Hi there! I got the idea for this from tumblr, specifically user metrovirus who prompted, "a book/movie about Spencer from iCarly struggling in art school called 50 Grades of Shay." Fantastic iCarly/Spencer Shay fan blog illuminating-socks reblogged the post and challenged someone to write it, so here I go! I hope to go 50 short chapters. If you have any ideas, be sure to let me know! Hope you enjoy :)

Grade 1: Sculpting 101

Spencer was sure his project would get an A.

He wanted to start the school year off with a bang. No, bigger. A KABOOM! Which is precisely why he enlisted his buddy Socko's cousin Boomer to help him with the fireworks. Spencer found a giant, rusted wheel at the junkyard that he smoothed down and painted bright red. On top of the wheel, he adorned the fireworks with the utmost precision and care. He was going to blow his professor away, and then his dad and granddad would understand that he was born to do this: he was meant to be an artist.

At least, that's what he told himself as he spent hours toiling away in the sculpture studio on the bottom floor of the art building. Spencer never envisioned himself at college—he was more of a "get stuff done" kind of guy. He didn't need school to make him better. He was already great! School only sapped away at your creativity, passion, and talent while it bogged you down with boring lessons about technique and patience. Who needed patience?!

It was two in the morning, and Spencer was still in the basement. He had turned on an upbeat radio station and was basically dripping caffeine into his veins to help him stay focused. He took a step back from his project and observed: it was perfect. The fireworks, placed like spokes on a wheel on the bright red backdrop, really made a statement about, um…

He scratched his head. What was the assignment again?

Spencer fumbled through the dozens of papers he had taken with him into the studio—including a long, handwritten letter from his dad about his baby sister Carly, who had just started kindergarten, and the already crumbled brochure Granddad had sent earlier about Seattle Law School.

"Just think about it!" Granddad had urged before hugging Spencer goodbye right before he left for college. "Keep all your options open! You would make a great lawyer."

Spencer nearly retched at the thought of him in a suit in a court room. Besides, had Granddad seen his grades? Sure, he wasn't dumb by any means, but he definitely wasn't going to pass the LSATs.

Thankfully, the assignment for Sculpting 101 was beneath the brochure. Spencer smoothed out the instructions and squinted for the keyword. Right, color! The assignment was color. He sighed with relief. Red was a color, so he didn't need a statement. (Although, if he thought about it, the fireworks could represent the military complex in America…)

Later that day, after Spencer ran back his dorm to catch a quick power nap and another cup of coffee, he hurried back to the classroom. His professor began the grading session by slowly walking around the room, touching and turning the sculptures, which were all notably smaller than his—a pro in Spencer's book, while occasionally murmuring "hmm, yes" or "maybe next time." Next to him, his classmates watched with terror every time the professor made a mark in his grading book. Even though he knew he shouldn't let one person's opinion ruin his thoughts on art, Spencer's insides felt tangled by the time the professor reached his sculpture.

"What is this?" the man barked.

Spencer said weakly, "A fireworks sculpture!"

The man raised his eyebrow. "But you were supposed to focus on color."

"But there is color!" Spencer rushed over to his sculpture, grabbing the edge of the circle in his hand. "See, beneath the fireworks."

His professor shook his head. "Spencer, that's not what I—"

"Look! It even spins!" he blustered, desperate to avoid any criticism.

Spencer grabbed the wheel and violently spun it. The fireworks shook the wheel and its stand, making it look like it was dancing. It also must have caused friction, because the next thing he knew, one of the fireworks had ignited.

"It's going to blow!" one his classmates shrieked.

The class screamed, which Spencer thought was a little overdramatic, and darted, pushing and shoving, out of the studio. Spencer and the professor crouched next to his piece when the firework rocketed off of the sculpture and exploded in the classroom, destroying the pieces of art that lined the walls and igniting his professor's sweater on fire.

When Spencer stood, he saw his professor was smoking. He sheepishly plucked a flaming string off of the man, and conceded, "At least no one got hurt."

Grade 1: D.