Journal Entry 2

These kids.

These fucking kids.

They don't know a damned thing. So wide-eyed and innocent. What the hell am I supposed to do with them? They look at me and my tattoos, they see the anger buried only shallowly beneath my skin…and they are terrified. At least I don't have to worry about them acting out in class, but Fuck!

I've never wanted to not scare someone before. And now I've got a class of ten that I would give anything not to frighten.

I'm supposed to come up with some sort of teaching manual. With lessons, and tests and shit. I'm guessing that I shouldn't use my lessons as a template.

What the fuck was I thinking, taking this job? Shepard would laugh the tattoos right off my ass…