All language subtitles for Head.Of.The.Class.S02E02_2

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Arvid, the way you gotta look
at the fourth dimension

is like a,
like a jelly donut or somethin'.

Except, that you got the jelly
on the outside

you got the outside
on the inside..

Oh, yeah, why'd you stop?

[sighs]
There's Lori, better hurry

you'll miss your 8:30 rejection.

Not this time, Dennis,
I've come to a major decision

it is time for me
to set her free.

[laughs]

What?
I know what you're thinkin'.

I've tried to break up
with her before

but this time
it's gonna be different.

This time I'm telling her.

Here's your chance.

Uh, uh, Lori. Ahem.

Hi, Arvid, how are you?

W-well, you saw that!
She's worried about my health!

How could I dump her now?
It will break her heart.

You.. Every time,
it's the same thing.

You gotta let 'em down easy.

- No, no, no..
- Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah..

[bell rings]

- Morning, everybody.
- Morning.

(Charlie)
'Okay. Today, we..'

Yes?

Marshal Tito.

Why don't you
just write down the answers

for the whole year and go home.

It's a nice try, Janice

but I won't actually
be talking about Marshal Tito

for at least five minutes.

I have here an essay
by a Fillmore student

and I'd like to read
a part of it to you.

"The reluctant use of power
is a myth.

"Nations pretend to believe

"in the priorities of peace
over power

"yet continue to use force

"readily and profitably.

'"By pretending that
our aggressive instincts'

"don't exist,
we are enabling those

very instincts
to overpower us."

- Wow, that's really good.
- Oh, yes, it's very nice.

Good? It's great.

Alright who wrote it,
I bet it was Darlene.

- 'Yeah.'
- No, I think it was Simone.

[indistinct chatter]

I guess, me.

- You guess?
- Oh.

Well, I don't remember writing
it, but-but it was so good

I just assumed it was me.

[indistinct chatter]

Actually, it was written
by a student 60 years ago.

And you're just gettin' around
to grading it?

Grading, no. Reading, yes.

I found it
in the "Fillmore Quarterly"

in the school library.

It's a journal of prose,
poetry and art

that was published by
the student body in the '20s.

Gee, we don't have
anything like that now.

- I'd love it if we--
- Hmm!

Simone, don't even think it.

I think that it would be great
to do something like this.

Too late, he's off on another
enriching experience.

Mr. Moore, you know
we really appreciate

you broadening
our horizons and everything.

I mean,
you got us to go to dances

and then you got us
to play volleyball

and-and then you got us to,
like, make a music video

and everything,
and really you've done enough.

Leave us alone.

Okay, I understand.
You don't have to participate.

Besides, uh, most of you
aren't really writers.

You probably couldn't cut it.

God knows you don't need
the extra credits.

[scoffs]
Just a minute,
who says we can't cut it?

- We can all write.
- Yeah, it's true.

I-I-I don't wanna be known
merely as a, a future

noble prize winning scientist.

So, uh,
you do want to try this journal?

[indistinct chatter]

Sure we do, besides this kind
of extracurricular activity

looks good on your record.

She's got a point.

I don't think we should look
at it that way.

I mean, we should think of it
as an opportunity

to be creative and express
our feelings in a way

that will enrich
the lives of others.

Simone, that is beautiful.

Can I write that down?

Sure, Dennis.

This is just the kind of swill
admission officers drool over.

[instrumental music]

Well, I love it.

A journal of prose,
poetry and art

with work from the whole school

put together by the IHP.

You're going to put
Dennis Blunden in charge.

It'll be a sleaze rag
full of dirty cartoons

with, satirical comments

about bodily functions.

Well, your personal preferences
aside, Dr. Samuels..

No, I think you and I

are both talking about
cultivating a literary journal

that would display
the, the many flowers

blossoming
in the Fillmore garden

fertilized by your leadership.

You'll all be very proud,
Dr. Samuels

and as for an editor,
I was thinking of someone

experienced, decisive

and dying to do it.

Who, me? I-I couldn't.

Why not?

Well, I just..

I mean, it's such
a big responsibility.

Collecting the materials
and deciding on the layout.

Judging everyone's work,
I'm sure

someone else could do it better.

- 'No!'
- Simone, you'd be great.

Yeah, I mean, you're a poet,
it's a natural.

The most important thing is that

no one could do it
better than you.

The most important thing
is no one wants to.

Simone, we all think
that you do a fantastic job.

- Yes.
- Yeah.

You all really think
I'm the one to do this?

