Words and Pictures Page #2

Yes, sir.

Any duties for me?

Flood the moat, keep the

rabble from the gates.

Hey, Mr. Marc?

Why do you always eat

lunch in your car?

So that for half an hour

nobody can ask me

an inane question.

I'm the moment between

the striking and the fire

Hey, read my lips

'Cause all they say is kiss,

kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss

No, it'll never stop

My hands are in the air

Yes, I'm in love

My heart is beating

like a jungle drum

Like a dunk-a-dunka

dunka-dunka dun dun

My heart is beating

like a jungle drum

Like a ducka-ducka-ga-ga

ducka-ducka-ducka dun

My heart is beating

like a jungle drum

Oh, Mr. Marc, there are sixty

new girls in school today.

One of them is going to

break your heart, Finetti.

I hope so.

You're going to turn an award-

winning magazine into a what?

An online blog?

They don't even give

those awards anymore.

There hasn't been a lit

mag competition in years.

They are too expensive,

and frankly I don't...

Elspeth, um...

Jack, you know Miss

Croyden from our board.

Miss Croyden, yes.

Imagine a low bow here.

Will was just about to get frank.

Yeah. Uh, Jack, we have

found the magazine

to be disappointing lately,

uninspired, I'm afraid.

And, Jack, you started the

magazine with such a bang,

with some of your own work.

Your students were motivated.

You were a published author.

I'm still a published author.

It doesn't go away like the mumps.

- Six years...

- What the hell is this?

Publish or perish? Are you kidding?

This is friggin' high school.

Who else has had anything

published here? You?

You were our literary star.

What difference does

my publishing make?

It made a difference.

It made it easier to

forgive your faults.

Faults?

You were banned from The Huntsman.

Oh, for God's sake.

A Croyden teacher banned

from the town's oldest

and best restaurant?

I had an argument with

that pompous matre-d.

You were drinking, Jack.

You have drinks with

dinner, for Christ's sake!

Jack, you were drunk!

We got the calls.

You told us last year there

would be no more incidents.

What the hell is going on here?

You have surveillance on me

in case I stumble

and fall on my ass?

You know, the work in the magazine

goes up and down according to the

talent of the current students,

and the classes, the

honors classes, yes.

Uninspired, yes.

The whole friggin' school.

You know, we're teaching

in the era of the undead.

We're all trying to inspire.

You know, I then have words

with some smug waiter,

and suddenly, I'm

surrounded and stoned.

You know, what else?

Who else has a complaint?

Anybody else here got any

bad news for Jack Marcus?

Hey! Come on out!

Let's have it all!

We're putting together

a really good issue,

The Lion.

You know, there's some

new work planned for it,

my own work,

beyond the essay that I do.

There's a new poem.

The magazine is important

to Croyden. It is.

As for The Huntsman, that

was nothing, you know.

I already apologized.

It was nothing.

What else?

That's it, Jack.

It's good news that

you're writing again.

It really is.

Elspeth.

Is my job in jeopardy?

You'll meet with the

board next month.

Jesus Christ.

What happened to you, Jack?

You came here full of literary

awards and full of promise.

You turned the classes

on their heads.

Yeah, I remember.

I got laid a lot then.

You going to punish me with that?

- Do you know me that well?

- It was just one slip.

Forget it. Elspeth,

I need this job.

Then show us something.

With your students' work,

with the magazine,

with your new poem.

Be who you were.

Nobody can do that.

Hello?

Dina?

Hey, why are you painting

in your pretty blouse?

I'm retiring this blouse.

I'm giving it to you.

No, we'll just have it re-sewn with

a Velcro strip like the others.

Do you want it or not?

Here.

At least put this on, huh?

I can do it.

Okay.

So how was your first

day at Croyden Prep?

Not one of them has any

fire in the belly.

Well, there's one very gifted girl

and an English teacher

who's a, pfft, madman.

Barry sent these back?

Oh, he doesn't understand them.

He said that critics will

filet me if he shows them.

Well, does he know about...

What's the point?

Sympathy?

I know what it needs, but...

You should rest.

Mmm!

Go home and feed your family.

Mom wants a call.

After I work.

Thanks, Sabine.

Ugh!

Ow!

In the beginning,

there was the word.

And the word was

indefatigability.

That's eight.

Eight?

Eight.

It's R.A., isn't it?

You can tell.

Well, my wife suffers

from it for years now.

I noticed the...

But she's doing much

better on the new drugs.

So far my body hasn't found

a drug it can tolerate.

The doctor says that he'll make me just

the right cocktail in time, but...

interdenominational.

Is he insane?

Who?

No, it means he likes you, Dina.

God help you.

- Antiegalitarianism.

- Oh, please.

No, it's a ten. I've

been saving it.

It's yours.

Your generation has the most

agile thumbs in human history.

Look at you.

Twittering your friends in

no more than 140 characters

and saying what?

Showered, you watched some

shitty reality TV show,

you ate a yogurt.

You know, what if you had

to say something meaningful

in just three lines and

about 17 syllables?

"Morning and evening,

"someone waits at Montsushima.

One-way love."

What is that about?

That's about 400

years old, Freidman.

It's a Haiku, an early Tweet.

It tells us that somebody's

waiting, waiting all day,

but no one is coming

because this is

a...?

Uh...

Oh, a one-way love?

One-way love.

Okay, okay, okay, pass

the assignments forward.

All business today, sir.

What was the assignment, Swint?

Three paragraphs on the ant?

Specifically?

Three compelling

paragraphs on the ant.

Specifically.

Oh, we have to use the

actual encyclopedias,

not the computers.

Which is really archaic.

Is it?

Who can tell me who Baron Anson is?

Baron Anson for an

immediate "A" grade.

Come on.

Come on, come on!

He was a British naval commander.

He sailed around the world.

And he brought the first British warship

into China and started the Marines.

Beautiful, just beautiful.

Where is the town of Ansonia?

Who the hell is Christopher Anstey?

Swint, put your phone away.

British poet. Had a

big hit in 1766.

Huge.

Bravo.

You see, you use a computer,

you click on the word "ant,"

you get the data. Fine.

You pick up a book and leaf through

the pages to find the ant,

you're going to bump into

a saint, an admiral,

a poet, a town in Connecticut.

You're going to learn something

outside of the assignment

just because of your own undeniable

and most valuable curiosity.

You're going to see a word,

and you're going to jump on it,

or it's going to jump on you.

Then you have it forever.

You know, Mr. Marc, I can type

in "ant" in the drop-down

and get a whole bunch

of words like antonym,

Antarctica, Antigua, uh...

anthropology, and

even Anthony Hopkins.

Anyway, Miss Delsanto

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