Infiltration and Advanced Sneakiness, Class #1, Period 1, July 7th

[findingelena.livejournal.com]

( The Danger Shop was set to a walled cityscape, at night ... )

(co-written with the fabulous death_of_hope. Wait for OCD!)

Art of Adaptation [Monday, Period Six]

[doubleohblonde]

Bond had decided to take advantage of the good weather, and was holding his class out by the main campfire today.

"Afternoon all, I'm afraid your teacher couldn't be here so he asked me to stand in for him instead. Robert Sterling, here's my card," Bond said once the class had finished arriving, offering around a stack of business cards for one R. Sterling, employee of Universal Exports, complete with contact details. "This class is called Art of Adaptation, and is all about developing the kind of skill set that will enable you to swim rather than sink when thrown into the deep end, regardless of what kind of end that is."

( Sterling, Robert Sterling )

The Mathematics of Quantum Neutrino Fields; Tuesday, Period 4 [ 07/06 ].

[ivejustinvented.livejournal.com]

It was not at all a pleased Professor Farnsworth who shuffled into the classroom today to see several bright young faces staring back at him. Under his arm, he held an impressively large binder stuffed with papers, and, as he dropped it on the front desk with a loud whomp, he narrowed his eyes in distaste from behind his thick glasses. Which, of course, meant no one could probably even see the glare.

"This," he announced with the appropriate amount of surliness, "is the Mathematics of Quantum Neutrino Fields. This is not the Mathematics of Wonton Burrito Meals, so if that's what you're here for, get out! And bring me back one, because I haven't had lunch yet. In this class, I will teach you all about how you're all idiots, because the concepts we will be discussing are so expansive and important that it'll be far too much for your puny, developing minds to grasp and only emphasize the fact that you're doomed to a life of mediocrity and common stupidity."

He flipped the binder open to the first page and gave the class what could have been a smile. It could have also have just been gas.

"Let's get started, shall we?"

( In Which we have a lot of old man science rambling.... )

"...why you have still have monkeys and one of my ancestors was his own grandfather. Now." Farnsworth's arthritic hands pulled out a huge stack of papers. "Your homework for today. If you've been paying attention, it should be no trouble at all. There are some basic formulas to help you solve some equations. Only fifteen pages, should be a breeze! And I also expect all of you to have square the circle by next week; it's very important. Now, I'll need an assistant to help me pass them out. You there." His eyes went to the unfortunately preplanned Lindsay Weir. "You look like you're full of healthy organs and can't wait to get out of here to smoke another doobie. Pass these out, and I'll let you use the extras to roll up your joints."


[[ OCD is on the way doubling the cube; have at it! ]]

Gym 102, 6th Period - Tuesday 7/6

[onepunchguy.livejournal.com]

Apparently in honor of the fake football going on, Guy had procured a soccer ball for the first class of the semester. This could only bode well.

Tossing the ball up in the air, he nodded to the class. "We're gonna do this nice and easy for today. Introductions for now, but after this we're meeting up in the danger shop, got it?" Look, it was too hot to function outside. And the danger shop was cool. "So who wants to start? I want your name, where you're from and what you wanna learn in this class."

Not that it would have bearing on the lesson plan per say. But he'd take it under advisement.

"C'mon, you poozers. Give me an answer!"

Applied Dadaism, Tuesday, Period 2

[superartie]

Artie seemed rather glad to be back out in the field in the preserve for class, today. He was bouncing cheerfully about the clearing as he waited for his fresh batch of students to arrive. Would they be vikings? Would they be pirates? Would they possibly even be . . . ninjas?

Would Artie call them all vikings anyway? Well, yes.

( Welcome to Applied Dadaism )

[ooc: OCD coming is up. Woo!]

Study Hall, Tuesday [7/6]

[takesaftermom.livejournal.com]

Summer opened up study hall, taking time to set out an assortment of moddable snacks she'd collected. If one looked closely, they could see there was an underlying summer theme to it.

