Post by Jennifer Leo Crain on Feb 5, 2010 20:54:18 GMT
Jennifer gave a passing student a cold smile. “Now deary, are you not late for your class?” her voice was a crude mockery of what she thought of as sincerity. The student stared at her, seemingly stammering for a correct response. The teacher sneered inside her mind, what was going on with today’s education system? Could no student be smart enough to find the correct answer? “Run off, if your seen late again I will personally give you a detention.” With that she walked off, leaving the student in a cold sweat. One week, that’s all she needed for them to realize she was the teacher to run detention. Nothing would escape her notice and she loved to give out detentions.
Her Jimmy Choo’s clicked against that ground, giving off a startling sound. Almost like a warning that she would be coming. Not that Jennifer was necessarily mean, but she hated children and hated disobedience. She patted her hair with a manicured hand, giving her tight blond pony an extra ounce of volume. Who ever said the clothes didn’t make the woman? Well, who ever it was, they were dead wrong. Clothes were everything she lived for, from her Armani outfits to her Bob Macy dresses, everything was in a splendid order.
But no, today was all about her teaching abilities. All about how she could transform a boring old classroom into her own lecture theatre. Finding how much better her voice sounded as it echoed into the back pews. She walked up to her own chalkboard, reaching over to grab the offending white stick she must write with. Taking her own time she wrote out her name in large swirling letters. “Ms. Crain.” She smiled at that, no man for her.
With that out of the way she flicked her wrist, a pile of papers floated to every seat in the room. There would be a test, to judge each student’s knowledge on the subject of Necromancy. Perhaps, if enough students show interest, she might incorporate usage into her teaching. Even if it is, after all, strictly forbidden. Never hurt to try. Crain looked at the list of students in her hands, so many names stood out. Even without the added notes she’d reserved from each teacher explaining more about each student in her class. The warning bell rang as she stood in front of her new desk, ankles crossed as she watched students filing in. Her eyes peered over each one of them. Now, who will be late today?
Her Jimmy Choo’s clicked against that ground, giving off a startling sound. Almost like a warning that she would be coming. Not that Jennifer was necessarily mean, but she hated children and hated disobedience. She patted her hair with a manicured hand, giving her tight blond pony an extra ounce of volume. Who ever said the clothes didn’t make the woman? Well, who ever it was, they were dead wrong. Clothes were everything she lived for, from her Armani outfits to her Bob Macy dresses, everything was in a splendid order.
But no, today was all about her teaching abilities. All about how she could transform a boring old classroom into her own lecture theatre. Finding how much better her voice sounded as it echoed into the back pews. She walked up to her own chalkboard, reaching over to grab the offending white stick she must write with. Taking her own time she wrote out her name in large swirling letters. “Ms. Crain.” She smiled at that, no man for her.
With that out of the way she flicked her wrist, a pile of papers floated to every seat in the room. There would be a test, to judge each student’s knowledge on the subject of Necromancy. Perhaps, if enough students show interest, she might incorporate usage into her teaching. Even if it is, after all, strictly forbidden. Never hurt to try. Crain looked at the list of students in her hands, so many names stood out. Even without the added notes she’d reserved from each teacher explaining more about each student in her class. The warning bell rang as she stood in front of her new desk, ankles crossed as she watched students filing in. Her eyes peered over each one of them. Now, who will be late today?
