fandomhigh | Entries tagged with etiquette

You would have to pardon Obi-Wan if he looked a little exhausted this morning. This class had not exactly worked wonders on his habit of expecting the worst. But he was resigned it, and so lo, on the last day of it, he brought the class into a simulated dining room, hoping beyond hope last week's quiet would stretch out to this week's class.

"We have not exactly had the chance to study proper etiquette this semester, for which I apologize," he said, harried. "So my exam will be a simple one. These people--" He waved at several NPCs sitting along the table, "--Are at a dinner party. So are you. Dinner will be served soon. You will conduct yourself politely throughout, no matter what happens. Begin."

Various foodstuffs popped up on the plates. They were normal. There was that, at least.

saddeserthermit

Obi-Wan stepped into the classroom. He was quiet.

He looked up at the ceiling. Nothing happened.

He looked to the class. He waited. Nothing happened.

He looked to the ceiling again. Nothing.

"...All right," he said, "I had expected something to go wrong by now." And so hadn't spent his time on Tatooine last week preparing a class, because what was the point?

He looked to the class. Still nothing.

"Right," he said, "Take these handouts. I am told they are very relevant to the local culture. Then... practice on each other what it says on the handouts."

He looked back up at the ceiling. It remained a ceiling.

saddeserthermit

I believe it is best for our purposes and peace of mind if we simply cancel this class-- Obi-Wan rehearsed in his head. It couldn't be unheard of at this school, surely, cancelling a class over personal dignity concerns? I believe that if we wish to retain our collective dignity...

He pinched the bridge of his nose. This was a disaster.

... a disaster which he actually shouldn't tempt by standing around the classroom until the students showed up.

He rushed inside for the desk. Pen. Datapad. There had to be some kind of writing implement in here, didn't there?

The clock ticked down until class time. Two more minutes. Still no pen. One more minute. Still no implement. Surely--

It was a full two minutes after class time came about that he finally found the pen, and held it up triumphantly... only to find himself facing his class.

And a sudden cascade of anchovies raining down from the sky.

"This is beginning to annoy me."

saddeserthermit

Obi-Wan grew a little more harried-looking every week of this class. Leaving the island was of no use, nor was avoiding places such as the Danger Shop. He had therefor bit the bullet and simply shown up to it again. He would simply have to use the Force as an umbrella if it decided to rain inside again.

There was an opulent spread laid out over a large table in the center of the room, though most of the dishes seemed... fragrant, or strangely shaped. At the head of the table sat a simulated man in blue and grey.

"Some days, one might be invited to a dinner party in a region one is not familiar with," Obi-Wan said. "Sometimes such regions have dishes you might find distasteful. We'll begin our unit on party situations simply, with a little exercise. How do you behave when such a dish presents itself? One must remain polite, yet sometimes one might be allergic to something present. Please navigate this simulation with care."

He took a step back.

Then he waited.

Just in case something would happen again.

Nothing did.

"Begin."

saddeserthermit

This day, Obi-Wan would not be caught unawares by the island's tricks. This day, Obi-Wan would not utilize the school, or its facilities: he would take this class to the parking lot, where they might be safe.

It did mean a slight tweak in the curriculum, however.

"There are codes of conduct bound to almost anything you can think of," he said, "And likely more, if you wind up visiting the right - or the wrong - species."

He gestured towards a car. "Take this planet. It values its motorized vehicles highly. As such, there is etiquette bound to the use of them. For instance, getting into the back of a car. There is a rigid hierarchy to this: the most coveted spot is to the back and on the right. The next goes to the left, and the most junior person must be seated in the middle."

He pulled open the back door of the sizable car.

"There is the matter of getting seated, as well," he said. "You are supposed to sit down first, then swing your legs in later. This is good for both decorum, as well as avoiding flashing any body parts at your fellows."

