Act One, Scene One

Will Mr. Goldberg please call the main office. Will Mr. Goldberg please call the main office.

Oh what a beautiful morning,

Oh what a beautiful day...

What are you reading?

The Decline and Fall of Western Civilization.

Not the Post. The Times is the only paper left that doesn't cater to the intellectually bankrupt.

It's messy. You can't take a leak after reading it without washing your hands first.

Get out of the dark ages, Marty…they changed the ink.

What's today's headline? Did they see Martians in Missouri again?

Schools Reopen -- Thugs Now Off Streets.

Will Mr. Goldberg please call the main office. Will Mr. Goldberg please call the main office.

He's dead. Call someone else.

What's that all about?

They want me to cover another class for that new teacher. He was sent downtown to the Superintendent's office to fill out paperwork.

Since when do we have a new teacher?

Schwartz hired him yesterday. At least I think it's a him. No one's met him yet.

Well, if he got sent to the Superintendent's office to fill out paperwork, he might not be back for hours.

I'm not covering any more of his classes.

Days maybe.

This is ridiculous. One day back to prepare--and we waste most of it in meetings--and then they feed us to the savages.

Why don't we just chain the savages to gurneys and wheel them from classroom to classroom?

It's not right.

We could attach electrodes to their heads and transmit knowledge with shock machines. I bet you'd love that Marty.

OOPS. Sorry about your little Hector, Mrs. Rodriguez.

But don't feel too bad about it. Just name the next one you drop Hector too. Ha-ha! Don't think she wouldn't.

You're impossible.

Most people aren't fit to be parents. And the people who are fit to be parents are also smart enough not to have kids.

That's ridiculous.

Did you ever notice how few teachers become parents?

Plenty become parents.

You never did.

I never stayed with a husband long enough. But you're a parent.

Yeah. But that wasn't my fault.

Your wife got pregnant all by herself?

We went to the Poconos and got one of those suites with the heart-shaped beds and mirrored ceilings. Real classy place. And my wife forgets her things.

Her things?

Yeah, her things. Her birth control things.

Is that what you called them? Didn't you know what she used?

That's women's business. And what does her mistake get me? A twenty-four year old son who runs the French fry machine at McDonalds.

He still hasn't gone back to school?

He's still playing drums in that rock band. He says they'll become the next Rolling Pistols or Sex Stones.

Rolling Stones or Sex Pistols.

Whatever.

He's young. He's finding himself.

Why doesn't he find himself a real job?

Will Mr. Goldberg please call the main office. Will Mr. Goldberg please call the main office.

How'd your first class go?

Sorry I asked.

The day can only get better.

Shit!

Are you OK?

I needed a cup...badly.

You're better off without it. Give your nerves a rest.

My nerves don't need a rest!

A lot of good the summer did you.

Don't start asking me about my summer.

I didn't ask.

Good, because then you'll start telling me how great your summer was and how lousy you think mine was, even though I'd take my summer over your summer any day.

I didn't ask.

Good.

Want to know what I did?

No!

Paris.

Paris? Again? What the hell for?

Anyone who says "Paris, again!" wouldn't understand.

What's the matter with your own country? Those people don't even like us.

That's ridiculous.

My wife dragged me there one summer. It was awful. I could feel the contempt in every damn sidewalk cafe. It was like doing cafeteria patrol.

Were you wearing your Bermuda shorts and Disney World shirt?

What's wrong with being comfortable?

I needn't ask more.

You figure they'd be more appreciative of all this country has done for them.

All I'm going to say is Paris beats the hell out of the three Bs.

I didn't say a thing about the three Bs.

No, but you haven't done a damn other thing in all the years I've known you. Baseball, beer and barbecues...how utterly boring.

Some people appreciate the simpler things in life.

Some people are simple.

Ha-ha. What are you teaching this term?

Creative Writing and the Junior Honors class.

Again? Listen to what I get. Freshmen and Remedial Writing. This is my fifth year in a row with freshmen.

I haven't taught freshmen in over a decade.

Rub it in.

Excuse me, I'm looking for...

Get lost, kiddo.

Marty! I think you're in the wrong room. This is the teachers' lounge.

I know. I'm looking for...

He knows. Listen to him. He knows. Isn't anything sacred anymore? Where can we hide?

Who are you looking for?

The English Chairperson, Mrs. Schwartz. It's about my program.

Go to the program office. It's the room on the first floor with a big "We Aim to Please" sign over the door and all the students waiting outside with complaints.

