fandomhigh | Classic American Film, Thursday, Period 4

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Classic American Film, Thursday, Period 4

Ziva wasn't sure what she'd been thinking when she'd agreed to teach this class, except maybe that it might be fun to teach something new. Deep down, she wondered if it was possible that she was missing Tony, but that was just a crazy thought.

Once the students had gathered in the classroom, Ziva leaned up against the desk and smiled at them. This was a nice, big group, and she had a good feeling about that. Of course, she had good feelings about small groups too, but still. "Good afternoon, and welcome to the classic American film class," she said. Anyone who was familiar with the U.S. might notice that Ziva didn't exactly sound American, being from Israel and all, but maybe no one would say anything.

"I am Ms. David, and I see many unfamiliar faces," she continued, "so I would like to take our time today to get to know your names and a little bit about where you are coming from and why you are here, whether you are a fan of movies, or you would like to learn more about this strange country in which you've ended up, or whatever else was your reasoning. Also, I have not chosen any assistants for this class, so if you would like to volunteer, come and talk to me after class. Now, let us get started."

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Yes, yes, you're certainly tired of this, but it's still the first week. Give your name, where you're from, and why you decided to take this class.

Ziva's expecting at least a few responses of "It sounded easy."

Bod wasn't tired of this but he'd only had one class and didn't too much mind introductions.

"I'm Nobody Owens but I go by Bod," he said, starting off with the familiar part of things. "My parents didn't hate me. I'm from England. Specifically, I was raised in a graveyard by the ghosts there and I'm taking this class because I didn't get to watch movies there so I'd like to see what I missed."

"You were ... raised by ghosts?" George asked. "Real ones?"

This was either extremely fascinating and useful information, or a Goth kid trying to seem cool. Bod didn't seem the type, though.

"Yes," he said, nodding. "Real ones. My parents were both ghosts as were most of my friends. The graveyard was very old so there was amazing diversity at who all I knew."

What people considered to be ghosts sometimes varied, as George was discovering. Hmm.

"Were they corporeal?" she asked. "I mean, did they have bodies or was it just ... smoke?"

"They had bodies," he said after some thought. "Of course, no one else could see them, though, unless the ghosts let them. There's something called Freedom of the Graveyard that you have to be granted in order to see them. I was given that when I was an infant so I could see them when others couldn't see anything."

If they had bodies ... and if other people could see them ...

"Did they ever leave the graveyard?" George asked. "Just ... to run errands, and then come right back afterwards?"

Could someone be raised by reapers? It was probably against the rules, but the rules were stupid.

"The ghosts couldn't, no," Bod told her with a shake of his head. "The graveyard's caretaker did all of that. I was able to leave because I'm human but I stayed there because it was the only place I ever knew."

Not reapers, then. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.

"That's sad," George said. "To just be stuck in one place like that. Unless it was a really happening sort of graveyard."

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"My name is Helen Haras-Uquara and I come from another ~~unnamed~~ world, which is quite a bit different from this one. I know little about movies, but on the television I have seen both good and bad ones and thought it might be useful to see more of the good."

"Emma Frost, darlings, late of New York City, and I'm here because it was a class that will sound almost normal on my transcript for college," Emma said bluntly. "I do love film, but I'm also trying to prepare for college."

It was very strange for her to be in a film class that wasn't being taught by Mitchell.

"I'm Chloe Saunders. I'm a sophomore and I'm t-taking this class because I want to be a director some day and I want to write my own scripts as well."

Yes, she was well aware that she hadn't said where she was from.

"I'm Quinn Fabray, and I'm from Lima, Ohio," Quinn began. It was her first class; she was actually kind of excited to be back in school.

She had, per her promise to Puck, worn her cheerleading uniform, and was glancing around to see if anyone seemed to notice.

"I'm here because" -- no, she wouldn't admit it was because it sounded easy and almost normal -- "I like movies, and I'd like to see more older ones."

George noticed, at least. She wasn't the type to actually say anything, but she was eyerolling heavily. Great. Cheerleaders.

Quinn smiled poisonously, leaned toward Madame Eyeroller, and sweetly whispered: "Jealous?"

Oh. This should be interesting.

"Oh, yes," George said darkly. "I wish I could wear a short skirt and bounce around like I have a room temperature IQ. Sign me up for that."

"It's amazing," Quinn observed in an icy voice, "how it's always the people who seem like they have no idea how to work hard at anything who want to tell me I'm dumb. I'm on the honor roll, so you know."

Granted, she went to a school that turned out students who thought the square root of pi was rainbows, so that might not have been saying much.

Ouch. Right. So the slacker thing was fairly obvious. Score one for ~~meta for~~ Barbie.

"I didn't," George shrugged, "nor do I care. But then, I don't desperately care what other people think about me. It's probably why I was never popular."

... yes. That was probably the reason. And not her winning charm.

Or the way she said 'popular' like it was a communicable disease.

Edited 2010-09-02 20:40 (UTC)

Quinn shook her head. People like slacker chick here were morons. Hadn't they figured out how things worked? Didn't they know that being popular was like a free pass to skip class, stay out late, and say practically whatever you wanted to practically whoever you wanted, all consequence-free?

On the other hand, they were less annoying than the ones who tried too hard.

"Our loss," she said sarcastically. "Really."

"Sara Stanley, from Carlisle, Prince Edward Island, in Canada. It isn't precisely my home, but I have spent most of my life there, so I like to think it counts. As for why I'm in this class, I love stories," she said simply, but there was a world of meaning in the word love. "I'm curious to see how moving pictures are used to tell stories in this age -- I've come a century ahead of my own time, you see -- and what new stories I can learn from them."

"Harper Finkle, from New York City. I decided to take this class since I love the classics," she said.

"I'm George," she said, very grudgingly. She hated class participation. She always had. "I'm from Seattle, so ... I know about this country. I ... like movies, I guess?"

Easy class that would not require much effort, yes.

"Jenny Sparks," Jenny said, "from London, England, and it sounded easy."

What? She was honest to a fault.

"Joolushko Tunai Fenta Hovalis. I'm from the Interion homeworld ~~which I am too lazy to make up a name for~~, and I enjoy the movies I have seen so far. I would like to see more and this seemed a good way to do so."

"Blysse Norwood," Firekeeper introduced herself. "And Blind Seer," she nodded at the wolf by her side, who twitched his tail in a greeting of his own. "We is... from the woods outside human kingdom of Hawk Haven, and we decide to take this class because both of us enjoy stories very much, and should like to see more."

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