Not cool, Rory: How one scene in the new Gilmore Girls revival made this teacher sad

When the first photos from the Netflix Gilmore Girls revival surfaced last spring, an image of Rory standing in front of a class at Chilton was among them, and many assumed that meant she went on to be a teacher at her alma mater. I even read an article called “I’m Glad Rory Gilmore Became a Teacher.”

But, now it’s the Fall (an upsetting time in Gilmore land, apparently)…and we know that not only did Rory NOT become a teacher, she also very clearly expressed her disdain for the profession.

Not cool, Amy Sherman Palladino. Not cool.

Here’s how it went down (minor spoiler alert if you haven’t watched the new series yet--though I won’t get into the BIG SPOILER/ #lastfourwords.)

Rudderless Rory goes to on some sort of alumni visit to Chilton. Headmaster Charleston pays her a compliment, suggesting to her that she go back and get her Masters degree—and that if she did so he’d be pleased to find her a place on the Chilton faculty.

This nice offer Rory dismisses out of hand. This is the same woman, we have already learned, who is unemployed, has nowhere to live, and has in fact lost all her underwear.

But the teacher-bashing does not stop there. Later, as unraveling Rory has a liquid lunch with Jess, THIS happens:

Rory: “This is about my life. People come up and smell me…”

Jess: “What do they smell?”

Rory: “Failure. Headmaster Charleston told me to go get my masters so I could come back and teach at Chilton. He could smell it.”

There you have it. Teaching = Failure. Not just failure…smelly failure. The kind that smells.

As a teacher, and a fan of Gilmore Girls, I’m sad now. This kind of message does not:

A. help our teachers in any way to get the respect they damn well deserve

B. help convince bright, talented kids who would be great teachers to ever become teachers

C. do anything but suck

All of this is so much more heartbreaking because Rory was always such a smart yet cool girl. An icon for girls who read. The kind of gal who could definitely have grown up to be that one teacher who changes her students' lives. I’ve read a lot about the revival, including this Washington Post article that claims new Rory is a monster (which I ended up not entirely disagreeing with, and not only because of the teacher-bashing). I think it’s possible some of the Palladinos' ideas for Rory were originally envisioned for season 7 or 8—meaning a 22 or 23 year old Rory. Rory at 32 should DEFINITELY know better.

And the writers? You should too.

Sincerely,
A teacher and disappointed Gilmore Girls fan.

My So-Called Flashback

Between the new VH1 scripted series Hindsight and re-watching the first season of Friends on Netflix (along with most everyone I know), I’ve been overdosing on 90s nostalgia.

I’m really enjoying Hindsight, in spite of its simple and definitely-been-done-before premise. Protagonist Becca is nearing forty and about to walk down the aisle at her second wedding when a mysterious stranger sends her back in time twenty years to the eve of her first wedding. It’s 1995, and she remembers everything that came before. And now she has the chance to do all over—only better this time.

 Assuming I accept the time travel in your own body premise, which, of course, I do, Becca’s story is still a bit of a reach. If just a few among us do get a chance at a do-over, why would a pretty blonde with a perfect body, who looks exactly the same at forty as she did at twenty be the one who gets the nod? I guess her job’s not great or whatever, but this is a girl woman who is about to marry her second very cute, very nice man. If her life requires a do-over, where the heck is my Time Angel?

The show gets a lot of mileage out of Becca’s culture shock. She misses her iPhone. The funniest moment so far has her explaining to her 1995 best friend that in the future she’ll be able to watch movies on her phone. The girl picks up a cordless handset, mystified, and asks, “Where?”

I’m getting my own culture shock from revisiting Friends, which I last watched when it first aired in 1994. I’d almost forgotten how comfortable long, flowered dresses were, especially when paired with denim jackets—and, of course, chunky, flat shoes (perhaps it should be noted that I still wear chunky, flat shoes, I just don’t look cool anymore while doing it).

The New York of Friends is quite the fantasyland, and not just because it’s a place where a waitress and a cook can afford a gigantic West Village apartment (and still have extra money for flowered dresses and chunky shoes). Occasionally one of the gang runs into a wacky homeless person, but in general they float through the city needing neither money nor street smarts. And there’s only snow if the plot calls for it (and it melts away instantly after that). So it probably doesn’t pay to get too nostalgic for a world that never really existed.

(Also, don’t we all kind of want to forget the fact that each Friend got paid a million dollars an episode for the last season? If you figure out the per-minute salary, it's actually sort of gross). 

For me, of course I kind of want to return to a simpler time, when tweens didn’t know how to apply a smoky eye or walk in four-inch heels. When you could wear the same outfit to go wilderness hiking or out to a dinner date. But time marches on, and you don’t get to travel in time, unless you count Netflix, that is.