Bring food and a sleeping bag. You'll be there a while.

You don't understand. I'm Wallace Johnson. (a pause)) The new English teacher.

Oh my God.

I don't believe it. I have students in my Creative Writing classes who look older than you.

I have students in my Remedial Writing classes who are older than you.

I hope I'm not late. Should I tell Mrs. Schwartz that I'm here?

What for? She gave you your program. Did she give you keys and a Delaney book?

Yes.

Then have a seat and start counting the years to retirement.

Shouldn't I have something to give out to the students?

On the first day?

What about books? Shouldn't they start working?

Give them Delaney cards to fill out.

This will take the entire period?

Kid, they're not rocket scientists. If they finish early, tell them they screwed up and have to do them over.

Is that pedagogically correct?

It kills 40 minutes.

What about tomorrow?

Go over the school regulations sheet.

Assign them seats.

Slowly.

Isn't that wasting too much time on non-teaching tasks?

Non-teaching tasks?

Is this your first job?

You must have just graduated college.

Last May.

You've got a lot to learn.

83 instructional days to go until intersession. (notices Wallace) Why is there a student in here?

Meet your new colleague.

You're kidding.

Why kid, why? Get out while you can.

Excuse me.

It's an insane asylum! And they have it all planned so you can't get out. It might look good now--out at 3, lots of days off, summer vacation with pay. But one of these days you'll wake up and ask "why?"

For Christ's sake, leave the boy alone. You're as bad as Marty.

Well it's the truth. Even if you come in saying you'll only do this a couple of years, they get you. One day you wake up and you're over 30, you have tenure and decide making a change would be too great a risk. The young teachers who get out fast...they're the smart ones. (to Wallace) But until you come to your senses, there’s one golden rule to always follow.

What?

Never give out the bathroom pass. Never.

But what if...

Never. And never, ever park near the school. They’ll get your car if you do. Park at least ten blocks away and never on the same street two days in a row.

Stan, are you sure you counted all the holidays? I could have sworn we came out ahead this year.

I went over the calendar twice. This is it.

What about Rosh Hashanah?

A weekend.

Figures. I'm Jewish and I can't even enjoy it.

Even Martin Luther King Day doesn't really count. It comes after the last day of classes, so we lose a day out of intersession instead of a day with the kids.

What a shame. You have sick days coming to you?

Used them all.

How do they expect us to get by on just one sick day a month?

It's rough.

Especially those months with no holidays.

But listen to this. I have something better than sick days.

What?

Jury duty.

No!

I report at the end of the month.

What luck! But what if the administration tries to get you out of it?

Can't. They already got me out of it twice before.

I'd kill to be in your place.

I hope I get a murder...no, a double murder. A maniac high school student who did both his parents in...with a chain saw. I'll make him fry.

Excuse me, young man. I beg your pardon, but I believe you may be in the wrong place. This room is for teachers.

Ask him for his ID card.

Do you think I should?

Felix, I think you forgot something at home.

What?

Your spine. Tell me. How do you stand in front of a class for 40 minutes without a backbone?

I get it. You're teasing me.

He's so on top of things.

Young man, can I see your ID card?

I'm Wallace Johnson, the new teacher.

Oh. Then you're in my chair. Please get up.

There are plenty of other chairs.

But that's my chair. I always sit in that chair. Without exception. Everyone knows that. Right?

Does it really matter?

I cannot function properly if I am not in my traditional seat.

You stick up for yourself, Felix.

Please get out of my seat.

Seat's free, Felix.

Thank you very much.

Is that a new tie, Felix?

Yes. My mother bought it. Do you like it?

Oh yes. It's very becoming on you.

Thank you. I'm going to wear it to our church supper tonight. Maybe I'll make some heads turn.

Oh, I'm sure all the single women will have their eyes on you.

That's what my mother says.

No doubt she had that in mind when she bought it.

She says to ignore them if they become too aggressive.

I don't think you have anything to worry about.

Pushy women are bad apples.

They only want one thing.

That's right. And I can't be had so easily. I won't marry just anyone, even if I am in my prime breeding years.

You hang in there Felix. Don't fall prey to some bimbo who's only after you for...for...for whatever it is you have to offer.

God, what a night. I need some coffee. Nice tie, Felix. Your mother buy it?

Don't toy with me. I've got a fucking hangover that would kill a moose.

It's broken.

Shit.