He gestured at the car. Nothing had gone wrong yet; this had been a good idea. "Let us practice these two rules, taking order of arrival as order of prominence. After that, we shall move on to the next exercise."

saddeserthermit

If Obi-Wan had a single bit of sense left, he would not have been here, he was fairly certain. After all, the island had essentially taken him hostage last week, and now forced him back into a course he had had no plans to teach. He should have, by all means, gone back to Tatooine.

... and he had. For four days. Then the silence had become too much. Whatever progress he had made in making peace with himself, or at least the Living Force, had been dashed.

So it was a largely resigned-looking Obi-Wan who met the students in the Danger Shop, in what appeared to be a fairly normal meeting room.

"I suppose since we are all here, we might as well learn a few lessons about etiquette," he said. ( Class will begin at the beginning. And it will go wrong. )

saddeserthermit

When the students arrived in the classroom, they would find no teacher, because their teacher wasn't aware he had a class to teach, and he had in fact packed up and left for Tatooine some two days ago. For five minutes, this situation remained as it was: an ordinary classroom, no teacher, and no sign of that changing any time soon.

Then it changed.

There was a bright, piercing flash of light.

There was the sudden, loud smack of a playground's worth of sand hitting the floor.

There was a bearded Jedi, looking very surprised, accompanied by two strange animals, equally surprised.

"Ah," said Obi-Wan.

Rooh made a noise.

"Would anyone," Obi-Wan said slowly, "Tell me where I am and what we are doing here... if it isn't too much of a bother...?"

professor-lyman.livejournal.com

"So this is our last class," Josh said to the class assembled in the Danger Shop. "In celebration, I've taken you out for brunch at my favorite restaurant: Old Ebbitt Grill, the oldest pub in Washington, DC."

He sat down in one of the leather booths. "Of all the etiquette we use every day, the most important is table manners. Now I'm not talking about correctly knowing how to use a snail fork, but chewing with your mouth closed, picking up the check, not saying 'ewwwwwwwww' about what someone else ordered...all of that is the difference between a second date, a promotion, or a reputation as someone really, really gross. Because of that, I'm not going to put you against fake people. You have to sit with your classmates and not make asses of yourselves. Good luck."

professor-lyman.livejournal.com

"Somewhere right this moment," Josh intoned, "people are being wrong on the internet."

He glanced around the room. "Um, hopefully you guys know what the internet is because I am so not qualified to explain how it all works. The internet is in the computer, which are those machines all around the room. I've put a bunch of sites on the screens--political websites, Tumblr--which already annoys me by being spelled wrong--a few other ~~moddable~~ places. Surf around and be amazed at the powerful lack of grammar and sense these people make. If you choose to, engage in reasonable discourse with one of these yahoos."

Josh engaged in a lot of flame wars, FYI.

professor-lyman.livejournal.com

"Good morning, everyone," Josh said as the class filled the Danger Shop, this time programmed to look like a busy airport terminal.

You lucky, lucky things.

"Today you're going to experience the joys of modern travel," Josh said, "which should probably be used as a final exam but I don't really care that much. This is, of course, a simulation so you're not really going anywhere today, unless it's to airline security because there's nowhere on the planet that people are stupider than in an airport. True story."

"Don't kill anyone today," he concluded, sitting down in a rickety iron chair at a fast-food joint and sipping from his coffee cup. "Bye."

professor-lyman.livejournal.com

"Okay, so I spent my weekend on a bus to Albuquerque because apparently I wasn't hot enough to be on the island any more," Josh began, taking a sip from his cup of coffee, "so that was special. Because of that, we're avoiding dealing with internet trolls or going to conventions this week. No need to thank me."

He tilted his head and thought about that. "Actually, no, go ahead and thank me."

After waiting for the accolades that may or may not be coming, Josh gestured around the Danger Shop generated busy street they were near. "Today we talk about being polite in traffic. Granted, if you scream obscenities at the moron who cut you off, there's a good chance he'll never hear you, but once you get in that habit, there's a better than even chance you'll have a little kid in your car in fifteen years asking you, 'Daddy, is that an asshole?' And while it probably is, that's not the sort of stuff that gets you parent of the year awards."

