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fandomhigh2017-08-30 12:37 am
livingartifact) wrote in fandomhigh2017-08-30 12:37 am
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Introduction to Earth Zoology, Wednesday, period 1
Introduction to Earth Zoology met in one of the standard classrooms, this week, though when the students stepped through they might be surprised to find that rather than the usual arrangement of whiteboard and individual desks, there was instead of a warmly lit room cluttered with aging electronics and ephemera, with a single long table featuring enough seats for every student, and a rolling blackboard.
Was Jenkins secretly abusing the Library's backdoor function to transport his students to a magical library full of madcap? Don't be absurd. That would be catastrophically foolish. He quite possibly did abuse it in order to make it easier to swap out the furniture about to create a more academically pleasing atmosphere though. Really, using the back door was barely using magic. It was almost impossible that it would have any lingering consequences for the students and their souls.
Jenkins himself stood at the head of the table by the blackboard as the students filed in, polishing an apple on his tweed jacket. When the last student entered, he set the apple aside, dusted off his hands, and picked up a piece of chalk.
"Hello," he greeted, writing the class title on the board like a teacher in a movie. "Welcome to Introduction to Earth Zoology." He turned back to the class and set the chalk down. "If you're in the wrong place, it's too late to escape now. You'll simply have to be more careful next time." A quick flash of a smirk. "I gather it's rather traditional to spend at least part of the first class on introductions; there's few enough of you to not make that too much of a waste of time, so I suppose we'll give it a try. I am Mr. Jenkins. If you're wondering at what my credentials are for teaching this course, rest assured that I am both extremely old and extremely nerdy. I know a great deal about a large number of things. This is merely one of them. Now, I suppose, we'll simply go around the table and you can all tell me your names, and perhaps a little bit about an animal that is for whatever reason of some interest to you. Your favorite, or the scariest, or the one that spent 40 years sneaking into your room at night and chewing holes in your socks. . . ." He waved a hand vaguely in the air, a faint scowl on his face as he seemed to be remembering whatever creature that had been. "Whathaveyou." He pointed to the student immediately to his left. "You start."
Once the introductions were dispensed with, Jenkins turned back to the blackboard. "Now, our time here is extremely limited, and there are a tremendous number of fascinating creatures that have made Earth their home at some time or other, so shake off any lingering 'first week' ennui and let's get down to business. Today we're going to discuss Moloch horridus." He wrote the name on the board, then underlined it twice. "Now, as is quite common with terran animalia, Moloch goes by a variety of different, equally evocative names, including the thorny dragon — though it isn't one — the mountain devil — though it's not actually one of those, either — or most accurately, the thorny lizard. Now there are a great many technical details I could go into on this little critter — various classifications of its order, family, and genus, its mating habits, the fact that it bears a 'false head' on the back of its neck to confound predators — but to truly get a sense of any animal, you simply must greet it in the flesh." He moved the blackboard to one side, revealing a large glass tank containing a tiny desert terrarium, and in it, two dramatically spiked lizards, neither quite a full foot in length. "Interestingly, the spikes you see on these critters are not merely for defensive purposes — though I do not recommend attempting to handle one without gloves. The formations are lined with ridged scales that actually help the lizards to collect moisture from the air and funnel it towards their mouths. They're native to the more arid regions of Australia — ah, hang on —" He picked up a large desk globe and spun it so he could point out the continent. "— that'd be this one here. For reference, should any of you not yet be familiar, Fandom appears to be located about . . . ." He spun the globe a few times for dramatic effect, then stopped it with a single finger midway down the east coast of North America. "Here." He set the globe aside again and picked up his apple, taking a large bite. "They're insectivores," he continued, chewing. "The, uh, lizards, that is, not Fandomites per se, though insects are a wonderful source of protein." He smiled and took another bite of his apple. "They reproduce by laying eggs, typically in the spring through early summer."
