There's lots of tense disagreement, antecedent confusion, and at least one made-up word in there, but the gist is vaguely clear. Stevealicious points out that he has to enforce policy, whether or not he agrees with it. He does not point how implausible it is that an attorney would try to take down the public high-school grading system (which would render all public school academic evaluations in the city of Boston legally meaningless, am I right?) over one kid's inability to pass a History test on which, by all accounts, he wrote a bunch of joke answers. Mr. Harrelson wants to know if it's school policy to keep his son out of college. Well, that's a loaded question. So much so that I want Anthony Heald to say yes, and get punched. Instead, When-Will-This-Meeting-Be-Over speechifies, "Mr. Harrelson, we do not help kids one by one here. Too many of them, too few of us. We serve masses, hoping more of them make it than don't. And our best results, like it or not, come with policy. By the way, there could be two or three of Jason's teammates in study hall right now, breaking their humps, 'cause they don't want to miss the next game. I like that. Nice to meet you." He leaves, taking his second-in-command with him: "Scott?" Thus, we finally learn Anthony Heald's first name. Too bad he'll always be Anthony Heald here.
In an oddly tiny hallway, The Steve Machine demands to know how on earth Yoda found out about his statements about grading at the teacher's conference. The answer, according to Anthony "Scott Guber" Heald, is Coach Kevin. Principal Mean Green Steve wants to see the Coach right away.
It turns out that people occasionally teach classes at this school, because we finally see Mr. Lipschultz doing just that. He's giving a lecture about how James Madison's diminutive stature gave him a complex about Thomas Jefferson, who stood tall, both literally and figuratively. One student fidgets, snorts, and finally pipes up with the real reason for Madison's jealousy: "Probably 'cause Jefferson was gettin' some." Blah blah blah, share-your-funny-joke-with-the-rest-of-the-class-cakes, yadda yadda, have-you-opened-your-book-all-semester-cakes, et cetera et cetera, maybe-if-you-studied-you'd-have-something-to-offer-cakes. Jesus, does anyone write new classroom scenes anymore?
Anyhow, Mr. Jackson's all, "The book sucks. Offer dat." Lipschultz more or less asks him to elaborate. He obliges: "Jefferson used to sleep with his slaves. The book don't say nothin' about that. They don't even say how he even had slaves. Washington neither. So I don't see why I should bust my black ass reading about a bunch of lies." Quick shot of a white student looking uncomfortable. But Lipschultz is an old pro, and has this response ready: "Well, you see Mr. Jackson, my job is to see that you get your black ass into college. And whether these things in these books be lies or not, your achievement tests that you will be taking are standardized, and you'll have to know all these untruths in order for you to pass them, and how many slaves Jefferson had sex with will not be on the test, and if you fail American History, Mr. Jackson, you'll be sitting here again next year, and you'll have to listen all over again to what my shriveled, white, Jewish ass has to say." There is a brief silence, during which he can perhaps predict the shriveled, white, Jewish ass getting canned later this season.