Well, it was true.

"You'll either be in self-driving vehicles because this isn't drivers' ed or be innocent pedestrians. Don't kill anyone, okay? We'll meet at that fake coffee shop when you're done," he concluded, pointing it out.

professor-lyman.livejournal.com

If the Danger Shop today smelled like popcorn and spilled soda that was because Josh had decided to take you all to the movies!

If you were afraid, it was because you were very, very smart.

"All you want to do is go to the theater, plonk down your forty bucks and see a movie while drinking a vat of soda and swimming in a small pool of popcorn," Josh said, "as is what I'm pretty sure is your Constitutional right."

It wasn't.

"But then other people have to come to the theater too and ruin everything. Your task today: get yourself a snack and sit through the previews and a movie without killing anyone nearby. It's gonna be harder than it sounds."

professor-lyman.livejournal.com

Today the Danger Shop was set up to look like a coffee shop full of sleepy people waiting with some degree of patience for their drinks and breakfasts.

"Welcome to where I start my days," Josh said, gesturing around the space. "In a place where most people are severely undercaffeinated--or else they wouldn't be here--being polite is key because no one wants a skinny frapuccino dumped on their head."

Not that Josh had ever had that happen. Really.

"All right. Run through the simulation--each of you, like last week, will get a different scenario--and then we'll discuss how stupid people are."

Beat.

"Politely."

Current Mood: mischievous

professor-lyman.livejournal.com

Josh's class was meeting in the Danger Room, which today had been programmed to look like the Dupont Circle North Washington DC Metro station. Busy commuters in suits, groups of teenagers in matching t-shirts and tourists looking lost streamed past them as they gathered off to the side of an escalator that was out of service.

"Good morning, people," Josh said, finishing his to-go cup of coffee and tossing it into the trash can before noticing Mordin Solus ~~if he's there~~, "--and others," he tacked on, blinking rapidly. "I'm Josh Lyman, that's your TA Lex Luthor," he said, pointing Lex out, "and this is practical etiquette. Today we will go from here--Dupont Circle--to Capitol Hill without killing anyone." He shook his head. "It's tougher than it looks. You'll face broken escalators, tourists who have no idea where they are going, and far too many people in a subway car with a broken air conditioning unit."

He ticked off points on his fingers. "A few rules to know: you stand on the right of the escalators--provided they're working, of course--and walk to the left. You let people off of the cars before you cram on and move to the center. You don't put your bags on a seat if there are people standing. You don't hang from the poles, nor do you use them to do pole dances. You also don't rest your butts on them--people need to hold onto them. You don't talk loudly on the cars, or play loud music, or really make eye contact if you can avoid it. You don't touch other people--again, if you can avoid it, sometimes the braking at stations can knock everyone over like bowling pins--and you can't eat or drink on the DC Metro system."

He grinned. "Right. Your assignment is to buy a ticket, go from here to Union Station and not get into any altercations with your fellow commuters. Go."

screwyoumarvel

It was the last class of the semester and therefore... the most fun. Because after this? There could be boozing. Well, boozing for one of the teachers. The other was too much of a white hat. Loooooser.

"Good mornin' kids! Welcome to your final," Deadpool said, far too cheerful for the time of day.

Their other teacher, who was in fact a total white hat who would not be boozing after this, also looked far too cheerful for this time of the morning. He usually looked like that, though. "I've provided breakfast, if Wade hasn't eaten it all," Steve said, gesturing to a ~~handwavey~~ assortment of pastries from J,GoB. If Deadpool hadn't eaten them all.

"I only had five donuts!" Don't judge his over eating!

"Oh, well, then there should be plenty left!" Steve would never judge! "We've enjoyed having you in our class this term, haven't we, Wade, and we hope you've learned some important lessons you'll take out into the real world."

Deadpool nodded like a proud parent on graduation day. "You've all grown up so fast. Hold me, Steve! I think I'm gonna cry!"

Steve sidled surreptitiously away from Deadpool, eyeing him nervously. "There...there?"

