Drawing - Day One

[hypatia]

It had taken far longer to print out all of those photocopies than she had thought. It was as though the school had bought its copy machine in the fifties and had never thought to update to a new model. The other problem was that she had forgotten just how long one of the three things she was printing off was and that she had not factored in the time that it would take to collate the various readings she was going to be handing out to her students today. And although it might sound tedious, and is, it takes a long time to shuffle all those papers so that their edges match up and then snap a staple through the top left corner. But at least this would pay-off, or she hoped it would.

The trick was to try and get as many students as possible to drop out of the class as possible, and day one was the beach head of the assault she was making against her students. Well, perhaps the military metaphor is a bit too grandiose and certainly too violent, but this was still step one. Of course, what she was going to be giving them to read was not the mindless dither of some idiot critic, but texts about art that she herself truly loved. All the same, however, they were texts to which she assumed most of her students probably would not take too much of a fancy. Though, if worse comes to worse, at least she would know that the students who remained were willing to put their brains into it, rather than just rely on sharp hands.

Even though she was running later than she had hoped, Hypatia was still early enough to her classroom that she would not be interrupted while distributing the handouts to the class. There weren’t many desks there – it looked like it would be a small class just like last year – and on each she dropped one copy of her syllabus, one copy of St. John’s defense of icons and images, one of Marinetti’s manifesto, and an abbreviated version of Russolo’s treatise on noise. Somewhere, an icon of the good saint was probably weeping inexplicably at being included next to these two other works, but that was part of the fun, right?

After the ten (or so) packets were distributed on the desks, Hypatia just slowly walked over to the front of the room and leaned against the chalk board. Since it was the first day of classes, she did not need to worry about getting any chalk on her black turtleneck or ankle-length skirt, which was a constant concern for professors and teachers of all sorts. Surveying the class in the silence before the students arrived, it looked odd – it was a normal studio, but with these desks set up like a normal class, it just looked out of place. She had asked the administration if she could have a normal classroom for the first few weeks, but she had to choose either a regular room or the studio for the whole semester, which was simply stupid. So here they were, in a room that was two-thirds empty and littered with artists tools, to learn about art.

[Zeran Heartt]

Zeran skidded down the hall and then quickly swerved into the drawing room and pressed himself against a wall. Moments later a rather angry looking jock-type stuck his head into the door. "Did some punk with white hair in a leather jacket just come by here?" the jock asked.

"Yeah, he continued down the hall." Zeran said, not giving up his position. The Jock ran off again. " . . . moron." Zeran said, walking over to a desk and lazily sitting down in it. Zeran looked at the packet and his jaw dropped. "Well, I guess any art class has to start with some background info, but dang, that's a lot of reading." Zeran said. Mostly shocked, but not perturbed at all. He wasn't one of those people who signed up for art for an easy A, he honestly wanted to learn to draw beyond bizarre doodles in the margins of his notebooks.

Zeran then looked up at the teacher, his eyes said exactly what he was thinking, 'Oh hell yes.' "Professor Aro- . . . Ar . . . Arovka(?) I presume?" Zeran asked. "Interesting name, sounds kind of Eastern European, Russian maybe?" Zeran decided to amke casual chat for the time until the class started.

[hypatia]

That was a bit odd. People running into the room, one following the other, with the pursuer leaving with little notice. She heard what was said, and figured that the white haired boy hadn’t been so luck as to trick the other one, but rather that the athlete hadn’t noticed that the white haired boy came in, and when he asked the question also wasn’t aware that there would be a professor in the room. She was sort of intrigued as to what the smaller one had done to piss off the larger one, but in the way that you’re intrigued to see what happens next episode – you’ll tune in and watch, but aren’t going to go out of your way to find out.

The white haired boy exclaimed, obviously not able to control his mouth, about the amount of reading, which was not at all surprising and was sort of the entire point of assigning all that stuff. Well, to teach them too. And then he started contemplating, out loud, the ethnic origin of her surname. She looked down at a sheet of paper on her desk, it had the pictures and names of all the students in her class. And in a half-disinterested tone, she said the first thing that she would be saying to a student for the year, “Well Mr. … Heartt. You don’t appear to be off to a good start, now do you? My name comes from Bulgaria, not Russia, and I must ask that you not make that mistake ever again. And yes, that is a lot of reading, though it’s hardly background information – honestly it’s probably the most important thing that you will do in this class.” Hypatia had kept a straight face through it, but it was fun to come down on students for little, trivial things.

