01x07 - Good Grade Hunting

[bunniefuu]

If you're going to write poetry,


you need to expand your senses.


Sydney.


What images come to mind
when you smell this cinnamon?


I smell...


[sniffs] autumn.


Leaves.


My family around the table
at Thanksgiving.


Brava, Sydney.


The crackles of a fire.


A dog barks in the distance
and the joy--


Okay, moving on.


Olive, what do you smell?


[sniffs] I smell...


cinnamon?


And what else?


Uh... I know this, I know this.


[sniffs] Did you have nachos this morning?


Actually, it was a breakfast burrito.


Anyway!


For your homework, my little chicks,


you will compose your first poem.


Yes!


I want you to write
about something that makes you happy.


Make the words flow from your soul.


[sighs]


I envy your journey.


I must take a moment.


[deeply inhales]


Moment taken.


-[school bell rings]
-Ah! Class dismissed.


And don't take those blindfolds.


Thanks to the school board,
I have to pay for them myself.


They go to conferences in Las Vegas,
and I'm reusing staples.


[deeply inhales]


Olive? Can you believe it?
We get to write a poem!


Of course you're excited.


You always get "A's" in English.


How do you do it?


I don't know. Words come easy to me.


It's like how you're good in math.


That's because math always makes sense.


It's like a vending machine.


You put in your quarter,
you get your chips.


But with English, you put in a quarter,
and you get confused.


All right, my little chicks.


Remember, your poems are due tomorrow.


Tell me what makes you happy.


There's a poem due tomorrow?


What am I gonna do?


This might be a crazy idea,


but what if you...


write a poem?


Mrs. Harris?


I can't write poetry.


I'm sure you have
many unplumbed depths, Max.


Trust me...


if I had any depth,


I think I'd know it.


[theme music playing]


Like father, like daughter
We don't always agree


But looking at you
Is like looking at me


The more things change
The more they stay the same


Like father, like daughter
From different times


Taking all the best
From your decade and mine


The more things change


The more they stay the same


The more they stay the same


Just in time, girls.


I'm trying to find the right vibe
for my first day of college.


So what do you think?


Party animal?


Or...


millennial hipster?


Grandma, you slay
no matter what you wear.


-Definitely not the one on the right.
-Or the one on the left.


Grandma Judy, how come
you're going to college now?


I never finished.


I only got one semester in before


you-know-who came along.


You mean your loving son
who cooks all your meals,


keeps the house clean,
and supports you in all your endeavors?


Yeah. Him.


Olive?
How does this sound?


"'What presupposes happiness?',


said the girl, as lachrymation
pooled in her eyes."


Wow...


you're like a human dictionary
but with really great hair.


Aw, thanks.


-Now, show me what you have.
-Okay.


"What Makes Me Happy.


By Olive..."


-And?
-That's all I got.


I got so freaked out,
I started second-guessing my last name.


It's Rozalski.


See? You're a natural!


No wonder you always get "A's"
in English.


Olive? Can I tell you a secret?


You better!


-I wanna be a songwriter.
-Seriously?


Yeah, and songs are
just poems set to music.


That's how Taylor Swift started,


by writing poetry.


Well, if T. Swift could do it,
so could S. Reynolds.


Thanks, O. Rozalski.


Not a name that writes songs, is it?


Nope, that's a name
that does your taxes.


-How's the poem comin'?
-It isn't.


It's like I don't know
what makes me happy.


Okay, I like cake...


I like sharks...


my feet are cool!


But do they make me happy?


I'll tell you what makes me happy.


Working on my dad's laptop.


It's the lightest portable computer
on the market.


[grunting]


It's also unbreakable!


Leo, I can't mess up on this assignment.




I'm barely hanging on in English...


and science...


and math...


all four of those.


What am I gonna do?


Mrs. Harris said to write
about what makes you happy.


Maybe it's right under your nose.


You mean my lips?


No, your skateboard!


That's even better!


But we'll keep my lips
in my back pocket.


Well, I know what
I'm gonna write my poem about.


How technology makes our lives easier.


[electricity shorts]


[Judy] Hey! My workout tape stopped...


thank you!


[Mrs. Harris]
All right, my little chicks.


I've read your poems.


And congratulations, poets.


You've all been hatched!


Amber...


Olive...


Mine actually has egg on it.


Sorry, I was grading over breakfast.


What'd you get?


