Adam: I'm the one who needs to find the right table, 'cause where I sit will define me for the next four years. It's just like "The Breakfast Club." Look at the cliques: the cheerleaders, the burners, the band geeks, the Mom?!
Beverly: Hey, kids! Over here. Come sit with your mother.
Adam: Oh, balls. Balls, balls.
Erica: Son of a-
Lainey: Um, your mom's here.
Erica: We know. We see her.
Beverly: Yoo-hoo! Can you see me?
Erica: She's waving very clearly at us.
Beverly: I'm your mama! I pushed you out of my swimsuit area!

Erica: Excuse us, Father. We hate to interrupt your evening, but we would like to borrow a brief moment of your valuable personal time.
Murray: What the hell's going on? You morons always come in screaming when you want something.
Pops: It's true. This energy is very unnerving.
Erica: Shouting at you has produced poor results in the past, and at this moment, our lives are at stake.
Adam: Which is why we came to you as calm, mature, young adults to talk this out rationally.
Pops: Even Barry? Seems unlikely.
Barry: Agreed.

Mr. Glascott: I'm afraid only real teachers are welcome in the teachers' lounge. [chuckles] And you're not one of us.
Beverly: So, where am I supposed to eat lunch?
Mr. Glascott: The cafeteria. That's where all the subs eat. All the subs and that new music teacher who wants all the students to think that he's one of them. [scoffs] Yeah, I had a band once, too, Cody. Point is, get out!