04x07 - Teacher's Pet

[bunniefuu]

Hey... listen to this ad.

"Build-it-yourself
ham-radio set.

"Only $29.95.

"Speak and the
world will listen."

Well, what do you think, girls?

Do I have the kind of
voice the world listens to?

Naomi?

Mama?

Did you say somethin', Vinton?

Yeah, give me some more coffee.

Oh, sure thing, baby.

Mama, you put
juice in my coffee!

Oh, Good Lord! Where is my mind?

I swear, it has just
taken the mornin' off.

I had the most
fitful night last night

I woke outta the strangest dream

I never did get back to sleep.

What was your dream about?

I don't remember.

Mornin', everybody!

- Bye, everybody!
- Freeze!

Where do you think you're goin'

in such a hurry
with no breakfast?

No time to eat. It's a
matter of life and death.

- Uh-huh. What's her name?
- Amy Lynn Johnson.

I wanna ask her to the school
dance before Craig Monroe does.

You need to concentrate
more on the books

and a little less on the babes.

Me? You're the one that
messed up in class last night.

We had to memorize that poem

"How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways."

Well, grandma got
lost in the middle

and ended up recitin'
"The Pledge of Allegiance."

Well, that wasn't my fault.

It's that new
teacher, Mr. Hanson.

Lord, I swear he couldn't
teach a fish how to swim.

Why not, what's
the matter with him?

Well, he acts like
knows everything

and we're there to take
down his every word.

Well, isn't that
a teacher's job?

It is not a teacher's
job to parade around

the front of the classroom
like a damn peacock.

He wears these loud bow ties.

All they do is point out
his big Adam's apple.

Come on, grandma. He's
not so bad for an old guy.

Are you kiddin' me?

All he does is mark up

your homework
with ugly red checks.

Don't you hate him
pointing that ruler at

you every time he calls on
you? And what about his sevens?

What about them?

Well, he adds them fancy
lines through the middle.

Where does he think he's
teachin'? Paris, France?

Well, gee, mama,
you sure do notice

an awful lot about
this guy Hanson.

I do no such thing.

Oh, I don't know, Ms. Harper.

Every gal checks out her
teacher's Adam's apple

but when she gets all worked up

over the way he
makes his sevens.

Mm, mm, mm, that is a crush!

A crush on my school teacher?

Get your mind out of the gutter.

Oh, mama, I think
you're blushin'.

I am not! Now the
subject is closed!

Say, grandma... if you got
somethin' goin' with Mr. Hanson.

It could help both our grades.

I'm warnin' you.

Not one more word.

Oh, Ms. Harper!

Teacher's pet! Teacher's pet!

That is it, I am not gonna
stand here and serve breakfast

to a bunch of wiseacres!
I'm goin' up to my room!

I won't be needin' these.

Ooh, fresh-baked biscuits.

Mm!

Well, Thelma.

Don't you have
saucers that match?

Well, Good Lord.
Where is my mind?

I'm telling you, I had the
wildest dream last night.

I haven't been the same since.

Oh, not one of those
awful nightmares

with rats and snakes and
men wearin' ski masks?

Well, no. It wasn't
really a nightmare.

Oh, one of those
embarrassin' dreams

where you're buyin'
your groceries in your slip.

No, but you're gettin' warmer.

Well, Thelma Harper,
what did you dream?

Promise not to breathe a word?

My lips are sealed.

It all started with me and Carl
way back in our courtin' days.

It was a real hot summer night

and we were sittin' out
on the front-porch swing.

Hot night, porch swing.
Oh, I am lovin' this!

Well, Carl starts to
get real lovey-dovey.

That should've tipped me
off right there it was a dream.

All of a sudden, he gives
me this big, juicy kiss.

- Naturally, I closed my eyes.
- Naturally.

Well, when I opened them back up

who do you think
was sittin' in my swing

kissin' me right on the mouth?

Eh, George Hamilton? Mel Gibson?

Tom Selleck? Raymond Burr?

Well, good Lord, Iola

Not even Della
Street will kiss him.

Who was it, Thelma? Who was it?

- Mr. Hanson.
- Who?

Mr. Hanson, my
night-school teacher.

I told you all about him.

Real good-lookin'
widower, snappy dresser.

Anyway, I could actually
feel his little bow tie

pressin' right up
against my chin.

Then I woke up.

Oh, darn.

Oh, Iola.

What does it all mean?

Well, obviously, you
have a subconscious crush

on this Mr. Hanson.

Well, I thought I put all that
business behind me years ago.

Not that there was ever
all that much to begin with.

Well, question now is, Thelma.
What are you gonna do about it?

Not a damn thing!

Even if I was interested,
which I am not,

Mr. Hanson doesn't
even know I'm alive.