[gasps] A "C plus"! Yes!
In your face, poetry!


Oh, yeah!


And Sydney...


What'd you get?
Like I even have to ask.


A "B-minus"?


Mrs. Harris gave me a "B-minus."


What?


That's "A-plus" poetry.


I should know,


I don't understand a word of it.


Hey, Sydney. What's up?


I'm not sure.


You know that poem I was excited about?


I got a "B-minus."


So? There's no shame in that... is there?


Maybe? Looks like it?


Why don't I let you talk.


I really thought I did a good job.


But I guess Mrs. Harris doesn't think so.


Mrs. Harris? Lots of scarves?
Giant egg? Has you smell weird things?


How'd you know?


I had her in seventh grade!


Ohh, no wonder.


What did you do?


Nothing! Okay, I'll admit,
I wasn't always the best student...


-Hi, Mom.
-What's wrong?


Well, you're gonna have to find out
about this sooner or later.


Ugh, for goodness' sake!


Not a--


you got an "A"?


You got an "A"!


Wait...


what did you do?


Nothing!


Trust me, I was as shocked as you are.


Really? My son got an "A."


I'm gonna hang this
in my cubicle at work.


I'm tired of looking at your last "A,"


that handprint from kindergarten.


-You got an "A"?
-Yes.


Mrs. Harris was the most
inspirational teacher I ever had.


But an "A"?


Hey! I have many talents
you don't know about.


You ever hear me whistle?


[sputters, blows air]


Well, I got an "A."


Then why did I get a "B-minus"?


Oh, come on, it was only your first poem.
Don't be so discouraged.


Maybe you're right.
I'll do better next time.


And who knows?
You might even get an "A."


We know she gives 'em.


Hi!


I'm Judy, Max's mom.


The boy you gave an "A" to?


That's right!


Max.


He talks about you all the time.


-He does?
-No, I just say that.


Nobody's ever challenged me on it before.
[chuckles]


Here, I brought you some flowers.


-Aw.
-I can't tell you what this means.


When I saw that "A,"
I got this weird feeling in my chest.


At first, I thought
it was a heart att*ck,


turns out it was pride.


Well, you should be proud.


-Max earned that "A."
-Really?


Look, I don't read a lot of poetry.


But I read what he wrote,


and it didn't sound
all that poetic to me.


I'll admit, he's no Shakespeare.


I mean, the way
The Bard uses words, it's--


I must take a moment.


[deeply inhales] Moment taken.


But Max captured his authentic self,


and that was the assignment.


Thank you.


[sighs in relief]


Was there anything else?


No, I'm just taking it in.


Usually, my parent-teacher meetings
end with tears and begging.


But this has been delightful.


[Mrs. Harris] All right, poets.


I've graded your latest poems,


"What Makes Me Sad."


On a personal note,


what makes me sad is on the way here,
my trunk flew open,


and my egg was scrambled
by an -wheeler.


I'm so sorry for your loss.


Thank you.


Egguardo deserved better.


[sighs] Yes! Another "C-plus"!
I'm crushing it!


Sorry, Mrs. Harris.


Too soon.


So, how'd you do?




Oh, no. Not another "B-minus."


Worse.


This time, I got a "C-plus."


How is that possible?


Maybe that's a question for Mrs. Harris.


[school bell rings]


-Mrs. Harris?
-Yes?


About this poem--


well, actually, both my poems...


I'm kinda confused.


English has always been
my best subject, and...


I worked really hard on them.
I don't know what I'm doing wrong.


Sydney...


you' use a lot of big words,


and fancy images, but...


I didn't feel you in it.


I was in it, I was all over it!


It even has my name on it, see?
Sydney Reynolds.


Listen, Sydney,
what I'm trying to tell you


is you need to dig deeper.


You didn't show me how you really feel.


You didn't tell me who you really are.


Remember: You're on a journey.


Now I must embark on my own journey...


to the dry cleaners.


Thanks, Mrs. Harris.


You're absolutely right,
I'll just dig deeper. I totally get it.


So, what'd you find out?


She hates me.


-Hey, honey, what's up?
-I don't want to talk about it.


-Gotcha, we won't.
-Mrs. Harris gave me a "C-plus."


-Oh, wow, did you--
-I said I didn't want to talk about it.


My dream is to be a songwriter


and she has me wondering
if I can even do it.


Aren't you gonna say anything?


