Tilghman. The teachers have assembled in the cafeteria for a lecture, and mostly look just as bored as...every one of your teachers ever looked when you were in school. It actually even has a call-and-response, as though these were the eight-year-olds that are about to flood the halls and not the voting adults charged to teach them: "I.A.L.A.C....I am lovable and capable." Oh, Jesus. If this is the kind of shit that passes for professional development of educators, it's no wonder half my high-school teachers were drunk every morning by 10:30.
Westside District. What we just saw with the teachers? Here it is again, with cops, except they're getting a lesson in antiterrorism -- specifically, in recognizing soft targets like train stations, office buildings, and stadiums.
Tilghman. "Another hot zone in the classroom is the pencil sharpener." It...is? Adults are really trying to stop kids from getting up to shenanigans with a damn pencil sharpener? Aren't you glad you're not in school anymore? (If any kids are reading this: stay in school.) Before the instructor can even explain why pencil sharpeners are hot zones, though, one guy pipes up to say that he used to have a pencil sharpener in his classroom, until a kid ripped it off the wall and threw it at him. Once the veil has been ripped off of this session and the real-world applications of its guidelines, a woman quickly offers her question -- what to do when a kid sends a full set of textbooks through a closed window. And then it's total chaos, and Donnelly has to rush forward from her spot at the back of the hall to try to restore order, while Prez sits alone in the front row thinking that he was rash in ruling out "prison guard" as a possible post-police career path.