Dean McCoppin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
drinks_coffeezilla) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomhigh2012-01-20 01:25 am
drinks_coffeezilla) wrote in fandomhigh2012-01-20 01:25 am
Entry tags:
The Art of Scrap, Friday, Period 4
This week, Dean's students had been told to dress for the weather in clothes that they didn't mind getting dirty, because they were doing some hands-on searching for art supplies in Fandom's junkyard. Lined up at the gate were enough wheelbarrows for each student to take one, and each wheelbarrow had a pair of heavy work gloves, a travel mug of hot coffee, and a set of wire-cutters sitting inside.
"Hey, guys. Today is going to more or less be a free-for-all day. I know some of you worked on your armatures for this semester's big sculpture projects last week, and some of you just brainstormed with some sketches. It's fine if you didn't finish either. Sometimes, that's just how art can be, you know? This week, we're going to take a different route, and maybe you'll find some inspiration while you're here."
Here, surrounded by trash. So inspiring, truly.
"You can wander around and grab whatever you want from the scrap heaps," he continued. "Just so long as it isn't something that's going to go to rot and stink up the classroom or attract rats or something. Maybe being around here and getting your hands on the raw materials will give you a few ideas for your projects, too."
He nodded to his left. "Over there is the scrap metal. That's the sort of thing that I work with. If you go that way instead," he gestured in another direction with his coffee mug, "you'll find plastics and heavy-duty rubber, like old tires. Mostly bicycle and rickshaw tires around here, since you don't really see many cars on this island. There's plexiglass and there are window panes around here, too, just be careful not to cut yourself on any of the above. There are work gloves for each of you for a reason, and I expect you all to be wearing them today."
Yes, he had gone exploring around this place already. The backyard of 29 Chimera had a bit of a growing pile of garbage, just waiting to be turned into art.
"If you need any help with bigger pieces of scrap, just let me know. Your wire cutters can only do so much, and I'm not about to haul a car door back to the school or anything, but if it's something within reason, I'll see what I can do to help you break it down into slightly more manageable parts. Keep in mind when you're looking for materials that you guys aren't going to be allowed to do any welding. But, if your projects absolutely require it, let me know what you need stuck where and when the time comes, I'll handle that part for you."
He took another mouthful of coffee, appraising the group before continuing.
"Oh, and I guess some of the residents of the island use this place to park their spacecraft? I'm pretty sure you'll be able to tell the difference between a spaceship and an old manhole cover or something, so I'm putting it out there right now, guys. No touching the ship-things. None."
He then proceeded to wave vaguely at the junkyard.
"Go. Run. Be free."
He was going to wander around, looking things over. Grabbing supplies for his own project. Contemplating the state of affairs of this place. Wondering what it would be like to own his own scrapyard. That sort of thing.
[OCD coming! And up! Have at it, my favourite pack of garbage pickers.]
"Hey, guys. Today is going to more or less be a free-for-all day. I know some of you worked on your armatures for this semester's big sculpture projects last week, and some of you just brainstormed with some sketches. It's fine if you didn't finish either. Sometimes, that's just how art can be, you know? This week, we're going to take a different route, and maybe you'll find some inspiration while you're here."
Here, surrounded by trash. So inspiring, truly.
"You can wander around and grab whatever you want from the scrap heaps," he continued. "Just so long as it isn't something that's going to go to rot and stink up the classroom or attract rats or something. Maybe being around here and getting your hands on the raw materials will give you a few ideas for your projects, too."
He nodded to his left. "Over there is the scrap metal. That's the sort of thing that I work with. If you go that way instead," he gestured in another direction with his coffee mug, "you'll find plastics and heavy-duty rubber, like old tires. Mostly bicycle and rickshaw tires around here, since you don't really see many cars on this island. There's plexiglass and there are window panes around here, too, just be careful not to cut yourself on any of the above. There are work gloves for each of you for a reason, and I expect you all to be wearing them today."
Yes, he had gone exploring around this place already. The backyard of 29 Chimera had a bit of a growing pile of garbage, just waiting to be turned into art.
"If you need any help with bigger pieces of scrap, just let me know. Your wire cutters can only do so much, and I'm not about to haul a car door back to the school or anything, but if it's something within reason, I'll see what I can do to help you break it down into slightly more manageable parts. Keep in mind when you're looking for materials that you guys aren't going to be allowed to do any welding. But, if your projects absolutely require it, let me know what you need stuck where and when the time comes, I'll handle that part for you."