[ryuzakiryuga]

Well, this was obviously going to be an odd first day. But, what could Ryuzaki expect? It was college, not high school or middle school. More freedom meant more oddities and insanity. How troublesome. He was hoping for a bit calmer first day. O well, beggers cannot be choosers. He walked through the entrance of the Anderson build. It was one of his two classes in this building, both of them art classes. He was not looking forward to talking to these people. He shuddered slightly.
Jeez, what a pain. Why couldn't I just take online classes? I mean: I wanted to go to college with Takehiro, but I had a temporary memory lapse. I forgot about the people.
He shuddered again. Oh, the people were the worst part about school to Ryuzaki. The courses, the work, none of it compared to having to talk to people. They did not even have to be jerks or anything; they could be nice people. Yet, Ryuzaki wanted to avoid them all. He wondered what life would be like if his brother was not, well, his brother. It would be a silent torture; that is for sure. He approached the doorway of his next scheduled class. He stepped through and saw the reading material on the desks. Without acknowledging the teacher or anyone else in the room, he sat down in the back and picked up the pamphlets one by one. He read them all in four minutes.
Wow, that took a while, didn't it?
He placed them all down and thought about them for a moment.
That defense of icons was rather boring. I could not stand those manifestos. Jeez, what a drag. This teacher's an abstract artist. Oh, I'm gonna hate this class.
He put his feet on the desk and his hands behind his head. Heh, at least it was going to be easy enough.

[Adelaide Phoenyx Rae]

YOU KEEP REPEATING ME LINES THAT YOU THINK I WANNA HEAR
but i don't wanna hear anymore

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[atrb=style, text-align: justify; background: #000000; color: #555555; padding: 10px; border-radius: 0px 0px 20px 0px; -moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 20px 0px;] She had left her dorm room with a map of the campus in hand, not that she really needed it. She had received a tour of the place along with most other first years. Still, she kept it with her just in case. You never know what might happen, after all. Not that she expected anything too strange to happen or anything. No, it would probably be a plain and normal sort of day. Like was typical of her, she was wearing her loose black pants and an orange long-sleeved tee-shirt. A black hoodie covered most of her tee, only a bit of the collar showing. Black combat boots with orange laces covered her white sock-clad feet. Her messenger back (black and orange by the way) was strapped over her left should and across her chest so that it hung against her right leg. Her black headphones covered her ears, rock music drowning out whatever noise was going on around her. It didn't take long to get to the Anderson Building. No longer than one might expect at least. She was walking at a leisurely pace like always, there being no reason to run about or rush. She wasn't running late. If anything, she would be there with a few minutes to spare. Heading up the stairs to the Art floor of the building, she made her way down the hall until she came across the room she'd be attending class in. And once she was inside of said room, she wondered over to one of the empty desks (in the back nearest the window) and took a seat, pulling her headphones down around her neck and reaching into her bag to turn off her IPod. That's when she started looking over the things on her desk. She had, to some extent, expected the first month or so to revolve around reading and such. That was how things went. You'd read up about the topic of study and then you'd begin to apply the things you read in a way that befitted the subject. With this class, that would be drawing. Adelaide began to read through the papers. She'd read the given material, if only because it was part of the class. But there were also bound to be moments when she sat there and just doodled or something too. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Wordcount: 400 .Tag: Hypatia, Zeran, Ryuzaki. .Place: Drawing Class .Lyrics: Adelaide by Anberlin .Notes: <.< So little dialog...

Table by Cloud from KC

[Akii Chiyako Kurosawa]

The silverette had woken up earlier than she had originally intended to, but it was her first day of classes and her mind was restless. So instead of going back to sleep like most students would have, Akii had gotten up at 5:30am and prepared for her day; showering, getting dressed , and eating a quick bowl of cereal in her room before packing up her messenger bag and leaving her dorm room.

It was still too early to head to class, so she loitered around the library for a good 40 minutes, reading her latest novel The Scent of Rain and Lightning and was halfway through chapter 15 when her cellphone alarm vibrated [she was in the library and therefore had turned it on vibrate so as not to disturb anyone] signaling that it was almost time for class. Akii dog-eared the book and thrust it back into her bag before pushing herself out of the plush couch she’d been lying in with her book and made her way towards Anderson.

