Bad Ass Bitch Life Lessons; Wednesday, First Period [01/15].

[died8yearsago]

"Okay, fuck it," said Rosa, because she could drop F-bombs ever since the network switch, and she threw the piece of chalk she'd been failing to write on the board with out the window (which was, it should be noted, closed at the time, but don't worry, she'll pay for that). By the point, the class had been treated to a variety of different efforts on Rosa's part to present to them the actual lesson she wanted to teach that day (even her notes with the aphorism on it was conveniently rendered unreadable by a spilled cup of coffee), until she finally reached a point where it stopped being worth it, because, honestly? She didn't even care.

Still, she was stubborn, to a fault, but she eventually gave in to her reluctant resignation. "Let's just see what the old bag has to say this week."

She flipped on the projector and braced herself for their next nugget of wisdom:

"Every morning, I punch the clock. And the copier. And the printer. And the vending machine..."

Rosa, having just punched many, many things in the classroom, was feeling very called out.

She glowered a little at the comic (considering punching it), and then sighed. "Okay," she said, turning to the class. "We can work with this one. Punching things. It doesn't always work," as they had clearly seen demonstrated that day, "but it does always make you feel better. And then there are times when it does work, and that's pretty bad ass. Punching."

Yay, advocating casual violence!

"Discuss."

[[ after the ocd, anyway it's up! Have at it, as I spam before work ]]

Sex Ed, Wednesday, January 15, 2020

[sith_happened]

"So leaping right into a discussion about interspecies relations was clearly a bit too advanced for many of you," Anakin began dryly, "so we'll take a few steps back. Hello. This is sexual education, a class devoted to having you understand your own body and its reactions so sexual simulation--and things that don't seem that sexual at all because at this stage in your development, males especially, many things seem sexual that aren't-- as well as learning what your partner-slash-partners are trying to communicate to you about their wants and desires."

All delivered to you by a glowering man in a robe. You lucky, lucky students.

He unfurled a pair of way too large, extremely detailed charts. "We'll begin with baseline human anatomy," he said, "but feel free to share with the class where you might be different."

Because that definitely sounded like something a teenager would do.

He then proceeded to go through each piece of anatomy in excruciating detail.

Finally: "Any questions?"

Other than "Please, can the Earth swallow me whole?," presumably.

Advanced Bird Haberdashery, Wednesday, period 2

[betterthanaplan]

Duke started class by taping a sign to the board at the front today:

Class rules:
1. Do not eat the birds

"Look. I know birds are meat. I know cats have needs. But I really don't want to have to clean up the blood and leftover feathers. Capiche? Cool. Let's get started."

The bird of the week was a good foot-and-a-half tall, with brown and white feathers and a long, thick beak. And it made a sound like a monkey that had just watched its rival get kicked in the nuts.

"So, uh. These are kookaburras," Duke said, after a mad three minutes of googling on his phone. "They're native to Australia, are the largest known species of kingfisher, and can apparently develop a debilitating sausage habit. We're going to make them. . . ." He picked up the stack of instructions on the teacher's desk. "Cowboy hats. Sure. Let's get started."