Hey kiddo, run down to the teacher's cafeteria and get me some coffee. And if that blue-haired bitch at the register hassles you, tell her she'll have to deal with me.

Tell him, Wallace.

I'm the new English teacher.

Oh my God! (a pause) I'm old.

Don't forget decrepit.

Thanks, sweetheart.

I'm Sal.

Wallace Johnson.

Wallace. Can I call you Wally? Wally, don't get your hopes up. This isn't Dead Poets Society.

Sal! Don't discourage him.

Seriously... Actually, I was being serious, but seriously, if you have any problems, need any help, don't hesitate to ask someone else. HA-HA. Just kidding, kid...my God, I'm calling someone kid who's not a student. Anyway, any questions, come to me.

Thanks.

I see you've met some of the members of our illustrious department. Marty Goldberg...Mr. Multiple Choice...hasn't graded an essay in years.

And damned proud of it.

Here’s Stan Cohen. Stan, Stan, the calendar man. Knows all the holidays, uses all his sick days.

And never sick a day in my life.

Nora O'Reilly...ageless, vivacious Nora...she can make even Cotton Mather seem sexy. I've seen boys a fraction of her age watch in fascination as she walked down the hall.

Sal, if only you weren't married.

Separated.

Again?

It's a long story.

Tell me.

What's there I can tell you about separation?

I haven't been separated in a while. My third anniversary's next month.

This must be a record for you. (to Wallace) No other husband even made it to two.

Maybe age is slowing me down.

Age? You? Never.

And then there's Felix White...

They let him teach?

Amazing, isn't it? If you have a pulse and a BA, they'll put you in a classroom, though sometimes I wonder about his pulse. Where'd you go to school?

Brooklyn College.

Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn. There's no place like Brooklyn. Brooklyn Heights. Brooklyn Bridge. Brooklyn Lager. Hey kid...Jesus, there I go again...kid, you want to know the secret of teaching?

Sure.

You a baseball fan?

Sure, but...

The Mets?

Yes.

A 1969 Tom Seaver. Keep it in your wallet and nothing goes wrong.

Stop teasing him, Sal.

I'm dead serious. I'd never have survived without this.

Does it work?

Like a charm.

Don't you need it?

Try it for a day. If you like it, I'll get you another. I have a friend who's a collector.

Thanks.

Good morning, one and all.

She’s back.

He’s a teacher, He belongs here!

I’m Wallace Johnson, the new teacher.

I find that hard to believe.

Believe it.

It’s true, Miss Wagner.

But I warned him.

This is another one of your silly jokes. He's a senior. In fact, he was in one of my classes a couple of years ago. (to Wallace) Who put you up to this? Probably Mr. Vincent. He has a warped sense of humor. The joke, or the attempt at one, is over. Please leave.

But I am the new teacher.

OK, stay. Pretend you're a teacher. (to the others) He'd probably do a better job than you anyway.

The professors warned me about teaching in New York City.

You mean I'm not the baby of the department anymore?

Wake up and see the wrinkles. Soon you'll be slouched in one of these chairs, as old and broken down as the rest of us.

By the time I reach your age, I'll be reclining in the Superintendent's chair. Or maybe even the Chancellor's chair.

You've got a long way to go.

Not as long as you might think. Mrs. Schwartz filed her retirement papers today.

No. I thought she was kidding about retirement.

She's leaving in January.

I guess she really meant it.

We'd better not get some new person who thinks he has to prove himself.

Or herself.

You don't seriously think...

And why not? I have the credentials. And the vision to make necessary reforms. If we want to raise the educational standards in this... Who wants to hear the details of the conference I attended yesterday?

OK, first the keynote speaker...

Someone stuff a sock in her mouth.

Shoot her.

Or shoot me.

Don't you people care about your professional development?

No!

I do.

I thought not. Which is why I had the foresight to prepare these.

I'll have one for the new teacher shortly.

What are they?

Syllabi for the courses you are teaching this fall. Last spring I convinced Mrs. Schwartz and Mr. Taft of the need for detailed English syllabi. I devoted the entire summer to the endeavor, but I feel it was well worth the effort.

You're kidding.

What do we need this for?

Who's going to follow them?

Everybody. If you read the memo from Mr. Taft inside the front cover, you'll find that you are required to strictly follow them.

One day, you'll regret your attitudes. (to Wallace) Young man...

Wallace.

I sincerely hope you don't fall in with them and follow their example.

And now, I have a class to teach.