She entered quietly, taking a seat near the front of the room and noticing that she was one of the first people there, aside from the Professor and 2 or 3 other students. Akii dropped her messenger bag beside her desk, her golden gaze landing on the packets on the desk in front of her. Her fingers fiddled with the paper, subconsciously counting how many pages were in each packet, not that she minded the reading, Akii was somewhat of an overachiever and would’ve read a 100 page packet if the teacher were to hand one out.

Akii was itching to get right into things and start painting and sketching, she was a 2nd Year Art Minor who was only just starting to take her required art classes. Her 1st year at Kingdom University she had used to get a majority of her core classes, such as Composition, History, Math and Biology out of the way so that the rest of time she spent here would be solely dedicated to Music and Art.

She absently began to skim through the reading before her, ignoring the conversation between the Professor and the silver-haired boy, making a mental note to read it more thoroughly once she left class.

[hypatia]

“I am sure that there will be people in this class who shall say thing like ‘I don’t like modern art’ or that ‘modern art isn’t really art.’ And that is to be expected, but really, that is merely an ignorant position,” Hypatia was probably being too blunt and harsh, but hey, it was her class, to do with however she wanted, and if she wanted to start with a condescending speech, she would, “and we shall see why in the coming weeks, while also establishing some sort of idea of what art is, based on both the ideas of the twentieth century and previous eras, namely renaissance Italy and from the Near East in the time of iconoclasm.” She took a breath, a brief pause before continuing, “We are going to start the class with St. John Damascene, and while his theology might not be the clearest thing to you all, it is also not at all important. What we are concerned with is how the infinite and immortal can possibly be bound within form. The majority of St. John’s argument, as you will see when you read it, centers around the incarnation, that is the birth of Christ, but for us, who should be reading it without the lens of religion guiding us, this is not a satisfactory answer. And really, what we will get out of St. John’s Apologia is something that is half panegyric and half a series of questions, both of which are useful for us. The panegyric lays out a world of ideas for us to strive towards; the questions, which cannot be answered by Christ and the saints, are left open for us to contemplate alongside the other texts with which we shall be engaging.”

She had been thinking that over for a while, at least the core of it. Hypatia had really only begun stringing out the precise words since she began to lean against the chalkboard, which explained why she ended up talking a lot more about St. John than she had intended. And she realized that now. She put her hand on her forehead, smiling a bit. Well, she wanted to start with intensity, but that was probably too much and of the wrong sort. But it’s hard to help it when this is what you are passionate about. Hypatia pulled herself from the chalkboard and wall and moved over to the desk, against and on which she sort of half stood, half sat.

“I’m sorry about that. I sort of went off there didn’t I? Well, I guess we should do introductions and all. I’m Professor Arovka. Uh, I got my PhD two years ago, in art history. My main areas of interest are early twentieth century avant-garde art, as well as medieval painting, in both the East and the West. I guess that’s all you really need to know about me. If I think of anything later, I’ll let y’a… you all know. So, how about we get to sort of know each other. Let’s go around and each of you will say your name, year, and why you decided to take this class. And I guess if you have any questions about me or my rant earlier feel free to ask about that too – whatever you want, don’t be afraid to ask anything about it. Though, we’ll be going into more detail later. Then, after we clear that up, I guess we’ll go through the syllabus, okay?”

Well, she sounded exactly like what her undergraduate teachers had sounded like doing introductions. She did not know which was worse: raving like a madwoman or being so nice and polite and doing things like they’re properly done. Probably the first when she thought of it that way. Hypatia was just being too hard on herself, her second bout of first day jitters.

[chilirox1]

ITexia sighed as she walked through the doors to the Anderson Building. Or, at least she assumed it was the Anderson Building. There were sculptures outside, so she just kind of guessed she was in the right place. Previously, she had been enjoying her time in the park, splitting her time between origami and the fish in the river. It was nice, until she remembered she had classes. It wasn't like she'd make a habit of being on time for class, but she really wasn't looking forward to some kind of boring lecture from a cranky professor on how she should be on time to not miss anything important. Texia could easily predict how late she would be to class, without a clock, and so she should be the judge on how late she was. Her troublesome thoughts aside, she continued to look for the drawing room. She wandered down the corridor and looked into some of the rooms. The drawing room has to be somewhere. When she finally found it, she opened the door and saw a few students, as well as a teacher who looked as if she had been explaining something.

