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fandomhigh2006-01-10 03:44 pm
imanaturalblond.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomhigh2006-01-10 03:44 pm
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Advanced Journalism (Tuesday, Jan. 10 - 2nd period)
"Good morning, children," Rita said with a smile that was at least intended to seem benign. "Welcome to Advanced Journalism. Please, sign in as you enter."
To her left, a peacock plume quill scratched away behind her as she spoke. Every few minutes, the parchment that had been scrawled upon would flip neatly into a growing pile on Rita's desk, and the quill would begin writing on a fresh piece.
On the corner of the desk rested several more sheets of parchment, a slender piece of wood and an acid green feather.
"I'll go out on a limb and assume all of you took Mr. Jerusalem's class last semester, and that's why you're here. If you didn't, I suggest you see me immediately after class in order to test in. I certainly would hate for anyone to be taking this course who really wasn't up to snuff. To fail a dear little boy or girl would simply break my heart."
Her smile widened. It wasn't particularly nice.
"I'm still making copies of your syllabus," she said sweetly, waving a hand at the busy quill. "You will have them when we meet tomorrow."
She perched on the desk. "For now, we're going to work on an imporant journalistic property: the profile. I know this will surely be review for advanced children, but as it's the first day, I thought you might appreciate it.
"Now. I want you each to quickly introduce yourself. Name, age, where you're from, what you want to be when you grow up, and something vaguely interesting about yourself. I'll go first."
She cleared her throat. "Rita Skeeter, thirty-six, most lately of London, England. Renowned journalist and acclaimed former writer for the Daily Prophet. Enjoys Quidditch, pedicures, and is entirely willing to turn nasty students into animals if they misbehave."
She pointed one long-nailed finger at random at a student. "You now. Go."
[ooc: I'm working on a big ol' comprehensive syllabus, but here's the deal: Sign in. Interact. If you have a writing assignment, I expect to see it. But given I know the two people in this class who...aren't me (shut up, omg), I doubt that we're going to have an issue.]
To her left, a peacock plume quill scratched away behind her as she spoke. Every few minutes, the parchment that had been scrawled upon would flip neatly into a growing pile on Rita's desk, and the quill would begin writing on a fresh piece.
On the corner of the desk rested several more sheets of parchment, a slender piece of wood and an acid green feather.
"I'll go out on a limb and assume all of you took Mr. Jerusalem's class last semester, and that's why you're here. If you didn't, I suggest you see me immediately after class in order to test in. I certainly would hate for anyone to be taking this course who really wasn't up to snuff. To fail a dear little boy or girl would simply break my heart."
Her smile widened. It wasn't particularly nice.
"I'm still making copies of your syllabus," she said sweetly, waving a hand at the busy quill. "You will have them when we meet tomorrow."
She perched on the desk. "For now, we're going to work on an imporant journalistic property: the profile. I know this will surely be review for advanced children, but as it's the first day, I thought you might appreciate it.
"Now. I want you each to quickly introduce yourself. Name, age, where you're from, what you want to be when you grow up, and something vaguely interesting about yourself. I'll go first."
She cleared her throat. "Rita Skeeter, thirty-six, most lately of London, England. Renowned journalist and acclaimed former writer for the Daily Prophet. Enjoys Quidditch, pedicures, and is entirely willing to turn nasty students into animals if they misbehave."
She pointed one long-nailed finger at random at a student. "You now. Go."
[ooc: I'm working on a big ol' comprehensive syllabus, but here's the deal: Sign in. Interact. If you have a writing assignment, I expect to see it. But given I know the two people in this class who...aren't me (shut up, omg), I doubt that we're going to have an issue.]