- We know you.
- Yes, you're the one.

Well..

- Thank you, I accept!
- Alright.

(Charlie)
Congratulations, Editor Foster.

[cheering]

This is going to be great,
wait till my parents find out

I'm going to be
a published author.

- Put them down for ten copies.
- Oh, sure.

You know,
I-I'd like to try a poem.

Me too.

- An essay?
- 'Fine.'

- Satire.
- Great.

Eric, what are you gonna submit?

Mr. Moore, give me a break.

There's already
enough stuff about

teenage angst and alienation

without me adding to the crime.

But no one said you had
to write about that.

I mean, write what you know.

- Yeah.
- Yeah, Eric.

Look, I'm just
not interested, okay?

So please, save your breath.

I mean, there's nothing anyone
can say to convenience me

to write for that journal.

Eric.

Couple of lines.

- But that's all.
- Okay. Great.

That's everybody.

- So, um--
- Everybody, huh?

Mr. Moore,
you wanna submit something?

Now you're the editor, uh

it's up to you.

Great.

Okay, um, by next Monday

if I can have
all your pieces in?

Oh, I'm sorry,
a week from next Monday.

'That would give you more time.'

Let's say Wednesday.
Is that okay?

No, but then..

You wanna make up your mind
before my racer explodes?

Simone, maybe you should
have a co-editor.

- You know, somebody decisive.
- Yeah.

Oh, she could do it,
let us give her a chance.

No.
Monday really was the best day.

[indistinct chatter]

Don't you think?

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Eric, this is, uh

outrageous.

You grew up poor,
your brother died.

You never had a brother!

This is sadder than "Bambi."

It's fiction, Twinkie brain.

I just wrote it
in the first person

to make it more poignant.

A literary hoax. I love it.

Come on, nobody is supposed
to believe this.

Th-this is just a style,
that's all.

Nobody's supposed
to take this for the truth.

Uh, ahem.

- Eric, your memoir touched me.
- Simone..

And I'm so ashamed
the way I've treated you

all along,
I didn't understand your pain.

My pain is fine,
really, it's-it's--

No, don't say anymore.

Just know that
I'm here for you.

- Simone--
- Don't do it!

[bell rings]

- Good morning, everyone.
- 'Good morning.'

Mr. Moore,
before class starts, can I..

- Oh, sure, yeah.
- Thanks.

I wanna thank you all
for turning

in your work so promptly.

I've made a few
little suggestions on them.

You probably
can't read my writing.

So if you have any questions,
after class we can go over them.

Simone, can I talk to you
for a minute?

Uh, after class, okay, Eric?

Alright.

April 12, 1945..

[indistinct chatter]

...FTR dies

and the 33rd President
of the United States is..

They wrote a book about him
called, "Give 'em Hell, Harry."

Married to Bess Truman.

Now, what-what-what's going on?

She called me
"Superficial and vague!"

"Pointed in too many directions
at once that went nowhere?"

Yeah, "More depth," I-I wrote
a poem about Euclidean geometry.

There is no depth.

"I'm dogmatic, condescending
and pretentious?"

Okay, so she got one right.

I'm just trying to avoid a lot
of clumsy amateurish writing.

- "Amateurish writing?"
- Simone, we did the very best..

So now, we're clumsy amateurs?

No, that isn't what I meant.

What did she say about yours,
Mr. Moore?

Oh, uh, mine was just a,
a rough draft, really.

So, what did get in?

I think you're all depending
too much on your vocabularies

and not enough
on your own experiences.

Now, this is a part
from Eric's piece.

It's from his own life
and I'd like to read it.

[chuckles]
Si-Simone,
you don't wanna read that.

No, Eric. You're vulnerable.

Admit it. Share it.

Use it.

Yeah, I-I-I would like
to hear this, Eric.

It's called "Early Sorrow."

"What I remember

"from the day
my younger brother died

"is of the hot,
sour smell of Mrs. Furenze's

"cabbage rolls drifting up

"through the tenement floor.

"My mother had wrapped herself
in a thin sweater

"slowly counted out
75 cents and change.

"And got on a bus to the morgue.

'"I watched her helplessly
from the broken window.'

"Even today,
as I stare out the same window

"I feel the sorrow
of a lost child

"and an infant mourned

in a home I never knew."

[indistinct whispering]

[sighs]
Wow.

That is, unbelievable.

I'm sorry, Eric.

Do you see how brave Eric was

to strip his soul bare
and show us his pain?

