↱ a p p l i c a t i o n ↲
IC
Character name: Jonathan Kohler
Played-by: Alessandro Nivola
Brief history: Jonathan isn’t entirely sure how he ended up back in Lima. Valedictorian of the McKinley High School Class of 2001, he went on to the University of California, Berkeley, where he majored in political science and history. He was accepted to the George Washington Law School, and things seemed to be going perfectly for him - success was as easy for him as it had ever been. That is, until his girlfriend dumped him. And turned him into the university for selling exams under the table.
After getting booted out, Jonathan came back home to Lima, where he spent a few years having an existentialist crisis on his mother’s couch. But like most people, he eventually got stir-crazy. Having been black-listed at every law school in the nation, he did what most people do when they fail at everything else in their lives: he got a teaching credential. This will be his first year teaching history at McKinley; he’d be lying if he if he said that he was looking forward to it, but at least he’ll have something to do.
His teaching style isn’t necessarily for everyone; he demands that all his students know as much as he did at their age - as in, quite a bit. He’s not afraid to berate them for failing to live up to his expectations, but he’s not afraid to praise them when they deserve it, either. He likes to assign a lot of homework and will get it back to his students quickly; he has yet to develop much of a social life.
When it comes to his interactions with those his own age, Jonathan prefers to hide slight social awkwardness behind the same kind of scathing criticism he employs on those in his classroom. He’ll eat lunch alone, sleep alone, probably be alone forever - and as far as he’s concerned, that’s okay. If he thinks about it rationally, maybe he’d consider that he could possibly be a little burned, but honestly, there’s no fun in that. He’d rather give a secretive smile as you walk past and leave it at that.
Writing Samples:
First Person:
Today, a student asked me how Cromwell factors into the French Revolution. Should be depressing, but honestly, I was mostly just impressed that she even knew who Cromwell is. It probably is depressing, actually - I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve gotten to that point in my life where I’m no longer able to gauge just how pathetic I’ve gotten.
Staff mixer went smashingly well; as in, I got out of there in less than forty-five minutes. I have to wonder how many of the idiots who claim that they really just love the art of teaching know much of anything about their subject. They certainly didn’t when I was here, though I maintain that I was smarter than 90% of my high school teachers, so maybe my opinion doesn’t hold that much stock. Who am I kidding? Of course it does.
Third Person:
Jonathan placed his briefcase on the desk in front of him and stopped, looking at his surroundings and trying to ignore the urge to get up and run. He should have known on some deeper level that he would end up in high school eventually; academia has the tendency to do that to you. He just didn’t expect that he would end up back at this particular high school.
He flopped down in the chair behind his desk and stared at the clock on the other wall. He still had a good fifteen minutes or so before the first class would be starting, and nothing else to do except sit there and twiddle his thumbs; it was amazing how multiple years of nothingness couldn’t do anything to curb his habit of being far too early. The lesson plans were already written (starting with the Black Plague for the sophomores, Native American culture for the juniors), but he flipped through them idly anyway, circling a few things he wanted to change and scribbling some notes in the margins.
He looked back up at the clock. Still ten minutes left. Resignedly, Jonathan stood up and picked his briefcase back up, preparing to go to his actual classroom. If he was going to wait around anxiously, he might as well do it in a bigger room.
Mixtape Song
Reptilia - The Strokes
Yeah, the night's not over
You're not trying hard enough,
Our lives are changing lanes
You ran me off the road,
The wait is over
I'm now taking over,
You're no longer laughing
I'm not drowning fast enough.