I’m a part of the last generation to experience the D.A.R.E program in its heyday; I remember filling out the questionnaires that many people accused of turning children into informants. Looking back as an adult, it is weird to think about those D.A.R.E conversations that emphasized surveillance and obedience through the lens of my childhood self. Once, after being picked up early for a doctor’s appointment and being treated to the obligatory McDonald’s run for my treat, I remember the internal ethical battle in my five-year-old mind about what I was witnessing my own mother doing. She was drinking and driving. I built up the courage to say something because this could be life or death. I told her to pull over and asked why she would drink and drive. Her laugh filled the car when she said, “This is Sprite?”
While I had no concept of what made a beverage alcoholic or not (neither of my parents drank alcohol at all when I was growing up; we didn’t even have wine in the house), I trusted the adults in my life who told me to watch out for certain behaviors. Now, I can clearly see how D.A.R.E was birthed during the war on drugs, but I also understand how hard it is to teach children about the gray areas between the ever-changing binary of “right” and “wrong,” especially when it comes to indulging in vices. We all have one, including the teachers at Abbott. So when a student named Curtis gets caught smoking a cigarette in the bathroom, the teachers scramble to find an appropriate course of action. They look to the district’s code of conduct and realize there aren’t any rules about cigarettes; it seems like so many new hazards have popped up over the years that they’ve forgotten to add smoking cigarettes to the laundry list of banned activities.
Perplexed that they would even catch a student smoking a cigarette in this day and age, Janine points out to Jacob that his vape habit isn’t that much better, initiating a round of finger-pointing in which everyone reveals each other’s vices. Janine smokes weed at night to calm her down; Gregory consumes a cannabis-infused protein bar on weekends; Ava is addicted to hookah; Melissa “snorts liquid marijuana,” according to Barbara (she uses CBD oil on her joints). After telling them to turn to Jesus, Barbara is targeted by Melissa, who proclaims to the group that Barbara is known to demolish mini-bottles of chardonnay. Before they can wrap up their breakroom conversation, Janine catches a student recording their illicit substance confessions. By the time they catch him, it’s too late, as he’s already uploaded the video online. With the entire student body looking at their instructors sideways — Janine gets it the funniest; when she greets a student with “hi!” in the hallway, he replies: “bet you are.” — Janine has to call in the big dogs for damage control.
Janine calls in a favor with F.A.D.E., Abbott’s version of a modern D.A.R.E. Unfortunately, we don’t get a performance from Tariq, but a protege of his steps up to give us the white-man-cosplaying-as-a-rapper version of Tariq’s anti-drug rap from last season. He prances around the stage as a caricature of a rapper, performing in front of a silently cringing crowd while rapping and dancing about fatal overdoses. It barely rhymes, none of it makes sense, and no one claps as he dougies off the stage and F.A.D.E’s spokesperson Caroline takes her place at the microphone. During the Q&A session, the children ask questions about the reasonable substance use they witness the adults in their lives partake in, like casual drinking in moderation, cigarettes after the work day, and medicinal weed use. Caroline approves of all these exceptions, effectively muddling the “just say no” message she preached. One student asks, “So, some drugs are worse than others?” leading to a discussion about the hierarchy of drug dangerousness, confusing the kids even more.
Eventually, the students start spouting off their parents’ prescriptions, one of which is a herpes medication, and Caroline blurts this fact out to the room before the rapper stumbles back on stage, followed by a cloud of smoke, ending the program on the funniest note possible. With no other choices, Ava implements a zero-tolerance policy (for students and teachers) that includes mandatory bag and locker checks. Under this policy, Ava would need to suspend Curtis. We’re living in a time where many brain-altering substances are being de-stigmatized, and children are very aware of the clandestine adult world happening behind closed doors and hushed voices, making it increasingly difficult for teachers of this time to know how to handle these situations. Gregory makes a great point — Curtis is a great kid, and no one bothered to ask why he smoked the cigarette. Instead of focusing on the crime, Gregory made it a lesson in intuition, which is more important for young people to learn than the archaic “just say no” approach that has been proven unsuccessful.
