Teaching Mrs. Tingle

God, help me this time

I'm really trying to try

I just feel like I'm waitin' for nothin'

I float on a lie.

My heart's been pounding all day.

Like I've been running away.

Mm-hmm I know this evening.

You'll be sleeping where I want to be Mom?

Maybe I'll just run away.

Susie never showed up. I did a double.

I'm so tired.

- Ahh. - Finished.

You did? Oh!> - Mm-hmm.

That's great. Very well done.

So? You find out about it today?

Just the rankings. Don't find out about the scholarship till after finals.

- How about the grant? - Declined.

Same as the loans. Dad uses me as a deduction.

- Bastard. - Yeah, but I still have a good shot at valedictorian.

- I mean, I could still get the scholarship. - And you will.

I've got complete faith in you.

Well, I gotta go. If I just get through this week, I'll be fine.

- Come here. - I have to go.

I need a hug. I need one. Come on.

Oh.

You're going to get to college.

I mean, look at this. This is brilliant.

My little girl the writer.

You're gonna make it. You're gonna get out of here.

- I just know it. - You didn't do so bad.

Yeah.

But you're gonna go all the way.

So, you really think this is an "A"?

You're the.

Oh.

That teacher of yours isn't gonna know what hit her.

One thousand faces... Hey.

All look the same They're all so boring mild and tame.

Contaminate him Knock off his glasses.

Teach him to tamper with the cloning.

Process.

Pardon me, sir Can I ask you a favor.

Coach! Hey, Coach!

Wake up, will you?

That Trudie Tucker has no business driving a Mercedes.

Listen, I need your senior prophecy for the last issue. The deadline's tomorrow.

I don't know what to say. I hate that senior shit.

- Just think of where you'll be in 20 years. - You're the writer, do it for me.

Okay, uh, how about, "Miss Jo Lynn Jordan, famous film star, last seen..."

- In rehab popping Percodan, divorced from gay husband. - Perfect.

- What does yours say? - I haven't done mine yet.

Allow me. Leigh Ann Watson, famous journalist

wins the Pulitzer Prize for her personal yet searing account...

of being a 38-year-old virgin.

- Watch it. - Simple reminder.

Take my tongue It's cocked and loaded.

Go, man, go!

Hiya, Trudie. What you got there?

It's the Bastille. As in "the storming of the Bastille,"

as in the French Revolution.

- Mmm, it's cute. - I think we can do better than "cute."

Don't you think so, Leigh Ann?

Good job. Very well clone.

Good morning.

The board has dubbed you special student.

Sit at home and sweat in silence.

We don't tolerate defiance here.

- Oh, my God, there he is. Oh, he is such a... - Canker.

With a wrought-iron ass!

- Dare me. - What?

Just say it. Dare me.

- Okay, I dare you. - Thank you!

- Oops! Jeez. - Whoa!

- Sorry about that. - Hey, Jo Lynn, it's okay.

No, really, I should not be in public with my feet. I-I'm sorry.

- Hey, Leigh Ann, how's it going? - She's good

I'm the one who's kind of out of it.

- Oh, yeah? What's wrong? - I just think a little bit of pity is in order,

since I have had this stirring and passionate secret love for you...

since actually the third grade, and, um...

- But I feel much better now. Thanks. - Yeah.

- I cannot believe you just did that. - I can't either. Oh, my God!

You've gotta chill on the hair products. The fumes are going straight up your nose.

It was this little voice inside of me that just said, "Do it!"

That's why it's a little voice, Jo Lynn. You're not supposed to listen to it.

No, Leigh Ann. You've gotta listen.

I don't want you, I don't know you And I don't want to.

Yeah.

There she is.

Excuse me.

Get out of the way!

Hey, man.

- Uh... Good day, Coach. - Mr. Potter?

- May I have a moment? - Morning, Mrs. Tingle. How are you?

- Fine, thank you. - Mrs. Tingle.

- Will you excuse us, Coach Wenchell? - Of course.

How can I help you this morning, Mrs. Tingle?