You've got to get his attention.

Oh, Iola. We're talkin'
about a handsome man here.

I'm sure he's got his pick
of any number of women.

Young ones.

Forty-nine, Fifty!

Thelma, he is a mature man.

He knows what's
important in life.

He doesn't want
some wild, young thing.

He wants a woman
who'll cook a decent meal.

Then leave him alone
for the rest of the night.

That's me.

Point out your strengths,
Thelma. Bake him somethin'.

I do make a great apple cobbler.

Do it, Thelma.
What've you got to lose?

Nothin' but my pride

my dignity and
my B-plus average.

I have an important announcement

to make before class starts.

As chaperon for
Saturday night's dance

I still have some
tickets available.

They're five dollars a couple

three dollars, stag.

See, Amy, we can save
a whole dollar on tickets

if you go with me.

Or you could stay
home and save five.

Fine class, tonight, we
will continue our analysis

of the sonnets
from the Portuguese.

We're on page...

I'm sorry I'm late, but I
had to let this baby cool

before I could
put it in the car.

And what might
this "cool baby" be?

It is a fresh-baked
apple cobbler.

It's for you, I was gonna
just bring you an apple

but I noticed it
had a little bruise

and started to trim it off.

Then I thought to myself,
"I'm already peelin' apples.

"Why not just make
him a cobbler?"

It was very thoughtful
of you, Mrs. Harper.

But you really shouldn't have.

Well, sure I should.

No, you shouldn't.

I'm allergic to apples.

But thank you for the
thought, just the same.

Sure. Anytime.

Now, let us return to the poetry

of Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Hours of bakin' my brains out

and he's allergic.

Romance... the art of
expressing affection.

Ten bucks worth of ingredients.

You smell that
brown sugar in there?

Mrs. Harper, you and I
are part of a generation

that really understands the
true meaning of romance.

Wouldn't you say?

- Huh?
- Romance.

Aren't you moved by the
sonnets from the Portuguese?

Hell, no, I got enough trouble

understandin' the
ones in English.

Mrs. Harper, you didn't read
your homework assignment!

How could I?

You don't get a flaky
cobbler crust like this

by sittin' on your butt readin'
some dead woman's poetry!

This is not a home
economics class, Mrs. Harper.

I am not interested
in your flaky crust.

What's the matter?

You allergic to that, too?

Yes, Amy.

I think that sonnet number 25

is the most beautiful
poem I've ever read.

Well, it stirred feelings in me

that I didn't even
know were there.

What page is that?

Wonderful. Wonderful.

Perhaps I was
wrong, Mrs. Harper.

Perhaps the flame of romance

flickers out as we grow older

but the torch is
held high once again

by the flaming passion of youth.

Thank you, Amy.

Big deal!

I'll bet she couldn't
bake a decent cobbler

if her flamin', passionate
life depended on it.

Still doin' your
homework, Ms. Harper?

- This is extra credit.
- Oh.

Extra credit for the...
extra-special teacher, huh?

I am expanding my mind.

This has nothin' to do
with impressin' Mr. Hanson.

Well, that's smart,
'cause you can never

get a teacher's
attention by studyin'.

That never works.

Naomi.

What does work?

Well, there's only
one sure-fire way

to let a man know
you're interested.

- What's that?
- Body language!

I'm doomed.

Oh, Hanson's never gonna ask
me to that dance on Saturday.

Of course he will, Ms. Harper.

If your body tells him to.

Now, show me
how you sit in class.

- Sit?
- Yeah.

Well, I guess it's
somethin' like this.

No, Ms. Harper,
you gotta sit cute

like..."Suzanne Somers
on the Carson Show."

Nobody sits cuter than she does.

Lookie here.

Well, Good Lord, to
get my legs to do that,

I'd have to oil my supp-hose.

Now, after you're sittin' right,
the next-best attention getter

is the pouty mouth.

Kind of half-open and wiggly.

sh**t, I feel like a guppy.

You're doin' just great.

Now, after he notices your mouth

then you nail him with
the come-hither look.

sh**t, this is
like tryin' to read

the eye chart at the DMV.

Well, good Lord, Naomi.

There is no man on Earth
dumb enough to fall for this.

Hey, gals.

Look what I just got.

It's a ham-radio kit.

Eh... if I start now, I can
put it together by tonight.

- Baby?
- Uh-huh.

Are you sure that you
wanna do that now?

Well, sure, sure.

Why, this thing's... g-got
the uh... the deluxe ant-ant...

antenna.

Here you go, mama.
Instructions are inside.

Next time, class, be prepared
to discuss chapter seven.

Goodnight, all.

Mr. Hanson, looks like I'll
be needin' a couple of tickets

for that dance Saturday night.

Excellent. You and
Amy going together?

