Adam: Excuse me. Hi, I'm Adam F. Goldberg. Not be confused with the other Adam Goldberg.
Johnny Atkins: The artsy dude?
Adam: Actually, we both have an appreciation for the arts. He's more of a multi-hyphenate. I've been focusing on the written word.

Beverly: Good morning, class. Uh, before we get started, does anyone need to make? Hmm? Anyone? There's gonna be a lot of learning today, so if you got to make, do it now. Anyone got to make poo-poos?
Barry: Stop! No one has to make!
Beverly: Moving on.

Beverly: All right, according to this memo from Principal Ball, Mr. Gluckman has been checked into a rehab facility to address his relationship with cocaine. "Please tell the students he has the flu." Okay. Mr. Gluckman has the flu. I'll be your sub for the next thirty days.

Barry: Science makes no sense, and I don't need it. Especially 'cause I'm gonna marry Kathy Ireland.
Beverly: Who?
Barry: Supermodel Kathy Ireland. I'm gonna be her lazy mooch of a husband who lives in her mansion in Ireland. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go brush up on my Irish culture and [bad Irish accent] find me gold at the end of the rainbow, mon.
Pops: Well, that accent was definitely Jamaican.

Emmy Mirsky: Next time you get caught with a note, just do what a normal person does and eat it.
Adam: Dude, you can't eat paper. My mom says it plugs up your bottom.

Beverly: Bonjour, my little French fries. By the time I'm done with you, you're going to be eating snails, not taking baths, and enjoying the silent art of mime.
Adult Adam: [v.o.] Like most substitute teachers, she didn't know very much.
Adam: They're a weird people, hmm?

Beverly: Question: Who here is familiar with the film "Dead Poets Society?"
Naked Rob: Chill, dude. Your mom's gonna show us a movie. It's a classic sub move.
Beverly: Oh, we're not watching it. We're living it!
Geoff: Oh, no.
Naked Rob: Barry's right.
Beverly: In fact, I need a volunteer chosen completely at random to come stand on my desk and view the world from a new perspective.
Geoff: Oh, no.
Andy: She wants us to learn by standing on furniture?

Coach Mellor: Whoa, whoa! There's no climbing in school. Unless it's on a rope hung dangerously from the rafters of the gymnasium.

Mr. Glascott: Mr. Goldberg, since that little paper is more important than life-saving CPR, maybe you'd like to stand and share it with the rest of us.
Adam: Ballsssss. To be clear I did not write this. "Dude, when did Emmy Mirsky get so dang foxy? I mean, holy boobs, Batman! Look at those sweatshirt puppies." Again, I did not write this.
Mr. Glascott: Oh, that sucked. My intention was to teach you a lesson about note-passing, but instead, I just made us all feel wildly uncomfortable. Let's just move on to Chapter 6, okay? Female reproductive? Nope. Class dismissed.

Erica: Hey, Coach. Got a minute?
Coach Mellor: Kind of busy, female Goldberg. I'm inventing a new hybrid sport. Either, uh, baseball fencing or water-polo squash.
Erica: You can't play squash under water. People need to breathe.
Coach Mellor: Need to breathe. (sighs) That makes sense. "Need to breathe".