"Hello, I'm only 5 minutes and 16 seconds late, so I really don't think I've missed that much. Skip the lecture if you would." With that, Texia looked for a desk near the front. It may have not been the best idea, seeing as she had just walked in late, but with years of private tutoring, came extreme patience with grumpy tutors, so she could stand an angry professor. Plus, she wasn't keen on sitting near other people. She glanced at her desk. There were several packets of paper.

"If I had wanted to read so much, I would have joined a class for that. I came here to learn about art and drawing, why must reading be added? And so much of it too..." Texia could never understand some teachers. They gave their students reading material when they were obviously here for different subjects. The ways people chose to do things were indeed strange. Although, perhaps I need to get more experience with people's behavior.... She though to herself. She then awaited her professor's reply.

[Zeran Heartt]

Zeran blinked a little as Hypatia went off on him for being off on bad start. Currently, he thought this professor was as nutty as his father . . . and that said something, considering his father had a personal rivalry with Colonel Sanders and drank Absinthe in his tea as if it were honey, sugar, or cream. Zeran tried to think past this though. He watched complacently as several new faces walked through the door.

"Okay, I'll start with the introductions then. My name is Zeran Heartt. I'm a freshman this year. I decided to take this class so I could learn to draw beyond surreal doodles in the margins of my notebooks and move onto realistic surreal doodles in the margins of my notebook. Beyond that, I wanted to challenge myself, hoping that I would get a teacher that likes to screw with the people that just joined for an easy A. Judging by the reading on the desk, Wish. Freaking. Fulfilled. Best drawing class ever." Zeran said, realizing he had blathered a little bit. "And I mean that in the best way possible, Professor Arovka. Quick question though, what makes it ignorant to dislike a particular art style? I mean, saying it's stupid, or outright insulting it is one thing, especially if you don't understand the context of the work of art or the style, but what makes the disliking ignorant?" Zeran was honestly curious, though he realized soon after his question that he sounded a but like he was trying to be smarter than the teacher. "Honest question, not trying to be a nuissance who tries to correct the tecaher." Zeran quickly tacked on after this realization.

[Rune Veliospirus Ravencroft]

Rune had had to work late last night, which normally wasn't a problem. Except for some insane reason when he woke up, the clock was blinking 12:00. When he looked at his watch, he realized he was up much later than he wanted to be. "Shit" he said, grabbing a quick shower and bite to eat. He grabbed his messenger bag for art class and sprinted as fast as he could across the campus, figuring he was going to make good enough time as he made it to the art building. But as soon as he was in, some jock shouted about finding him and proceeded to try and hurt him. He had no idea what the larger idiotic boy was talking about, but he ended up with no choice other than to actually deal with him.

It didn't seem like it lasted that long but as he checked his watch, he realized he was late now. "Oh hell". he said, sprinting up to the classroom. He had tried to take the class last year, but had to drop out do to unforeseeable circumstances around week 7. Since it was in the same room and all, he at least knew where the class was. He skidded around the corner into the doorway and saw the professor Hild had left with the other night there. "Sorry I'm late professor Arovka, Some random jock tried to kick the crap out of me." Rune said, before using the one good arm he had at the moment to straighten his black collared shirt.

He looked around the class and to his annoyance, saw Zeran was here to. He Chose a seat as far away from Zeran as possible, putting his messenger bag on top of the desk, figuring he'd worry about the packets in a bit. Chances were he'd be reading these when he was bored at work on those nights his job was thankfully slow. He sat down and paid attention, though he started stretching the other arm to try and get it moving again. Damn jock got a lucky shot in from behind and unfortunately he hit rather hard. Though, Rune did not envy the headache the jock was going to have whenever he woke up.

[chilirox1]

Texia gazed at the boy who just came in. He apologized for being late, and didn't seem pleased when he noticed the silver haired boy, whom she knew as Zeran, was in the classroom as well. She wondered why that would be.

She turned head in his direction. She put on a genuinely puzzled expression as she asked her question.

"Why is it you seem unpleased with the fact Zeran is here? Did he do something wrong to you? Steal something that belonged to you? Or... Something else not, um, good?" she inquired. She didn't know what could have transpired between the two. In text books, it said that dislike and hatred can be caused of many things. Most had to do with actions that were unsatisfactory to one performed by someone else. Texia found it truly odd how people were able to do bad things if they knew it wasn't good, why would they go and do it? Does it feel nice to be disliked?

Those thoughts aside, she decided that his answer would be worth her time to listen to. After all, the reason for this boy's dislike could very well aid her in understanding people's feelings and behavior. Now excited to get to know another person slightly, Texia awaited his response with anticipation.