Summer school starts in three weeks. Did you receive my request...

regarding those necessary research materials?

Yes, I wanted to talk to you about that.

It appears to be a matter of budget I was thinking...

No, no, don't do that, Mr. Potter. We so prefer...

that whistling wind effect you have on us.

Now, I requested those materials some time ago.

- We don't have the money. - Mr. Potter,

I'm sure if you take another look at that nasty budget...

ingenuity will abound.

So, thank you in advance.

Oh, by the way, happy birthday.

It's not my birthday, Mrs. Tingle.

No, not your natal birthday. The A.A. one.

You've been sober... How long is it now?

- Four years. - There. I knew it was this week.

Me and dates. You know, that's the curse of being a history teacher.

Well, congratulations. That's quite an accomplishment.

Just think, not one sip of alcohol in over four years.

That's almost... unbelievable.

- Are you okay, Mr. Potter? - Yes, I'm fine. Just a little tired.

Oh. Late night?

I loved President Kennedy,

but despite my feelings for Jack,

he was, after all, a married man,

so our affair remained secret.

But it endured. And it wasn't just about sex.

We helped each other.

John often turned to me for advice.

I encouraged him to pull out of Berlin,

advised him on the Cuban missile crisis,

and even encouraged him to sign that silly old nuclear peace treaty.

So, in conclusion, I ask you...

to ask not what your mistress can do for you,

but what your mistress can do for your country.

Thank you, Miss Jordan, for that nauseating distortion of American History.

I was merely trying to point out...

that our political leaders' indiscretions have had a major impact on history.

And you chose to do it without one shred of factual evidence,

leaving your project's merit to be judged solely on a rather tepid impersonation,

completely out of your very limited range as an actress.

Now, take your seat.

Mr. Berry?

I, uh... I-I've been thinking about getting into law enforcement...

after graduation, so I thought for my project...

I'd create a medieval crossbow.

It's not loaded. This was a very popular means...

of protection during the early...

during the early 15th century.

Um...

By placing a bolt in the chamber,

um, the bowing of the wood creates a pressure,

Cool.

- I... - Don't tease us, Mr. Barry.

When you shoot, make it count.

It wasn't... I mean, I didn't think that...

No, because that would require a cerebrum and a few other missing parts.

What you did was bring a weapon to school.

What you did is punishable in a court of law.

Now, sit down before I have you arrested.

Mr. Churner, dare I even ask?

Plymouth Rock.

Your work, Mr. Churner, is very reminiscent of a young man...

who sat in that same chair some 20 years ago.

He too had the words "no future" printed on his forehead.

Give your father my best.

Miss Watson? Dazzle us, will you?

Well, I've created a 17th-century journal.

One year in the life of an accused Salem witch.

Documenting actual events, it contains 365 entries,

all written with quill and ink, bound by leather and twine and aged for authenticity.

It chronicles a young girl's false imprisonment and unfair trial.

It took about six months...

October 1 No, 1692.

"Another girl was burned at the stake today."

"I fear William Griggs will point to me next."

"I fear my future will be nothing more than smoldering ashes."

"If this be true, I pray the wind...

"will carry my ashes far from Gallows Hill...

"to a place that allows me to sing and dance...

in the open air."

Oh, how very moving.

I tried not to get too carried away with the prose.

It's completely factual. She was ultimately burned at the stake.

It's documented.

Always a victim.

Aren't we, Miss Watson?

Well, there are similarities between society today and 17th-century Salem.

I guess that would be the irony of it all.

I'm well aware of what irony is, Miss Watson.

You, however, should consult your dictionary.

Of course, I wasn't suggesting that it was...

Irony is the opposite of what is or might be expected.

For example, if Miss Watson...

was expecting an "A" on her history project,

she might find the actual result to be... rather ironic.

I pray your Salem witch...

escaped such literary infractions.

Please, sit down.

Miss Tucker?

You're number two. By one point.

- Oh. - Pity.

I know how much you were counting on being valedictorian.