The English Teacher

Uh! Hi.

Linda Sinclair

had reached her 45th year,

an unwed high school

English teacher,

with no prospect of marriage.

Hers appeared to be

a rather ordinary life,

one of discipline...

I have these.

Frugality...

Small indignities...

Whoa! Whoa! Oh.

Modest hopes...

Oh, I'm all right.

Daddy! Over here!

- And disappointments.

- Oh, dear.

She lived alone

in Kingston, Pennsylvania,

not far from

where she was born.

She enjoyed no great luxuries.

Preferring instead

the simple pleasures.

And though her life

may sound cold and dull,

let me assure you that Ms. Linda

Sinclair was neither.

She was a passionate woman.

A romantic.

That was why she was alone,

for she had always been alone.

As a sensitive child,

Linda found her sanctuary

in literature.

The great works stirred

in her an excitement,

an irrepressible thrill

that made the mundane world

seem all the more bleak.

All right, come on.

Hustle! Hustle!

She saw no reason to take

part in childish pursuits.

And her little interest in

the banal activities of youth,

her high-minded sensibility

guided Linda to her

life's purpose.

I thought you said she was

going to the library.

No. No, she sucks...

She would devote herself

to igniting the flames...

Hi, Joanna.

...of literary passion

in young minds.

She nurtured their ideals...

How do communities

approach change

when promoted

by the individual?

...valued their opinions.

Melissa.

They adored her.

But her uncompromising spirit,

so beloved in the classroom

doomed her

to a spinster's life.

Linda?

- Hi. - Hello. I'm Don.

It's so nice to meet you.

- You too.

- Sorry.

Oh, it's okay.

Oh, I... Well, you ordered

without me...

Oh, I'm... I'm sorry.

No, I wasn't really offended.

I was just making a joke.

For how could she be a

model to her students,

if she settled

for just any man?

...now I'm unemployed.

And that's actually...

It's kinda great.

I have a lot of time,

I stopped drinking ice.

I grew a mustache.

And, uh...

When I was divorced this whole

patch just fell right into place.

And I feel like I'm me now.

And, uh... I might have some ice,

actually. Could I...

She longed for a sensitive,

thoughtful man.

Do you really need to make

with no chance

of being fired,

just to teach some kids how to clap

their hands and run around in a circle?

I mean, physical education, that ought

to be up to the parents, right?

So what do you

teach again? French?

Someone mature,

and soft-spoken.

Your system

doesn't work, Linda.

It's gasping for air.

And you know what...

Let it die.

This is common sense... Hi.

Thanks.

Do you mind

getting this one?

'Cause I'm a little

short on cash.

In the end, Linda gave

up on men altogether.

Why can't we get back

to, like, the Indian days...

You know, "You give me

a piece of corn..."

She loved her work,

she earned her keep.

Debate! Debate! Debate!

That was enough.

What a country...

And if there was a tragic air

about our stoic

Ms. Sinclair, so be it.

If literature had

taught her anything,

it was that the true romantic

is always alone.

And must ever be on guard

against a dangerous world.

Hey.

Ow! F***! Ow!

It's me! Jason Sherwood!

I was in your class in 2006...

- Ah!

- Jason Sherwood?

- Yeah.

- What are you doing here?

I thought you lived

in New York.

No, I don't anymore...

Oh. Oh, my gosh...

I am so sorry. Oh...

Let me take

you to the hospital.

- No. I'm fine...

- Jason, I insist.

We have to take you

to the emergency room...

No, no, no... Jesus, please,

no, no, no. no.

It's fine. I'm fine.

I'm sorry...

Ah! My dad,

he works at the hospital

-and I'd really rather not see him.

- Okay, okay.

Then let's get

you home, all right.

God, that burns

like a f***!

- It burned my face!

- I know. I'm so sorry...

I'm so sorry... Come on,

my car is right over here.

Oh, Jesus... Who uses pepper spray

in Kingston?

You know, I have a clean towel

in the trunk,

- I could get that for you.

- No that's okay.

This is working fine.

I am so, so sorry.

Oh, don't be sorry.

It's my fault, I shouldn't have

startled you like that.

No, no, you were

just being friendly,

I should have

recognized you right away.

Jason Sherwood. What are you doing

back here in Kingston, Pennsylvania?

I thought you'd be tearing

up Broadway by now!

Well, you know,

it's only a matter of time.

You were one of the best writers

I've ever had in my class.

Aw, that's nice.

The last I heard you were in

the playwriting program in NYU.

Is that right?

Dramatic Writing.

Yeah, I got my degree

a couple of years ago.

And?

Don't keep me in suspense.

And nothing.

That's it.

I'm done with writing.

What?

What do you mean?

I mean, I'm finished.

I wrote my thesis play.

But that took me forever...

But I don't know,

I really believed in it.

Well, of course you did.

What happened?

I tried to get it produced.

And used every resource

I had just to get it read.

Here, you can just keep going straight.

I'm staying with my dad.

- For now. - Well, what does

he think of all of this?

Uh, well. You don't

really know my dad...

Oh, I do, a little.

He goes to my gym.

Oh, that's funny.

Um...

Well, he said I should

go to law school.

- Oh, no...

- Yeah.

So I'm probably

gonna do that.

Oh, Jason...

I can't write.

Honestly, it makes me

physically ill.

And besides, I have to do something,

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