"You're a cruel man." Deadpool sniffed away those proud tears and held up a stack of papers. "Test tiiiiiime."

"It's just a simple quiz," Steve reassured them. "I'm sure you'll all do fine. Just remember, ask yourself what we would do." And then, he hoped, do the opposite of what Deadpool would do.

mouthy-merc.livejournal.com

Today was a good day for class. It was a million and a half degrees out and Deadpool was clutching a fan like he was gonna end up marrying the damn thing. Oh, a full body costume was a baaaad idea.

"My brain has melted, can't we make 'em watch a movie?"

At least Deadpool was wearing cotton. Steve could tell a few stories about slogging through the jungle in the Pacific theater wearing leather and mail. "That would be shirking our responsibilities." His tone said exactly how he felt about that.

Which got a very teenage eyeroll and sigh from Deadpool. "Fiiiine. Today we're learning about how to work on a team and not end up strangling people in their sleep."

"No matter how much you may be tempted to," Steve added. "Not that I would know anything about that." Sometimes he could lie with the best of them.

"Riiiiight. So how about we make up a handy dandy list of ways to treat our co-workers when they get on our nerves that doesn't involve attempted murder. Like, for instance, your teammate has suddenly gained crazy new powers and is being a massive douche, how do you respond?" Deadpool asked. "And don't say you'll talk it out because that's just B.S. and you all know it."

"Talking it out can work," Steve protested. "Don't be so quick to discount it." Except for when it didn't, Tony. "Or say you and your teammate are having a disagreement and your teammate has sided with the people shooting at you. How do you handle that?" Tony. Possibly Steve had issues.

"...sleep with them?" Oh, Deadpool. The heat made you bitchy.

Steve stared at Wade as he slowly turned bright red, and when he regained the ability to speak, "How did you kn--it wasn't--no, Wade." He turned to address the class and say firmly, "Sex solves nothing. Talking is a much better option." Or, you know, an actual pitched battle in Times Square.

And changing the face of a company for years to come until people get bored and bring you back while the other guys is randomly schtupping his secretary whose husband he yanked from life support with that crazy technopathy thingy.

...What? No one said Marvel was sane.

"Okay! So how about you all pair off and come up with scenarios for each other and then figure out a solution, hmmmmm? Be nice and fun and whoever brings me ice cream gets an A."

"Yes," Steve said, still blushing furiously. "Let's do that. But you don't have to bring us ice cream, really."

"Do too!"

mouthy-merc.livejournal.com

Despite the... weekend of hell and bitey bitey, Deadpool and Steve were there for class and ready to shape young minds with their hard earned wisdom.

"Okay, so things happened, stuff and blah blah blah. Class time now. No vampires here, thanks."

"Unless you happen to already be a vampire," Steve added quickly. "In which case you are, of course, welcome as long as you do not bite anyone. So! In light of this past week's events, and some confusion that I understand occurred over in that other universe, we thought it would be helpful to discuss ways to determine that your friends are who they say they are without hurting their feelings."

"Or having to kill them in a tragic fashion," Deadpool added. Because he was helpful like that. "There are many reasons why your friend may not be your friend anymore. Shapeshifting aliens, alternate timelines, evil goatees, possession, crazy mind control devices, really weird coincidences with people looking like twins..."

"You forgot actual evil twins," Steve provided helpfully. "Additionally, there are clones and people surgically altered to look like your friends. And I'm sure I'm still forgetting something. But the important thing is, when these things inevitably happen to you, how do you deal with them?"

Twins were easy to forget, okay?

"Like, having a special code word to let you know they're the right person!" Not that it helped, really. "Or having a telepath nearby to help out."

"You can also quiz--subtly your friend on something only they would know. But sometimes even these methods will fail you. Like your friend might have been replaced by a Skrull. In that case, you'll need to consider technology."

"Which they won't have." Really, Steve. Really. "But exists! So, how about we come up with a list of questions to subtly question each other in case of being replaced, kaaaay?"

