Pausing as yet another tardy student slipped through the door to her classroom; Arizona decided it was time for a little pep talk. Having been at the school for nearly ten years she had worked up a reputation envied by many of her fellow staff. She was firm yet fair, and considered a friend by each of her students at the close of their final year, which for Arizona served only to reinforce how fulfilling she found her work. Teaching placed her in a position to be able to influence the lives of her students; a position from which she was able to educate, and most importantly inspire them to achieve things they never dreamed of. This appreciation alone would have been enough for Arizona, but coupled with the amazing performance of all of her students throughout her career as an English teacher; she was proud to consider herself someone who made a quantifiable difference to those whose lives lay ahead of them, ready to be harnessed with great power to change the world.

Turning back to her class, Arizona waited for them to settle before explaining to them (more explicitly this time) exactly what she expected from them. She wasn't someone who tolerated disrespect from her students, and this class was no different.

"Now I know we went through introductions last week, but I would like to start over, because clearly my leniency in the strict reinforcements of the college rules was gravely misunderstood by some of you as an opportunity to use this class as a free zone for misbehavior and disrespect. Let me tell you, this is not so. We all know the college comes down hard on many different and occasionally unnecessary issues, and in this class I was willing to let some things like messy hair or mismatched socks slide. However, this past week I feel that the freedom and privileges I gave you as Year Twelves has been misused in some incredibly surprising and completely unacceptable ways. There will be No more late attendance; nor will there be any completion of non – English related work during my lessons."

To emphasise this point Arizona walked to the desk of a young George O'Malley and pulled out the note she had seen him slip under his exercise book moments before; reading aloud a rather poorly composed love note to a soon hysterical class. As the laughter died down, Arizona continued her speech, happy that while she reminded them of her power as a teacher, her students could still see her sense of humour.

"I was happy at the start of this year to allow you to choose your own seating arrangements, but as I can't see that becoming more conducive to productive study than it is now, I will be setting you all an assigned seat at the commencement of tomorrow's class."

Met by multiple groans of displeasure from in front of her, Arizona smiled; content in the knowledge that this class wouldn't be giving her more trouble any time soon. Turning back to the board, she continued her lesson on the influence of Brechtian theatre on von Donnersmarck's The Lives of Others, looking forward to a more receptive class than she had dealt with during the previous week.

/

"Mrs. Robbins!"

Arizona paused as she exited the classroom and waited for a struggling Lexie Grey to pack her books and approach her with a question she had clearly been holding in all period.

"I wanted to ask you about our Individual Study. I know you said that it wasn't something we had to worry about for another couple of weeks but I was thinking of looking at one of Torres' works and following her themes of 'struggling to form a sense of identity' and 'hopelessness' into speeches made by the parents of those who have lost their teenage children to suicide." Lexie finished her rambling with a sharp intake of breath as she realised that her words had drowned out her ability to take in any oxygen.

"Firstly, Alexandra, I would much prefer you call me 'Miss Robbins;' I feel too depressingly old otherwise," giving Lexie a playful wink to let her know she was kidding, Arizona continued; "and secondly, while it sounds like you have an extremely well thought out plan here, the reason I wanted you to wait before starting was so that I could introduce you to the authors we will be studying this year to make sure there isn't any overlap. I have already decided that we will be studying Tennessee Williams' Glass Menagerie and Torres' Alliance as our pair this year, so unfortunately, while your idea sounds spectacular, you're going to have to find a different author. I'm very impressed that you've taken such an interest in my subject though, and I look forward to hearing what you come up with."

Lexie almost visibly deflated when she realised she wouldn't be able to study her dream pair, but after receiving that sly wink from her most adored teacher she couldn't wipe the smile off her face as she thanked Arizona for her time and scuttled off to her next lesson.

/

Callie sat at her desk, hands planted firmly over her ears as her manager and best friend Mark Sloan screamed bloody murder into his earpiece, glancing at Callie every now and then to make sure she knew he was coping with the situation. As Mark paced around the room, Callie could hear his voice rise in triumph, punctuating the end of his last successful phone call by ripping off his ear piece and throwing it onto the rumpled sheets of Callie's unmade bed.

"Calliope. Iphigenia. Torres."

Callie frowned at him as he spoke, but soon broke out into a sheepish grin, knowing full well that the phone calls Mark had just taken all related to the less than presentable state of her bed.

"You can't keep doing this, Cals. It just hurts them, and ultimately, you, when I have to clean up the mess they make when you don't call the next day. I'm all for the 'love 'em and leave 'em' approach you've got going on, but this can't keep happening. As your manager I know I've made it clear that coming out is a very bad idea, but if you keep doing what you're doing there's going to be a picture, or someone will talk; a rumour starts and you're dead."

He sighed; reluctantly indulging his curiosity as Callie's friend as to how she could possibly have pulled this one off without getting the press involved.

"As your friend and fellow skirt chaser, though; score on that one. Smokin'! How the hell did you get her to come home with you? In fact, how did you even find her? You were signing the paperbacks of old, balding men ALL day!"