♪ The Simpsons ♪
-(chalk screeches)
-(bell rings)
(work whistle blows)
-(register beeping)
(jazzy solo)
(tires screech)
-(tires screech)
-(horn honking)
(tires screech)
(tires screech)
Come on, Mom.
Yeah, Mom.
Hurry up.
All right. Mmm.
How about “he”?
Two points.
Your turn, dear.
How could anyone make a word
out of these lousy letters?
Oh, wait.
Here’s a good one. “Do.”
Triple word score.
Hey, no abbreviations.
Not I.D., Dad. “Id.” It’s a word.
As in,
“This game is stup-id.”
Hey, shut up, boy.
Yeah, Bart. You’re supposed to be
developing verbal abilities
for your big aptitude test
We could look this “id” thing
up in the dictionary.
We got one?
I think it’s under
the short leg of the couch.
“Id: Along with the ego
and the superego,
one of three components
of the psyche.”
-Get outta here.
-My turn. “Kwyjibo.”
Twenty-two points,
plus triple word score,
plus 50 points for using
all my letters.
Game’s over. I’m outta here.
Wait a minute,
you little cheater.
You’re not going anywhere
until you tell me
what a “kwyjibo” is.
“Kwyjibo.” Uh–
A big, dumb, balding,
North American ape
with no chin.
And a short temper.
I’ll show you a big,
dumb, balding ape!
Kwyjibo on the loose.
GIRL: ♪ We come from Springfield
and we sell swampland ♪♪
You there. No chewing gum
on school grounds.
In the trash can with it.
Principal Skinner,
one of my fellow children
is vandalizing school property.
Oh? Where?
Over there, sir. See?
Look out, Bart.
Here comes Skinner.
♪♪ (whistling)
Whoever did this
is in very deep trouble.
And a sloppy speller, too.
The preferred spelling
of “wiener” is w-i-e-n-e-r,
although “e-i”
is an acceptable ethnic variant.
Good point.
Boys, let’s see your hands.
Good. Okay.
You might say you
caught him red-handed.
Simpson, you and I are going
to have a little talk.
Same time, same place?
Yes. In my office
after school.
ALL: Ooh!
-(bell rings)
Bart, I hope you won’t bear some sort of
simpleminded grudge against me.
I was merely trying to fend off
the desecration of the school building.
-Eat my shorts.
Now, I don’t want you
to worry, class.
These tests will have
no effect on your grades.
They merely determine
your future social status
and financial success. If any.
Mrs. Krabappel, isn’t Bart
supposed to face the window
so he won’t be tempted to look
at his neighbor’s paper?
-You’re right, Martin. Bart?
Remember to visualize
the complex problems, and relax.
The test will start… now!
“At 7:30 a.m.,
“an express train traveling
60 miles an hour
leaves Santa Fe bound for Phoenix,
520 miles away.”
Shh! Visualize it, Bart.
“At the same time,
“a local train traveling
30 miles an hour
“and carrying 40 passengers
“leaves Phoenix bound
for Santa Fe.
“It’s eight cars long
and always carries
“the same number
of passengers in each car.
“An hour later,
a number of passengers
“equal to half the number
of minutes past the hour get off,
“but three times as many
plus six get on.
“At the second stop,
“half the passengers
plus two get off,
but twice as many get on as got on
at the first stop.”
-Ticket, please.
-I don’t have a ticket.
Come with me, boy.
-We’ve got a stowaway, sir.
-I’ll pay. How much?
Twice the fare
from Tucson to Flagstaff
minus two-thirds of the fare
from Albuquerque to El Paso.
-(train whistle blows)
Bart, there are students
in this class with a chance to do well.
Will you stop
bothering them?
He’s not bothering me,
Mrs. Krabappel. I’m finished.
May I go outside
and read under a tree?
Certainly, Martin.
What are you
looking at, Bart?
Are those naughty dogs
back again?
You have 20 minutes,
♪♪ (humming)
He’s a good boy now,
and he’s getting better,
and sometimes even the best sheep
stray from the flock
and need to be hugged
extra hard.
That’s exactly the kind of crapola
that’s lousing him up.
Hey, look at this.