"That sounds reasonable," Steve agreed. "You never know when it'll come in handy."

"Weeeeell. Get on it, kiddos!"

screwyoumarvel

"Good morning, everyone," Steve said. "Today we'll be talking about a subject near and dear to everyone's heart: how to behave when dealing with your roommate or roommates."

Deadpool nodded seriously along with that. "Important rules about replacing food and cleaning up their dirty laundry and not being so damn fat all the time. I mean, c'mon. If you're gonna teach a gym class, you should try to be in shape. But nooooo. Just wallowing about and bein' more fat."

...what? He was very passionate about the subject at hand.

( Cut for length )

mouthy-merc.livejournal.com

There was a space cleared today and a boombox. No, Deadpool wasn't planning on a Say Anything moment, mostly because he hated Peter Gabriel. Hated him so freakin' much.

"Gooood mornin' kids! I'm Deadpool--" He paused, staring at his co-teacher expectantly.

"And I'm Captain America?" Steve said, his expression suggesting he wasn't sure that was what Deadpool wanted him to say, but he was willing to run it up the flagpole.

That worked! "And together we fight crime." A beat. "Wait... no. Just teaching. I don't think we've ever had a crime fighting team up. Well, other than that one time there was time travel involved and I think you were dead then."

Steve stared at him for a moment, then said, "Right. Of course. That time."

Hey, he was used to that response! And it wasn't his fault they were both pulled from before that happened. And that it was slowly being retconed by bad writers to create a new Wolverine. He blamed Ryan Reynolds.

"Today we'll be talking about how to behave out on the dance floor. No bumpin' and grindin' like you kids do and making sure to leave room for Jesus. Which is kinda pervy if you ask me, but hey. Who am I to judge?"

Steve didn't understand what Jesus had to do with it, but, "Dancing is, of course, important to know at least the basics of in many social situations. There are so many different types of dance I'm not even going to try to list them, but they all have their place."

"Now, when asking a girl--or boy, I don't judge unless it's funny--to dance, you want to be aware of their feelings and act as politely as you can." A beat. "Just drag 'em caveman style out onto the dance floor, I say. But first say something that makes no sense like 'Nobody puts baby in the corner' even though you're a good ten years older than them. You perv. I know what you all are thinking. And it's wrong. Twisted and wrong and you're all going to go to hell for it. Especially you," Deadpool said, picking someone at random. Because it was more fun that way.

Steve didn't know what to do with that, so he did what he'd found worked best with Deadpool: ignored it. "And now, since it's kind of silly to just talk about something instead of doing it, it's time to dance."

Pushing play on the boombox, they were graced with the soothing tones of The Spice Girls.

Deadpool made a face. "Okay, I'm killin' Tasky for this."

Steve looked horrified, but not undermining his fellow teacher's plans was part of his plan for getting through this class with as much of his sanity as possible. "Everyone dance to this...music," he said faintly. "I think we have a trophy for the best dancer. Don't we?"

"I made it myself!" Fear for your safety children. Fear. It was a discoball glued to an old bowling trophy and it might give you lockjaw. And not even the cool dog Lockjaw!

screwyoumarvel

The students had ~~handwavily~~ been notified to meet in the Danger Shop this week. Upon entering, they would find their teachers standing among some dining tables. "Good morning, class," Steve said. "Today we're going to talk about table etiquette."

"Which is when you use napkins and all that Pretty Woman stuff. Though I doubt any of you are hookers with a heart of gold..." Although the chick who ran the flower shop was.

"Wade!" Steve said, sounding somewhat scandalized. Then he remembered who he was dealing with here and decided moving along would be the better part of valor. "You should always use napkins, of course, but proper dining etiquette is more complicated than that. It involves knowing how to properly set a table, as well as which utensils to use for which foods. It's kind of a pain," he admitted, "but it can help to smooth the way in a social situation."

"Or just confuse the crap outta ya and make you start to wonder if this was just a bourgeois plot to keep the man down," Deadpool added helpfully. "The tablecloth is there for a reason, right? Why waste a perfectly good napkin when you have that? And a shrimp fork? Really? Really?"