He took another mouthful of coffee, appraising the group before continuing.
"Oh, and I guess some of the residents of the island use this place to park their spacecraft? I'm pretty sure you'll be able to tell the difference between a spaceship and an old manhole cover or something, so I'm putting it out there right now, guys. No touching the ship-things. None."
He then proceeded to wave vaguely at the junkyard.
"Go. Run. Be free."
He was going to wander around, looking things over. Grabbing supplies for his own project. Contemplating the state of affairs of this place. Wondering what it would be like to own his own scrapyard. That sort of thing.
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Lecture!
At least Dean supplied you all with coffee, right? There's cream and sugar in your wheelbarrows, too, in case you don't take it black.
Wimps.
Re: Lecture!
But...wheelbarrow. That sort of took precedence because wheelbarrows were pretty sweet.
Dig Through the Scrap!
Unless your sculpture is supposed to be a realistic representation of the government as portrayed by cockroaches. Dean might give you extra credit if you can bullshit yourself an explanation like that. Not because he buys it, but because it amuses him.
Re: Dig Through the Scrap!
He almost wished he had a mangy but loveable dog to accompany him, as this reminded him an awful lot of the time he thought the world had ended and he had to build up civilization from scratch. He knew that wasn't the case, but it was interesting trying to think of which of the girls he knew he might chance proposing to to help him rebuild the human population....
Re: Dig Through the Scrap!
... she hoped, anyway.
Talk to the TA!
Re: Talk to the TA!
Claudia had a collection of bike tires and miscellaneous plastics going. He wasn't going to let them weld, but he hadn't said anything about using heat guns, right?
She was pretty sure she could whip up a freaking epic heat gun.
Talk to Dean!
Dean's poking around the junkyard some, too, but he shouldn't be too difficult to find. He's limiting his scrounging to wide-open areas so that the students can spot him if they want him.
Re: Talk to Dean!
Butters came dancing up to Dean, shifting his weight between his feet and looking urgently distressed. "Mr. McCoppin! Ah, I need to go to the bathroom. R-really bad."
Re: Talk to Dean!
He wasn't going to begrudge the kid for needing to pee, here.
Re: Talk to Dean!
He moseyed on away, and that was that for a good long few minutes, until, with a great big cackling laugh, Butters dressed in a tinfoil helmet, gauntlets, and a big green cape burst around the corner.
"The time for fun and games is over, feeble-minded fools!" he declared.
Re: Talk to Dean!
Dean raised an eyebrow.
Dean took a mouthful of his coffee.
"Oh, yeah?"
Look, that was some pretty impressive tinfoil-manipulation he had going on, there. The least he could do was not just flat-out laugh. After all, if Dean didn't humor the kooks of the world, who would?
Re: Talk to Dean!
And with that speech, sure to strike terror into the heart of anyone listening, Professor Chaos swept in, snatched up a particularly good piece of sheet metal, brandished it so that all may know what they were about to lose and then fled off into the day with his ill-gotten gains.
Despite the fact that there were plenty of other pieces of sheet metal (although admittedly not as good) right over there.
Re: Talk to Dean!
"I hope he plans on actually using that one."
Re: Talk to Dean!
But a few minutes later, Butters returned to the junkyard, pulling on the waistband of his pants for extra emphasis on where he had been. "Oh!" he announced. "Ah, I'm back from the bathroom. Ah, I really let one go in there. Hope I didn't miss anything!"
Re: Talk to Dean!
That Dean had already found a replacement for.
One of these days, he was going to just give in to the temptation to reach forward and pat this kid on the head. Were teachers allowed to do that?
Re: Talk to Dean!
Pouting over the injury, Butters lifted his right elbow to show the offending mark. "Go on and look at it. It's scraped. Look."
And while Mr. McCoppin may have looked, Butters barely managed to hold back a grin, as he thought to himself Yeesss. Go on and see the red mark on my elbow, the red mark I made myself to throw you off Professor Chaos's trail. No one will ever know!
Re: Talk to Dean!
As it stood, he mostly figured that he'd tripped on his way back from stashing his tinfoil somewhere.
"Huh. That was pretty terrible of him," Dean shared, with some sense of conviction that was mostly a product of the coffee he was drinking. "You might want to wash that up back in the office there, kid. Never know what you might pick up in a scrapyard."
Dean really didn't want to go down in history as the art teacher who gave his students tetanus.
OOC!
I think that's a good sign that I'm a smidgen overtired.
Re: OOC!
It's one of those days.