Shop, Tuesday, period 3

[vdistinctive]

Class met back in the danger shop again, which was set up in the junkyard, shop tables and power tools arranged in the central clearing.

"Right," Eliot said when the students had all gathered. "So I was tempted to have you guys actually beat some swords into plowshares, but that's a little bit heavy handed and honestly, I'm a fan of a well-wielded sword." A somewhat far-off expression passed over his face, eyebrow creeping up, then he visibly shrugged the thought off. "Anyway, there's those who've been sayin' that one bright side of dark an' turbulent times is the art made by those bein' oppressed. Art's often been used as an outlet and a way to express feelings and ideas that otherwise might be difficult to get across -- or hard to get past government censors. Now, there's plenty who'll call bull on the romanticization of the 'starving artist' or the idea that political and social strife are necessary for artistic creation, and frankly, I ain't qualified to weigh in on it either way. And what we do here, in this class? This ain't my art. But I will say that havin' an art, an outlet for expression, is what pulled me out of a very dark time personally. What you make doesn't have to have anything to do with what you're goin' through outside your kitchen, or your studio, or your workshop. Just the act of bein' in that space and focusing in on a project can do wonders for your equilibrium and your spirit. Some days, it'll be all you've got." His mouth quirked up on one side in a faint smile. "Anyway. Today's an open shop day. Work on whatever gets you excited, or settles you down, anything you can just focus in on and keep your mind from wanderin'. Only thing I'm asking of ya this week is to make something that makes you happy."

Underrated Sports [Mon, Period 3]

[doubleohblonde]

Today Bond's class were meeting in the Salle, were a number of training dummies where set up. Some in rows, some in clusters, some scattered randomly about the room. By pure coincidence they were all coloured orange.

Bond nodded a greeting at his students. "Today you'll be stabbing people for points." Which almost sounded like a real sport. "It's a deceptively simple sport, where you must stab each of these dummies at least once before a timer runs down, there are two factors to consider to win speed and flourish. You get more points the faster you finish, but also for demonstrating technique, so a fast but sloppy player might lose to a slower but more skilled opponent, however trying too hard for the flatter risks going over time and losing any points you made up to penalties. Stabbing another player, however, is an automatic loss."

Culture Shock: Adjusting to Life on the Weird Side, Tuesday, Period 2

[uncertain_dume]

Kanan looked only mildly disgruntled today, even in spite of the... whatever the hell it had been that had gone on over the weekend. Rain. Turning him into some kind of cyborg. Weirdness. But at least it hadn't been incriminating weirdness, this time.

He suspected that meant that he was getting used to Fandom, which was a thing that he generally took to be a sign it was time to leave. But here he was. Teaching. A class.

Because he was apparently too stupid to get the hell out of town.

( Cecil, meanwhile, was...Cecil. )

[Open!]