the_npcdo: (The Ghost)
[personal profile] the_npcdo
[Early Monday afternoon, the snow starts. At first, a charming novelty glimpsed through the classroom windows, but within minutes it becomes a veritable blizzard. Any classes being held outside are urged to bring themselves inside. Within half an hour, the power's cut out and the snow is piled high enough to make entry/exit from the buildings difficult. Within an hour, it's impossible. Snow is piled halfway up the first floor windows, and most of the doors have frozen shut. The second story windows seem to be working just fine, though, as are any rooftop access doors.]

[The blizzard finally calms down, but students and faculty are trapped inside--or outside, if they managed to be on the wrong side of the doors during the storm. The power's out and the cold is starting to seep in through the insulation. Worse, there seems to be some kind of unseen presence in the buildings, an eerie cackle echoing through the empty halls or an unsettling sense that you're not alone.]

[Someone's going to have to restart the generator before we end up with a school full of studentcicles. It wouldn't hurt to clear some pathways out of the buildings, either.]
ofsevenseas: (Ahem - it's story time)
[personal profile] ofsevenseas
[On the first and second day of Literature Class (to compensate for late arrivals), the students are greeted by a large black board that reads "TISONI" with a pronunciation key underneath it, and a man with a knee-length ponytail, large hoop earrings dressed in slacks and an oversized sweater sitting on the edge of the desk]

Welcome to class, you'll be calling me Mr. Tisoni for this course, and we'll be covering literature and writing for the semester, before you groan - I hate picking apart everything in the text as much as you do, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. And we'll be going over more then books written by long dead Britons and Russians about the cruelty of life, including "Genre" fiction. We will also be writing, both the essays and original works.

There should be a survey on your desk, with four questions: Your favorite book that you had read, your least favorite, the hardest book you've read, and if you had done any non-school related writing.

[He hops off the desk and writes on the left-handed side:

Favorite: 1001 Nights, Journey to the Center of the Earth, Buck Rogers
Least Favorite: Lord of the Flies, The Jungle
Hardest Book: Finnegan's Wake
Writing: I'm published]

There's a little challenge, I did have some of my stories published, but it's not under my name for reasons - if you can figure out what I wrote, you'll get something special.

Feel free to talk amongst yourselves while filling out the survey, and ask questions if you want.

[With that, he's going back to his desk and pulls out a book - kicking his feet up on the desk and leaning back. No need to do busy work while he's assessing at what level the class's generally at]

[or alternatively]

[Since it's free period for his class, he's wandering all over the campus, looking for trouble - both mundane and supernatural. Hopefully you're not one of those trouble makers]
ofsevenseas: (Give me another!)
[personal profile] ofsevenseas
[Sinbad sprawls onto the chair of the Teacher's lounge. He hmms softly as he noticed the rather high temperature - 85 degrees Fahrenheit, with a stretch of an arm, he reached over and cranks it down to 77, realizing that really would be too hot for most of the staff.

There's a coffee machine with hours old coffee by the door, a corkboard littered with the finest examples of Passive-Aggressiveness in English, and inspirational posters that made the Djinn's eyes roll.

He stifles a yawn as he nurses a mug of coffee in one hand, and with the other he flips through the rather large stack of memos about the new transfers for any special consideration, meetings, repeat warnings to stop messing with the thermostat among other things]

Another Semester, another crop of students, I should get the surveys printed for my class... I'm surprised a Dryad hasn't marched in to complain about the waste of paper.

((ooc: Mingling for the teachers))

Profile

St. Augustus Academy for Gifted Youths

March 2015

S M T W T F S
12345 67
891011 121314
15161718192021
22232425262728
293031    

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated May. 31st, 2025 04:42 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios