Schafer: So, if Mr. Clay's kids throw Play-Doh at each other, it would be Clay's Clays throwing clay at Clays.
Schafer: But -- *you* -- are not made of blobs of clay
//9th Clay, doing quiet work //Booyya stubs his finger on a desk Booyya: Ah, fuck! *Clay looks up and stares at Booyya for a few seconds* Booyya: Hi there.
//reading Romeo and Juliet, pd 9 Clay Student 1: Wait, lying is a sin, right? Then why does Friar Lawrence tell Juliet to pretend to be dead? Student 2: Why did he even agree to marry them in the first place? Clay: That's an excellent question. And the answer is... I don't know. Look, the plot is stupid, okay?
Alan: So Gene's like a soda bottle, right? So there's a lot of pressure on him, and he gets kinda ... hard.
Clay: Yes, he was an artist and a rappist - no no no I meant rapper. Class: Rapist?! What
Clay: Anyone want to share the story that they just wrote? //everyone raises their hand Clay: Your story can't be about death or torture or anything like that, by the way. //everyone lowers their hand
//talking about his high school art class Clay: Once I did a project so badly that my teacher thought I was color-blind. So then she gave me sympathy A's for the rest of the year.
Clay: As you can see, I wrote this model essay. It's flawless. A sentence from aforementioned essay: Her hope his agonized eyes would never again plead with me.
Clay: So, as you can see from this data graph I made, 28 of you wrote stories about death and 0 of you wrote stories about life. //class smiles innocently Clay: Yeah, I don't know what's wrong with all of you.