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 Posted: Mon Jun 14, 2010 11:42 am
The french room is rather dull, with plain tan brick walls and several maps and rows of desks. The desks are few and far apart, while the maps hang above the chalk board up front. The chalk board takes up much of the front of the room and it cut off by a book shelf sitting behind the teacher's desk. The only thing telling that the room holds the french class, is the large assortment of flags collected from countries which speak french.
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Posted: Thu Jul 08, 2010 9:06 am
Georgia enters the room, looking out of breath and rather messy. Her hair is out of place, her reading spectacles are broken and falling from her face and her neck ruff has come undone.
She heads behind the desk and takes a seat, opening one of the drawers she pulls out a new pair of spectacles-a pair that isn't cracked. Then she adjusts her neck tie and tightens it before pulling out some bobby pins and pinning her hair back into place.
Standing, Georgia looks around at the empty classroom and sighs: class was a half hour late. She hoped her student's hadn't gotten bored and wandered off into the halls. The school was, after all, a very dangerous place.
She chuckled to herself, remembering a time when she was a student and one of the janitors had been turned into a great ball of moving jelly by their magic teacher. You couldn't find teachers like that any more, war had destroyed them or it had built them and it was all they ever knew.
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