Are you sure?


-Yes!
-Well, I think--


You know what?
I don't want to talk about it.


-Hey, Mom, how was your first day?
-[door slams shut]


I don't want to talk about it!


College was the worst.


Everyone's in a clique.


And if they're not in a clique,
they're in a crew.


And if they're not in a crew,
they're in a squad.


And if they're not in
any of them, they're me!


I quit!


-Hey.
-Hey.


Ready to work on our next poem?


What's the point?


Mrs. Harris hates me.


I've gotta figure out a way
for her to like me.


[sarcastically] Yeah, that'll happen.


[confidently] Yeah, that'll happen.


Hold it!
You know what she does like?


My dad.


I'm gonna get my dad to invite her over
so she can get to know me.


Sounds a little desperate.


Oh, I passed desperate two exits ago.


You know?


I think I could make a poem
out of anything.


Quick, throw me a word and I'll...


poem it.


Okay!


Chicken fingers.


"Chicken fingers.


Taste that lingers."


Dang!


You just came up with that?


How do you do it?


It's a gift.


Yeah, it is.


You should do one of those poetry slams.


Not sure what that is,


but I like the word "slam."


Rhymes with "ham."


I'm on fire!


A slam's where people get up
and read their poems.


There's one at a coffee house
next to my granddad's barber shop.


He calls it...


[imitating Granddad]
"some dang hippie convention."


Mom! I'm gonna do a poetry slam.


Really? You?


With your poetry? On stage?


Yup, toss me a word.


Nightmare.


"Nightmare.


I'm wearing a tight-pair...


-of underwear."
-Boo-yah!


I'ma go write that down.


Ohh, poor kid's gonna get
boo-yah'd right off stage.


All right, Olive,
by the end of tonight,


Mrs. Harris will love me.


So, what do we know about her?


Well, she loves everything French.


Good to know,
'cause I know nada about France.


-That's Spanish.
-Okay, less than nada.


-You sure this is gonna work?
-Positive!


Now, I'm gonna wear this earpiece,


you'll be on the other end
to look up anything I don't know.


[gasps] Ooh! And I'll cover it
with this stylish beret.


Beau chapeau!


That's French, right?


Just keep the earpiece in.


For someone who's quitting college,
you're sending a mixed message.


Well, when I went to return my textbooks,
I met this new girl, Kayla,


who hated cliques as much as I did.


So we started one of our own.
No one's getting in!


-[car horn honks]
-That's Kayla.


We're gonna go hang out at the quad.


Later, hater.


[door closes]


Whoa! Dad, you went all out.


Mini-quiches, shrimp...


Looks like somebody's trying
to get another "A."


Please, Mrs. Harris and I are equals.
I don't need to impress her.


-Is a bow tie too much?
-[doorbell rings]


Bonjour, Madame!


Bonjour, Sydney.


Tu parle Francais?


Comment ca va, mon amie?




Oui, ca va bien.


Oui, ca va bien.


Ah! Tres bien!


Ou est-ce apprisque tu
as a parler Francais?


Right on!


Hi, Mrs. Harris. It's Max.


Max, how nice to see you.


I just love catching up
with my little chicks.


Well I'm a full-grown rooster now.


Cock-a-doodle--


do come in, Mrs. Harris.


-How wonderful of you to invite me over.
-Of course!


I always wanted to thank you
for introducing me to poetry.


Oh, it's why I get out of bed
in the morning.


Well, that and...


a parrot that loses its mind
when the sun comes up.


[loud squawk]


Which reminds me of my favorite poem


by Emily Dickinson:


"Hope is the Thing of Feathers."


On it!


I don't know that one.


-"Hope"--
-"Is the thing with feathers..."


"That perches in the soul."


"...that perches in the soul.


And sings the tune


without the words."


Oh, no! Wi-Fi went out!


Uh... I must take a moment.


-We're back.
-Moment taken.


"And never stops at all."


Oh!


Where did that come from?


Right here.


You know, there's poetry
in what I do. I own a bike shop.


Cool story, Dad.


-But you know what else is cool...
-[Olive through earpiece] Got it!


Found pictures of Mrs. Harris
camping on the Columbia River.


...camping on the Columbia River.


[scoffs] That's uncanny!


I was just there.


Seriously?


What a random thing to bond over.


I was just thinking the same thing.


Excuse me.