“I am a wiener.”
He sure is.
-(intercom buzzes)
-Mr. and Mrs. Simpson are here.
Send them in.
Hello again,
Principal Skinner.
What have you done
this time, boy?
I caught your son
defacing school property this morning.
We estimate the damage
at $75, and frankly,
we think it’s terribly unfair that
other taxpayers should foot the bill.
Yeah, it’s a crummy system,
but what are you gonna do?
-Oh, no. He can’t mean that.
My wife thinks you want me
to pay for it.
-That was the idea.
By itself, something like this
might not call for an extreme penalty,
but this is not
an isolated incident.
Bart’s behavior is unruly.
He’s frequently absent
from school,
then gives teachers
pathetic excuse notes
that are obviously childish forgeries
when compared to–
Well, at any rate,
it is my reluctant decision–
(intercom buzzes)
Mr. Skinner, Dr. Pryor
is here to see you.
-He says it’s urgent.
-Send him in.
Mr. and Mrs. Simpson, this is
our district psychiatrist,
Dr. J. Loren Pryor.
What do we need
a psychiatrist for?
We know our kid is nuts.
Oh, on the contrary.
I have some very exciting
news for all of us.
This aptitude test
we administered this morning
has revealed that
the young Bart here
is what we call a “gifted child.”
A what?
Your son is a genius,
Mr. Simpson.
-This lunkhead?
-No, no, we’re quite certain.
The child is not supposed
to know his own IQ, of course,
but, uh, you can see
it’s beyond the range of any doubt.
Uh, no, you have it
upside down. It’s 216.
-That’s still amazingly high.
Tell me, Bart,
are you ever bored in school?
-Oh, you bet.
Ever feel
a little frustrated?
-All the time, sir.
Do you ever dream
of leaving your class…
to pursue your own
intellectual development
on an independent basis?
Wow! It’s like you’re
reading my mind, man.
You see, when a child
with Bart’s intellect
is forced to slow down to the pace
of a normal person,
he’s probably going to lash out
in ways like these.
I think we should retest him.
We should move him
to another school.
Ooh. Better yet.
Bart, we’d like you
to try a kind of school
that doesn’t rely on grades and rules
and bells and buzzers.
A school without walls,
where you do as much
or as little of the assignments
as you feel you need to.
-Does that sound good, Bart?
-Sign me up, Doc.
Excellent. We’re all set then.
Here’s all the information
you need.
Show up around nine-ish.
Mr. and Mrs. Simpson,
congratulations once again.
I think we’re all
in a mood to celebrate.
Doc, this is all too much.
I mean, my son a genius?
How does it happen?
Well, genius-level intelligence
is usually the result
of heredity and environment.
Although, in some cases,
it’s a total mystery.
Aw, come on, Mom.
You look very
intelligent, dear.
No way!
How about a tie, son?
Everybody knows
boy geniuses wear ties.
You’re stifling
my creativity, Dad.
-Sorry, boy.
-Bart, this is a big day for you.
Why don’t you eat something
a little more nutritious?
Nonsense, Marge.
Frosty Krusty Flakes are what
got him where he is today.
It could be one
of these chemicals here
that makes him so smart.
Lisa, maybe you should
try some of this.
I’m just saying why not have
two geniuses in the family?
Sort of a spare, in case
Bart’s brain blows up.
I don’t care what that
stupid test says, Bart.
You’re a dimwit.
Maybe so,
but from now on,
this dimwit
is on easy street.
No rush, Dad.
Take the scenic route.
(tires screech)
Oh, no. Ties.
Don’t worry, son.
You can have mine.
Here. Let me show you
how to put on a tie.
The hook goes over the top
and these things go in there.
Thanks, Dad.
You kissed me.
There’s nothing wrong
with a father kissing
his son… I think.
Now go on, boy,
and pay attention.
Because if you do,
one day you may
achieve something
that we Simpsons have dreamed about
for generations.
You may outsmart someone.
You must be Bart Simpson.
I’m Ms. Melon,
your learning coordinator.
Let me say right at the start that
we have one rule here:
Make your own rules.
If you feel sleepy,
take a nap.
