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.
Western. And, more parallel structure: the lecturer drones on until Santangelo says that if terrorists tried to do shit in the Western, no one would notice, and then Carver jokes that there were Al-Qaeda but a gang ran them off, and then there's a "Brownie, you're doing a heckuva job" joke, and everyone's yelling until Mello has to go up to the front and try to settle everyone down. McNulty's standing in the doorway, the fat binder of antiterrorist instructions clutched under his arm, when Bunk appears behind him and gooses his ass. There's some perfunctory homoerotic banter (Bunk calling McNulty "Little Boy Blue," hee), and then McNulty asks what Bunk's doing there; Bunk says he caught a case, and catches him up about Fruit's shooting and what Lester got off the wire. McNulty's surprised to hear that Lester's even on a wire, and Bunk chuckles that McNulty's out of the loop. McNulty suggests that Bunk bring Carver in on the case, and Bunk appears to consider it, swiftly turning the subject to drink and suggesting that they hit up some of their old haunts. Instead, McNulty affably invites Bunk to come over to Beadie's for dinner, and meet the kids. Bunk looks seriously horrified at the offer of something so...wholesome. Santangelo showily gets up and goes to dump his binder in the trash, but McNulty sticks his hand out to catch it. Santangelo: "This horseshit? You serious?" McNulty's not looking for edification, though; he dumps out the paper inside and saves the binder to give to the kids for back to school. Little does he know they're going to chuck them the first chance they get, and whine at Beadie until she gets them Trapper Keepers with Hannah Montana on them instead. (In my day: Care Bears. I'm old.)