Teacher’s Pet

What the?

Wh-- wh-- poor?

Hey, Clara. Clara.

I heard you got into Yale. That's awesome, congrats.

Did you get on like, the-- the poor people scholarship

where they feel bad for you or--

Shut up, dick face.

Settle down! Settle down!

Quiet please. Quiet please.

Please, take your seat.

I have some very unfortunate news.

Mr. Abbott will not be returning to teach this class.

If you haven't heard already, Mr. Abbott took his own life.

- Oh my God. - What?

Oh my God.

I know, I know.

It's a terrible situation, but that is all I'm at liberty

to disclose for the time being.

Um, Mrs. Estrada has made arrangements

for a grief counselor this Thursday

and I highly, highly suggest that you reach out to her

directly via email to make those arrangements.

So, do we like, go home?

You like, stay in your seat and I will introduce you

to your new teacher.

Mr. Heller?

Now, Mr. Heller here is an accomplished academic

with an Ivy League tenure, and despite

the unfortunate circumstance, you're in good hands,

and I will leave it to you to get acquainted with the class.

Again, thank you for your time and I'm very, very sorry.

Thanks.

Good morning.

Good morning?

Good morning.

"O Captain! My Captain!"

Does anybody know what that's from?

None of you.

It's a poem by Walt Whitman about Mr. Abraham Lincoln.

Now in this class, you can call me, "Mr. Heller"

or if you're feeling daring, "O Captain, my Captain."

Well, as much as I don't want you to hate me on my first day,

I do have your first assignment.

I get it. I get it, but this is important.

When someone dies, and there's a loss

like you've just experienced, writing is a way through it.

It's in these darkest moments that we tend to shy away

from the work,

but the whole point of the work is to exist as an outlet.

Now who here is a fan of Emily Dickinson?

At least, there's one person in the room with good taste.

Remind me, what's your name?

- Clara. - Clara.

Clara, thank you.

If you look at the second paragraph down,

it's a poem titled, "A Funeral in my Brain".

Read it.

Maddy, right?

Could you actually read it to the class?

The ending.

"I felt a funeral in my brain and mourners to and fro--"

Just the last four lines.

"And then a plank in reason broke

And I dropped down and down

And hit a world at every plunge

And finished knowing, then".

Very good.

And what's it about?

Uh, a funeral, obviously.

Clara?

It's a metaphor for her mind slipping away.

Her feelings of despair.

Precisely. The poem doesn't even conclude.

All right. This suggests a loss of comprehension,

surrendering herself to the state of madness,

or as you correctly put it, despair.

Uh, can you think of anyone else who may have felt that way?

Your first assignment is to write a short-form essay

inspired by what you just read.

The subject will be Mr. Abbott.

You want us to write about Abbott?

What you remember about him, how you feel

about what just happened, stuff like that.

All I care about is that it's truthful

and that maybe it helps you process emotions

you didn't even know you had.

Make it three pages. And make it count.

You know?

The whole point of this is to work through it,

so it doesn't live with you forever.

Zach.

Can't spot you this time.

I've got a 20.

Here.

Still fucked about Abbott?

Yeah.

I mean, he was always depressed, so it's not really like a shock,

you know?

I guess.

I just hope this new guy is not as much of a dick as he was.

Abbott wasn't a dick.

Yeah, he was.

To everyone, except you and I wonder why.

Why?

Nothing.

Because I'm the fucking charity case?

That's not what I meant.

Whatever. I have to go.

The fuck are you looking at, loser?

Oh, my gosh.

Uh, I'm so, so, so sorry. Oh.

It's my fault. I'm a little lost.

Are we reading this next?

Would you like to be reading that next?

Uh, uh, sure.

I mean, I like some of her other books.

That's as good a reason as any.

You know, I've long believed students should have a say

in the curriculum, at least the right ones.

Relax.

It means you're off to a good start.

And congrats, by the way, Yale, my old stomping grounds.

Yeah. Uh, thanks.

But it's conditional.

Read some of your work already.

There's no reason you won't finish the year

with me as strong as you started it with Mr. Abbott.

Thanks.

I'll see you tomorrow.

Bye.

Thank you, sweetheart.

Baby, I-- I need you in here.

Hey.

You have a good day today?

Doesn't really work when you talk to her.

I'm better with dealing with her than you are.

- You know that. - May I be excused?

Just a second.

Sit.

Your mother's got something for you.

Yeah.

It's just some uh, stuff you gotta sign

for Social Services.

I don't understand. What's a term extension?

Oh, um,

it's just so we can collect the money we're owed.

Once you turn 18, we stop getting the $600

every month.

Unless you're living under our roof.

I'm moving away for school. I'm moving to Connecticut.

-This thing says I have to-- -No. No. No.

...still be living with you for two more years.

No. You can still go away to school.

And if they ever call, I'll just say you're at work.

Or you know, I mean, you're gonna come home

on the weekends. I-- we want you to come home.

Oh, God.

Will you just sign the damn thing?

I'm not signing anything.

-Un-fucking-believable. -Just give her a minute.

We just sprung it on her for Christ's sake.

You know, ever since you got into that stupid little school

it's like you forgot where you came from,

what we saved you from.

I'll always appreciate what you did for me.

- I-- I just-- - Yeah. Yeah.

Then let's fix this, please.

I'll look over it tomorrow.

I said I'll look over it tomorrow.

Don't make me fucking ask you again!

Jack. Just calm down, okay?

Leave me be!

My God, every time you do this to me!

What are you doing? Can you just stop?

- I have to finish my homework. - Just calm down.

Oh my God, Jack.

Why do you have to do that all the time?

Well, this your fault! You were gonna handle it.

- You were-- - Come on! Just--

You were gonna get her to sign it.

I am gonna get her to sign it.

Just leave her alone, for Christ's sake.

Goddamn it!

Oh my God.

I'm sorry this always happens. I just--

Hon.

Let me see.

He feels real bad about it.

Does he?

He's doing the best he can.

I see the way you look at him. You hate him.

No, I don't hate him.

Then something must be seriously wrong with you, too.

There's nothing wrong with operating

from a place of love.

So you do love him?

You're right, he's a fucking asshole.

- Isn't he? - Yeah.

Yeah.

But the older you get, you realize love