If you get bored,
feel free to take out
a book and start reading.
-What should I read, ma’am?
-Anything you want, Bart.
A comic book?
How did this get mixed in here?
We used it last week
as a prop in a film
we made about illiteracy.
Bart, these are the students who will
share your work area.
This is Ethan Foley.
O Memsahib, Bart.
Rabbi has memo.
Ethan’s very good
with palindromes.
You know, sentences
spelled the same
backwards and forwards.
And this is
Sidney Swift.
-Trabing norm doog.
-What’s your problem?
Oh, don’t mind Sidney.
He’s just speaking
in backwards phonetics today.
He said,
“Good morning, Bart.”
-And this is Cecile Shapiro.
-Hi, Bart.
Cool hamsters.
What are their names?
Hamster Number One
has been infected
with a staphylococci virus.
Hamster Number Two
is the control hamster.
Hi, little
control hamster.
I wouldn’t get too attached, Bart.
We’re dissecting him next week.
Discover your desks,
Now let’s all welcome
the newest member
of our collective experience,
Bart Simpson.
(kids saying “hello”
in various languages)
And now we can continue
our debate from yesterday.
When we left off,
Calvin and Tanya were arguing
that free will is an illusion.
(lisping) If you ask me,
humankind has freedom,
a freedom fraught
with paradoxes.
Freud shows how childhood shapes
our subconscious mind,
but this helps us
to think for ourselves.
Very good, Ian.
Does anyone else
have an example of a paradox?
Without law and order,
man has no freedom.
If you want peace,
you must prepare for war.
Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.
Well, it seems
the smartest child in the class
is also the quietest.
Bart, what other paradoxes
affect our lives?
Well, you’re damned if you do,
and you’re damned
if you don’t.
Well, I guess that
would be a paradox too.
Thank you, Bart.
Tell you what, Bart.
I’ll trade you the weight
of a bowling ball
on the eighth moon
of Jupiter from my lunch
for the weight of a feather
on the second moon of Neptune
from your lunch.
-Well, okay.
-There you go!
(kids Laughing)
I’ll trade you
1,000 picoliters of my milk
for 4 gills of yours.
-Well, all right.
-Anything you say.
Uh, Bart, would you
wager your cupcake against my–
Save your breath.
What do you think
of the new kid?
A rather mediocre genius.
Yes, not very bright at all.
-So, how was it?
-That’s backwards for so-so.
What are you reading there?
Comic books?
Uh, guess you don’t want to overheat
the old noggin, eh?
Tell you what.
To celebrate your first day
of genius school,
what do you say we go out for a round
of frosty chocolate milkshakes?
All righty!
Bart, I feel so bad for going
so many years without…
Mmm, hmm–
What’s that word where you encourage
something to grow?
(both groan “I don’t know”)
-Nurturing your brilliant brain,
so I got tickets
to the opera tonight.
Hurry up. Get dressed.
It starts at 8:00.
Oh, Mom.
Not tonight.
Come on, Bart, your
mother’s only trying to help,
so go ahead and enjoy the show.
Homer, you’re going too.
But I’m not a genius.
Why should I suffer?
♪♪ (orchestral)
Hey, Lis, keep an eye out for
the guy with the peanuts.
There’s no guy
with peanuts, dear.
Jeez. No beer.
No opera dogs.
♪♪ (“March of the Toreadors”)
♪ Toreador, oh,
don’t spit on the floor ♪
♪ Please use the cuspidor ♪
♪ That’s what it’s for ♪
-Bart, stop fooling around.
Homer, stop encouraging him.
Don’t stifle the boy, Marge.
We’re supposed
to encourage him.
♪♪ (singing in French)
(both laughing)
♪♪ (singing in French)
-Who’s the lard butt?
-LISA: He’s the bullfighter.
No way a bull’s gonna miss
a target that big, man.
-(singing continues)
-♪♪ (singing in French)
-(making farting noises)
(making farting sound)
Who are those people?
P.U. When is this over?
It ain’t over till
the fat lady sings.
Is that one fat enough
for you, son?
-♪♪ (high note)
Let’s go get a burger.
So, “Y” equals “R” cubed
over three.