"The tablecloth is there for a reason, but to substitute for a napkin is not it," Steve said. "As far as place settings go, please refer to this diagram, which will help you understand what goes where and when to use each utensil. Utensils are arranged basically in the order they'll be used."

Deadpool rolled his eyes. "Blah blah blah boringcakes. How about we actually do something? Can we have 'em set the table and then yank the tablecloth off? It'll teach them poise."

Or how to clean up smashed china. One of those. "Yes, everyone pick a table, then set it for four either formally or informally," Steve said. "Then..." he gestured to his co-teacher to let him finish the assignment.

"Bill Murray that shiznat up!" Deadpool said cheerfully. "Work in groups of... say... two. That's a good, solid number. Not a lonely number at all. That would be one."

"What?" Steve asked him blankly. Then he realized giving Deadpool an opening was a bad idea and said, "It doesn't matter. Everyone pair up and get to work."

mouthy-merc.livejournal.com

The main campfire may not have seemed like the best place to learn about etiqutte, but that's where you'd be proven very wrong. Because Captain America said so. And he's physically incapable of lying.

True story.

Removed it before they super soldiered him up.

"Gooooood morning Vietnam! Deadpool in the hizzy!" Please. Someone make him stop watching Cribs. PLEASE.

Steve--who could lie, and simply chose not to whenever possible, no matter what Deadpool told anyone--kept a wary sidelong eye on Deadpool for a moment, then turned to the class and said, "It's probably for the best if you ignore him. So, hi, I'm Steve Rogers, and I used to be Captain America. And he's Deadpool."

"And I didn't used to be Captain America," Deadpool added helpfully. "Not shiny enough. I like cotton, not the weird space age fabric everyone's favorite drunk Tony Stark is tossin' around these days."

"And you're Canadian." And insane. "But that's not the point."

At least he didn't shimmer. "He's right! The point is, that--what is the point again?"

"The point is that this is a workshop on ethics and etiquette. And we're your teachers," Steve said, addressing the students again. "We'll be presenting opposing viewpoints on how to behave in certain situations, and you can decide for yourselves who's correct."

"Me," Deadpool said, raising his hand in the air. "Totally me, bee tea double ewe. But first we'll need to get to know you all. Getting to knooow yooou. Getting to know allll abooouut yooou!"

Steve cast him another wary look, then told the class, "By which my...esteemed colleague means introductions. Name, class, and where and when you're from. Pretty basic, right?"

"But they'll be doing that all week," Deadpool whined. "How about we do something fun? You all hafta sing it. And make us feel the emotion. He may be a less coked up Paula, but I'm the Canadian, husky voiced Simon. So, make it good."

"I have no idea what he just said, but I'm willing to go with it," Steve said. Possibly because arguing with Deadpool was bad for one's sanity. "You have to phrase your introductions in the form of a song."

Deadpool frowned at him. "You need to watch more TV, man."

clevermsbennet.livejournal.com

Miss Bennet was a generous, kind soul who would never place her students in any real danger. But she was going to amuse herself at their expense. Somehow, teaching etiquette did not preclude her from misbehaving.

Oh, this would be fun.

( Etiquette Final Exam )

(OCD COMING!)

Current Mood: mischievous

clevermsbennet.livejournal.com

( Miss Bennet had (handwavily) notified her students to meet her in the Danger Shop ... )

(~~Wait for~~ OCD up!)

Current Mood: pleased

notahostage

Wendy stood at the front of the classroom today, looking ever so slightly lost.

"Okay, Miss Bennet doesn't seem to be in today, so yeah, I figure that we can make up a list of modern etiquette ideas, so that we can compare with what you've been learning, or something."

Wendy picked up a sharpie and went over to the large sheet of butcher paper she'd tacked up to the wall. "I'll start us off with a few examples and you guys can take it from there."

If you're going to protest nude, leave the bail money where your roommate can easily find it.

