Joan of Arcadia
Spring Cleaning

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Deborah: B- | Grade It Now!
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Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness

Joan barges into PMJS's office without knocking, finding him deep in discussion with another female student. She seems to be sitting on a chair in front of his desk, and PMJS is perched on his desk, very, very close to her. Like, a lot closer than I'd think was really appropriate for any counselling situation. Joan says she thought he was at lunch, and just keeps barging in, saying she's just going to leave his CDs and books, over his objections that he's with a student. Oblivious -- and rude -- she blathers on about the stuff she's returning, providing commentary on each item. Joan thinks Leonard Cohen needs a therapist. I'll bet Leonard Cohen thinks the same thing about you. The other girl, who's crying quietly, dabs her eyes. Joan pulls a book out of her bag, saying, "Now this…this…the love poems of e.e. cummings…" At that, the other girl looks up, disturbed. Joan: "I thought he was all about typos. This stuff is amazing." The other girl says, "e.e. cummings?" Joan finally notices that this other girl is a little distraught and apologizes, saying to PMJS, "You just said, 'anytime,' so…" Well, actually he said to call anytime, not barge into his office whenever. The other girl shakes her head, and gets up and flounces out, sobbing. Well. That sure doesn't look good. PMJS calls after her, "Chelsea…" He turns back to Joan, who asks, "What was that?" He says that was a troubled student. Should he really be saying anything at all about another student? Joan cracks wise: "I didn't know you actually counselled people. She gonna be okay?" PMJS thinks so: "It's really up to her, isn't it? Us being the architect of our own reality and all? What about you? You okay?" Joan claims she is. She thanks him for the stuff and pats him on the shoulder on her way out.

Luke and Friedman emerge from a classroom. Friedman's sporting a shorter, sassier, curlier haircut. I think it's an improvement. Luke: "Look, okay, dude, I know that Superman eventually learned to control his powers, but I'm just saying that the first few times that he took a leak, I mean, he must have just blown apart the porcelain." Hee. Grace comes chugging down the hall calling, "Hey Astroboy! Wait up!" He turns and she tosses a leather jacket at him: "That's for you. Wear it." She walks away leaving Luke to look at it, puzzled. It's not the one they were looking at before, I don't think; it looks sort of broken-in. Friedman: "Dude, put it on." Luke: "I can't just decide to wear leather and do it." Friedman: "Right. You have to own it first. You gonna let it intimidate you? No, you tell it who's boss." Luke: "She gave me a gift." Friedman: "Right." Luke: "She's never done that before." Friedman: "Exactly. So you have no choice. It's all about attitude, anyway. That's the whole thing." I guess that's how you get up the nerve to wear a dickie. To high school. In the twenty-first century. Luke struggles into the jacket. Friedman: "Nice." Do I perhaps detect a slight note of something more than comradely admiration? I could be imagining that. Friedman adds, "Attitude and a little tailoring, maybe." Luke kind of yanks the coat around himself. His face is screwed up with skepticism: "I may need a little time." Friedman: "And time. Time will help."

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Joan of Arcadia

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