There's a special something to be admired in those who promptly crouch down to eye level with children, engaging with them on their terms. While Abbott Elementary boasts an array of teachers possessing this wonderful trait, none exhibit quite the same infectious enthusiasm as Janine. Perhaps this is partly due to her petite stature of just five feet tall (the height-related humor in this episode is truly stellar), but more importantly, she goes the extra mile to craft unforgettable experiences for her young charges, treating them with the respect and dignity they deserve as human beings. It may seem like a basic expectation for an elementary school teacher, yet I commend Abbott for this child-centric content that also resonates with adults, given our society's disturbing trend of neglecting our children's well-being.
The season-four finale of Abbott serves as a poignant reminder of how essential individuals like Janine are in safeguarding childhood innocence and whimsy. While it might not top my list of favorite finales — that honor goes to last year's "Party" — it marks a heartwarming conclusion to what could arguably be Abbott's strongest season yet. Janine's exuberance and unwavering commitment to viewing children, especially Black children, as a treasure rather than an inconvenience, offers a valuable lesson for all of us, particularly in a world where rhetoric directed at the young has increasingly shifted from snarky to overtly hostile and inhumane. In a society that often treats children like second-class citizens, expected to remain invisible and silent, Janine brings a breath of fresh air and a compassionate perspective towards them.
However, while Janine's cheerful demeanor serves her well as an educator, her relationship with Lieutenant Colonel Martin Eddie's son presents a different challenge. Martin Eddie is infamous for his no-nonsense demeanor and overt disdain for fun. For instance, when Gregory received Mad Libs for his birthday, his father insisted he choose words that "made sense," declaring, "Mad Libs promote insubordination." When Martin offers to assist in chaperoning the school's field trip to the Please Touch Museum during his visit, Janine eagerly anticipates meeting her boyfriend's father for the first time. She goes to great lengths to impress the veteran, learning military time and jargon. Gregory, however, urges her to be herself, noting that he's never seen his dad genuinely enjoy someone else's company. But has Janine ever been one to back down so easily?
Determined to become the kind of person she believes Martin would admire, Janine adopts Gregory's gray blazer, transforming into a carbon copy of one of the "Eddie men." With the dreary blazer concealing her vibrant yellow outfit (a perfect symbolic touch from the wardrobe department), she morphs into a pragmatic and rigid figure, dismissing creative expressions in favor of strictly educational activities. When Martin introduces himself using his first name, Janine insists on addressing him by his proper military title. She禁止her students from skipping and running, informing Martin that she "abhors nonsense." Gregory, stunned by Janine's personality transformation, questions how far she's willing to go to gain his father's approval. At that very moment, a student falls and scrapes her knee, putting Janine's willpower to the test. Struggling to suppress her natural instinct to comfort the child, she puts up a valiant fight, albeit meekly agreeing with Martin's aphorism that "pain is just weakness leaving the body."
Unable to fully quell her innate instincts, Janine excuses herself to "interact directly with the student," crouching to the child's level on the floor. She transforms into her former playful self, wielding an imaginary pencil as a magic wand to erase the pain, prompting an exchange of meaningful glances between Martin and Gregory. Later, Martin overhears Janine, now in the rainforest exhibit, using the microphone to pretend with a student that they are a "tree ghost." The notion that she might be teaching children to believe trees possess souls irritates him. Yet, attempting to disillusion the wide-eyed students by asserting that trees lack souls undermines Janine's pragmatic resolve. Shaped by a childhood filled with Disney's Pocahontas, she firmly believes in the souls of trees!
Janine throws off her blazer, reminding Martin that as a second-grade teacher, playfulness is an integral part of her job. To everyone's astonishment, instead of dismissing Janine, Martin surrenders to the allure of creative play, adopting a silly squirrel voice and pretending to inhabit a tree. Soon, Martin is engrossed in Janine's imaginative activities, assuming the role of an astronaut in space and chuckling when a foam rocket accidentally strikes Gregory in the face. Gregory is plunged into an existential dilemma by witnessing his father's uncharacteristic behavior; it's akin to seeing my own father, who never engaged in play with me, now crawling on the floor with his grandchild. It's jarring, as Janine remarks, evoking buried resentment but also offering a chance to view my dad in a fresh light and ponder the reasons behind his parenting style.
Occasionally, parents perceive their children in a future tense, preparing them relentlessly for life's inevitable challenges. For many Black fathers, particularly those from a specific generation, life has dealt them an unfairly harsh hand, forcing them into a perpetual state of survival where expressing emotions could mean the difference between life and death. This resonates deeply with Martin, a military man who lost his spouse and coparenting partner when Gregory was nine. Janine urges Gregory to seize this moment to initiate a conversation, hinting that perhaps his father is capable of more emotion than he realizes. Gregory draws Martin aside, expressing astonishment at his sudden silliness. Martin attempts to downplay his strict parenting, only for Gregory to remind him of their Mad Libs games. Martin concedes that he lacks balance in his rigid demeanor, something his late wife would have urged him to relax about. He says Janine reminds him of his deceased spouse, acknowledging, "Sometimes, men like us thrive with partners like her," proving that Martin's appreciation for Janine wasn't contingent on her conforming to his personality. Instead, he found solace in her as someone who complemented his son, forming a perfect match.
As Janine embarks on her mission to captivate Martin, Jacob enlists the invaluable assistance of Barbara and Melissa to guarantee that their final field trip will make an indelible mark on their impending high school freshmen. The tween students, who spend most of the day rolling their eyes and dragging their feet in protest, grumble that the Please Touch Museum is a haven for toddlers, a sentiment only exacerbated by the unbridled excitement emanating from the younger children. Jacob's endeavors to rally their enthusiasm fall flat, much like any attempt from a white male of his demographic might, and the teachers struggle in vain to find anything within the museum's walls that can ignite a spark of joy in the eighth-graders. Not even Mr. Johnson's amusing antics, pretending to slip on a faux banana in the grocery-store simulation to impart lessons on workers' compensation, prove successful.
However, there is one thing that proves irresistible to these preteen minds: mocking authority figures. The museum guide suggests that the older students seize the opportunity of the unoccupied theater to pen and perform a play about their teachers. It quickly becomes evident that the humorous veins at Abbott run deep, extending beyond the staff. The older classes collaborate to create a hilarious satirical play titled "The Final Bell," encapsulating the season's drama with the school district, with the teachers taking on each other's roles for comic effect. Barbara portrays Melissa, Melissa steps into Jacob's shoes, Jacob embodies Barbara, while Janine and Gregory swap identities (naturally, Mr. Johnson plays himself, as the kids joke, for who else could possibly pull it off?). Armed with cue cards, they mercilessly rib each other using the students' own words, leaning into their impersonations as peals of laughter resonate through the auditorium, ensuring a trip that will be etched in the memory of the entire school.
As the season draws to a close, the teachers reflect on the nostalgia and fulfillment of witnessing their students grow and mature into teenagers poised for high school. We, as viewers, can empathize with their sentiments; we have been privy to Abbott's journey from being "The Little Show That Could" to an Emmy-winning cornerstone of television, destined to define this era. In an interview with Time magazine two years prior, Quinta Brunson expressed, "Through Janine and the rest of the characters, I aspire to help people love themselves a little more, grant themselves compassion, and appreciate the diligent individuals in their lives." Season four accomplishes this objective tenfold, leaving us eagerly anticipating the next chapter in the show's narrative.