Don't plagiarise from the people you are illegally sub-letting your dad's building to.

Turning people into puppets is not okay!

Nor is trying to take over the word with super-intelligent gorillas.

Or trying to drown a boatload of Titanic enthusiasts in the icy waters of the North Atlantic via a cursed tuba.

Artist != drug addict, so don't accuse.

Wendy's examples indicated absolutely nothing about the kind life she led, really.

[OOC: ~~Wait for~~ OCD up]

Current Mood: uncomfortable

clevermsbennet.livejournal.com

When students entered their Etiquette classroom today, they might notice two things that differed from the usual. One was that Miss Elizabeth Bennet had enlisted the help of an assistant this week, a polite gentleman named Dr. Simon Tam. The second item which might attract attention was the fact that Miss Bennet was somewhat flushed this week, and fanning herself, while carefully trying to avoid Dr. Tam's eyes.

( Miss Bennet had terrible timing ... )

(Written with the delightful

fancypantsdoc, who rocks and has my thanks. Etiquette UST OCD ~~is incoming~~ up!)

Current Mood: embarrassed

clevermsbennet.livejournal.com

( The Rules of Civility and Decent Behaviour in Company and Conversation )

Miss Bennet smiled at her students. "And if you find you cannot make the least sense of what the rule is stating, you may, of course, ask. Our mysterious author, Mr. Washington or not, has an odd way with words. Regardless: let us begin."

Current Mood: amused

clevermsbennet.livejournal.com

Miss Bennet was followed into class by a small trail of tiny Canadian moose. They were adorable and wobbly, and Miss Bennet had to resist the urge to cuddle them. That would not be terribly proper, she reminded herself.

( Euphemisms and Taboos (and Mooses) )

One of the moose was investigating Miss Bennet's feet, and she couldn't help laughing. "After that, I will be taking my small guests to lunch, lest they eat my shoes. Shall we begin?"

Not just yet, it would seem; first, there was a knock at the door.

Current Mood: amused

clevermsbennet.livejournal.com

"Good morning," Lizzy said, clasping her hands behind her back and telling herself quite firmly not to be nervous. "My name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and I'm to be your teacher on the subject of Practical Etiquette."

( Explanations and Introductions )

"If there are questions, or if you should like to assist me in teaching this course, please do see me after class. And the lovely Miss Watson is available to you, as well, as she has been assigned as a teaching aide for this course." Miss Bennet had not actually met Miss Watson, but she had received a letter to that effect, and chose to believe it. She would hope that Fandom was not simply amusing itself at her expense once more. Instead, she pointed towards one student with an easy smile. "Would you begin for us?"

Current Mood: nervous

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Practical Etiquette [Thursday, August 22, 2013, 2nd period]

Practical Etiquette [Thursday, August 15, 2013]

Practical Etiquette [Thursday, August 8, 2013, 2nd period]

Practical Etiquette [Thursday, August 1, 2nd period]

Practical Etiquette [Thursday, July 25, 2013, 2nd period]

Practical Etiquette [Thursday, July 18, 2013, 2nd period]

Practical Etiquette [Thursday, July 11, 2013, 2nd period]

Ethics & Etiquette - 1st Period, 8/17

Ethics & Etiquette - 1st Period - 8/10

Ethics & Etiquette - 1st Period - 8/3

Ethics & Etiquette - 1st Period - 7/27

Ethics & Etiquette - 1st Period - 7/20

Ethics & Etiquette - 1st Period - 7/13

Ethics & Etiquette - 1st Period - 7/6

Practical Etiquette, Period 3, Class #7 - Thursday, June 25th

Practical Etiquette, Period 3, Class #6 - Thursday, June 18

Practical Etiquette [Thursday, Period Three]

Practical Etiquette, Period 3, Class #4 - Thursday, June 4

Practical Etiquette, Period 3, Class #3 - Thursday, May 28th

Practical Etiquette, Period 3, Class #2 - Thursday, May 21st

Practical Etiquette, Period 3, Class #1 - Thursday, May 14th

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