Summer settled in with her laptop and some punch (it was too hot for coffee, though there was some if anyone wanted it) and got to work.

[OCD coming up.]

Practical Crisis Problem Solving - Danger Shop, Tuesday, Period 3 (11am-12pm)

[worsethanaunts.livejournal.com]

Upon walking through the doors of the Danger Shop, it was completely understandable if the fine students of Practical Crisis Problem Solving (which the Doctor preferred to call "Staying Out of Trouble Badly") were very confused. They were in the park. Yes, the park, the one in Fandom just outside and down the road. Fandom all around them looked normal, at least as far as the beach. Then the water and everything beyond it was all hazy. The sky was an odd shade of red too.

"Hello!" the Doctor said, looking very smart in his tweed jacket and bow tie. There were other clothes too (including pants), but those were the two articles worth mentioning. "I'm the Doctor. You are all in Staying Out of Trouble Badly." See, with the calling the class the wrong name. "Which might be on your little schedule spreadsheets as something to do with problem solving. If you're not supposed to be here," he added with a smile, "stay anyway. Have some fun. Today we're going to get the creative juices flowing." He frowned. "No, I don't like the sound of that. It sounds too...moist. Doesn't matter." He switched back on track. "You might be wondering why the sky is red. Or orange. Burnt sienna? Would we call it that? Maybe Sinopia instead. The colour, not the planet. I had a point somewhere.

The sky. Yes. The sky is red because the entire island," he turned around in a circle and pointed in every direction for emphasis, "is surrounded by a shield. You can't penetrate it and you can't transport out of it, sorry if that's your thing. The reason for this a species called the Atraxi have tracked a criminal here to the very pretty Fandom Island. Prisoner Zero is its name. If Prisoner Zero doesn't give itself up in an hour, the Atraxi are going to incinerate everything and everyone inside the shield. They don't do things by halves.

I don't expect you to find Prisoner Zero today, but before the hour is up, each of you is to come up with a plan. Brainstorm. That's what we're here for today. Brainstorm a plan. Talk to me. Talk to each other. Let's get some ideas on how to find Prisoner Zero, stop the Atraxi from burning us all to a crisp and save Fandom. Your name might be useful too, if you don't mind telling me it. Oh, and if you do have higher brain function and can understand what I'm saying, please raise your hand so I can identify anyone who doesn't and can't."


[Roster, Class Details & Syllabus]

Contact Sports: Building Character (And Possibly . . .) - Gym, Wednesday, 6th Period (Class 1)

[cantgetnorelief.livejournal.com]

There were stations set up around the gym today, all of them with various types of sporting equipment arranged in a haphazard kind of display. The guy standing in the midcourt circle of the basketball court was six feet of messy brown hair and blue eyes in loose warmup pants and a Fandom High Gremlins t-shirt, bouncing a basketball idly as he waited for the students to show up. (He didn't really look that much older than them, especially with the way he was grinning.) As he kept an eye on the door, watching people trickle in, he seemed to be counting to himself.

"Hey, guys," he finally said once he was pretty sure everyone was present. "Welcome to Contact Sports. What're contact sports? That's pretty broad, actually. We're not just talking about sports where people get tackled or bodyslammed here. Those're collision sports. Anything where you might bump into other players, or have to hit a ball with a stick of some kind, that's a contact sport. I'm Sam Anders, or just Anders to you, Fandom High class of 2008, and someone was crazy enough to let me come back here and do this. This," he went on, executing a neat little crossover dribble, "is teaching you guys a little bit about a few different sports, maybe give you an appreciation for 'em or a new way to look at 'em. See, when I first got here, I was just a kid from the Colonies who didn't want to do anything more with my life than go pro as a Pyramid star. I'd been playing it all my life, dreaming about it, I had all the posters, the team jerseys, I could recite twenty years' worth of player stats at you, you name it."

