Nov 14, 2018 19:09:25 GMT -6
Post by Dr. Jasmine Theodosia on Nov 14, 2018 19:09:25 GMT -6
Her classroom is a peculiar one. Room, even, is a loaded term. It's more like her wing of the school. The halls and multiple rooms she teaches out of... The flower-scented stone-walled corridors between between the library and the indoor gymnasiums, lined with magical candles and corny decorations. Motivational posters, 'inspirational' murals, and everything. Through her prestige she finessed this large part of the school. Teaching many subjects, she needs appropriate accommodations, of course. A dance studio for her dance class and the school team. An actual classroom for history and physiology. A greenhouse for biology and as a supplement for her other classes. And most importantly, an indoor battlefield for her combat class. Which students she should be expecting soon.
It's last period. Where the the extended classes, ones requiring field-research, etc. are scheduled for most students. It's also the first day of school. Students were instructed to meet in her classroom, a baroquely decorated mesh of tapestries, potted plants (both fake and real), whiteboards, a smartboard, a couple of chalkboards (in the back, she thinks), and her elaborate sit-less standing desk, with an iMac standing proudly on it. And tonnes of papers. Everywhere. Oh, and around twenty desks. For the students. Honestly, her classroom is kind of a mess. A pretty mess, but a cluttered, colorful mess, nonetheless. Oh, and the five essential oil diffusers spewing out mist in every corner of the room, as well as one by her desk: the largest one, it's sat on a stool almost as tall as the short Dr. Jasmine Theodosia III. The two in the back corners are spewing tea tree oil. A pungent (kind of nasty smelling oil) to keep attention on the front. The two in the front aren't spewing anything but water currently, but the one center-stage is erupting gigantic plumes of cinnamon oil. Spicy.
Aside from her hobby, on the stool which the gigantic diffuser sits, also sits a stack of papers, the class syllabus. As students come in, she instructs them to take one and sit wherever they want in the room. She's wearing a warm-looking knit sweater and jeggings, as well as a pair of tennis shoes. (Which do nothing to accentuate her height.)
The minute bell sounds its angry warning. Not that she really cares for tardies, anyways. Her class IS far from the rest of the classrooms.
It's last period. Where the the extended classes, ones requiring field-research, etc. are scheduled for most students. It's also the first day of school. Students were instructed to meet in her classroom, a baroquely decorated mesh of tapestries, potted plants (both fake and real), whiteboards, a smartboard, a couple of chalkboards (in the back, she thinks), and her elaborate sit-less standing desk, with an iMac standing proudly on it. And tonnes of papers. Everywhere. Oh, and around twenty desks. For the students. Honestly, her classroom is kind of a mess. A pretty mess, but a cluttered, colorful mess, nonetheless. Oh, and the five essential oil diffusers spewing out mist in every corner of the room, as well as one by her desk: the largest one, it's sat on a stool almost as tall as the short Dr. Jasmine Theodosia III. The two in the back corners are spewing tea tree oil. A pungent (kind of nasty smelling oil) to keep attention on the front. The two in the front aren't spewing anything but water currently, but the one center-stage is erupting gigantic plumes of cinnamon oil. Spicy.
Aside from her hobby, on the stool which the gigantic diffuser sits, also sits a stack of papers, the class syllabus. As students come in, she instructs them to take one and sit wherever they want in the room. She's wearing a warm-looking knit sweater and jeggings, as well as a pair of tennis shoes. (Which do nothing to accentuate her height.)
The minute bell sounds its angry warning. Not that she really cares for tardies, anyways. Her class IS far from the rest of the classrooms.
notes: u wot m8
