MTV's “Daria” was supposed to be nothing more than a spinoff of the smash cartoon “Beavis and Butthead” that reveled in drollness more than insanity. After just a couple seasons, it became something else: a “Wonder Years” for adolescents of the late '90s who were too sardonic, self-deprecating, and secretly well-adjusted enough to riot over teen spirit. In “Daria” that demo found a witty protagonist who was amused by the absurdity of her family, teachers, and leering acquaintances named Upchuck. Her murmured rejoinders were packed with a sly confidence, and if everyone else mistook her for a hopeless pariah, that amused her too.

“I don't have low self-esteem,” Daria quipped in the premiere. “I have low esteem for everyone else.”

From 1997 to 2002 on MTV, Daria Morgendorffer strolled through Lawndale High's endless mania with the help of her arty pal Jane Lane. She rolled her eyes at her popular younger sister Quinn's vanity, her parents' alarmist reactions, and the hilariously belittling ways teachers tried to “help” Daria adopt a peppier disposition. It was a teenage, animated “Exile in Guyville” where the boorish establishment in question was public school, not Chicago indie rock.

By its last season, Daria had endured quite a few hallmarks of the teen experience, including tested friendships, her first relationship, and a controversial attempt at poetry (“She knows she's a winner / She couldn't be thinner / Now she goes to the bathroom and vomits up dinner”). But by the time the last regular episode of “Daria” rolled around, we'd underestimated how little the show had mined the foundations of her standoffish rapport with her mother and father. In “Boxing Daria,” the show confronted that once and for all.

Daria's parents Jake and Helen are two of the most well-realized characters on the show. Jake, like Lawndale faculty member Mr. DeMartino, spends most of his time hyperventilating over nothing, even when he's happy. (“Cheeseless pizza! What a great idea!”) Helen is a tough-talking capitalist whose sly intuitive streak makes her more of a kindred to Daria than is immediately apparent. Together they're a wild but well-meaning pair, and in “Boxing Daria” our heroine struggles with a question that can define adolescence: How much of a burden does being yourself put on your parents?

The episode begins with salty dialogue between Daria and Jane at school, as usual. Then Mr. O'Neill, the hopelessly perky teacher who has a new-age axiom for every occasion, arrives to recruit Daria to help show middle-schoolers around Lawndale.

“I don't think I can bring myself to say anything encouraging about a place that strip-searches for Cheez-Its,” she replies.

That sets Mr. O'Neill off.

“Darn it, Daria! This is an opportunity to polish up those people skills! I promised myself I'd get you to do this!” he clamors. Like most of the orbital characters on “Daria,” Mr. O'Neill presents his version of a socially acceptable face even when his true frustrations threaten to billow forth. Here he's insulting, noting that Daria's supposed to appreciate being his charity case. She brushes him off with a typical reply: “You need to work on your callousness skills.” It's a nice setup for the parental reckoning to come, and it's also an interesting trick: There are almost no more jokes in this episode.