Ms. Lischak's in her classroom, setting up…something. I have no idea what it is, but it involves a lot of different metal things hanging from a frame. Joan tells her she wants to discuss PMJS. Lischak tells her, "Out of bounds. Not for discussion." Joan says he's in trouble and needs her help. Lischak: "Mr. Tuchman knows how to grow up. He chooses not to, which is why he's in the mess he's in. It's up to him to crawl out of it." Joan replies that sometimes when a person's in a mess, they can't see the mess, and it just keeps getting bigger and bigger. Lischak: "Juxtaposed coherent aggregates vibrating in unison or harmonic ratio…are mutually attracted." Joan: "Okay…" Lischak: "Tuchman has attracted this mess, pulled it into his orbit. No one else can fix it but him." Joan musters the one physics-based argument she can think of: "But…according to…unified field theory, aren't we all, uh, in the same mess?" She gestures with her hand to indicate something akin to general planetary chaos. Lischak softens a little: "Yes." Joan looks hopeful. Lischak: "But it's just a theory." And Joan's face falls. Lischak: "Dismissed, grasshopper." Joan leaves.
Out in the hall, Adam catches up with her, and hands her a box of her stuff. He says he had to clear some stuff out in order to make room for the stuff she gave back to him. She picks up a soft doll on the top: "Frida Kahlo?" There are stuffed Frida Kahlo dolls? Apparently more than one kind. "Your airbrush pen? Sea Monkeys? I gave these to you. I wanted you to have them." Adam: "I did. I had them, and now I don't." He hands the box to her and takes off. Joan stands there looking hurt.
Luke, in his leather jacket, swaggers down the stairs at school, accompanied by Friedman. Of course, he's wearing it over one of his striped polo shirts, so the Fonzie effect is somewhat diminished. Luke: "I don't know, man, call me crazy, but I think I could do boots next." Friedman: "Whoa, slow down, Icarus. The wings are made of wax, remember?" Oh, Friedman. So cute with the classical references. Behind them, Grace bemoans her fate to Joan: "Look at that! Walking ahead…and with a swagger? What have I done?" Joan: "I don't know, but undo it." Grace says she's tried, but Luke won't return the jacket: "What is wrong with men? Are they…broken? Are they missing factory parts?" Frink: "Our parts need factory adjustment." That must explain the perennial attraction to tools. Joan: "I don't know." Grace brings up Tuchman: "How nuts is that? And with Chelsea Burnett? She's totally bipolar." Joan corrects her, insisting he didn't do it. Grace: "So why's he leaving?" Joan: "Leaving?" Grace says that's the scuttlebutt: "They sent he [sic] and his earring packing." Joan: "Oh, man!" She takes off. Grace asks where she's going. Joan walks down the hall, past where Friedman is obligingly holding up Luke's glasses so he can use the reflective surface to fluff his 'do and erect the collar of his leather jacket. Back to Grace, who rolls her eyes: "Unbelievable."