Let us write something which takes place in: the classroom.
After doing some work in the yard this morning, Kat and I taught our second art, music, and yoga class this afternoon. We'd tried to start up a weekly series earlier in the year but there wasn't enough interest, so we're trying a monthly class. We had five students today and I think it went very well.
And I actually got paid to teach. So. Strange.
"All right, who would like to go next?" Mrs. Brown asked as she surveyed her classroom from behind her desk. She took a long sip of 'coffee' to eradicate the memory of the last presentation - Michael's dad had droned on about accounting for what felt like five days - and waited for a volunteer. She was in no rush to continue.
"My dad will!" Simon called from the back of the room. "Won't you, dad?"
"If I must," Henri replied, heaving himself to his feet and lighting a cigarette.
"I'll have to ask you not to -" Mrs. Brown began as he made his way to the front but he didn't let her finish.
"While my job is far more interesting than that last windbag's," he said, blowing smoke out his nostrils, "I promise not to go over time." A slight pause, then a cheeky wink. "I'd hate to make us late for our date."
"Please, call me Henri. Although by my watch," he actually glanced at his wrist for full effect, "you'll be calling me Big Daddy in less than two hours."
"I have never been so -"
"Of course you haven't. But try to keep your skirt on just a little longer - there are children present." Another wink, then he turned to face his son's classmates and their parents. He pulled out his cell phone and held it up for all to see. "So. Who wants to watch me fire my secretary?"