He dribbled the ball between his legs, back and forth, then bounced it up high and caught it between both hands with a loud smack that echoed off the gym walls. "And then I got here. And a couple weeks into my first semester, way back in the day before we had anything fancy like the reserves you have now, we got hit by a zombie attack. I mean tons of 'em, man. So what? You're thinking this story ends with me taking out a dozen zombies or something?" Anders laughed, spun the basketball between his fingers, and went back to dribbling it. "No frakking way. When they flooded the school with hot water to take out the zombies, I was the freaked out guy who ended up stuck in a shelf in Special Collections and needed to be rescued. That was my first Fandom invasion. Not really a story you want to tell the press in an interview. Yeah, yeah, I know. What's that have to do with anything? That's what this class is about, see. It took me a while, but I figured out that everything I'd been practicing all my life wasn't useless in a place like this. Now, I'm not a really a fighter. I've picked some stuff up, but that's not who I am. Some of you, you're probably not fighters either. Maybe some of you are, I don't know. But you're here in Fandom, and you've probably gotten warned by now that the invasions happen."

Anders stopped dribbling the ball again, his expression turning serious. "I'm not here to tell you all to get out there on the front lines and fight next time it happens. What I am here to do, besides show you all a few new games to play, is give you a head start on what took me almost eighteen years to figure out in a way that made sense. They say sports build character; it's true. What're some of the things you can learn from it? Physical fitness. That's one thing. Another one's hand-eye coordination." He dribbled the basketball once, pivoted, and took a high arcing shot that rattled around the rim a couple of times before falling through the net. "Footwork. Balance. Reflexes. Being aware of who's around you, what they're doing, whether or not they're on your team. Teamwork. This is all stuff that's good for you just in terms of your physical health, makes you a better athlete. It translates to other things, too, and that's part of what we're gonna look at in this workshop."

He gestured at the gym stations. "For today, though, since I haven't really had time to get a syllabus together yet, we're gonna go with the old classic and do introductions. Name, grade, favorite sport if you have one, or one you're interested in. Why you're here if you're up to sharing that. Then you have the rest of this period to goof off and play with some of the gear we have here. Bonus points -- not that I'm keeping track today -- if you can come up with a few practical non-competitive uses for some of the skills in these games."

Clapping his hands then pointing at a student at random, Anders announced, "How about let's start with you?"

[OOC: OCD is up. No Cylon uprisings for you today.]

Competitive Cooking - Wednesday, Period 3 [7/7]

[absolutesnark]

When the students arrived at one of the home ec classrooms, they found stations set up with ovens and kitchen supplies. There were a few fire extinguishers nearby as well. Piper was not going to take any chances, especially after an incident with fire during the class she taught four years ago.

"Good morning," she greeted, acknowledging each student. "Welcome to Competitive Cooking, though there won't be much of that today. This is going to be the typical easy class with introductions. First, I'd like to know your names, favorite foods, and something interesting about each of you. Afterward, I'd like each of you to get a bit acclimated with the cooking stations. And please read this handout on proper knife use." She was taking safety very seriously. "If you have any questions about how anything works, that's what I'm here for. Or you can ask one of my lovely TAs, Hoshi and Angela. We'd be happy to help out."

She figured there might be people in the class who've never seen an oven before.

"So. Introductions. I'll go first," Piper said to the class. "My names is Piper Halliwell. Please just call me Piper. I'm actually a former student, but I graduated before any of you even started classes here. One of my favorite foods is chocolate. You can't really go wrong with that. The interesting fact about me? I'm a witch. But I assure you, there won't be any magic in this class."

Unless she had to freeze a fire or something, but she kept that to herself.

"Okay, who's next?" she asked, nodding at a random student to continue.

[Class Roster]

Library [7-7]

[imonscholarship.livejournal.com]

New day. Same Dan Humphrey geeking up the place. Today's geek activity of choice was making sure that none of the books checked out were overdue. If there were overdue books, oh, you best believe he'd passive aggressively let you know about it with a polite note.