[Adelaide Phoenyx Rae]

YOU KEEP REPEATING ME LINES THAT YOU THINK I WANNA HEAR
but i don't wanna hear anymore

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[atrb=style, text-align: justify; background: #000000; color: #555555; padding: 10px; border-radius: 0px 0px 20px 0px; -moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 20px 0px;] Finally, after having sat there for a little while and looking through the things on her desk briefly, she dropped her messenger bag to the floor next to her. The, propping her elbow on the desk, she resting her chin in her palm and looked out the window. She was only vaguely aware of what was happening in the room, though she was listening to the teacher. And, one the students were told to begin introductions, she listened to the first person who complied. Zeran Heartt. She looked over at him as he spoke, though she didn't find all to much interest in what he said. The whole 'doodles in the margins of my notebook' was something she could relate to. Speaking of, she'd probably end up doodling in a notebook during this class too. She ended up doing it in pretty much every class she took. Unless she was in the middle of something else that required her to use her hands. Once the boy, Zeran, had finished she decided to get her own introduction out of the way. The sooner she finished it, the sooner she could no longer worry about it. She waited until the room was quiet again before she finally spoke up though. "My name is Adelaide Rae. I'm taking this class in order to further my drawing capabilities. I though that having some proper coaching would help me to improve." And that was that. After finishing her own introduction, she glanced around to actually look at the people who had come into the class late. She only glanced the two students over. Then she reached down and pulled a notebook from within her bag and opened it to the first page. With pencil in hand, she began to draw her doodles. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Wordcount: 300 .Tag: Hypatia, Zeran, Ryuzaki, Akii, Texia, Rune. .Place: Drawing Class .Lyrics: Adelaide by Anberlin .Notes: ...

Table by Cloud from KC

[ryuzakiryuga]

Ryuzaki sighed. HE did not want to introduce himself. He knew, though, that the teacher may do something horrible to him, like make him critique her work. Heh, he made a funny to himself. He removed his feet from desk but did not say a word. He was not going to talk to these people. They were here to learn, as was he; but he did not want to talk to these fellow learners. Interaction was his kryptonite, and unlike the iconic superhero this references, he was smart enough to stay away from his weakness. It may not be the most pleasant of strategies, but it worked well enough. Sure, it had gotten him punched before, but he also has ways of getting revenge. The kind of revenge that will make people never want to mess with him again. Yeah, he was a bit evil. Unfortunately for the people who angered him, he was the smart evil that would kill you BEFORE telling their evil plan. Well, he would not kill them per se. Psychological trauma, on the other hand, was greatly appreciated and lauded for its effectiveness. His mind flashed back to the time someone broke his laptop on purpose. Last time he heard, the kid was going to therapy.

[Akii Chiyako Kurosawa]

Akii’s fingers stopped fidgeting with the paper pamphlets lying on the desk in front of her as soon as the professor began to speak, addressing the entire class and…seemingly going off on a rambling tangent of her own. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, that was how she knew that the professor was an avid lover of the arts—when she rambled on about how those who complained about modern art were nothing more than ignorant fools who didn’t have an eye for art [well, the last part was partly Akii’s opinion on the matter]. She didn’t really have a real preference on art, she love it all—surrealism, modern, realism, everything—even abstract, though that was a little low on the list for her.

And at last came the ever dreaded first day of class introductions. She wasn’t too fond of speaking about herself, especially in front of an entire class [though this particular class wasn’t quite as large as some of her other ones]. She listened as some of the other students spoke about themselves, giving the bare basics—name, year, major and why they’d decided to take the class, nothing too extraordinary, Akii realized with a tilt of her head. After a few minutes of going around the room hearing from everyone it was finally her turn. She sighed, biting her lip contemplatively as she went over in her head what she was going to say to the class about herself. Did I mention that she didn’t like talking about herself? It just felt weird describing herself to others…

“I’m Akii Kurosawa and I’m a Music Major with a Minor in Art, so I’m taking this class as a part of my Minor so that I can not only learn more about the different eras but also improve my own skills. I’m a second year student and also the president of the Art Club, if any one’s interested in joining you can see me after class or something…

[/color]” Hm, well…that wasn’t so hard, and she’d even remembered to mention Art Club. Speaking of which…she needed to start getting things together to get the club up and running, but she could do that later, after class. Right now she needed to pay attention.

