My So-Called Life

Gir1 #l about the sex Haiku): First of all, whoever wrote it had like zero self-respect. Girl #2: I know, I mean, to do it in your basement. Girl #1: I know, my basement is, like, so filthy. Girl #2: She has no self-esteem or she, like, would sign her name. Sharon (interrupting): Look. He said not to sign it, okay? It should be anonymous, okay? It was, like, a rule he made in class, okay? Girl #1: Um, excuse me. Try your own conversation. Girl #2: Plus a muscle relaxer.

Patty: So what is this substitute person like? Is Brian Krakow right? Is he mentally ill? Graham: Ah, possibly. I mean, he, um, didn't give me any Kool-Aid to drink, or anything like that. No, actually, he's a pretty cool guy. Patty: Cool? Cool is not what substitutes are. Substitutes have hard to pronounce last names and bad haircuts. Graham: Well, this substitute is cool. Patty: He's not a substitute. Maybe he's a narc. Graham: Maybe you're a narc.

Mr. Racine: 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. Rayanne (whispering to Angela): Just how I like sex.

Angela: So what are we supposed to do? Mr. Racine: Ah, I've known you all of five minutes and you want me to tell you what you are supposed to do? Fine, follow your hearts and veer away from heroin. Angela: No, I meant in the next forty-seven minutes. Mr. Racine: I know what you meant. That was sarcasm.

Yvette: So, why are you here. You the new substitute? Vic: Why am I here? Yeah, good question. I'm the new substitute. I'm the new substitute. Yes. I'm here quite simply to get paid. Student: Yeah, right. Vic: Assuming all of you can read and write, I don't perceive any emergency situation. That's all. Continue wasting your lives.

Mr. Racine (reading the Haiku that Sharon wrote to the class): "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? Student: Who, uh, wrote that?

Angela: Maybe teachers have a hidden life. Where they're actually… like, human. Where they have, I don't know… dignity. Or maybe not.

Sharon: Oh god, do you know how over my life will be when people find out ..I..wrote it? Rayanne: Do you know how over mine's gonna be when they find out I ...didn't...?

Rickie (reading Angela's poem): There once lived a girl. She lived in a house made of gingerbread and candy. She was always asleep. One day she woke up, and found that the candy had mold on it. Her father blew her a kiss, and the house came crashing down. She walked down the street. Only the people were made of paper. She blew them all a kiss, and watched as they all floated away...

Mr. Racine: This is the most gaunt awful crap I've ever read in my life!