And if you determine
the rate of change
in this curve correctly,
I think you will be
pleasantly surprised.
(all laughing)
Don’t you get it, Bart?
Derivative D-Y equals
three R squared,
D R over three,
or R squared D R,
or R D R R.
Get it?
Oh, yeah.
(nervous laugh)
Hi, guys.
Great to see ya.
-Get lost, Poindexter.
-Yeah, beat it, Professor.
Why don’t you go build
a rocket ship, brainiac?
Well, come on, you two.
Don’t forget about the film festival.
-The what?
-Oh, sorry, Bart.
Your mother bought us tickets
to a snooty movie
directed by
some Swedish meatball.
Oh, no.
Well, I guess we don’t
have to do that.
Um, look, Dad.
I got something to tell you.
Can it wait, son?
It’s getting kinda dark.
All right, Homer.
Come on, baby.
Right across the plate.
Let me feel the wind.
Whoa! Strike two!
Two and two.
Can you still
see the ball, Bart?
Don’t worry, Home boy.
You’re not that fast.
Oh, you don’t think so, eh?
Well, here comes
some real heat.
Whoa! Yeah, strike three!
You’re outta there!
So, what was it you
wanted to tell me, son?
Oh, nothing, Pop.
I’m still trying to get you
a lab partner, Bart.
If we don’t get any volunteers soon,
I’ll assign somebody.
Say, what’s that?
It looks dangerous.
Well, it’s really pretty
top secret, ma’am.
All right, keep going.
But you do know
what happens
when you mix
acids and bases, right?
-‘Course I do.
-(glass breaks)
Now, Bart, we want to emphasize that
nobody’s angry about this.
We’re– We’re just concerned.
When a young man
with a 216 IQ
can’t make
a simple experiment work,
well, it doesn’t take
a Bart Simpson to figure out
that something’s wrong.
Tell me. Is the class moving
too slowly for you?
Lord, no.
Well, then, what can
we do to make you happy?
I wanna go back
to my old class.
Oh, but, Bart, don’t you
remember the boredom,
the ennui,
the intellectual malaise?
Yeah, well, you know,
kinda, um,
but I was thinking
I could go undercover.
Bart, I’m intrigued. Go on.
Well, I could pretend
I’m a regular dumb kid.
You know, to study them
and all the stuff they do
with each other.
You know, see what
makes them tick.
I see. Like Jane Goodall
and the chimps.
This is
most impressive, Bart.
You write up your proposal
while I talk to Principal Skinner.
-You know, outline your project,
what you hope to achieve,
what you’ll require to do it.
Gotcha, man.
BART: “‘My proposal’
by Bart Simpson.
“I want to pretend…
“I am a regular dumb kid.
By this, I hope–”
Oh, no.
“For this, I will–”
Ohh. “Require–”
Oh, man.
“‘My Confession’
by Bart Simpson.
“I am a regular dumb kid.
I cheated on my intelligence test.
Ah, finished already?
Principal Skinner will be
very interested to–
Oh. You know,
you misspelled
Hey, lookin’ good,
Bart, what happened?
I had a little accident
in chemistry today.
Well, I bet it’s nothing
a little turpentine won’t take off.
Come on, son.
Don’t be discouraged, son.
I bet Einstein turned
himself all sorts of colors
before he invented
the lightbulb.
Dad, I gotta tell you
Hope you won’t be
too mad.
-What is it, son?
-I’m not a genius, Dad.
I cheated on
the intelligence test.
I’m sorry.
But I just want to say
that the past few weeks
have been great.
Me and you have
done stuff together.
You’ve helped me out
with things,
and we’re closer
than we’ve ever been.
I love you, Dad.
And I think if something
can bring us that close,
it can’t possibly be bad.
-Why, you little–
-(Bart screaming)
-What’s going on out there?
I think Bart’s stupid again,
Oh, well.
(Bart screaming)
You can’t stay
in there forever!
I can try.
March your butt
right out here, now!
-No way, man.
Son, if you
don’t come out,
I can’t hug you and kiss you
and make you feel all better.
You think I’m dumb enough
to fall for that?
I’m insulted.
(shouting gibberish)