Nathan Algren (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shiroi_tiger) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomhigh2009-01-21 09:01 pm
shiroi_tiger) wrote in fandomhigh2009-01-21 09:01 pm
Entry tags:
American History, Period 2 01/22
When students filed into the Danger Shop, they would find themselves in the front room of a large colonial home. Algren, who was, yes, fully clothed thank you very much, seemed almost worryingly amused as he waited for everyone to settle in. He started speaking even as the students were sitting down and thawing out.
"Okay. Last week, we covered pretty much everyone who ever landed in America... Ever. This week, we're going to be nicer to you all. From there, history until about the mid-1770s can be summed up as follows: We didn't like Britain. They were kinda being overbearing jerks. So we wanted out. We fought. We got it. And somewhere in there, to cement our point, we wrote on a sheet of paper to prove that it was ours. It's a pretty important sheet of paper, which states right in the title what purpose it serves. It was the American Declaration of Independence, which was approved by Congress on July 4th, 1776."
Tyler was wearing a t-shirt. It didn't match the surroundings, but he was warm for the first time in a while and he meant to enjoy it. "The reason we're in the Danger Shop today," he contributed, "is so you can watch this lovely -- and completely historically accurate -- re-enactment of the decision to leave the writing of the Declaration to Thomas Jefferson of Virginia. He was young, 33, but he was the best writer in the group that summer. He also didn't manage to talk his way out of it."
He hit a button on the shop console, and five men in Colonial garb appeared in the midst of the students and started to sing.
When they were done and vanished again, Tyler began to read from a sheet of parchment. " 'When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.' That is what Mr. Jefferson wrote."
Algren, arms crossed over his chest, flashed a bit of a grin.
"You will each be given a printed copy of the Declaration of Independence to take home with you to read over the course of the week," he stated, walking across the room to a wooden chest and opening it up to reveal a heap of powdered wigs, enough for each person in the class to have one. "Your assignment today, however, is a more simple one. You are to each take a wig, to help you get into character, of course. We'll be writing our own Declaration of Independence, and you are to discuss as a class what points you would be certain to include."
"And speaking of in character," Tyler added, passing out a thick stack of handouts, "you should each pick one signer to represent. It's up to you whether you want to be John Hancock or Button Gwinnett, with one exception." A specific costume was plopped on the TA's desk. "Ino, you get to be Benjamin Franklin."
Tyler might have still been paying her back for the onsen message.
[OCD is up! Run wild!]
"Okay. Last week, we covered pretty much everyone who ever landed in America... Ever. This week, we're going to be nicer to you all. From there, history until about the mid-1770s can be summed up as follows: We didn't like Britain. They were kinda being overbearing jerks. So we wanted out. We fought. We got it. And somewhere in there, to cement our point, we wrote on a sheet of paper to prove that it was ours. It's a pretty important sheet of paper, which states right in the title what purpose it serves. It was the American Declaration of Independence, which was approved by Congress on July 4th, 1776."
Tyler was wearing a t-shirt. It didn't match the surroundings, but he was warm for the first time in a while and he meant to enjoy it. "The reason we're in the Danger Shop today," he contributed, "is so you can watch this lovely -- and completely historically accurate -- re-enactment of the decision to leave the writing of the Declaration to Thomas Jefferson of Virginia. He was young, 33, but he was the best writer in the group that summer. He also didn't manage to talk his way out of it."
He hit a button on the shop console, and five men in Colonial garb appeared in the midst of the students and started to sing.
When they were done and vanished again, Tyler began to read from a sheet of parchment. " 'When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.' That is what Mr. Jefferson wrote."
Algren, arms crossed over his chest, flashed a bit of a grin.
"You will each be given a printed copy of the Declaration of Independence to take home with you to read over the course of the week," he stated, walking across the room to a wooden chest and opening it up to reveal a heap of powdered wigs, enough for each person in the class to have one. "Your assignment today, however, is a more simple one. You are to each take a wig, to help you get into character, of course. We'll be writing our own Declaration of Independence, and you are to discuss as a class what points you would be certain to include."
"And speaking of in character," Tyler added, passing out a thick stack of handouts, "you should each pick one signer to represent. It's up to you whether you want to be John Hancock or Button Gwinnett, with one exception." A specific costume was plopped on the TA's desk. "Ino, you get to be Benjamin Franklin."
Tyler might have still been paying her back for the onsen message.
[OCD is up! Run wild!]
Talk To The TA [01/22]
Ben Franklinshe signs in, of course!Re: Talk To The TA [01/22]
And wondering what she'd done to deserve this right before a mission.
Re: Talk To The TA [01/22]
Teachers really shouldn't smirk at students like that.
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No, no an nearly an hour of sitting in class with the costume and watching time tick steadily closer had not helped her mood.
Re: Talk To The TA [01/22]
"It's just a wig, Ino," Tyler said patiently. "For one hour from your life. it won't hurt you."
Re: Talk To The TA [01/22]
She visibly bit back a retort to that. “Fine,” Ino said, with frayed patience. “It’s just a wig. It doesn’t hurt. Why, then, would you single me out for this one?”
Re: Talk To The TA [01/22]
"With great power comes great responsibility?" Tyler tried. "Look, I can tell you're in a mood, so I'll leave you to it."
It was not in his job description to deal with his TA's PMS.
Re: Talk To The TA [01/22]
She closed her eyes for a moment, before looking back at him. "It's not you, it's not this stupid wig either. I'd probably find it funny normally." Or, at least, she'd find it vaguely amusing and just sigh. "Sorry."
Re: Talk To The TA [01/22]
He usually regretted asking this question, but ... "Do you want to talk about it?"
Re: Talk To The TA [01/22]
Ino twirled her pen around for a moment. "Got put back on active duty. Got a mission in 'bout..." she glanced at the clock, "well, once class ends I've twenty minutes to catch my portal. First mission in a year and a half, so I'm..."
Antsy? Out of it? Worried? She shrugged.
Re: Talk To The TA [01/22]
"Did you get enough time to train?"
That was as close as he could come to saying he was worried for her.
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"Who knows?" she asked. "I'll be finding out soon enough, I guess."
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"What do you think?" he asked. "New look? Was I born 200 years too far in the future?"
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"...I seriously don't think so." Seriously not happening.
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"What's got you so distracted?"
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A beat.
"After class ends I've got twenty minutes 'til my portal home," she explained. "Mission."
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"Bad mission?" he asked.
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