'You have to write what you feel
passionately about.'

And if you don't care enough
to write something

from your heart,
I don't care to publish it.

Who made you
our lady of literature?

[indistinct chatter]

- You did.
- 'Well, we take it back then.'

She's right, I mean,
she is the editor

and so, Simone,
we'll all just, uh

have another try. Hmm?

Simone, about my story--

Oh, I'm sorry, it's wrinkled

but I slept with it
under my pillow last night.

What'd you wanna say?

Just that, um..

...I'm glad you liked it.

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But by that time,
the US had committed

to the defense of South Korea.

[bell rings]

We'll continue tomorrow.

Uh, I don't wanna remind you

your term papers
are due in one week.

Oh, Mr. Moore,
I haven't even started mine.

I mean, I really got into
writing this piece

for the journal,
it was kinda hard

to open up at first,
but I'm really glad I did it.

Yeah, me too, I mean

Saturday night
I was working on my new poem

when I could've been
at the Math Clubs Logarithm

and Blues Festival.

Here are your rewrites.

If you have any questions

we can go over them later.

Right now, I've got a meeting
with the printer.

Printer, that sounds hopeful.

Maybe we finally made the grade.

"Good idea,
but needs more feeling."

Feel this.

"Too influenced
by Emily Dickinson.

Develop your own style."

A girl who still dresses
like Annie Hall

is telling me about style?

How much of this
do we have to take?

She called it
"Brilliant but juvenile."

That's what I am!

I-I like my poem
and so did my mommy.

Mr. Moore, you just have
to say something to her.

- You picked her.
- 'Yeah, Mr. Moore.'

You gotta admit,
she's gettin' outta hand.

- Yeah.
- Simone is just doing her job.

She sure is. Listen to this.

"Mr. Moore, a good second try

"but still verbose.

- Perhaps you--"
- Thank you.

I'll talk to her,
if that's what you all want.

[indistinct chatter]

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This dedication

working after school.

I'm so glad you convinced me
to take this job.

This is going to be a worthy
successor to the original.

How many pieces have you chosen?

- Three.
- Hmm.

Think they'll all fit?

I want quality not quantity.

I have Eric's piece

an essay on street performers

and Mr. Dorthman's haiku.

Mr. Dorthman writes haiku?

- Can I see that?
- Sure.

In 17 syllables he captured

the essence
of sharpening a pencil.

"Dull graphite sheath in wood

"the handle turns, gears grind

now I see your point?"

I mean, I'm very happy
for Mr. Dorthman, but..

...don't you think
you're being a little hard

on the rest of us?
The-the class, I mean.

I take the art of writing
very seriously.

- Don't you?
- Of course.

You're not telling me to give up
what I believe is right

just to please
other people, are you?

Well, absolutely not.

And I know you're not the kind
who would get defensive

just because I criticized
your work a little.

I'm so glad we agree.

It's really good to know
I have someone on my side.

Well, good.

I, I-I just wanted to make sure
we were in sync

before I, we start our rewrites.

So go-good.

I'll leave now.

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Really, Simone,
I don't need anything.

- The thing is--
- Yes, you do.

He needs the comfort
and love of a family, right?

Yes.

Why don't you come to my house
for a nice home cooked meal.

- You can go this weekend!
- Good idea.

I don't know, families
aren't exactly my thing.

Yeah, but in this case,
you'll make an exception.

If you wanted to be alone

you could just go off
and be by yourself.

- Or you'd go with me?
- If you liked.

I would definitely like that.

Well, great! Then it's all set!

You guys will get together
Saturday, say eightish?

Ah! Ah! Ah!

I'm a slimeball.

Yes, but a lucky slimeball!

I can't take this. I gotta
tell her the truth tomorrow.

Don't do that.

Look, if I get her to like me
this way

I won't be able
to live with myself.

You won't have to. She'll ask
you to move in with her!

What?

- Did you talk to Simone?
- Well, yes, I--

Oh, great, after one
of your soul searching talks

I bet she feels like dog food.
Uh, no offence.

I feel bad, but at least
we're all in, right?

Well, you know, tha-that's
this thing about writing

it's-it's just so subjective.

Are we in or not?

Someone once said,
"Writing is rewriting."

It was probably Simone.

Now, Eric's piece
was very strong.

Oh, come on, Mr. Moore.

Well, I'm not telling you
what to do.

I'm just leaving you
something to think about.

What I'm trying to think
about is how her nose

would look in a sling.

That's so petty.

Let me help.

