Joan of Arcadia
Back To The Garden

Episode Report Card
Deborah: B- | Grade It Now!
Growth Opportunity

Lischak does this flamenco-esque foot-stomping at the front of the room and announces, "Okay, grasshoppers: before we delve into the deepest mysteries of quantum physics, I want to investigate the concept of indeterminacy on our own turf! As it were. Who has a working def of indeterminacy for me…Lukey G?" She stops in front of his desk and bounces from side to side, playing with a Slinky as Luke drops science: "Indeterminacy states that the change of a particle, X, is unknown until the outcome is observed over a certain period of time, T." With a sly smile, he glances around at Grace, who whispers, "Show-off." But you can tell she loves it. Lischak exults, "Yes! So: fire your neurons and think of something indeterminate in your own environment, X, and record changes to X, over a certain period of time, T! Ideas…?" She's still giving that Slinky a workout. Friedman raises his hand; she says, "A-Mixmaster Friedman?" Grace, who's still scowling, whispers, "'Will I ever get laid?'" Ha! Friedman ignores her and suggests, "Compare the recent discoveries of the Mars Rover with our current assumptions of the earth's environment." Grace, louder this time, "'That, and will I ever get laid?'" Joan and Adam smirk. Lischak says okay, and asks for an assignment that deals with their own environment. What's with that fugly brooch she's wearing? While we're at it, what's with all the fugly brooches everyone's wearing? I suppose, as fads go, I'll take it over the ubiquity of people shaped like the Pillsbury Dough-Girl oozing out of low-rise jeans that are two sizes too small, but I can't wait for it to be over. I can't even stand the word "brooch." Even the word is fugly. Lischak calls on Joan: "Alternate Girardi." Joan looks up, stunned. "How are you going to handle the assignment?" Joan: "Huh? Assignment?" Adam looks concerned and Grace stops scowling for a moment while Joan casts about for an idea, finally coming up with: "We could plant a garden…in the rankest part of the school…and then, um…try to determine whether or not…it -- it could be a garden." Lischak likes the idea: "Interesting. Clarify your premise and you might have something." Joan beams as Lischak barks, "Next!" Joan says quietly, "What did I just say?" Adam shrugs.

Will and Chewy attend Mary Wallace's funeral. Will's carrying a small pewter vase of hydrangeas. Someone's apprised Chewy of funeral etiquette, because he's not eating anything. But you know his pockets are full of nuts and gum. There's a tearful woman standing near the coffin, who, when she glances slightly to her right and sees Will, appears to recognize him right away, and comments, "You think she's gonna wake up and say she forgives you?" Will: "Excuse me?" The woman rolls her eyes and says, "Arcadia's finest, right? Oh, the blood is on your hands. You're just going to have to live with it." Will: "We're sorry for your loss." She replies, "Oh, don't insult me…or the memory of my aunt. You used her." Will says Mary came to them because she saw an innocent boy gunned down. Chewy looks alarmed by the confrontation, and like he could really use a Twix bar right about now. Will continues, "She wanted us to catch the men who did it, and thanks to her, we did." The niece replies, "Oh, and then you made sure her house went up in flames right after, didn't you?" Huh? Why would they want to rub out their witness before she could even testify? Chewy says they offered Mary protection, which she refused. I'll bet he also offered her Skittles, but no word on her response to that. The niece says, "You're the ones that she's afraid of! Like all of us are." Will says calmly, "No one's going to do anything to you." The niece: "No? What if I started talking about the gangbangers that you shield, and all the drugs that you bastards steal? Oh, you'd be okay with that, huh?" Will tells Chewy he thinks they should leave, and apologizes to the niece: "We didn't mean to upset you." They go out, with most everybody staring after them.

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Joan of Arcadia




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