Art Therapy! Friday, P2 [Week 7]

[flashesforinfo.livejournal.com]

Today the class would find they had been directed to the Danger Shop for their final. It was much, much easier for this, Angela had decided.

It was laid out simply, with a large white wall taking up most of the space, and art supplies taking up the rest.

“I’m not going to try and give you all a real final, because this is summer camp and that seems a little wrong.” Also she honestly didn’t want to have to try and mark people on a class with ‘therapy’ in the title. More wrong, somehow. “So call this a group project.”

Angela leaned patted the wall a couple of times. “I want this all filled up by the end of class, with whatever calls you. Consider yourselves the next Banksy.”

Practical Philosophy, Friday

[endsthegame]

"I suppose, since this is our last meeting, I should have some kind of final for you," Ender said, "But I find the idea of a final for a class like this a little foolish. Actually, when I think back on the classes I've had at this school myself, finals were the least interesting part of the curriculum - and they faded twice as quickly."

He sat back in the grass and shrugged. "I suppose I could do something interesting for this class," he said, "I'd propose you all get to ask me questions for a change, but I'm not narcissistic enough to think I'm that interesting to you. We could do a round of what we'd learned, but that would both imply you had learned something, and that it's a simple enough yarn to explain here in front of the class - never mind catering to my no-doubt fragile ego."

"I guess that's the funny thing about finals," he added. "This sense that somehow, to cap it all off, to put the final meaning on it all, we have to do something that encapsulates everything we've done. Like writing down your memories at the end of your life, or throwing a party with gratuitous old footage at the end of a tournament. We humans like to think we can pretend everything is neat like that: beginning, middle, end, because isn't that what our lives are like? Yet most of the time we can barely remember where we begun, and we'll hunt the next best thing while we're in the middle, and the only thing that marks our end is the chopping-off of the yarn itself."

He shoved the sandwiches forwards. "So let's just chop off our yarn here," he said. "No muss, no fuss. Like any other week, tell me if you've got something for us all to talk about, or don't. Enjoy the sun, if you'd rather do that. Ask me for things to read this summer. Ask your classmates for things to read this summer."

He smiled wryly. "Well, okay, one gesture towards finals," he said, and patted the mini-freezer at his side. "Have some ice cream. My life-sized food vacuum of a partner swears by it."

Surviving Life At Court, Friday, 6/22

[halfman-lion.livejournal.com]

Tyrion seemed vaguely distracted as he stood in front of the class today. "It is far too hot to even pretend we can study," he said. "I say we ignore the charade and watch a movie instead. This is the story of an ordinary man who finds himself among royalty, and lives to tell the tale. I hope you enjoy it."

And then he cued the film.