when I think back on all the crap I learned in high school...
Who: dragonontherise and hexyoutotuesday
When: Forward dated to midday Wed, 26 Jan.
Where: An unaffiliated public high school.
Summary: In which Chun-Woo tries his utmost to do as little as possible to earn his paycheck, and Jinx makes him work a little bit harder.
Warnings: Default PG-13 for Chun's language, to be updated as need dictates.
Lunch break was one of the only periods of teaching Chun-Woo could vaguely tolerate. Lunch break, and that weird after-school stretch where he was probably supposed to be grading but found instead that the simple expedient of picking a letter at random and scrawling it at the top of each paper could get him finished a good hour and a half early. Both were practically free periods. All he had to do was sit, look stern with an open book that he didn't have to read, and yell at any available students who were getting rowdy. Or seemed like they might get rowdy. Or were stupid enough to suggest that maybe the classroom wasn't the correct place to take a smoking break.
It was a particularly good teacher that instilled his students with the self-confidence they needed to succeed in life by giving them easy victories, he figured. That was the only reason he'd ended his noisy argument with a particularly annoying student and finished his cigarette in peace on the rooftop. Even those little bastards couldn't get into that much trouble while he stepped out. He was in an almost good mood when he returned, the smell of smoke still clinging to his clothing, to survey his domain and make sure they hadn't set anything on fire.
When: Forward dated to midday Wed, 26 Jan.
Where: An unaffiliated public high school.
Summary: In which Chun-Woo tries his utmost to do as little as possible to earn his paycheck, and Jinx makes him work a little bit harder.
Warnings: Default PG-13 for Chun's language, to be updated as need dictates.
Lunch break was one of the only periods of teaching Chun-Woo could vaguely tolerate. Lunch break, and that weird after-school stretch where he was probably supposed to be grading but found instead that the simple expedient of picking a letter at random and scrawling it at the top of each paper could get him finished a good hour and a half early. Both were practically free periods. All he had to do was sit, look stern with an open book that he didn't have to read, and yell at any available students who were getting rowdy. Or seemed like they might get rowdy. Or were stupid enough to suggest that maybe the classroom wasn't the correct place to take a smoking break.
It was a particularly good teacher that instilled his students with the self-confidence they needed to succeed in life by giving them easy victories, he figured. That was the only reason he'd ended his noisy argument with a particularly annoying student and finished his cigarette in peace on the rooftop. Even those little bastards couldn't get into that much trouble while he stepped out. He was in an almost good mood when he returned, the smell of smoke still clinging to his clothing, to survey his domain and make sure they hadn't set anything on fire.