Schools, serving as miniature replicas of the adult world governed by the whimsical minds of children, have always nurtured unique safe havens, long before the phrase "safe space" became a cultural catchphrase. Amidst the tempestuous turmoil of school life, children instinctively seek solace in stability, with teachers emerging as the unwavering pillars of adulthood during school hours. Many of us cherish tales of that one remarkable teacher who cooled our school days—I, for instance, fondly recall spending my lunch breaks in the art room, indulging in snacks and sharing laughter-filled banter with my teacher, delighted merely by their understanding presence.
The media archetype of the Cool Teacher has bestowed upon us a myriad of fictional educators who transformed our school experiences into more tolerable journeys. These teachers span a spectrum from the popular to the eccentric, from the sarcastic to the relatable. We have our Mr. Keatings, Ms. Frizzles, Mr. Schuesters, and countless others who occupy a special place in their students' hearts for genuinely seeing them. Often, the stereotypical Cool Teacher conjures images of effortless charisma or a casual demeanor approved by students; such teachers seem destined for this role within the school's natural hierarchy. Thus, it comes as a pleasant surprise when Gregory, who hadn't bothered to adorn his classroom even two seasons prior, is crowned Abbott Elementary's newest Cool Teacher.
What started as a casual decision for a group of older boys seeking refuge during lunch—after being summarily ejected from Mr. Morton's classroom—soon turned into a daily ritual as they chose Gregory's room for their midday meals. They sat across from him as he silently chewed on his salad, teasing him in a lovingly playful manner reminiscent of Black boy camaraderie, inquiring whether consuming vegetables would "help attract the ladies," punctuated by laughter and playful slaps on the back amidst boyish giggles. It was akin to a junior version of a barbershop scene, replete with frequent mentions of the word "female," starkly contrasting the ambiance Gregory aspired to cultivate in his classroom, particularly during his free periods. He requested Jacob to discourage his students from lingering, but Jacob reveled in the fact that the kids voluntarily sought Gregory's company, viewing it as a testament to Gregory's coolness—a descriptor Gregory earnestly wished Jacob would rescind.
The next time Gregory joined his lunch crew, ironically immersed in a book titled "Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking," he unexpectedly interpolated into their conversation. Da’von, one of the more outgoing kids, slyly announced to the group his intended gift for his girlfriend, Farrah—a new chain … for himself. His rationale was that possessing a new chain made him a desirable boyfriend, thereby rendering it a gift in itself, status being "the world's greatest currency." When Da’von sought Gregory's endorsement, Gregory intervened, clarifying that the chain would be a gift to him, not his girlfriend. Another boy encouraged Da’von to heed Gregory's advice, citing his "strong roster," a claim Gregory disputed before imparting genuine wisdom to focus on their studies rather than seeking girls' attention. They absorbed his words, hinting at Gregory's potential to fulfill the mentorship inherent in being the Cool Teacher—until his guidance clashed with the months-long efforts of Abbott's original Cool Teacher.
Gregory's classroom has emerged as the new hub for the older boys, yet Melissa has been a steadfast presence at Abbott long before Jeremy Allen Black graced its halls. Confronted by a tear-streaked Farrah, Gregory uncovers a months-long conspiracy between Melissa and Farrah to persuade Da’von into purchasing that dazzling chain, convincing him it was his own brilliant idea (who can blame Farrah for being smitten with a charming beau adorned with an iced-out chain? I hear you, sister!). However, Gregory's well-meaning advice inadvertently led to Da’von's breakup with Farrah. Frustrated, Gregory slaps a "Do Not Disturb" sign on his door, shutting out the boys but not deterring Mr. Johnson and Melissa, who make him ponder if he's abandoning his duties as an educator. Determined to rise to the challenge, he lays down strict guidelines for the students the next day and banning the word "females." Moving forward, they can still bond and, if the need arises, let loose a fart, as long as they remain respectful and productive, lending a hand in Gregory's garden.
Witnessing the inception of "Gregory's Garden Goofballs," alongside the episode's other narratives, is both amusing and heartwarming, traits synonymous with "Abbott Elementary." Nevertheless, it doesn't elicit the same side-splitting laughter as its predecessors; instead, it leans on the sincerity that makes for such an enjoyable viewing experience. As Clint Worthington aptly noted in his review, "One of Abbott's challenges is that, for a sitcom, it's more focused on warming the heart than busting the gut." Personally, this sincerity doesn't bother me much—with numerous episodes in a season, we can't anticipate them all being bursting with jokes—but compared to other installments, tonight's episode falls a bit short in the comedy department.
The show's humor thrives when the ensemble is together, and with Janine away from the school during her fellowship, the chemistry is disrupted. The cast finds its rhythm in smaller group scenes, with new actors gradually finding their place in the Abbott universe. Quinta Brunson (and viewers alike) is testing the waters with the actors portraying her new colleagues, particularly Josh Segarra as Manny, as her character navigates her new role at the district. Janine channels her inner Leslie Knope as she pitches her maiden passion project as a fellow: securing an ASL interpreter for Jacob's deaf student, Imani. She's given the green light to proceed but encounters a labyrinth of bureaucracy akin to a metaphorical brick wall, seemingly insurmountable. Janine jumps through endless hoops (including being redirected to her own office) before nearly succumbing to the beast of paperwork that the government imposes when we seek a fundamental human right. The pressure mounts when Ava suddenly becomes invested in Imani having an interpreter, fueled by her hate Imani's delayed laughter at her jokes due to her hearing aid.
Manny swoops in gracefully, assuming the mantle of the adorable colleague who ignites Janine's drive to be her finest self. He subtly proposes scaling the wall by cleverly bending the rules, rather than charging into it blindly. Undeterred by hierarchical boundaries, Janine orchestrates a scheme, leveraging Imani's family to softly dangle the district's worst fear over their heads: the specter of negative publicity. The district, quaking at the thought of a scathing expose on their inadequate accessibility, hastily expedites the process, successfully pairing Imani with a capable ASL interpreter. Janine earns her gold star, punctuated by a sprinkling of lighthearted jokes, yet the episode resonates more with heartwarming sentiment than sharp comedy. Quinta is still nurturing her rapport with her new castmates, but there's a palpable attempt to infuse humor into the series as everyone finds their footing in fresh storylines and with new actors.
In a stroke of genius aimed at infusing comedy, Tariq makes his seasonal debut in his third avatar on the show. He's shed his roles as Janine's beau and the anti-drug rapper to embrace the title of self-anointed stepfather to the son of his seven-week-old girlfriend. Nick, her son, attends Barbara's class, earning Barbara the humorous moniker of "stepteacher" in Tariq's whimsical lexicon. Given the unpredictability of their relationship—and knowing Zach Fox and his character's erratic but engaging presence—Tariq could remain a staple for a couple of episodes or the entire season. He's embraced his role as a de facto father, bestowing upon himself the moniker of Nick Sr. and attempting to bond by introducing Nick to 'Set It Off.' When Tariq confides in Barbara about his abortive bonding attempts, she wisely advises him to foster an authentic connection by getting to know Nick as an individual.
Upon returning to pick Nick up from school, Tariq demonstrates growth by using his correct name and even adopts the moniker Nick Sr. authentically. He playfully suggests forming a PTA (Parent-Tariq Alliance) and crosses paths with his "childless ex," Janine, who swiftly shoots down the idea to Ava. Tariq has seamlessly integrated into the Abbott fold, adding a dash of humor and heart to the mix.
