english class {open, CLASS}

[Peter Bishop]

Chase yawned as she walked into her classroom. She held her coffee in one hand and clucthed the morning paper in the other, Today was not like other days, mostly because the night before she had actually gotten a good nights rest and happened to be in a very good mood. Chase probably won't stay that way for the entire day, mostly because of the dumb-ass students. But anything was possible.

She rested the paper on her desk and took one final sip of her coffee before tossing it into the garbage can. Chase plopped down and picked up the newspaper, reading the front headline. "WAYNE ENTERPRISING STOCK RISES" was what is read. She rolled her eyes, "who cares?" Chase said herself and set the morning paper back down on her desk. She stared up at the clock. One minute until students would begin to file into her room. One last minute of peace.

Chase already had her lesson planned out for today, which was introducing them to the poetry unit. The quarterly project would be to write atleast three poems and putting them all together in a packet. It wasn't as difficult as the last project, which was to write a short story that was about ten pages long, and she thought her students needed a break. It would also be a break on herself.

As the bell rang, the students began to come in and set their things down at the desks. Class didn't officially start in three minutes, so most of them socialized first. She sighed and thought happy thoughts.

[laura]

Laura filed into the classroom, along with most of the other students, and sat down in the back of the room. She kept her head down as she pulled out a book titled Perfect Chemistry. It was about these two students, one girl from the rich side of town, and one boy from the spanish ghetto side. They were partnered up as chemistry partners and are forced to work together. Throughout the book they fall for each other, dispite the tension between their two different lifestyles. She was about halfway done with the book and she found it surprisingly good. It wasn't soppy like a few other romance books she had read. This one had some nice action in it.

Occassionally she used her enhanced hearing to eavsedrop on some of the other students conversations. None of them really sparked her intrest though. The girls mostly talked about boys, clothes, and shopping on the weekends. Was that all they talked about? It drove her insane. So narrow minded. Naive. What's so special about those things? Every girl in this school seems to chat about them. It makes no sense. She thought. The boys weren't much better. Girls, sex, and sports. She liked sports, which was a plus, but that was only because she was good at them.

She listened in only a minute longer before she turned her attention to the teacher, listening in on her to see if she said anything worth while. She was new so getting the low down on all the teachers was her main priority. The last two teachers had wanted her to stay after class so she could talk to them since she had ignored both throughout the entire class. She didn't. As soon as the bell had rang she rushed out, being the first student to leave. This teacher wouldn't be any different.

It wasn't them, it was adults in general. She didn't trust them. To her all of them wanted to control her and use her for their own benifits. She was a little paranoid, but it was how she was raised that made her like that. Even her mother used her. Why would any other adult be different?

[Kazza]

For once, Kazza wasn't late, she wasn't wagging for English and she wasn't going to start trouble. A first, for her. Her teacher would probably die of shock. That thought brough a slight smile to her lips as she tied a shoelace which downright refused to stay in a bow. Just as she straightened up, her hair already a wild mess of tangles, looking like it was charged with static electricity, the bell rang for class. The teenager quietly followed everyone else in, took a seat at the very back and proceeded to ignore the other students completely. None of them were very interesting, and most of them weren't exactly interested in her, either, seeing as she was one of the youngest in the class. She'd be fourteen in October, which meant that she was in Year nine. Ugh. At least people didn't call her a vege any more.

Her books were in a neat pile in front of her, and she absently opened one, marked the date, and leaned back in her chair, getting herself comfortable for the long lesson in front of her. Thankfully, mercifully, by some total miracle, her homework was done. So there. The Englsih teacher couldn't pick on her for that particular thing. Undoubtedly, she'd find some otehr thing to nag her about, though. Ms Pennington didn't really seem to like her that much, in Kazza's point of view. Not that she cared. So long as she wasn't trying to kill her or seriously harm her, it was all good. She usually didn't start fights. Usually.

