Interdisciplinary Studies or whatever, Class 2, Wednesday, Period 5
Squall was at the campfire with the chalkboard again.
As the students walked up, he handed each of them a small plastic first aid kit, with all the standards. Band-Aids, gauze, burn ointment, pain relievers, rubbing alcohol, etc., etc., etc. Even a needle and thread.
"Welcome back" Squall said, once everyone had arrived. He tossed the clipboard to a student. "X by your name. Or detention. Speaking of, Keladry of Whatever, congratulations, you've got detention. And you." He pointed at Jim. "Weren't you supposed to be in detention this weekend? Since you don't care so much, you get detention again. Go this time."
"So." He held up his own first aid kit and waved it at them. "This piece of crap is what passes for first aid in this place. So, since it's what you've got, it's what you're going to learn to use."
He spent the next 45 minutes lecturing about cuts and scrapes, burns, disinfectants, ointments, aspirin, how to tie a tourniquet and why you never ever should, 911 and poison control, and all the other important things to know. The chalkboard ended up covered in information. He may have started enjoying this too much.
And then he tossed his kit over his shoulder.
"Now," he said, pulling a bag out from behind the chalkboard. "This is what I call first aid." From the bag he pulled small stoppered flasks filled with a thick red liquid and tossed one to each student. "These are Hi-Potions," he said, as he was tossing them. His aim wasn't perfect, but it was decent -- it's your own fault if you don't manage to catch it. If you break the flask, you don't get another one.
The last one in the bag he set on the ground. He took his jacket off and then pulled a large chef's knife out of a drawer and waved it at them. "To demonstrate," he said, and then sliced his forearm open to the bone. A slight wince was his only concession to the pain he was in.
"This is the sort of thing that might happen if a monster you're fighting gets in a lucky shot," he said, as blood gushed and pooled on the ground. "The tiny bandages in those kits won't do jack for something like this."
In one fluid motion, he bent down, picked up his flask, unstoppered it with his thumb, and drank it. Immediately, the wound closed up. He wiped the blood off his arm with a damp cloth to show them that the cut was completely healed.
"Any questions?"
[[Yes, I know this is mostly copied-and-pasted from my sample class in Launchpad. This is what is known as "phoning it in". Wait for OCD. OCD up.]]
As the students walked up, he handed each of them a small plastic first aid kit, with all the standards. Band-Aids, gauze, burn ointment, pain relievers, rubbing alcohol, etc., etc., etc. Even a needle and thread.
"Welcome back" Squall said, once everyone had arrived. He tossed the clipboard to a student. "X by your name. Or detention. Speaking of, Keladry of Whatever, congratulations, you've got detention. And you." He pointed at Jim. "Weren't you supposed to be in detention this weekend? Since you don't care so much, you get detention again. Go this time."
"So." He held up his own first aid kit and waved it at them. "This piece of crap is what passes for first aid in this place. So, since it's what you've got, it's what you're going to learn to use."
He spent the next 45 minutes lecturing about cuts and scrapes, burns, disinfectants, ointments, aspirin, how to tie a tourniquet and why you never ever should, 911 and poison control, and all the other important things to know. The chalkboard ended up covered in information. He may have started enjoying this too much.
And then he tossed his kit over his shoulder.
"Now," he said, pulling a bag out from behind the chalkboard. "This is what I call first aid." From the bag he pulled small stoppered flasks filled with a thick red liquid and tossed one to each student. "These are Hi-Potions," he said, as he was tossing them. His aim wasn't perfect, but it was decent -- it's your own fault if you don't manage to catch it. If you break the flask, you don't get another one.
The last one in the bag he set on the ground. He took his jacket off and then pulled a large chef's knife out of a drawer and waved it at them. "To demonstrate," he said, and then sliced his forearm open to the bone. A slight wince was his only concession to the pain he was in.
"This is the sort of thing that might happen if a monster you're fighting gets in a lucky shot," he said, as blood gushed and pooled on the ground. "The tiny bandages in those kits won't do jack for something like this."
In one fluid motion, he bent down, picked up his flask, unstoppered it with his thumb, and drank it. Immediately, the wound closed up. He wiped the blood off his arm with a damp cloth to show them that the cut was completely healed.
"Any questions?"
[[Yes, I know this is mostly copied-and-pasted from my sample class in Launchpad. This is what is known as "phoning it in". Wait for OCD. OCD up.]]