Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Angela, I believe I made it clear to you and your classmates...
She woke up,
And it may not be a war protest or a civil rights demonstration...
Her oak tree poem. I loved that one. Why does it have this foot print on it?
Can't you show a movie?
isn't that what all of this is suppose to be about?
This is the most God awful crap I've ever read in my life.
No, but it amounts to the same thing.
- No. I don't. - Neither do I.
I had her as a substitute once. Vic was cool.
You.
What happened to freedom of expression?
And I have to say...
Her father blew her a kiss and the house fell down.
I mean, that oak tree poem? That was mine.
- He drove me home. God. - Okay.
You know what this really boils down to, sweetheart?
I never wrote anything for the Lit.
We could stage a make believe book burning.
Hormones. What would we do without them?
- What I wanted to talk about was-- - He's a lucky man.
We don't want you doing anything that could get you into trouble.
You don't think she wrote the one where they kill the dog.
and I'm willing to get suspended for it.
- Okay. Just, okay. - All right.
I'm willing to forget about this one isolated incident.
And questioning. Which is, I mean...
I say we go to Foster and we tell him we want it. Technically...
We have to figure out which one is Angela's.
This has nothing to do with whether Angela wrote it.
we'd have camera crews, instantaneously, all over the school.
You are afraid that Angela wrote it.
to certain standards of decency.
What? Say it.
Where they have, I don't know, dignity,
What, and miss the cookie booth?
She was always asleep,
It seems nobody ever bothered to notice...
- You put a lot of thought into it. - It's true. You did.
I don't think leaving anything is.