He gestured to the students to approach the tank, looking cheerfully down at the lizards. "Now, don't be shy. As I said, I don't recommend trying to touch these creatures, but you should certainly feel free to observe them for a bit." He picked up a second, smaller tank beside the large one, this one absolutely swarming with ants. "If you like, you can even try feeding them. Though — carefully. I'd rather not get the school infested with Australian ants."
Was Jenkins secretly abusing the Library's backdoor function to transport his students to a magical library full of madcap? Don't be absurd. That would be catastrophically foolish. He quite possibly did abuse it in order to make it easier to swap out the furniture about to create a more academically pleasing atmosphere though. Really, using the back door was barely using magic. It was almost impossible that it would have any lingering consequences for the students and their souls.
Jenkins himself stood at the head of the table by the blackboard as the students filed in, polishing an apple on his tweed jacket. When the last student entered, he set the apple aside, dusted off his hands, and picked up a piece of chalk.
"Hello," he greeted, writing the class title on the board like a teacher in a movie. "Welcome to Introduction to Earth Zoology." He turned back to the class and set the chalk down. "If you're in the wrong place, it's too late to escape now. You'll simply have to be more careful next time." A quick flash of a smirk. "I gather it's rather traditional to spend at least part of the first class on introductions; there's few enough of you to not make that too much of a waste of time, so I suppose we'll give it a try. I am Mr. Jenkins. If you're wondering at what my credentials are for teaching this course, rest assured that I am both extremely old and extremely nerdy. I know a great deal about a large number of things. This is merely one of them. Now, I suppose, we'll simply go around the table and you can all tell me your names, and perhaps a little bit about an animal that is for whatever reason of some interest to you. Your favorite, or the scariest, or the one that spent 40 years sneaking into your room at night and chewing holes in your socks. . . ." He waved a hand vaguely in the air, a faint scowl on his face as he seemed to be remembering whatever creature that had been. "Whathaveyou." He pointed to the student immediately to his left. "You start."
Once the introductions were dispensed with, Jenkins turned back to the blackboard. "Now, our time here is extremely limited, and there are a tremendous number of fascinating creatures that have made Earth their home at some time or other, so shake off any lingering 'first week' ennui and let's get down to business. Today we're going to discuss Moloch horridus." He wrote the name on the board, then underlined it twice. "Now, as is quite common with terran animalia, Moloch goes by a variety of different, equally evocative names, including the thorny dragon — though it isn't one — the mountain devil — though it's not actually one of those, either — or most accurately, the thorny lizard. Now there are a great many technical details I could go into on this little critter — various classifications of its order, family, and genus, its mating habits, the fact that it bears a 'false head' on the back of its neck to confound predators — but to truly get a sense of any animal, you simply must greet it in the flesh." He moved the blackboard to one side, revealing a large glass tank containing a tiny desert terrarium, and in it, two dramatically spiked lizards, neither quite a full foot in length. "Interestingly, the spikes you see on these critters are not merely for defensive purposes — though I do not recommend attempting to handle one without gloves. The formations are lined with ridged scales that actually help the lizards to collect moisture from the air and funnel it towards their mouths. They're native to the more arid regions of Australia — ah, hang on —" He picked up a large desk globe and spun it so he could point out the continent. "— that'd be this one here. For reference, should any of you not yet be familiar, Fandom appears to be located about . . . ." He spun the globe a few times for dramatic effect, then stopped it with a single finger midway down the east coast of North America. "Here." He set the globe aside again and picked up his apple, taking a large bite. "They're insectivores," he continued, chewing. "The, uh, lizards, that is, not Fandomites per se, though insects are a wonderful source of protein." He smiled and took another bite of his apple. "They reproduce by laying eggs, typically in the spring through early summer."
He gestured to the students to approach the tank, looking cheerfully down at the lizards. "Now, don't be shy. As I said, I don't recommend trying to touch these creatures, but you should certainly feel free to observe them for a bit." He picked up a second, smaller tank beside the large one, this one absolutely swarming with ants. "If you like, you can even try feeding them. Though — carefully. I'd rather not get the school infested with Australian ants."
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