Let me tell you what Eric did.

[instrumental music]

Oh, Charlie,
have you seen Dr. Samuels?

- No.
- Try not to.

Mr. Moore.

Mr. Moore, I knew there was
a catch to this journal thing.

I've sent out notices
to the parents.

I've told the school board.

I've informed
and alerted the media.

But there's only
one little problem

there's nothing in it!

An essay on panhandlers.

A dumb little poem
on pencil sharpeners

and a sob story from Eric.

Uh, Dr. Samuels.

Even as we speak, there is more
material coming in.

Now, it'll be fine. You'll see.

"So, the emptiness
of a family without love

"can never be filled.

"Can a tax-free bond

"replace the bond
between father and son?

"The interest on a jumble CD

"is no substitute
for a mother's interest.

Even if compounded daily."

We're into this thing for $3000

and I told the mayor
we're dedicating it to him.

"I remember the day
our family fortune vanished.

"The rain felt like tears
and washed the shine

"from my new fuchsia pattern
leather pumps.

'"I walked aimlessly
down the street'

'"hiding my face from the people
who just the day before'

"questioned so kindly..

""Do you want that in a bag

or on a hanger?""

[applause]

"What I remember
from the day Gandhi died

was the hot, sour smell
of Mrs. Remonigen's chicken--"

Okay, that's enough!

I see what you're doing
and it's not funny

and I'm sure Eric
doesn't appreciate it either.

You know, he's the only one
who had the courage to examine

his life with some honesty
and you make fun of it?

- Alright.
- Aw!

[clears throat]

What's going on?

Simone..

...my story
wasn't exactly all true.

What do you mean "Exactly?"
What part was true?

A lot of it.

What part wasn't true?

I never had a brother.

I made it all up.

You used writing
to try to give me--

No, Simone,
you don't understand.

Yes, I do!

You all tried to make
a fool of me

well, I guess it was fun!

Laughing at poor, little Simone

trying to be in charge!

Fine!

If there is no journal

you know the old saying about

"What I'll do
in Macy's window?"

(Simone)
That's it! There isn't
going to be any journal!

I'll see you in Macy's window!

[instrumental music]

It's not just Eric's
making a fool of me.

The whole class got together
to humiliate me.

- That really hurts.
- Well, I know it does.

Maybe you, just possibly

you brought it on yourself,
just a little.

I was only doing my job.

Like all the great editors,
Maxwell Perkins

was very rigorous
with Hemingway.

But that was Ernest Hemingway.

I mean, the man fought bulls.

But you're dealing
with Arvid Engen.

A boy who's afraid of leather.

Is it wrong
to have high standards?

You remember when the class
played volleyball?

[chuckles]
You call that volleyball.

Right, and you especially

did not know
how to play volleyball.

- Well, I was doing my best.
- Oh.

Oh..

See, you set
your standards so high

that nobody can reach 'em,
including me.

And these are high school kids

who enjoy being writers
for a while.

And this journal
is probably the only chance

they'll ever get
of...being published.

See, they're trying
their hands at being writers.

Just like you're trying
to be an editor.

I'm not doing so well.

Well, it takes a lot of practice
shots to get one over the net.

[instrumental music]

(Simone)
'I think I could learn
to be a good editor'

if you'll give me
another chance.

But if you want me to resign,
I'll understand.

Simone, I'm willing
to give you another try

if you'll give me another try.

And if you wanna burn
that piece I wrote

I'll write you a new one.

No, I'll print it
just the way it is.

Now that you know it's not true,
don't you hate it?

I wouldn't have liked it
any less if I had known

it were pure fiction.

Of course, I wouldn't have
kissed you either.

Yeah, well, if you
would've done that to me..

...I would have
kissed you, anyway.

Well, I guess
we got through this

and, uh,
the journal's gonna be fine.

And I, for one, Simone

I'm ready to jump right in

and do my final rewrite.

When do you want it?

Tuesday would be fine.

Tuesday. I said "Tuesday."

- Okay.
- Okay.

Okay. Tuesday.

Unless,
Wednesday would be better.

[indistinct chatter]

[instrumental music]

Oh, Mr. Moore,
about your essay..

Uh, listen, Simone,
four rewrites is my limit, okay?

No, it's beautiful,
it's perfect.

As I was saying, four rewrites
is really all I need.

I loved it. It's really good.
It's going in.

Thank you.

Could use something to balance
that Dorthman haiku.

Uh, pencils
don't educate people

writers do.

Dorthman, eat your heart out.

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