fandomhigh | Journalism 101/201 (Wednesday, February 1

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Journalism 101/201 (Wednesday, February 1 - 5th period)

"Good afternoon, boys and girls. Easy day today. I'd like you all to read the poems you wrote ~~which you may totally crib from the internets, because it's important you have one~~, and bring it forth to put it on my desk afterwards."

Rita smiled.

It probably was a good indication that the students should be a bit wary.

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...

Seriously, go ahead. It's totally a good idea.

...

Peter signed in.

Peter read his ~~awesome and completely original~~ poem.

"There once was a man from Nantucket
Who painted a beautiful bucket
The colors were bright
The hues were just right
And he sold it for only a ducat"

Proud of his work ~~which avoided being DIRTY! despite being a limerick~~, he walked up to set it on Rita's desk.

Rita smiled. "Lovely, Mr. Parker."

She then muttered, "Incendio," and lit Peter's poem on fire.

His spider-sense gave him enough warning to take a step back before his paper was set on fire. He stared at it for a moment, then asked, "Should I have used blue ink instead?"

"No, the ink is not the issue," Rita said sweetly as the flame went out and the paper was just a pile of ashes. "There is no place for writing like that in a setting such as this."

"Well, then I apologize," Peter said. "Poetry isn't my strong suit, so I just went with what seemed to work."

He held back his natural instincts to call her crazy. It wasn't a good idea to call people crazy when they can magically set stuff on fire.

Rita sighed. "No need to apologize, Mr. Parker. This is a demonstration. If you ever write something like this for another assignment, though? I will want an apology, and I will light whatever it is on fire as well."

"Understood, Professor."

Peter took his seat, still thinking that she was somehow nicer than Mr. Jameson.

Probably because Jameson would have fired him.

He then stopped mentally punning.

Anakin signed in, holding the note that Professor Logan had given him (http://community.livejournal.com/fandomhigh/570700.html?thread=26772812#t26772812) for missing last class.

Draco signed in.

Anakin froze at the assigment that he totally didn't do.

He scribbled together a poem ~~that he certainly didn't randomly generate from a poetry generator (http://www.jelks.nu/poetry/dom/)~~.

"Um. Okay." He cleared his throat.

"The desert dwells on the morning's laughter.
Ah, but a red rose blows bubbles in studious delight!
The sun weeps with the ecstasy of well-deserved water.
Yea, the ecstasy of well-deserved water!"

Tatooine poetry? Kinda sucked.

Rita stared at him, and waited for Anakin to set the paper down before murmuring the incantation and setting it aflame.

"We don't write like that in here, Mr. Skywalker."

She refrained from drawing any comparisons between the flaming piece of paper and Anakin. Because she's kind like that.

Draco reads his ~~totally stolen~~ poem.

As I stare at the lonely flame of a candle within a darkened room,
I see you to be like the light of the moon.
You sparkle like the suns reflection upon a mountain stream,
yet you seem as fresh as the air as in the season of spring.
For so gentle as you are like a sleeping fawn,
but then I suddenly sighed and the flame was gone.

"So you set it on fire?" Anakin didn't yelp. "Just to make sure I get this right. What would you have preferred?"

"No, you did the assignment correctly," Rita said calmly as the flame faded out. "I'm simply demonstrating. If anyone in any of my classes writes something like that drivel ever again, then expect the same treatment."

Anakin was still blinking a little rapidly. "I'd prefer not to be flaming, yeah," he said. "I'll try harder next assignment."

"Bit late for that," Rita muttered, tapping a few drops of water out of her wand onto the smoldering paper.

"Stand back, Mr. Malfoy," Rita said kindly before setting the page on fire.

Anakin pretended not to hear that comment, but his ears were turning red.

Yup, still kind of hated Professor Skeeter.

Draco frowned slightly but didn't say anything. He thought back to when his father did the same thing to his teddy bear when he was seven. But he had the feeling Rita destroyed his poem for the same reason his father destroyed Mr. Binky.

Quinn signs in.

Quinn stands up in front of the class and reads:

"It's called The Non-Gay Mountie.

He has a hat
He's really all that
His eyes are blue
And he's pretty too
He's really sweet
And that's just keen
And he'll be mine
When I'm eighteen."

Rita smiled kindly at Quinn.

"That's a beautiful poem, dear. Now, set it on my desk and back up, all right?"

Quinn does so. After all, she has copies.

She wonders if Ben has a mailbox...

Rita happily set Quinn's pretty little poem on fire.

Quinn frowns. "Too short? I've got another stanza I can probably write."

"No, no, dear. This is what should always happen to pieces of writing that look like this," Rita said calmly. "This is a demonstration. I assigned you all to write like this. If you do it again, unassigned, I'll do the exact same thing. And I don't accept singed articles."

Rose signs in.

Rose totally makes something up on the spot as she was gone last week.

"Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Sugar is sweet,
And so are you."

She smile rather cheesily.

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Journalism 101/201 (Wednesday, February 1 - 5th period)

Sign in

Read your poem and set it on Rita's desk

After Class

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