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sociology

Sociology Courses | January 23, 2006

Sociology of Violence: 2nd Period

Grissom is standing at the front of the class, feeding a few tarantulas who are perched on his desk in their terrariums. They've been officially banned from his apartment and office, and will now live in the lab. Poor ~~T-Boz, Left Eye, and Chili~~ spiders.

"Welcome, everyone. After doing all that reading this weekend, you should be familiar now with the material.

So, instead of lecturing you, today we will participate in a project.

Using the full resources of the Humanities wing (the AV/computer lab, Grissom's creepy stuff, the science materials, etc.), I'd like you to design some sort of Anti-Violence message for the campus.

You will not be graded on this, so feel free to be experimental. At the end of class, share ~~describe, link, whatever~~ what you have done with the class.

Sociology of the Paranormal: 6th Period

"Please turn in your homework."

Grissom then lectures on the Sokal Affair as his students probably nod off, and lets them go without assigning any homework.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Grissom is hanging out with his tarantulas, and they are actually very friendly.

Having not handed her homework in ~~cos the mun totally forgot about it~~ cos she's been ill she approaches Grissom.

"Excuse me sir *cough* I wondering if I could get an extension on my homework? Til say next lesson? I've not been been so well." she explains before descending into a coughing fit.

"That's fine, Paige."

Grissom winces, hoping something isn't going around, as he really doesn't want to get sick, and he catches everything. He hands her a tissue. "Are you okay?"

Luckily she'd turned away and put her hand over her mouth, she wasn't an animal!

"Thank you sir."

She takes the tissue and smiles slightly, "Just a bug I think, it's actually better than it was, I kinda don't remember Saturday so you're kinda lucky I'm here, it's Sunday in my head,"

"You should be resting, or you're only going to become more ill," he says in a rather fatherly, but grating, tone.

"Wednesday is fine. Remember, that's the day that comes before Thursday," he smirks. "Feel better."

She nods, "I've spent most the weekend in bed, but I'm gonna go back to the attic and rest now."

She smirks back "And today's isn't Sunday right! Thanks Doctor Grissom, I'll see you on Wednesday, with my homework."

I'm just wondering about your class procedures. I will do my best to actually participate, because, hey, good chance to RP a situation, but I wasn't able to interview someone for this homework.

Is it okay to say *Cordelia hands in some sub-par homework* or something like that?

Sorry! I will do better, promise :D

[That's totally fine. My CLASS INFO POST OF DOOM! (http://www.livejournal.com/users/drgrissom/7069.html), only without the doom, was posted along with the sign-ups for reference. I'm pretty laid-back OOC for a teacher, is the summary. Just have your *Cordelia passes in ____* stay in character with the specific idea of what you're going to have her final grade be in mind, so Grissom's grading has some legitimacy. :) ]

[[Sweet! Thanks so much, you're very helpful :D]]

Sara knocks on the door, carrying two peace offerings. One being chocolate covered grasshoppers, the other a selection of crickets and other such insects for the tarantulas.

She's learning to coexist. Painfully. "Hey."

"Hi," he says with what she'll notice is a small amount of trepidation, before he sees the insects she is carrying.

"How are you?"

"The swelling has gone down," she says matter of factly, setting down the various containers. "And I'm sorry for pitching that fit."

"I wouldn't call it a fit," he says quietly. "And you were in pain. It's okay."

"I just don't do well with spiders," she says with a bit of a laugh, remembering an old case.

"I'm better with dogs."

"Dogs? Really?" he says, a smirk on his lips. "I didn't know you liked pets in general."

"We had dogs at the B&B. It was nice and...a good excuse to go running on the beach. No particular breed--we always wound up with the mutts."

"I had a dog growing up as well," he smiles. "An old Irish Setter, actually. Ugliest dog you've ever seen. My mother hated that dog, because she'd bring home dead animals all the time and then I'd carve them up in the backyard. She called the dog my co-conspirator."

"Can't say that surprises me," she says with a bit of a smirk.

He shoots her a playful look, but then his face softens. "I loved that dog."

"Too bad we seem to have pet issues."

"I loved Bella--last dog we had before everything went down. Pit bull mix with something else--sweetest dog I'd ever had." She smiles softly.

She glances at the spiders. "Do they need a feeding?"

"It can wait until later," he hedges. They probably could use a feeding, but he doesn't want to upset her.

"How do you do it?" Her eyes are steady and she won't show any disgust.

"Why don't I take them out of the cages and hold them, and then you can just shake the food in out of the bags?"

"That works--no dropping them down the back of my shirt."

"I would never do something like that," he says, his face twisted in a grin. He takes the top off the first cage and gently eases the spider out onto his open palm.

"At least, I haven't done anything like that since the fourth grade.

Okay, the ninth.

Okay, 1996."

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