Yawning and stretching slightly, the Australian had a quick look around the class to see if anyone she knew was nearby... Nope. No one. Of course, that didn't really mean much, seeing as Kazza hardly ever bothered to make friends at school. Most of them really didn't want a younger 'pesk' hanging around them, anyway. Again, not like she cared. Friends were just another luxury which she generally didn't allow herself, in case she hurt them by accident. Or, even worse, on purpose. That was just another quirk of being her; no matter what you did, someone got in the way, someone got hurt. Someone got killed. All jsut because they made friends with the lonely looking kid who always sat at the back. So, excuse her if she didn't exactly go around openly inviting people to make friends.

[Peter Bishop]

Chase let out a large yawn, before stepping up to the white board. It seemed that the white board revolution had just happened over night, before it was all chalk boards. She picked up the red marker (red was her favorite color) and wrote a simple yet broad question on the board. It read "What is Poetry?" Chase sighed and screwed the cap back into the marker and turned around. The students were starting to settle into their desks, a few wandering eyes watched her as she had wrote the question on the board.

She held the marker tight in her hands and went to go and sit down on top of her desk. "I think, that poetry is a pretty broad topic, don't you agree?" Chase asked the class, there were a few nods, but a lot more blank faces. "I mean, seeing as there are different kinds, and different formats." She folded her legs and she talked. Today, she wore a pair of blue skinny jeans, uggs, and a plain black shirt, which was nothing to special.

Chase stood up and walked to the center of the white board and stayed in front of it, facing the class. "So, what is poetry to you guys?' She questioned the class, hoping that someone would answer her question. Chase didn't like to call on people, she liked when they just said the answer. It was less work on her part.

[Kazza]

Silence fell like a thick woolen blanket as the teacher stepped up to the white-board, which was squeakily new, annoyingly so, and began to write. As Miss let's-all-pick-on-any-random-student Pennington stepped back, the subject for English was revealed. Kazza fought to stifle a groan. It wasn't that she wasn't good at poetry, it was just that explaining it was very nearly torture for her, and questions were sure to be asked. Paranoid as ever, the teenager glanced up to see whether the teacher was looking at her specifically, or the whole class. She was relieved to find that she didn't appear to be focusing upon her... Yet. Undoubtedly by the end of the lesson she'd have found a way to make her life hell, whether it be commenting on how horrible her work was, or saying that her knowledge on the subject was poorly and that she needed to do extra homework.

Now, the teacher was sitting on the desk, in a relaxed sort of way, probably trying to make the class more enthusiastic about answering any questions she asked. Resisting the urge to raise an eyebrow, Kazza busied herself with tidying her pencils up, placing them in a straight line exactly where they had been before, letting the woman's words drift above her head, making half an attempt to appear interested. "I think, that poetry is a pretty broad topic, don't you agree? I mean, seeing as there are different kinds, and different formats." Biting her lips, Kazza fought down the smart-assed comment she had half a mind to say. Then, sliding off the desk, the teacher walked to the middle of the room, putting the girl in plain view. Inwardly, Kazza cursed. "So, what is poetry to you guys?" Eyes followed the teacher, but Kazza could tell that many didn't have a clue what to say. She made an attempt to look as puzzled as they did, silently praying for the teacher to pick someone else, anyone else, just not her.

[Rose Lynne Tyler]

Rose ran down the hall, nearly out of breath. Alice and Ches were in her purse, mewling like there was no tomorrow. She whispered sorry to them and was delighted to see the English room door was very close.

Stopping in front of the door, she took in a few deep breathes and opened the door slowly. Who'da thought that she would be late.

"Ah am so sorry, Miss... Pennington? Pennington. Ah had ta stop by and tell mah daddy somethin' but ah'm here now. Really sorry. Ah ain't gonna be late to yer class again, promise." She spoke so fast and didn't even think of taking any breathes, that she felt exhausted afterward.

Rose sighed and went to a seat next to Kazza. It was the only person in the room that she knew, and there was a reason for that. "What did she say 'fore ah got in?" she asked her new roommate in a quiet voice.