Yes and Bubba even
wrote me a poem.

Recite it for him, Bubba.

Well, it goes
somethin' like this.

"I think that I shall never see

a poem lovely as... Amy. And..."

Bubba, thank you, but
I really think this poem

is a bit too personal to share.

He's right.

You want to hear
it again over pizza?

I'd love to.

You still here, Mrs. Harper?

As a matter of fact... I am.

Mrs. Harper!

- Are you alright?
- I'm fine. I'm fine.

I'm fine, really. I'm fine.

I'll get the desk.

They just don't make these desks

for old bodies, do they?

Here, is that all?
Everything okay?

Thank you, kind sir.

Well, you're very welcome, of...

We-well, what's the matter?

Is your upper plate slipping?

I don't wear dentures!

In fact... everything
about me is real.

- Oh, Mrs. Harper.
- Yes?

That could be a serious eye tic.

Have you been checked
for cataracts lately?

Get out of my
face, you old geez!

For somebody who thinks
he's an authority on romance

you're the sorriest
Casanova I've ever seen!

Casano... Is that
what all this is about?

Just, what is so funny?

I'm relieved. I thought
you were having a seizure.

I was ready to call
the paramedics.

You keep laughin' and
you're gonna need 'em.

Oh, I am sorry.
It's such a surprise.

I-I don't know what to say.

Well, I think
you've said enough.

Hold on, Mrs. Harper. Wait.
Wait. L-let's talk about it.

It's too late, pops!

You had your chance
and you blew it!

I wouldn't be caught
dead at that dance with you

on Saturday night if you
were the last old fogy on Earth!

Now, Mrs. Harper...

Okay.

Here we go.

I'm ready to talk
to worlds unknown.

Hello.

Hello.

It isn't workin'.

Would turnin' that
little "On" switch help?

The next time I show
interest in the opposite sex

you all should tie
me in a straitjacket

and cart me off
to the loony bin.

What happened, didn't he
fall for the come-hither look?

He was ready to outfit
me with a seein' eye dog!

Well, Thelma, I told you

the way to a man's heart
is through his stomach.

Oh, yeah, and just how many
men have sliced your cake

Betty Crocker?

I'm just gonna
drop out of school.

I don't ever want to
see his ugly mug again.

Mrs. Harper...
uh, may I come in?

Well, I suppose so.

In your rush to leave
you forgot your notebook.

Oh. Thank you.

Would it be possible for
me to have a word with you?

Well... Oh, of course.
Go right ahead.

Eh, perhaps out on the porch?

Well, okay. But
watch yourself, buddy.

Will you all please
excuse us for a minute?

You come near
that window and die.

I didn't want to
leave here tonight

until we reached some
sort of understanding.

What's to understand?

I'm an old fool, and
you're an old poop.

Old poop? Define that.

This is my front porch,
not your classroom.

I don't have to
define a damn thing!

Judging from your description
of me from earlier this evening,

I will assume it is a synonym
for "codger" or "old fogy."

Don't forget "geez."

Look, I came here tonight
with my hat in my hand.

It looks a hell of a lot better
there than it does on your head.

Do you get some
secret satisfaction

from insulting me?

Don't flatter yourself.

I insult everybody.

Insulting a man is no way to
get him to ask you out, you know.

Well, what makes you think

I want you to ask me anywhere?

Oh, little things like

twitching your eyes at me.

Plying me with Apple Pandowdy.

Writing "Mr. Hanson" 114 times

in the inside of your notebook.

I was breaking in a new bic.

It was written with a felt tip.

Now, you didn't have to
go through all that trouble.

I noticed you the first moment
I walked into that classroom.

I guess it's hard to miss
the only girl in school

not wearin' a mini.

But that's what impresses
me so much about you.

I mean, when-when
other people our age

are ready to...
close the door on life

you throw it open and
crash right through.

Yeah, that's me.

Batterin'-Ram Thelma.

So, Thelma, do you want to
go to the dance on Saturday

with this "old poop" or not?

- What night was that again?
- Friday.

It was not! It was Saturday!

Is it a date, yes or no?

I'll just have to run and
check my social calendar

and see if I'm available.

Surprise, surprise. I'm free.

I can't remember
having so much fun.

Oh, me either. You
want to come inside?

- You sure it's okay?
- Sure. Everybody's sleeping.

Uh, hi, grandma.

We were just, uh, talkin'.

Well, you save this conversation

until, after you're married.

You got the rest of your
lives for this kind of chit-chat.

Come on, Amy,
let's go have a snack.

At least there aren't any
chaperons in the kitchen.

See you later.

Well, uh, Thelma...

I really had a wonderful time...

but perhaps I better go.

Not so fast.

Those kids have
the rest of their lives

but you and me are
on a time schedule.