Hot on the heels of the monumental crossover event, anticipation builds for the upcoming episode of "It's Always Sunny" featuring the "Abbott Elementary" cast—a moment I eagerly await. Meanwhile, "Abbott Elementary" bounces back with a delightfully predictable chapter as we venture into the season's second half. Though it serves more as a palate cleanser with minimal plot advancements beyond a slight progression in Ava and O'Shon's relationship, such a reprieve is entirely justified. Given the show's impressive four-year streak, a breather episode or two is well-deserved. This particular installment offers a gentle counterbalance to the raunchiness introduced by the "It's Always Sunny" crew, focusing instead on heartwarming, education-centric narratives.
While last week's episode cleverly tackled a genuine concern through Charlie's triumphant reading lesson, tonight's spotlight shines on the delicate dance of addressing students at risk of educational stagnation due to a myriad of cultural and societal pressures. We need no reminding that our nation grapples with an intellectual emergency—alarming literacy rates, dwindling attention spans, and educators nationwide voicing concerns about the state of American students. Yet, true to its character, "Abbott Elementary" avoids hammering these issues home with self-righteous lectures or portraying students as infantile or helpless. Instead, it delves into the insidious ways we lose our students and underscores the crucial role educators play in nurturing young minds.
RJ, one of Jacob's students, evokes memories of the post-pandemic underclassmen I once taught as an adjunct professor: endearingly sweet but with a distant glaze in their eyes, signaling a detachment from education. These students remain passive, producing adequate work, with school appearing as an external entity beyond their control. But magic happens when I stumble upon one of their niche interests, triggering a blossoming transformation. They surpass basic expectations, revealing a hidden eagerness to learn and engage. It was as if the student I knew in class was merely a facade, and once activated, I uncovered a person brimming with intellectual curiosity.
Jacob, a far more adept educator than I, recognizes the importance of igniting that spark in students whose indifference could hinder their potential—especially considering RJ's prior suspension for absences and his less-than-ideal home life. Believing an after-school club could be the solution, Jacob's instincts, however, lead him astray. First, he suggests RJ join the student podcast "This Abbott Life," which sounds anything but appealing for someone who's already expressed disdain for public speaking. Unsurprisingly, it bombs, with RJ contributing a grand total of three words (four if you generously count "uh"). Do we really need more podcast hopefuls? Next, Jacob encourages RJ to try Ava's step-team, with equally dispassionate results. Ava wisely points out that Jacob never took the time to inquire about RJ's interests.
RJ reveals a penchant for immersive nature outings and camaraderie with friends, positioning him as the perfect recruit for Gregory's Garden Goofballs. This sudden realization sparks an uproarious video chat between Jacob and Gregory, only to be abruptly interrupted by Janine, who barges in upon hearing Jacob's voice. Just as the laughter begins to subside, an email notification from "Angela@GNCcustomersupport" pops up on Gregory's screen, momentarily derailing their banter. Jacob, ever the enthusiastic host, quickly extends an invitation to RJ, amid Janine's playful nudging in the background. The Goofballs warmly embrace their newest member, with Gregory lavishing him with the highest praise, likening his green thumb to his own. However, RJ remains somewhat nonchalant about the whole affair. Jacob, drawing parallels through the lyrics of Destiny's Child's "Survivor," vows to the camera crew that he won't rest until he finds the perfect niche for RJ.
Meanwhile, Janine's relentless pursuit to elevate her students' practice test scores serves as a poignant reminder of the challenges in contemporary education. Her dedication, albeit somewhat overzealous for a mock exam a year away, is unmistakable. Initially, Janine exudes confidence, certain that her class will ace the test given her mastery of the material. Yet, upon scrutinizing the scantrons, she discovers a startling lack of success. She first attributes the poor results to "cultural bias" and then blames an inopportune testing time.
The following day, Janine meticulously arranges for her students to retake the test first thing in the morning, under carefully controlled conditions, but the scores remain dismal. In the teacher's lounge, Melissa suggests that perhaps the issue lies with Janine herself, rather than her students' mindset. Taken aback by the accusation, Janine firmly denies any fault, insisting that she has taught the test the same way for years and her previous classes have always excelled. Enter Barbara and Melissa, the seasoned veterans of the teaching fraternity, who gently guide Janine towards the realization that each new class demands a tailored approach. Adapting her methods to cater to her students' visual learning style, Janine finally achieves a breakthrough. This narrative arc follows the time-honored formula of Abbott's tales: an optimistic teacher encounters an obstacle, fails initially, but ultimately triumphs.
Elsewhere, O'Shon's boldness escalates as he physically appears to address issues that could have been handled remotely, making his intentions towards Ava unmistakable. Ava, still steadfastly resisting O'Shon's advances, seeks advice from two unlikely confidants—Janine and Gregory. Her motive is less about admiring their relationship and more about understanding what it's like to "date someone less financially fortunate." Without disclosing the context, she poses a hypothetical scenario to Gregory, the least affluent person she knows, inquiring what he would do for Janine if he were in O'Shon's financial bracket. Misinterpreting her query as a harbinger of a raise, Gregory proposes buying Janine a "reliable, pre-owned hybrid" car. Repelled by his perceived financial irresponsibility, Ava summarily dismisses him, declaring that such an answer would never merit a raise.
Tonight, Abbott graces us with an exceptional new guest star, Eric Andre, who portrays Cedric, a janitor dispatched by the district to undergo training under the watchful eye of Mr. Johnson. However, I must confess that, despite the guest's high profile, Cedric's role and Andre's portrayal seemed somewhat underwhelming. While I did appreciate Andre's dry wit and reactive humor, it was William Stanford Davis who truly carried the absurdity of the moment. Nevertheless, I harbor a hope that this appearance may not be our last of Cedric, and that he might eventually be woven into the fabric of the show's character ensemble, much like Cree Summers before him.
Mr. Johnson, ever perceptive, senses Cedric's potential as his inevitable successor, the young janitor he will be compelled to mentor. Yet, the prospect of fresh competition fails to rattle the seasoned pro. Instead, he warmly embraces Cedric, imparting his wealth of knowledge: techniques for eradicating permanent marker graffiti, mending plumbing, and other janitorial arcana honed over years of dedicated service. His compassionate side shines through when they encounter a weeping Mr. Morton in the bathroom stall, an encounter that leaves Cedric in awe.
Cedric, moved by the experience, openly acknowledges the district's intentions but admits that he could never match the formidable presence of Mr. Johnson. And he is right; Mr. Johnson is irreplaceable, a figure whose shoes no one could ever hope to fill.