[[There, I posted. Now stop pestering me about posting on AIM >.> xD]][/size][/blockquote]

[hypatia]

Almost as soon as she finished speaking, some blonde, ditsy looking girl came striding into class, just over five minutes late. But it was one thing to be late and quite another to be late, say that it did not matter, tell the teacher not to lecture you on it, and then complain about the course work – if only she could beat her students like they could in medieval universities, this little bratty sounding girl would get more than a couple strikes of the lash. But now people had “rights” and acting like an ass while doing something wrong was not considered wicked enough for corporal punishment, though it really should be. That would set people straight right quick. Anyways, Professor Arovka took a quick glance at the sheet she was holding, the one with pictures and names for all of their students, before saying, “Ms. Shigura, from now on you will be on time, quiet unless you have something relevant to say, and content with the course work that your intellectual better provides for you. Now, would you be so kind to introduce yourself to the class?”

Zeran Heartt went next, the boy who had shown up earliest, but who had acted in a generally peculiar matter. His response was normal and generally what was to be expected, especially the suspicious denial of wanting an easy “A.” It was also to be expected that some student would ask about her comments regarding her support of modern art. To a degree the boy was right; she had taken it too far by saying that it was ignorant to dislike modern art, but she would be damned if she would admit it. “Thank you Mr. Heartt, for going first. Now, as to your question, the easiest answer is that such a statement almost always comes from a place of ignorance rather than knowledge – many people do not realize things like Photorealism or Hyperrealism are just as much modern art as something like Abstract Expressionism, Surrealism, or Dada. Also, there is also the belief that art only lies in the painting or drawing, when for the past hundred or so years, art lays as much in the manifesto as the implementation of the theory itself. If, after that, you can come up with an aesthetic or epistemological reason that the theories of all modern art movements are wrong or bad, then you do have a right to criticize modern art. But I doubt that anyone in this class can do that, myself included.”

The next person to talk was another person who ran into the classroom late, this one being… the cousin of the woman who she had slept with two nights and the bouncer who had probably seen her fondling his cousin at a bar. Well, this was somewhat embarrassing, wasn’t it? But she could not let on that this would influence her in any way, at least not for the time being. He offered up an excuse for why he was late, but little more than that. “Thank you for showing up, Mr. Ravencroft, but in the future, please try to be on time. And in the future, know that your excuses do not particularly interest me and are only a further waste of our time. Could you please now introduce yourself by giving your full name, year, major, and why you are taking this class? Also, I would like to speak with you after class.”

Then, as she was speaking, Professor Arovka noticed that the little blonde girl was opening her damn mouth again. “Ms. Shigura please try to keep your comments relevant to class. I don’t think that Mr. Ravencroft and Mr. Heart’s animosity have much bearing on the art world, so please, leave the tedium for after class.”

Then another girl spoke up, Adelaide Rae, the girl seemed somewhat quiet and shy, obviously uncomfortable with having to introduce herself to the class. Professor Arovka felt bad for the girl; there was no reason to be shy and scared in a class, especially one like this. And to a certain degree she wished that she could allow the girl to keep quiet, but she needed to introduce herself to class and when it came time, she would need to participate and talk in class, that was just the way it had to be. “Thank you Ms. Rae, we’ll see what we can do about improving your drawing.”

And then another girl, one that she recognized not from class, but from the art club last year. Hypatia had visited them once or twice to help out with some things, but had gotten to know one or two of the students as acquaintances. She wanted to help the art club out again this coming year, but hopefully she could be more involved, not as a leader, but as someone to guide the students and offer advice when and if they needed it. “And thank you, Ms. Kurosawa, though in the future, can we please refrain from advertising our private endeavors in class? That being said, I would also like to speak with you after class, if you happen to have the time, that is.”

There were still a few students in class who had not spoken or showed up, such as Mr. Ryuga, Mr. Koigokoro, Mr. Derksen, Ms. Lockhart, and Ms. Hamasaki, but Hypatia would give them a chance to introduce themselves before she forced them to, but eventually everyone would go through this slightly tedious practice. It was just a question of whether or not the introduction came freely.

((OOC: So, I know the rules on posting order, but for classes with so many people, this can be difficult. So, let's not be super concerned about the order, but try to post only once per round [not a hard and fast rule]. We'll use my posts to reset the round. That way, we won't have to wait quite as long to follow the order. I hope this makes sense))