Gregory and Melissa put on their Cool Teacher hats and sit down with Curtis, who admits he was just curious but didn’t like the experience. He apologizes again, and Gregory teaches him about how life will present him with many situations, both good and bad, and they want to ensure he’s being careful … and that he should not forget how gross that cigarette tasted. Though the conversation goes well, and Curtis is adamant that he’ll never smoke again, no one wants to see the school suspend him. Gregory asks Janine to get Curtis’s suspension lifted, and at the end of the episode, reflects on how attitudes and societal standards change, but it’s important to keep an open mind as teachers about how to stay within the appropriate bounds. They’re even inspired to get Jacob to quit his vape, a feat that lasts approximately two seconds before he leaps into the trash can to retrieve his addiction.
As the school embarks on its war on cigarettes, Janine gets to peep in on her classroom, whose latest substitute is Jessca (the “I” has been removed), played by the wonderful Sabrina Brier. Sabrina has found social media fame with her TikTok videos and effortless humor. The New York Times described the persona in her videos as a “20-something in New York who’s trying to shed her basic suburban past.” You might know her from the “Oh!” reaction meme. She’s much more than a meme-able TikTok creator; she’s a professional comedian, trained actor, and experienced writer’s assistant. As a fellow funny woman who got her start online, it’s unsurprising that Quinta and her team would find a place for Sabrina on the show. As Jessca, Brier plays a somewhat foil to Janine; if Jessca is TikTok, then Janine is Instagram.
Those born in the late mid-to-late nineties, like Sabrina and I, know that subtle difference between ourselves and those just a few years older than us, like Quinta. We tend to have one foot firmly situated in both the worlds created by millennials and Gen Z — we know the slang and can keep up with the trends, but we still remember life pre-social media. We’re old enough to be the new professionals but young enough to relate to the youth authentically. The writers play heavily with this dynamic in the episode as Jessca’s teaching methods rub Janine the wrong way. Jessca’s laissez-faire methods include letting the children choose their own homework assignments and allowing them to call her (and Janine) by her first name without an accompanying “Ms.” She calls the students “besties” and calls their breaks “vibe time.” Still unable to fully let go of her class while away at her fellowship, Janine tries to confront Jessca, passively offering her help and “gentle guidance” because of her “lack of experience.”
Jessca declines Janine’s assistance, creating a palpable chill between the two that Barbara notices. After Barbara asks Janine about this uncharacteristically cold behavior, Janine admits that Jessca’s disregard for the rules of grammar and unorthodox methods stresses her out. Barbara gives her signature advice, reminding Janine that at one point, she questioned Janine’s methods as well. She urges Janine to accept that every teacher has their own unique way of teaching, and regardless, it’s no longer Janine’s class. They share a knowing laugh over the missing “I” in Jessca’s name, solidifying the fact that Janine is of an older generation. Janine apologizes to Jessca for overstepping, but Jessca truly doesn’t care, nor did she even notice Janine’s discomfort. She says, “You’re talking as if there’s some sort of interaction I was supposed to remember … evertheless, I accept your apology, which I’m sure I humbly deserve,” with the classic Sabrina Brier delivery. I can’t wait to see who is subbing next!
Teacher’s Notes
• Sabrina Brier was everything and more; I’m such a fan of her videos. As sad as I am that Jessca said she only accepted the job for one week (attention Hollywood, we want more Sabrina!), I love the idea of having a revolving door or guest stars filling in for Janine.
• Jacob’s vaping storyline was hilarious because we all know someone who will go absolutely feral without their vape. I hope we see him hitting his $200 nothing-but-air vape in later episodes.
This week, it was exceptionally hard to choose only a few, but here are my favorite lines:
• Barbara: “I do not want to live in a world where white people explain dance moves to me.”
• Jacob, after Melissa admits to her CBD oil: “It’s a gateway ointment!”
• Barbara: “I suggest you all DROP your vices and take a hit of my drug of choice: J-E-S-U-S! Street name, Christ!” Thank God for Sheryl Lee Ralph.
Ile-Ife Okantah , 2024-02-22 03:53:08
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