Malcolm: I'm Malcolm, Dewey's brother. I have to talk to you about the test Dewey took.
Mrs. Welsh: I'm afraid I can only discuss that with his parents.
Malcolm: See, that's just it. I can get in a lot of trouble for coming here, but I have to tell you why his test came out the way it did. [sighs] Our mom has a substance abuse problem, and she had a huge relapse the morning he took the test.
Mrs. Welsh: Oh, my God.
Malcolm: Yeah, which is why she can't find out I came here. I don't want to say she's dangerous because she's, you know, my mom, and I love her.
Mrs. Welsh: Wow. Well, I can tell you really care about your family.
Malcolm: It's been really hard.
Mrs. Welsh: Let's see what I can do. Okay? And I don't think we have to bother your mom with this.
Malcolm: Thanks.
Mrs. Welsh: I'll do everything through your dad. Thanks for the heads up.

Dewey: Why do all our art projects use tissues?
Mr. Sheridan: Because tissues are soft and nontoxic. This way no one gets hurt, and no one sues the school. This program can't handle another lawsuit, Dewey. I only get paid for four days a week as it is.
Dewey: But it's ridiculous. We have to do math without pencils. We have to do history without hard-cover books. Can't we at least have some art supplies?
Mr. Sheridan: Art supplies mean scissors. They mean paste. These children stab with scissors. They eat paste. Some of them tried to eat scissors. This one tried to stab with paste.
Dewey: Teachers are supposed to help their students. Maybe you wouldn't be so unhappy all the time if you tried a little harder.
Mr. Sheridan: Look, Dewey, you're not going to make it through the year with that attitude. You just have to take all your hopes and dreams and let them die. Then maybe you won't end up staring at a clock at 4:00 in the morning wishing you had kissed more ass in grad school.
Hansen: Thanks for trying.
Chad: I swear, if you can get the paste, I'll stab him for you.

Mrs. Welsh: I'm Mrs. Welsh, Dewey's counselor. First of all, let me just tell you how much I admire your courage.
Lois: Thank you.
Mrs. Welsh: Your son Malcolm came to see me...
Malcolm: No, I didn't!
Mrs. Welsh: Let me do what I do. He was worried that Dewey had been placed in the wrong class.
Lois: Malcolm, how dare you? You made your feelings very clear, but you had no right to do something like that!
Mrs. Welsh: Well, the thing is I did look through Dewey's records, and his test results don't match up with his classroom performance. There may be grounds to retest him.
Lois: Oh, no. Absolutely not! You are not going to take this away from my son. He deserves to be in that class. He needs to be in that class. And don't think I won't fight you on this.
Mrs. Welsh: I didn't come here to upset you. The last thing that anyone wants is for you to feel out of control.
Lois: Oh, you'll see out of control if you don't leave Dewey where he belongs. Believe me, you don't want to mess with this family.
Mrs. Welsh: Well, maybe we'll talk about it in a month or so when you're feeling stronger. I'll work around any of your meetings. [Malcolm closes the door on Mrs. Welsh]
Malcolm: I can't believe the way that woman talked to you! I mean, sure, I unsuccessfully tried to keep Dewey out of the Krelboyne class, but she had no right to do that!
Lois: Ah, put a cork in it. And don't think you're not in trouble just because your little plan didn't work.

Hal: I know we've had our disagreements over the amount of time I spent doing this, but I don't think there's anyone else I could do this with. What do you say? [holds out hand]
Lois: Oh, Hal...
Davey: [grabs Hal's hand] I get the pizzas.
Hal: Okay.