Despite how much I love my job, being a teacher can really suck ass, particularly when the Government makes stupid changes to the system. I've spent the last fifteen years or so trying to teach children to be responsible, and what do they do? They step in and tell us that every child, fourth grade or higher, should have basic skills in survival, self-defence and weaponry. Last month, they wanted us to teach kids not to fight! And what do they need to learn to fight for? It's not like there's a war going on over here in America.

The school board had to arrange a trip to the training compound in Wyoming at short notice, for the fourth and fifth grades to do their basic two-week training course. Believe me, their parents were pissed off, but we had to make the kids train if the Government wanted us to, or we'd all lose our jobs.

It was still dark when the kids started to arrive, wrapped up even more than usual. Their hats were dusted in snow and they each carried extra clothes and food in their backpacks. I felt sorry for them.

With me were Mr Bart, Mrs Streible and Mr Adler, who were also supervising. Two buses were parked outside the building. By half five most of the children were there, but we were still waiting for Tweek Tweak, Tammy Warner, Bebe Stevens and Mark Cotswolds. Just to check, I gave a roll call for my class.

"Rebecca," I called, looking at my list.

"What?" she asked from a group of girls, with a slightly angry expression. I knew she would. Like a lot of the girls in my class, she was either sucking up or bitching. It pissed me off sometimes, but I never really mentioned it, as I didn't really see the point. She tossed her shoulder-length red hair over her shoulder.

"Bradley."

"Here!" he replied with a wave, momentarily stopping his conversation with Kevin Stoley. I marked him off, and when I looked up again, he had continued the animated discussion (Star Wars, I guess), smiling madly as usual.

"Henrietta."

No reply. I looked around and saw her with her usual group, minus the kindergoth.

"What?" she asked nonchalantly, before drawing on her cigarette and puffing out a smoke ring. The fat little bitch didn't take my cue to put it out, and instead lit up two more smokes and gave them to her companions. She was a truant; I had actually given her unused desk to Mr Bart's fourth grade class because she attended lessons so rarely. I put a check next to her name, shaking my head.

"Token."

"Yeah," replied the kid from across the playground, where he was kicking an apple core around with a couple of his classmates.

"Kyle." I looked up just in time to catch him punching the fatass in the head, but I couldn't be fucked to have a word with him about it; it wouldn't make any difference. The little Jewish kid was my only A+ student (surprise, surprise), and the only kid who actually cared. He was also considered the ugly kid, thanks to an incident five years ago, but several girls had disagreed and said he had a sweet ass, and I was on their side.

"Here," he said innocently.

I missed off Timmy, as he wasn't required to go on this trip because he was in a wheelchair. Lucky little rascal.

"Eric."

"Here," he replied, rubbing his face where Kyle had hit him. He looked pissed off, and was probably making Jew jokes. Again, I couldn't be fucked to comment, for two reasons: he'd take no notice, and he might make me eat my parents (seriously, how did the little bastard get out of trouble for that one?)

"Sally."

"Yeah," she said, her voice slightly nasal from a cold. She bent down to pull at a loose thread in her aqua coloured tights, brushing her well-groomed blonde ponytail to one side. There was a slight bulge in her pink jacket pocket, which was probably the money she earned from selling kisses on the playground, the job she kept secret from her parents. I checked her off the list.

"Clyde," I said.

"Here," he shouted, cupping his hands to his mouth. He was also playing soccer with the two-day-old apple core. While trying to tackle Craig, the little retard slipped in the snow and slammed his head into a tree.

"Annie."

"Hey," she called back brightly. She was sitting on the kerb, showing her freshly painted nails to a group of her friends, who chattered spiritedly. Shame, I thought. Annie's nail art would be trashed within a day on that training compound.

"Baahir."

For the past couple of minutes, he had been watching the apple core soccer match, but now he had lost interest and decided to join Bradley and Kevin's Star Wars discussion. "Yes," he answered, and I marked him in.

"Milly."

"Uh-huh," she replied in her strong southern accent, not looking up. She was staring over Rebecca's shoulder at Annie's nail art, sucking on a mint. Her hair ties were hot pink instead of yellow today, and she wore matching pants.

"Stan."

"Yeah," he replied, sounding agitated. I looked up and saw him pulling at Kyle's jacket, trying to stop him from throwing more punches at Eric. Honestly, I didn't know how that poor kid made it through each day without ripping his hair out. Kyle broke free from his grip, but Stan managed to grab his hat, pulling it off. He held it at arm's length, while Kyle nearly tripped over trying to snatch it back, his hilarious red jewfro bouncing with his every step. Good move, I thought, at least I wouldn't have to give those boys another lecture on the bus.

"Kenny."

He raised his hand and said something which I assumed was, "Here," but he could have been calling me a dildo for all I knew. He was talking casually to Butters, while his three friends fought just behind him. I half-expected a lightening bolt to strike him down at any point.

"Nichole."

"Here," she replied with a small wave. She was talking with Tammy Warner, who had arrived just a minute ago. They giggled as Nichole's boyfriend, Token, skidded on a patch of ice, spraying flakes into the air. After a few moments, Tammy lost interest and left to go see some of her fifth grade classmates.

"DogPoo."

