Class of 1984

When does a dream

Become a nightmare

When do we do what must be done

When do we stand

And face the future

When there is nowhere left to run

You've got to learn

Just how to survive

You've got to learn

How to keep your dream

Alive

Take a look at my face

I am the future

How do you like what you see

Take a look at my face

I belong to the future the future

And you belong to me

When does a dream

Become a nightmare

When do we learn to live with fear

When we cry out

For some salvation

Why is it no one seems to hear

You've got to learn

It's up to you

If you can learn

That the dream just might

Come true

I'll bet I know who you are.

You're Goldstein's replacement.

I'm Terry Corrigan, biology.

Andy Norris, music.

What's the gun for?

Where have you been teaching lately?

Lately, nowhere.

It figures.

Take a look at my face

I belong to the future

And the world belongs to me

Let me guide you in.

Take a look at my face

I am the future

Now how do you like

what you see

Take a look at my face

I belong to the future

And the world, it belongs

To me

It belongs to me

To the right. Come on.

Come on. I know.

I know. Come on.

Always picking on the brothers, man.

Look at this...

Is that really necessary?

It is if you want to survive.

Do you know any moves?

Moves? What do you mean,

moves?

- Jujitsu, boxing, karate.

- No.

I swing a nasty baton.

That's good.

Here. Kiss my ass.

Hey. Hey, hey, guard.

That kid in the brown shirt

has a straight razor.

- It's too late now.

- Oh, baby.

Did you see that?

If you want to survive around here...

you have got to learn

to look the other way.

Well, they were passing

a straight razor.

No sh*t.

Who? Which one? Where?

Oh, come on.

Everyone around here carries something.

So one razor more or less isn't going to

make a damn bit of difference.

Please listen to what I have to say.

Surveillance is the name of the game

around here, Mr. Norris.

You wouldn't believe the things

they do to this building...

whenever we aren't watching.

Paint on the walls.

They piss in the corridors.

They steal everything

that isn't bolted down.

Never leave your classroom unlocked,

Mr. Norris, not even for a minute.

Yes, sir.

- Sir, now about my class...

- There, there. Come here.

Two of them smoking marijuana.

- Security.

- Yes?

- Two dope smokers in one west.

- On my way.

- Where was I?

- My classes.

You have four classes a day.

Mr. Goldstein's files are available

if you need background on any.

Okay. Thank you, sir.

You'll be assigned a corridor

and washroom patrol in your free hours.

Isn't that what the security guards

are for?

They're already using teacher salaries,

Mr. Norris. We're spread thin at both ends.

Well, I understand, sir,

but I mean, I...

I'd like to believe I'm here to teach.

I need those free periods

to do my work.

You're not in Nebraska

anymore, Mr. Norris.

Here at Lincoln High...

teaching is something you do

in spite of everything else.

- Understand?

- No, sir.

You will before long.

Give me that.

Come on.

Throw it here.

All right, everybody.

Settle down.

Would you sit down please?

Teacher, teacher, teacher!

- Hi.

- Hi.

- I'm Deneen.

- I'm Mr. Norris.

Hi.

I just thought I should tell you

those guys don't belong in here.

- You mean they're not in this class?

- No.

Those creeps are in a class

by themselves.

- Are you in this class?

- No.

You wanna get out then, please?

No.

I'd give him a week.

My name is Mr. Norris.

I'm taking over for Mr. Goldstein.

Now when I call your name,

please answer, "here."

If I'm not here...

do I answer, "not here"?

- Abrams?

- Not here.

- Eladopolis?

- Oh, no, no, no. Not here.

What is your name, please?

He doesn't hear too good.

- You jerks don't belong here.

- You shut your hole, you little dike!

You don't scare me, freako.

Cool it. Cool it.

What's your name, since you seem

to be in charge of this group?

Mine nomen ich ben Stegman.

Pizza.

You're okay.

- The others belong somewhere else.

- They stay with me.

Me, Me, Me, Me, Me

Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, Do

Let's go. Leave.

La, Ti, Do

Just leaving.

Not here.

Bye-bye.

We'll see you later, huh?

Are you supposed to be here?

What's your name?

Elizabeth Taylor.

Face the music,

teacher-teacher.

Wait a minute.

You're in this class. Sit down.

Sit on this, motherf***er.

- What's the matter with you?

- What's the matter with you?

What's the matter with me?

What's the matter with matter?

Boy, I sure made a big hit

with them, huh?

Let's get to know each other.

Tell me your names

and the instrument you play.

Burly, clarinet.

Michelle, flute.

Sommersman, tuba.

If you don't know that's a trumpet,

we're all in big trouble.

Trumpet. Man, they've been

lying to me all these years.

- Deneen, I know.

- Clarinet, bassoon and oboe.

And I orchestrate.

- Anything you don't do?

- Yeah, she don't put out.

But she conducts the class.

Did you conduct this class?

Sh*t, we learned more from her

than from old bad-breath Goldstein.

Okay, I'll get the rest

of your names later.

Right now, let's hear how you sound.

- What's the music?

- "Moon river."

Somebody got another copy of the score?

We don't need conducting.

We've been practicing by ourselves.

- Go ahead.

- Okay.

One, two, three.

2,200.

Sh*t's come down, children.

We were making 4,000 a week

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