Uh, I kept a copy


of "Ode to My Skateboard"
and I always wanted to have you sign it.


It would be my pleasure.


Did you know
that the Columbia River is home


to one of the greatest
salmon hatcheries in the world?


Oh, we're still on that.


[Max through earpiece]
Sydney, this is your dad.


Clever move, but Olive's going now.


Over and out.


We don't have to do this, Mr. Reynolds.


You could really use some help
on your side of the conversation, too.


Whew! Wonder where your dad is.


I have a pretty good idea.


Is this you?


Yeah.


I didn't know you played bass.


Since I was seven.


Really?


Some of my favorite musicians
are bass players.


I just adore John Entwistle of The Who.


Well, you probably don't even know
who that is.


Are you kidding?


I'm totally old school.


But wait...


you're a rocker?


Um, I don't know.


Would a rocker do this?


[imitating electric guitar]


-Whoa.
-Yeah, "whoa."


So, tell me, who's your favorite group?


Sixteen Oranges.


[scoffs] I love Sixteen Oranges!


Do you remember two weeks ago
when I was "out sick"?


Backstage passes.


Shut up!


Oh, no, I just told a teacher to shut up.


Don't worry.


Tonight, we're just a couple of rockers.


[both imitating electric guitars]


Ah, Sydney.


Thanks for last night.


It was an "A-plus."


Really?


Thank you! Or should I say...


rock on.


Okay, chickadees,


come pick up your poems.


So?


A "C."


I got a "C"?


After all this, a "C"?


But I thought you bonded.


So did I.


How do you say,
"How can she do this to me?" in French.


Comment est qua la peut faire ca?


What? I learned a lot last night.


I am sick to death
of Mrs. Harris grading me.


I think it's time I grade her.


I give her an "F" as a person,


an "F" as a teacher,
and an "A-plus" for...


phony-ness.


-She got voted Teacher of the Year twice.
-Those things are fixed!


Why don't we just take a deep,
cleansing breath and write our next poem?


She wants me to dig deeper?


Well, here I go. Dig, dig, dig.


Oh, look what I found:
a molten ball of anger.


Oh, what else is in here?
Mrs. Harris, have you two met?


[sighs] Wait, that's what
I'll write about, Mrs. Harris.


Find anything else in there?


Patience? Common sense?


Not writing a poem about Mrs. Harris?


Hey, did Mrs. Harris say anything
about how last night went?




She said it was an "A-plus."


Another "A." I'm on a -year roll.
Max, you still got it!


Oh, no, why did I send that poem
to Mrs. Harris?


-You should have stopped me!
-I locked you outside.


You know how quick I climb trees.


Before I pass these out,


there is one poem
I would like to single out.


Sydney Reynolds?


Would you come to the front of the class
and read this out loud?


I'm good.


Sydney...


Oop! Shoe's untied!


-You're wearing slip-ons.
-Good catch.


"Ode to My Teacher."


A little louder, please.


"Ode to My Teacher."


"'Write a poem,' she said,


'a poem with truth.


Write a poem,' she said,


like she understands youth.


I try really hard.


It hurts, you don't see.


I'll always love English,
so go ahead, fail me.


I'll just write this dumb poem,


and say what is real.


I'm angry and mad,


and that is just what I feel.


I hope you enjoyed
this dedication from me,


a dedication for you,


from the girl...


with a 'C.'"


You got a lot of nerve, Miss Reynolds.


I know, I really didn't mean--


Which is what I said the first time
you opened your mouth in class.


Nerve!


The ability to take risks.


This poem showed me that.


You're finally living up
to your potential, Sydney.


What?


Your grade...


is an "A."


Let's see some applause, people!


I am really proud of you, Sydney.


-You too, Olive.
-What did I do?


All that research on me.


C'est bon. Mwah!


How did she know?


Because my dad was right.
When it comes to teachers...


she's an "A-plus."


And up next up is Max Reynolds.


-"Skate!"
-"Skate, skate, skate."


"I want to skate.


And stay up late."


"Late, late, late."


"Wouldn't that be great?"


"Great, great, great."


"It's my fate.


I love you, Portland!"


[crowd groans]


Where you going, Portland?


Honey, are you okay?


-What do you mean?
-Well, I don't think it went that well.


Mom, don't you see?


I'm so deep, nobody gets me!


I'm ahead of my time.


Time, time, time.


I'm done.


[man] Oh, yeah.