In my praise of "Abbott" last season, I extolled its remarkable talent for bridging the generational gap—a facet I cherish deeply in well-crafted sitcoms, as they offer a delightful conduit for unifying diverse age groups. Although tonight's episode may not be side-splittingly humorous, it stands as commendable television that I envision myself gleefully watching weekly alongside my parents, even during my rebellious teenage years. This accomplishment is all the more noteworthy considering the ever-widening rift between generations, fueled by the relentless acceleration of technology and culture, which dramatically transforms our perception of the world. The discourse perpetuated online exacerbates this sense of division, riddled with generational labels such as Gen Z, millennials, and boomers, each carrying a nuanced significance beyond mere birth cohort designation.
Yet, within this subtlety lies the seed of comedy, and the writers of "Abbott" cleverly explore the essence of generational difference without resorting to culture war tropes. Consider the episode's cold open: Melissa, Barbara, and Ava (ironically engrossed in their phones) observe students engrossed in theirs, pondering if modern youth still engage in hand games for face-to-face interaction. They fondly reminisce, chanting the words to "Miss Mary Mack" while executing the accompanying hand gestures. Two young girls catch them reenacting their childhood pastimes and eagerly share the contemporary variant of hand-clapping games, complete with lyrics playfully mocking their peers, such as "Girls rule, boys drool, we use too much fossil fuel" and "Know the answer, raise your hand, we live on Native land," prompting Melissa to shoo them back to their digital devices.
Despite the cold open's nod to the "kids these days" aspect of generational discord, the adult characters are far from antiquated. Even Barbara, often depicted as set in her ways, embraces future technology to streamline her life. Inevitably, ChatGPT and other AI plagiarism tools weave their way into an "Abbott" storyline—but it's not the students who face repercussions. Jacob introduces the subject of AI as a plagiarism aid in his classroom, demonstrating the technology with a Robert Frost poem (dubbed "Bobby Frost" for comedic effect), a student's essay, and one of Barbara's responses to his weekly newsletter. When Jacob subjects Barbara's email to the plagiarism checker, it reveals that AI authored 99% of her words. Similarly, Melissa's replies are revealed to be 100% crafted by a bot.
Infuriated, Jacob confronts his coworkers, branding them "decepticons." Melissa confesses to the cameras, admitting Ava taught them to use AI to reply to his tiresome newsletters, framing it as a learning exercise to stay ahead. Barbara stands beside her, wearing a smug, church-lady grin. They attempt to regain Jacob's favor by eagerly inquiring about AMC's movie membership he constantly promotes (indeed a stellar deal, and his grandiloquent endorsement of Nicole Kidman is quintessentially Jacob). Their efforts fall flat, so they appeal to his empathy, asserting they used AI out of affection. Melissa adds that their actions were kinder than saying, "Your emails are excessively long and boring, contributing nothing to our lives, so please cease sending them." They agree to desist from AI-generated responses, but Mr. Johnson inadvertently exposes Jacob's hypocrisy.
Apparently, Jacob has yet to acknowledge Mr. Johnson's latest newsletter on the merits of spring cleaning, prompting an encounter where Mr. Johnson confronts him, expecting no less than three paragraphs of insightful commentary for each paragraph in the newsletter. Jacob, flustered and under the impression that the newsletter must be dry and uninspiring, resorts to using AI to craft a response. His sole genuine contribution? A playful jab at Mr. Johnson's baldness, suggesting a spring-cleaning session that would leave his pate gleaming like a polished mirror. Melissa and Barbara are horrified by Jacob's actions, fiercely defending their own heartfelt, unassisted replies to Mr. Johnson. To be fair, Mr. Johnson's newsletters are a quarterly occurrence, cherished by Barbara for their "delightful anecdotes and profound musings." Upon finally perusing the newsletter, Jacob admits it is nothing short of breathtaking, weaving the history of spring cleaning from Iran to a thought-provoking conclusion: "Are any of us truly clean?" He promptly apologizes for dismissing it as mundane and expresses regret to Melissa and Barbara, vowing to tone down his frequent email correspondence, thereby restoring harmony among them.
Meanwhile, in Janine's substitute-taught classroom, Alex's sudden and prolonged absence captures Gregory's attention. Knowing Alex as an avid learner who adores school, Gregory becomes instantly suspicious of his frequent absences, reported by Janine's substitute. He alerts the school office, learning that more absences could lead Alex to truancy court and potential retention by the district. Automated absence messages are sent, but there's no guarantee Alex's guardian receives them. Gregory takes matters into his own hands, calling Alex's elderly grandmother, whose television blares 'The Price Is Right' in the background, drowning out his words. Despite the cacophony, she insists Alex is safe, contently watching TV, oblivious to the urgency. She claims Alex doesn't want to attend school due to his fondness for Janine and refuses to coerce him, despite living mere steps away from Abbott School.
Gregory enlists Janine's help, amidst her own struggles as a newcomer to adulthood. Her fellowship shines so brightly that the superintendent extends a full-time job offer upon its conclusion. Initially thrilled, Janine accepts the position after careful consideration and calls an emergency meeting at Abbott to share the news. However, doubts creep in as she becomes entangled in Alex's situation. Deciding to visit Alex's house in person, Janine and Gregory vow to remain discreet and avoid entering the premises. Their resolve crumbles swiftly as they confront Alex's grandma on the porch, realizing they won't gain traction with her alone.
Alex's grandma, a product of an era that didn't prioritize education as diligently as today, dismisses the importance of school attendance. She views allowing Alex to stay home and watch TV as harmless, invoking the worn-out excuse, "We all turned out just fine!" She sees no reason to force Alex somewhere he dislikes. Gregory nearly concedes defeat, but Janine, glimpsing a melancholy Alex slumped in front of the TV, defies her better judgment and steps inside, with Gregory reluctantly following. Alex argues that if Ms. Teagues (Janine) doesn't have to attend school, neither does he. Unaware of Janine's announcement, Gregory struggles to persuade him, promising Janine's eventual return. Janine reveals the news to Gregory on the spot, eliciting a hesitant "Congrats?" from him, his heart likely shattered into a million pieces.
Janine is determined not to let Alex's aspirations be hindered by his new job commitments, so she shifts her approach. Gregory, ever the supporter, jumps on board, and together they impress upon Alex that becoming a formidable contestant on The Price Is Right—his childhood dream profession—necessitates mastery over math, refined communication skills, keen critical thinking, and even "mastering P.E. to spin that colossal wheel," all of which are crucibles of learning within the school walls. This persuasive strategy proves effective in coaxing Alex back to his studies, chalking up another triumph for Janine and Gregory, who share a flirtatious acknowledgment of their seamless teamwork. Gregory entrusts his beloved Garden Goofballs, a comic relief highlight of the episode, with the duty of monitoring Alex's attendance diligently.
However, the impending shadow of Janine's departure looms large between the duo. Upon receiving her official papers for the new job, Janine requests a brief respite to revisit the district, subtly hinting at a potential reversal of heart.
