(school bell rings)
(faint chatter)
- Hey, Polo. Wait up.
(grunts) Oh no.
My grande ice sugar-free vanilla latte with soy milk.
- Here. Have my drink.
It's made with fair-trade organic Chilean beans.
I kinda like it. - Thanks.
Hey, that article you wrote, it's fantastic.
We've already sold more copies of the paper than we ever have.
- Really? How many's that?
- Three.
♪ (plucky music) ♪
- (angrily) God!
♪ (woeful music) ♪
- "And in poetry found I my stride.
My former self, so sad, has died."
(applause)
- Wow. He's still got it.
(school bell rings)
- Follow your dreams, kids,
whether it's being a poet, an astronaut, or a parent.
Your homework tonight is to let yourself feel
and be who you want to be.
- You're killing it, Dad. Everyone loves your class.
- Thanks, Chris. And I read your article.
Pretty strong stuff.
Really burning that bridge on the whole emo thing, huh?
- I guess.
- You weren't that bad when you were emo, you know?
- Yeah, whatever.
- (Meister on PA) Attention, student.
The teachers' lounge is for teachers only,
not for any boys carrying other boys on their shoulders
while wearing a trench coat. Thank you!
♪ (light music) ♪
- So you're the new poetry teacher?
- I'm David. Nice you meet you, Mrs...
- Miss. Miss Blissful. I'm the librarian.
I've heard whisperings they're considering you
for a permanent position, David.
- Well, if it's in the library,
it's a good thing they're whisperings.
(both snicker)
- A library joke? Oh, you're too much. (giggles)
- All right, everyone. First item of business:
don't forget tomorrow is Bring Your Wife to Work Day!
(collective sighs)
I'm not sure why we do it each year.
It seems terribly politically incorrect
for certain members of our staff, myself included.
And yet I still do it each year!
- What's the matter? - It's just...
I don't have a wife.
- That's okay. Neither do I.
Maybe we could grab some coffee sometime and talk about it?
- Oh, I've been trying to cut back on coffee, honestly.
Well, catch you later, new platonic friend!
♪ (harrowing string music) ♪
- Yeah. It was us.
(wheels squeak)
- Yeah. It was us.
- Poser? I've got a fair-trade blend made with Chilean beans
for a poser?
- Yep. Still us.
(ambient chatter)
We quit. - But you just started today.
♪ (serene music) ♪
- (moodily) God!
- Hey now. What's up?
- Now all my emo friends are harassing me.
- I know what will cheer you up.
How about we get you some cinna-cakes?
- Cinna-cakes? Like, at the mall?
- Well, it's either that one or the one at the airport.
So yeah, the one at the mall.
♪ (sweeping string music) ♪
- Ugh. Now they started a fake Facebook account
pretending to be me.
- Hey, that's not so bad.
- Yeah, it is. Now the whole school
thinks I lost my virginity to a prairie dog. God!
♪ (sharp chord, wavering) ♪
I haven't been here in so long.
This is where me and my emo friends always shopped for eyeliner.
And here's where we just kinda linger in misery
for hours at a time.
Maybe life was better then. - Chris,
your mother and I didn't accept you for who you were then.
But now, with everything we've been through, I do.
That article you wrote was pretty emotional.
If you are still emo, then be emo.
I just want you to be who YOU wanna be, son.
- Thanks, Dad.
- Now, where do you want to shop? It's on me.
♪ (pensive music) ♪
- Hello, old friend. God.
(chiming)
(beep)
(chiming)
(beep)
I can't take this anymore!
♪ (emotional flourish) ♪
(crickets chirp, dog barks)
(click)
GOD!
(blows)
"Dear diary, I haven't written to you in many moons."
♪ (woeful orchestral music) ♪