, this is it.
And it may not be a war protest or a civil rights demonstration...
but it's all I've got.
That's not completely true. There are a couple of truths.
You said I needed to decide what to fight for.
I decided. I just think it's wrong to censor people...
and I'm willing to get suspended for it.
Mr. And Mrs. Chase. Angela.
Listen. Racine. What he did. Walking out on his family.
You know that can never happen in our family. You know that, don't you?
Graham. Of course she knows it. Come on.
Oh, God, I hate being called to the principle.
Angela, I believe I made it clear to you and your classmates...
that anyone caught distributing this issue of the Lit would be suspended.
- Do you remember hearing that? - Yes.
And yet not only did you distribute it, you reproduced it using...
school equipment and supplies. Isn't that right?
Yes.
And while you were suppose to be in English class.
And I also cut Bio yesterday.
Well. Is there anything you'd like to say in your own defense?
- No. - Because I'm willing to listen.
- If I may interject... - Mom!
There's nothing else I want to say.
I see. Well...
I'm not going to suspend you.
I think Mr. Racine 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.
Once upon a time there lived a girl.
She slept In a lovely cottage made of gingerbread and candy.
She was always asleep.
One morning she woke up.
She woke up.
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