So You're a Fugitive From Justice, Tuesday, 3rd Period

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"Welcome to your Criminal Justice final, everyone," Zayne said. He looked a little uncomfortable in his uniform. He wasn't opposed to wearing uniforms - he went to Jedi school, after all - but he preferred something a lot looser. Like robes! And without a tie. Like Jedi robes! Oh well.

"Just as a refresher for the semester as a whole, being a criminal is bad. Being a fugitive from justice is not something to aspire to. Try to stay on the right side of the law," Zayne said. "Got it? Good. Here's an exam. No cheating, please, although I doubt I have to say that here." Yep, a joke to lighten the mood before handing out exams that the students would only be prepared for if they had spent any time scouring television and the internet for information on the American justice system that could reasonably be faked into an exam, just like Zayne had done the past few days.

The results were maybe a little less than ideal, but he tried. And who knows? He might even get some interesting answers. And if nothing else, this might give the students some experiencing in BSing authority figures, which would always be a handy skill on the run.

"Health", Tuesday, First Period

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Steve had worn a lot of uniforms in his time, and he had to say, this was one of the most uncomfortable. But that was no matter right now. "Good morning, everyone," he said to his gathered students, "and welcome to your Health final." Just the slightest stress on 'Health,' and he still couldn't believe he'd had to change the name of his class. Sex Ed was a real class! Taught in real schools, even! "You should know everything you should need to know to answer the questions on this test," which he hoped was actually true, "and just as a reminder, I will not tolerate cheating. However, if you have any questions about anything on the test, you may come up to my desk to ask me quietly. If you have additional problems, I will be holding office hours on Friday, and hopefully we can clear everything up then."

He hoped he'd covered all possible bases for anyone having problems with the test. He'd even managed to get Matt Murdock a Braille copy of the 'Health' exam, last minute as the whole thing was, and even though he knew it to not actually be necessary. How Matt was going to write the thing was beyond him, but worst came to worst there was always Friday.

"You've been a great class this semester, and I'll be sorry to see you go. I wish you good luck. You may turn over the paper on your desk and begin."

Debating: In Defense of Rhetoric, Tuesday

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To say Alistair was twitchy in his new uniform would be massively understating it.

For one, it didn't quite... fit. For two, it was itchy. For three, it meant leaving his armor at home for the day, which felt wrong. He'd tried to compensate for it by wearing his shield on his back, but the whole affair still felt light and wrong and... ... he scratched at his arm. "Hello everyone," he said. "Today, we'll be having your final. We talked about this last week, obviously..." Had they?

He couldn't remember. The uniform. It was itching.

HE didn't have to wear these pumps or whatever on his FEET. Morrigan was not amused. In protest of taking away her leathers, she'd stuck some raven-feathers into her usual hairstyle, and let her various bangles and necklaces chime freely. She'd rolled up the ridiculous sleeves so she could at least feel the air on her arms, if nothing else.

"We did," she stated firmly. "For those members of class today who are NOT normally enrolled--" Fade-cursed demons that they were, "--students were to pick a topic near and dear to their hearts, and today either debate for or against it, and prepare to defend themselves against their classmates using the proper rules of debate."

"Which we have been teaching them," said Alistair, who had affected something of a hop as he attempted to scratch his ankle, "these past few months-- I'm sure they'll be-- good at it--"

"And if they aren't, they fail." Way to be cheerful, Morrigan. "In the light of sharing and continual learning aspects of Fandom High School, we also invite our school board members and benefactors if they are here to participate as well."

That's right, students. Morrigan just declared Open Season if any of the observers are stupid brave enough to join the debates today. She and Alistair figured it was a civilized method of revenge.

Yes, they agreed on something. Don't faint.

Alistair had at last scratched the itch on his ankle, and was now lowering his foot with a mildly guilty expression on his face. "Sorry about that," he said, "You know-- plaid."

Actually, he didn't know about plaid. Except that it was itchy. "But yes, you are all invited. We'll be starting with whoever's first at the front, unless someone would like to volunteer, and you're all invited to debate whatever point has just been raised. Everyone at least try to have something to say, please?"

Alistair beamed at the class. "Get to it," he said encouragingly, and rolled his shoulders to get rid of some of the strain the uniform was putting on him.

At which point the stitching tore and half the sleeve came off. "Oh, Andraste's flaming bloody sword, again?!" Beat. "Pretend I didn't say that."