Teachers

You're right!

That was a weird dream.

_

Fuuuuuuu...

Happy first day of school, everyone.

Hi, Chelsea. It's been so long.

I saw you yesterday, Mary Louise.

- I know. - What's in the box?

Please say it's Gwyneth Paltrow's head.

Even better.

On my drive back from Rapture Camp,

I stopped by this garage sale

and bought all of these super cool toys

my parents never let me play with growing up.

A Talkboy?

Was this garage sale in 1994?

No, it was in Nebraska.

The Great Plains states have so much to offer.

I'm sorry. Ugh, I've tried.

But this is so boring.

Caroline has been online dating.

I want the hot deets.

I actually didn't go on any dates.

I was just propositioned by raging perverts.

- I live for that. - You wouldn't be so excited

if you got seven penis pics from "BabyBatter214."

- Jesus. - So as of today,

I have decided to join an ultra-premium dating website.

It has a 97.3% success rate.

That sounds like a James Patterson novel

where a woman ends up dismembered in a suitcase.

Oh, sick.

Some idiot left a calzone in here over the summer.

Where is Feldman?

Balls!

Hello, ladies.

Welcome back.

- You got highlights. - And a tan.

And your belt matches your teeth.

You look like George Hamilton's illegitimate son.

Thank you. I decided to focus more on...

self-improvement.

Ms. Snap, you've been assigned a new class.

- Here is the roster. - Hm.

Mark Lynch?

Gabe Menendez, Ricky Menendez?

The Menendez brothers?

You gave me Hell Class?

We can't call them that anymore.

Their teacher two years ago had a mental breakdown.

When they were in kindergarten,

their teacher went missing halfway through the school year.

This isn't fair.

Can't you split them up so someone else can suffer too?

It's safer to keep them quarantined,

like a contagion.

Good luck. I had Hell Class last year.

She's 24.

Mrs. Adler, this year you will be teaching

from Fillmore's first-ever modular satellite classroom.

A trailer?

Are you seriously making me a trailer teacher?

And now, Ms. Cannon,

would you like to tell the others your news?

I am honored to be spearheading

revitalization of creative spirit and self-expression

at Fillmore.

She's the new art teacher.

Oh, that's why you look like a homeless person.

Art is a mobile class this year.

- This is your classroom. - Are you...

- Kidding me? - No.

I'm serious. I'm scared for you.

Last year, the Menendez brothers

ate all of the school's glue sticks,

and it only made them stronger.

It's a bunch of eight-year-olds.

I think I can handle it.

I'm practically talking to one right now.

Drats! Recognizing patterns is really hard.

You should never underestimate Hell Class.

Mary Louise, get a grip.

I am Chelsea Snap, remember?

I've got this.

- Yeah! - Ooh!

- Yeah! - Listen up, my little divas

and divos.

Hello?

What's up, Ma?

- You look tasty. - Excuse me?

You're a tall glass of water, and I'm thinking

I might like to take a sip.

- You're eight. - Eight and a half.

But it's cool. You're old,

but I know you're hella experienced.

- Hello? - Hey, buddy.

It's your new teacher, Ms. Feldman.

Today, we're gonna start with computers.

Do you know how to use face chat?

Yeah.

Can you walk Ms. F through it?

Hey, I'm here to teach art.

The school only gave me one paintbrush, but I think

it'll be a good lesson in sharing.

What are you working on?

Oh, in order to find my perfect match,

My Eternal Soulmate has required me

to answer 600 questions about myself.

Cool. What kind of questions?

Uh, things like, "What's your ideal Saturday?"

I wrote, "Color-coding my socks

and laminating appetizer recipes."

Oh, and, "Going to Enchanted Princesses on Ice."

Obviously.

Do you really think you're gonna find a man

who shares those interests?

Cecelia, you of all people

should know that laminating is not gender-specific.

I'm gonna stay here and finish up while you teach.

Are you sure we won't bother you?

Oh, yeah, don't worry about it.

It's art. It's not a real class.

We're gonna be reviewing rules today.

- You suck. - Okay.

First of all, that's not true.

And second of all...

I don't suck.

Let's see who's here, shall we?

Hannibal.

Oh, hey! Rule number one:

we do not damage Ms. Step's money-maker!

I saw you try and mack on my man, you baggy-ass ho.

That's crazy. He's eight years old.

Look, Ms. Snatch.

Here's the rules:

Hell Class doesn't have any rules.

Hell class? I don't know what you are talking about.

Oh, yeah. We know what you call us.

You know what?

Let's just do math another day.

Okay?

Did you guys cut the line?

Hotter than butt cleavage at Great America.

When are you bringing me a new air conditioner?

No clue, lady.

You got to put in a requisition with the district.

Okay.

Take out your textbooks.

Bobby Ray? Why are you crying?

It's too hot.

Oh, whoops.

Good luck.

Hey! You can't leave that here!

And who put this tire here?

Hope everyone learning about the wonders of pointillism.

Sorry not everyone got to paint a point.

This was so boring, it made me excited for math.

I don't know how I'm supposed to make this interesting

when I literally have no supplies.

- Are you okay? - No!

I wet wipe when I'm stressed.

I've been on My Eternal Soulmate for an hour,

and I haven't matched with anyone.

Oh, my God. I have a match!

How is that even possible?

It's a 99% match!

He's also reading "Anne of Green Gables"!

I have a match!

I knew there was someone out there for me!

I'm supposed to be a wife, not have a job!

Oh, my God, I'm gonna be somebody's wife.

I did it!

I'm gonna get out of this godforsaken place!

Ugh, whatever.

If you were pushing 30, you'd get it.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Lock! Lock!

Why doesn't this door lock?!

Chelsea, what's wrong? Why are you barefoot?

Hell Class stole my Jessica Simpson shoes.

They did you a favor.

That just slowed them down a little.

Don't take it personally, Chelsea.

Your students are just expressing themselves.

Well, their self-expression just ruined my most professional

Wet Seal top and left me stapled to a bulletin board.

Oh, my God.

Every time I read his profile,

I find a new layer of depth.

Oh, sorry.

Did you want to complain more?

No, go ahead.

You're probably talking with a 600-pound man

whose belly button is the size of a salad bowl.

No, this guy is perfect.

He loves hybrid dogs, has attended two

"Barefoot Contessa" tapings,

and he makes his own macaroons.

- He sent me his fantasy date! - What'd he say?

"M'lady, I would wear a white straw hat