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dashboardlite.livejournal.com) wrote in
entrancelogs2011-05-05 12:01 am
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Entry tags:
- better off ted: dr. bhamba,
- bioshock: mark meltzer,
- bones: temperance brennan,
- catcf: willy wonka,
- deadman wonderland: nagi (owl),
- glee: burt hummel,
- glee: shannon beiste,
- marble hornets: tim/masky,
- penumbra: philip,
- planet ladder: seeu,
- resident evil: albert wesker,
- supernatural: dean winchester,
- the grudge: saeki kayako,
- the road to el dorado: miguel,
- vampire game: duzell,
- vampire game: yujinn
[ All in all, you're just another brick in the wall. ]
Who: All the teachers. All of them.
Where: First floor; Teachers' Lounge
When: May 5th, in between classes, during breaks, before/after school.
Rating: TBD. Teachers can have such potty-mouths.
Summary: A decent-sized room for a large school filled with kids and staff. Students, beware venturing into this unknown territory unless explicitly seeking assistance from a teacher. Likely they will not take kindly to the intrusion upon this sacred, hallowed ground.
The Story: Sometimes, teachers need a reprieve from the stressful life of grading papers and projects. Sometimes they simply want to relax on shoddy couches and eat the stale bagels left over from the Parent-Teacher Association meeting yesterday afternoon. Sometimes they just need to
This is the place to do it. Let the frustration, relaxation, and
Also, there is coffee.
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As the shop teacher, Burt has the unenviable job of trying to keep a bunch of dumb kids with power tools from hurting themselves bad.
But hey, free coffee and bagels! He was pretty content, thanks to that, just sitting on the couch and having bagel-time.
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Speaking of which...
"Morning, Burt," he nods, seating himself across the table from the other man and picking at his own bagel dubiously. "Anyone lose a finger yet today?"
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He seems to have brought his own muffin from home though.
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Good morning, Yujinn.
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After helping himself to both he retreats into a corner, muttering angrily to himself or anyone who comes close enough to become privy to his tirades.
"The chemicals. It must be the chemicals. Something that is slowly destroying their brains, otherwise I have just no excuse for that amount of stupidity..."
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He adds more sugar to his coffee, making a face.
"You think they'll start testing people to approve procreation?"
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He stares at it in dismay and makes a mental note to kill the miracle-working guidance counselor, tucking the box back into the brown paper bag and folding his arms on the table.
"...Anyone got a peanut butter and jelly sandwich they wanna trade?"
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Well, that seems to be what he was looking for, he gets up and heads back to his janitorial cart.
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"How about egg salad?"
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It's almost like she's been there in that spot forever. Doesn't she have classes to teach?
Probably.
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After grabbing his coffee and adding a fair amount of his own creamer concoction to it, he wanders over to a table with a lone female teacher scribbling in a book.
"Hi there! How're classes going for you, Miss Kayako?" He sits down, a wide grin plastered to his face.
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After some time, he happens to notice the untouched mug.
"Your tea's probably cold by now."
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"Excuse me, Saeki-san, wasn't it? Do you mind if I sit at this table with you?"
There's grading to be done and this otherwise undescriptive spot here has the best lighting in the lounge.
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Then he lets his backpack hit the floor. Some teachers have nice organized files or briefcases or the like, but he just uses a ratty old bag, looking more like on of his students than anything. Inside are at least 3 classes worth of essays he'd meant to have graded a week ago. But no, screw that, it's coffee time.
Sometimes, he really questions his choice of becoming a history teacher. Really, REALLY questions it.
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Turns out he merely read his schedule wrong and there is in fact no point in him being here today whatsoever.
...There is however free coffee to be had, so if he has to be up at this ungodly hour then he might as well be up and somewhat coherent.
He pours himself a large cup and sits down someplace away from the crowd. He's tired, not in a talkative mood and has been feeling a little--
''
...Yes. That.
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At least, not during the majority of the year. Just after she brings home another trophy they all tend to get real friendly. Makes it sting all the more when they're askin' whether you'd rather be hangin' out in the girl's locker room than the boy's.
Ugh. The haircut she got pressured into certainly ain't helping on that front.
Anyhow, Shannon's learned to gravitate to anyone unfamiliar, so when she spots the man sitting on the edge of things, she breathes a sigh of relief.
"Hey, uh. Mind if I sit there?"
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Dean Winchester (http://i492.photobucket.com/albums/rr288/AnastDean/tuesday/S4%20cropped%20pictures%20and%20various/abstract-balls.jpg), decked out in his basketball coach garb from the early morning practice, settles across the table from the substitute. Pulling off the sweatband and rumpling his hair, he grins crookedly.
"Whaddaya got on the menu for today and how much can I pay you to take over one of my classes?"
It's not that he doesn't like teaching - he loves it, in fact - but this week is dissection week, and the classes have been complete madness. Ever since one of the kids discovered that he could squirt stomach bile at other students by poking in the frog's chest cavity, a once-fun activity has made the biology room a sticky, smelly wreck. And the dissection lectures were supposed to last a whole five days.
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1/2
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That someone is Miguel, a cafeteria worker, also known as Not a Teacher. Despite this shortcoming, he often spends his breaks in the lounge, seated on a counter and watching all the educated educators milling about. Their conversations are fascinating, even if he doesn't exactly take part.
...People tend to talk down to him.
However! The Spanish teacher is cool, which is extra awesome since he's the only other Hispanic person around. Despite the differences between them, Miguel almost considers them friends. Maybe. Spanish friends.
Today he's eating some of the lunch he's made for the kids, and not even he knows what's in the chili. It's still pretty good though.
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He knows what's in the chili.
is this like that treehouse of horror episode D:
Bwahahhhhaahahahhaaaa.....
DDDD:
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This is actually true btw, YOU'RE WELCOME.
XDDD I've heard
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ladyman, rubbing his face. Peering through his fingers at the bowl of...whatever...that the blonde is eating, Tulio lowers his hands and raises an eyebrow."...is that today's lunch?"
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So here, of course, is Mr. Meltzer, with a stack of essays in one hand and a mug in the other.
He stakes out a corner and starts scribbling--he insists on leaving detailed commentary on all of his students' work, no matter how ill-written. The man is irresistibly drawn to lost causes.
Someone. Distract him. Please.
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Attache case in one hand and mug in the other, he walks over to the table with another teacher furiously grading papers. He sits down across from the man, carefully setting his mug and case on the table so as not to destroy it from his enhanced strength.
"Afternoon."
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He mumbles under his breath before taking a drink from his mug (black coffee, of course) and setting it back on the table.
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Totally getting a soda.
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