All language subtitles for My So-Called Life s01e06 The Substitute

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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