"Yeah." He was also playing with the apple core, which was hardly a surprise. Bebe walked past them on her way to the school doors, where a bunch of her friends were still admiring Annie's nails, and gave the boys a look of disgust. I put a mark next to DogPoo Petuski's name.

"Jenny."

Jenny Simon had gotten bored of Annie and the other girls, so she had joined Nichole in watching some of the boys kick a stupid apple core around. "Here," she said, raising her voice a little so that I could hear her over the sudden gust of wind.

I'd seen Bebe just a minute ago, so I didn't bother reading her name off. She was such a little bitch that I was actually kind of glad. I looked at my list, and marked her off.

"Kevin."

"Here," he said, before turning back to Bradley and Baahir, and rambling on about Princess Leia Organa. God, didn't that kid talk about anything else?

"Butters."

The Stotch kid was talking animatedly with Kenny, saying something about creamy goo. Seriously? Did he still call it that? Why couldn't his parents just tell him that it was jizz? I wasn't fucking doing it, I remembered last time the school taught sex education, and it was a complete disaster. Chef was right about it being the family's responsibility. I didn't bother waiting for a reply from Butters, and simply put a check next to 'Stotch, Leopold'.

"Wendy," I continued.

"Here," she replied. By now, she had also gotten bored of Annie's nails, and had gone to join the fight between her boyfriend Stan, Kyle and Eric. She yelled at Cartman for being a bigot, then Kyle for fighting, then Stan for making it worse. Jesus Christ, I thought, I'm the teacher around here. I couldn't stand that girl anymore; I mean, eight years ago or something, she was alright, but now she was such a little bitch. She'd probably gotten it from Bebe. At PTA meetings, her parents would always ask why she wasn't an A+ student, as if it was sexist that I gave Token, Kyle and Baahir better grades than her. It wasn't my fault nobody understood anything she said.

"Craig."

There was a pause, and I looked around the playground. Last I checked, he was playing apple core soccer with Clyde, DogPoo and Token.

"Yeah," came the reply from behind me, after a few seconds. I turned just in time to see him give Mark Cotswolds, who had just arrived with his dad and little slut of a sister, a friendly punch on the arm, which Mark returned. Mark used to be in my class, but about ten years ago, when the school expanded its building and staff team due to the growing population of South Park, he moved into Mr Bart's class. They went and joined Token and the others, with Craig flipping Kenny off at one of his muffled comments on Rebecca. I marked Craig off, wondering how he and Mark ever became friends.

"Heidi."

"Here," she replied, waving from her place in the middle of the group of girls. Honestly, did they really have that much interest in a few splotches of nail paint? Really? Some of them had the sense to form a circle and play Splat, and other girls were slowly beginning to join in.

"Tweek."

"AGH!" Yep, that was Tweek all right. I hadn't noticed him arrive, if that was even possible. He was watching the match with Jenny and Nichole, as he was too worked up on coffee to actually play. The poor kid was shuddering, even though he was wrapped in a really big scarf. He held a large metal flask which I assumed contained more coffee. I checked him off the list.

"Nelly."

"Here," she said in her high voice, from the Splat circle. All of the girls in the fourth grade classes had joined in now, minus Wendy, Jenny, Henrietta and Nichole.

I marked the last name on my list and sighed. These poor kids would be spending the next two weeks learning to set fires, use guns, and start and finish everything they said with, 'Sir'. I was pissed off; if the Government wanted kids to have military training, they could at least tell us why. But no, just like the giant dome in Springfield and the Imaginationland incident, they had decided to hush it all up as 'classified information', keep us all in the dark. No wonder WikiLeaks was born.

After Mr Adler, Mr Bart and Mrs Streible had all finished their roll calls and made sure everyone was present, we ushered the children into the buses- fourth grade in one, fifth grade in the other. Both buses had enough seats for two teachers and fifty students, but because the fifth grade classes were slightly bigger than the fourth- with twenty-six children in each- two of them had to ride with the fourth graders. There were two spare seats on our bus because the fourth grade classes only had twenty-four children each, and it seemed most fitting that Tammy Warner sit with her boyfriend Kenny, and Michael sit with his two best friends Pete and Henrietta.

After all the kids had finished panicking over not sitting by someone they didn't like, checked they had all their stuff and put their bags under their seats, Mr Adler and Mrs Streible sat in the front of the fifth grade bus, while Mr Bart and I climbed up the steps after the fourth graders. The driver shut the door behind us and turned up the heat. The kids all sighed thankfully. Mr Bart counted fifty children, before giving Mrs Streible a thumbs up through the window. She raised her thumb back at us, signalling that all one hundred kids were still present and still safe. I had a nasty feeling that they wouldn't be before long; over the course of seventeen years, I had grown to really care about the kids in South Park, even if they were a bunch of little bastards.

So that was Chapter One, and so far it's longer than the whole of my other story! :D Anyways, the idea came from my anti-American friend (seriously, she says that South Park is crap because it's American, despite the fact that she enjoys plenty of British comedy shows), so yeah. Personally, I think SP is the best thing on TV, and I'm jealous that Britain don't have ANY satirical adult cartoons. NONE! :(

Anyway, I'm still fairly new to FanFiction, so reviews will be definitely be appreciated. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

puffygeemoth