B I O L O G Y . I

Labs. Life. Linolium. Everything was so familiar, except the last time that Jason Deen could truely remember this class room, he was the student, and a scary 60 some odd year old teacher was lecturing him on not falling out of the chairs while disecting. Good times, but in the past. His shoes clicked softly on the ground, it seemed more like something out of the CIA, ther were counters that would seat about two people to them, stools below them, sinks in the middle.

The black linolium floor suited the classroom's mood, the blank walls were his own fault, he'd chosen to have coffee with Maggie instead of coming here to decorate, but he wouldn't think of that now, no, he had a class coming in under five minutes, they probably wouldn't notice the blank walls for a while, and by then, they wouldn't be blank.

He himself had a counter like desk at the head of the room, from there, he could see everything that went on in the classroom, from there, he could lean against the wall and relax, from there, he could be himself. But instead of sitting down in the chair that awaited him, he moved into the closet-like office at the rear of the room. His real desk was pushed against a wall, but he wasn't going there just yet, he walked towards the oposite wall and pulled out a file, it had a list of all his students names, their ages, and any medical ailments. Putting that on the top of the file-cabnant, he carried on searching for one more file.

Relief flooded his features as he pulled out a thick folder labled Biology 1, class 1 in his horrible handwriting. Collecting the other folder, he moved back out into the classroom, setting out one piece of paper from the folder on the desk. It was just a simple form with a few questions; Where was your hometown? Do you have any pets? Siblings? What do you want to be when you graduate? Simple things such as that. But the one thing that it didn't have, a name. He had a plan.

Moving back to his sub-desk in the classroom, he leaned against it, patiently awaiting the ring of the bell and the steady flow of students. First day of class atmospheres had landed amongst the school's hallways, making it almost uncomfortable for the 24 year old to make his way to his classroom, but here he stood, hands in his jean pockets, black polo neat, brown shaggy hair....shaggy. He didn't really care what his students thought of him, he just wanted to be the best teacher he could be.

And then the bell rang.