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fandomhigh2007-06-13 05:17 am
whatever-sucks.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomhigh2007-06-13 05:17 am
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Interdisciplinary Studies or whatever, Class 5, Wednesday, Period 5
Last week's class was in the Danger Room, which was set up to LOOK like the camp gym. This week's class was actually in the camp gym. This may cause some confusion.
But if it causes anyone to be late, Squall will be angry.
Since he'd been there for a while, Squall was passing the time by shooting jump shots from half court. He made more of them than he missed. And there was a big blue net bag full of more basketballs leaning against the bleachers.
Guess what today's lesson is about?
When everyone had arrived, Squall tossed out the sign-in clipboard. "Anyone who calls me 'Stormy' gets detention," he informed them. "Now. The last few classes have been all about important stuff that might mean the difference between life and death." He shrugged. "They won't, because we don't have enough time per class to really teach anything useful, but I can hope, right? So today you're getting a break. This is something that's very socially important to learn, because if you don't know it, you're a lame-ass loser."
"Think fast." He chucked the basketball at the students.
"So. Today we're learning how to play basketball." Squall shrugged and handed out... uh. handouts. "There are rules. There are specific and complicated rules, and stuff. But we're not going to worry about technicalities. This is a friendly game." He smirked, and grabbed another ball from the bag. "You'll divide up into two teams. The object is to get the ball through the hoop at the other end of the court. Two points for that. Three if you can do it from behind the big swoopy line. When you have the ball you HAVE to always be dribbling" -- which he demonstrated. "If you stop dribbling, you can't move and you have to pass to someone else. That's pretty much it."
He scratched his head, trying to remember if there was anything else. "Oh, yeah. Fouls are bad. Don't foul anyone."
He kicked the bag so that it fell over and balls started rolling out. "Grab a ball. Practice dribbling, practice shooting. If you want, pair up and practice passing. Passing's important, unless your teammates suck."
When that had gone on for a while, he blew a whistle loudly and called them all back.
"Okay, now divide up and play a game. Shirts verse skins. If anyone wants to be skins but doesn't want to take their shirt off, wear one of these." He held up a bunch of 4XL pink t-shirts.
"I'll be the referee. Good luck."
[Wait for OCD or whatever]
But if it causes anyone to be late, Squall will be angry.
Since he'd been there for a while, Squall was passing the time by shooting jump shots from half court. He made more of them than he missed. And there was a big blue net bag full of more basketballs leaning against the bleachers.
Guess what today's lesson is about?
When everyone had arrived, Squall tossed out the sign-in clipboard. "Anyone who calls me 'Stormy' gets detention," he informed them. "Now. The last few classes have been all about important stuff that might mean the difference between life and death." He shrugged. "They won't, because we don't have enough time per class to really teach anything useful, but I can hope, right? So today you're getting a break. This is something that's very socially important to learn, because if you don't know it, you're a lame-ass loser."
"Think fast." He chucked the basketball at the students.
"So. Today we're learning how to play basketball." Squall shrugged and handed out... uh. handouts. "There are rules. There are specific and complicated rules, and stuff. But we're not going to worry about technicalities. This is a friendly game." He smirked, and grabbed another ball from the bag. "You'll divide up into two teams. The object is to get the ball through the hoop at the other end of the court. Two points for that. Three if you can do it from behind the big swoopy line. When you have the ball you HAVE to always be dribbling" -- which he demonstrated. "If you stop dribbling, you can't move and you have to pass to someone else. That's pretty much it."
He scratched his head, trying to remember if there was anything else. "Oh, yeah. Fouls are bad. Don't foul anyone."
He kicked the bag so that it fell over and balls started rolling out. "Grab a ball. Practice dribbling, practice shooting. If you want, pair up and practice passing. Passing's important, unless your teammates suck."
When that had gone on for a while, he blew a whistle loudly and called them all back.
"Okay, now divide up and play a game. Shirts verse skins. If anyone wants to be skins but doesn't want to take their shirt off, wear one of these." He held up a bunch of 4XL pink t-shirts.
"I'll be the referee. Good luck."
[Wait for OCD or whatever]
Re: Pick your team - Skins!
He shrugs.
"But yeah. There's a tournament every summer - this was going to be the first summer I'm old enough to compete. If you become the champion, you get the Four Crystal Trophy. And then you get to fight the winner next year."
Re: Pick your team - Skins!
Re: Pick your team - Skins!
"I guess, I mean... yeah. I missed the tournament, and Seifer - he's the leader of the town's Disciplinary Committee - probably won. And I was looking forward to beating him."
He shrugs again.
"But I don't mind comng here, now. I think I've spoken to more people these past coupla weeks than I have before in my whole life."
Re: Pick your team - Skins!
Re: Pick your team - Skins!
Beause he's quite excited about the thought of a Struggle battle - even against a turtle with natural protection against foam-encased-wood.
Re: Pick your team - Skins!
Re: Pick your team - Skins!