Creative Problem Solving, Tuesday, period 3

[whoisalicewhite.livejournal.com]

[Class #6 - the Beatdown Job!]

“This is Eliot’s week for doing lots of stuff,” Parker said to everyone as they walked in. “He’s the best at it.”

The students could be forgiven for thinking this meant the food: the setting was a swank banquet in the courtyard of a museum, with tables of food in individually heated trays on one side, punch bowls full of icy lemonade, and huge platters of hors d'oeuvres. There were well-dressed guests, and staff circulating with trays of champagne.

Parker was wearing her blue cocktail dress, but Eliot was not dressed as a chef.

He could've been! Kitchens were rife with opportunities for his particular specialty. Of course, so were banquet halls. And bars. And street corners.

Honestly, when you could turn anything into a weapon, everywhere was rife with opportunity.

Eliot was keeping it simple this time, though, wearing his usual t-shirt and jeans combo, a beanie keeping his hair back off his face. He cracked his knuckles and then his neck and smiled at the class.

It was maybe a creepy smile.

"This week we're going to work on some of the more . . . physical sides of problem solving." Punching people totally solved problems, shut up. A group of four simulated security guards came out of the doors to the museum with guns trained on him and Parker. Eliot waited, looking almost bored, until they were within range.

Then he very quickly and very efficiently unarmed them and took them down. He looked back up at the students again as he tossed the last gun, emptied of its magazine, to the side. "Something like that."

Parker grinned, holding up a fork. “I just like to stab them. But you can use whatever you want! The food. The plates. The bottles. The people.” She pointed upward. “You want to get into the museum.”

Did they though? Really?

Guessing by the way the doors to the museum were opening again, this time discharging a crowd of unruly teenagers in letterman jackets, another group of professional security guards, and some really large, really ugly fantasy monster things, they might not, actually.

"You don't have to take out alla them," Eliot said, crossing his arms. "You do have to take out enough to get through the doors. And then you're welcome to the whole banquet! Assuming you guys haven't smashed all the food by then." He smiled again. "Have fun."

Basic Mis-Intelligence [Monday, Period 2]

[doubleohblonde]

There was a truly remarkable amount of paisley covering the walls of the Danger Shop theatre today, and the chairs had been replaced with beanbags (also paisley), and there were a number of lava lamps scattered about the place.

"Good Morning," Bond greeted them as if the room looked perfectly normal. "While we really only scratched the surface of the genre, by now you should at least have a baseline idea of the kind of tropes and conventions that the average person might expect from a spy movie, which means it's time for a spy parody, most specifically of the B-movie spy capers popular in the nineteen-sixties."

Groovy.

[Class Roster]

How to Develop a Personal Style [Tuesday]

[begmetwice.livejournal.com]

When students arrived today, they'd find the classroom devoid of an Irene, but with a TV set up at the front of the room with a post-it note stuck to it.

Good morning, my presumably-healthy little darlings,

Sometimes you can't help but be dreadfully unstylish, particularly when you're under the weather. I am wholly unable to breathe through my nose, and thus will not be subjecting you all to my lack of focus or, more importantly, my germs. If someone would be a dear and push start on the DVD, I would very much appreciate it. Class will resume next week, come hell or high water or headcolds, promise.

- I. Adler

PS -- don't worry, I Lysol'd the hell out of everything after I set it up.

Ethics, Tuesday, February 10, 2015, 2nd period

[sith_happened]

Do you hear the sound of mechanized screaming, kids? Do you have a bad feeling about this?

Good. It's terrifying robotic toddler week!

"The issue of ethics is about more than simply the greater fate of the galaxy - or your personal relationships," Obi-Wan said. He was trying not to side-eye the robotic toddlers too much; did you have to make them so creepy, Anakin? "Within our old Order, it was said that a Jedi did not truly become a Master until he had trained a younger Jedi. Caring for another is a daunting task in its own right."

It's so they don't get attached! It's very Jedi! And not all Anakin just being a jerk!

...it was about 80 percent Anakin being a jerk.

"Depending on your universe of origin, it's entirely possibly you're expected to either take care of younger siblings as a primary caregiver by now or be preparing to marry in the next five years." His lips quirked up. "And Fandom has certain...quirks...regarding Valentine's Day and children unexpectedly popping up, so think of this as preparation if small children you never met wake you up Saturday morning."

Obi-Wan's eyes darted briefly towards Anakin. "...As that is apparently a risk you take by attending this school."

HE HADN'T KNOWN.

HE DIDN'T WANT TO TAKE AWAY THE JOY THAT OJ WOULD BRING HIM.

Anakin shrugged. "It happens. They don't stick around for very long." He pointed back to the droids. "We've paired you up. You'll each get one baby for the week--they are old enough to walk, but are not yet toilet trained. They also don't like napping, but need to once a day."

They also hated baths like burning but he'd let them discover that for themselves. "Today you get to name your little darlings and figure out childcare arrangements for the week."

"Good luck," Obi-Wan said. At least the thought of the students dealing with such an ornery baby-- ah, the idea that the students would be learning something truly important, he meant, truly-- was enough to bring amusement back to his voice. "But know that if you abandon the babies, we will know."