Reese: Malcolm's a genius, now Dewey's a genius. I guess it's only a matter of time 'til we find out that I'm a genius. I wonder what kind of genius I am? Fifteen times thirty-two is three thousand, nine hundred eighty-nine.
Malcolm: It's four hundred eighty.
Reese: OK, so I'm not Rain Man. Big deal. Some day they'll invent a machine that does that stuff for you, anyway.
Malcolm: [Malcolm is desperate to help Dewey fail an intelligence test and stay out of the Krelboyne class] We have to give exactly the same answers a real dumb person would give.
Stevie Kenarban: How do we... do that?
Reese: [enter Reese, in effect answering Stevie's question] Guys, guys. I've been trying to figure out what kind of genius I am, and I finally realized, I should go to the Library. And you know what? You can get Internet porn there, and the librarians can't do anything about it! God, I *love* this country!
Dewey: Why do all our art projects use tissues?
Mr. Sheridan: Because tissues are soft and non-toxic. 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 four in the morning wishing you had kissed more ass in grad school.
Hanson: Thanks for trying.
Chad: I swear, if you can get the paste I'll stab him for you.