Eleanor: Hey, look, an update!
Italy: *looks up at the sky* Where?
Eleanor: Yeaaaah, anyway. It's an update. Yaaay.
I don't own Hetalia. Or the German language.
Pleeease review :D I like reviews.
Angie was walking peacefully to her next class when an alarm suddenly started blaring behind her. In confusion, she turned around.
"Yvette Gremlinson!" boomed a man in all blue (including his huge, rectangular sunglasses) with a flashing police light strapped onto his head.
Yvette, who had been shuffling along to her next class alongside her, like, BFF Bettie, froze in confusion.
"Y-yes?" she started.
"You're under arrest in the name of the Theme Naming Police!" bellowed the man.
"What are you talking about?" Yvette responded, taking a step back.
"Your name does not end in '-ie' like every other girl in the school. So you have two options: leave Howard's School of Westchester County forever, or go to Colorado and get a sex change."
Yvette stared.
"Um, how about she just changes her name?" Bettie suggested mildly.
"That's possible in theory, but 'Yvettie' sounds really dumb."
"Oh, okay." Bettie shrugged. "I vote for the sex change, then."
Yvette stared blankly. "Yeah, I'm going to class now."
"No, you aren't!" the Theme Naming policeman boomed, seizing her wrist. "I'll just escort you outside the premises until you've made your decision."
A very bewildered Yvette struggled to escape the man's grasp without luck. He dragged her right out the door.
"Well, that was weird," Bettie finally commented. "Oh, well. I'd better get to class."
Angie, distracted by the whole escapade, snapped her gaze to the nearest clock.
8:59. Of course.
"AUGH!" Angie yelled, picking up the pace so much she narrowly avoided the policeman coming back in (and yelling for Sandra). She sped through the hallway, but the class-starting bell rang before she was even within sight of the door.
With a dramatic yell of "NOOO!", Angie stumbled and tumbled (heehee, that rhymes) to the floor in agony-and-disappointment-induced slow motion.
Briefly wondering how she fell in slow motion, Angie pushed herself back to her feet and continued dejectedly towards the classroom. She dejectedly dragged her feet across the rest of the hallway before finally dejectedly catching sight of "Room 209" painted craftily on a board over her head. She dejectedly turned to the door before not-so-dejectedly realising it wasn't closed and locked.
Her heart picked back up as the score playing in the background took on a more cheerful tone. (She also wondered how she did that, not realising she was across the hall from the orchestra room.) She could make it after all! Could it be, after a long period (one hour) of injustice, she was finally free to come in late to class? It was too good to be true, but Angie upliftedly stepped through the threshold nonetheless.
"Oh, hey, you're—" one student, Samuel, started before breaking off. "Oh, sorry. Thought you were the teacher."
Angie looked around. Sure enough, only students were in the room.
"Eh, don't worry about it," continued Samuel, leaning back in his chair dangerously far. "He's always late. He won't even know you weren't here."
"Okay, thanks," Angie breathed (irrelevant parenthetical statement attack!), walking over to the only free seat left. She plopped her things down on the white, paint-speckled top of the round table before seating herself. She had just enough time to get out a pen before the teacher came wandering through the door.
"Good moooorning, class!" he sang, spinning in an off-balance circle before stumbling over to his desk.
"Morning," a few students echoed, less enthusiastic as it was a bit impossible to be as hyped-up as the teacher.
"Well, it's only the first day," the teacher continued cheerfully, "so I'm not going to make you do anything!"
A few of the students, sensing a non-sequitur, stared in confusion, while some others whooped. Any students that had already had experience with the Art teacher were unfazed.
"So…" Hector started, shifting in his seat nervously. "We just… sit here?"
"Well," the teacher started, pondering the question for a moment, "you can draw something if you really want to. Or paint something, or do anything if there's materials for it. Or you can leave if you have something else you'd rather do. Like eat pasta."
The teacher, who had been shuffling around with something under his desk, finally found what he was looking for and brought it on top of the desk with a startlingly loud WHAM.
"In the meantime," he continued, completely oblivious to the few students who seemed to have suffered minor heart attacks from the noise, "I'm going to work on my sculpture! It's going to be a kitty. Meow."
As a few students started scavenging for art supplies, a sudden screech sent the easily-startled into another series of panic attacks.
"Good morning, everybody, and welcome to the first day of school!" boomed the P.A. "This is Coach Jones, and I'll be your host for the morning announcements! As always, we'll start of with the Pledge of Allegiance."
Coach Jones started to recite the pledge. Angie and a few others stood and joined him with hands over hearts, while most students just stayed seated and mumbled along. And then the Art teacher sort of stood in position but apparently didn't know any words past "I pledge allegiance" as after that he just stood with his mouth cheerfully agape.
Finishing up the Pledge, Coach Jones announced a moment of silence to "pray, meditate, or do something patriotic but silent." He paused for what was probably supposed to be thirty seconds but, with his enthusiasm, ended up more around ten.
"Okay! Well, everybody, welcome to Howard's!" he continued. "Nice, bright day to get started for the year, huh?" He laughed loudly. "So, everybody! Today's the day to sign up for sports team tryouts if you, well, want on a sports team! We're trying for all of our sports at the same time: football, soccer, football, cross-country, football, tennis, football, baseball, football, duck-hunting, and FOOTBALL. So sign up. It'll be awesome." Coach Jones audibly shuffled the papers he was reading off of.
"And, uh, since Orchestra has to be in two sections this year, the whole group'll meet on Saturdays every time Marching Band meets. Haha, losers. You should have gone for sports instead. And then…" He looked through his papers again. "Mmm-kay, that's all I've got! Have a great first day, everyone!
"Oh, and if you want to see a picture of Mr. Kirkland during his punk rock phase, come to my office." With a screech and a click, the P.A. went silent.
The students in Professor Kirkland's class, after watching the teacher seethe for a moment over being given the improper title, gave him a look.
"Punk rock phase?" Jack echoed slowly.
The English Literature teacher scowled, adding a roll of the eyes in for effect. "I did NOT have a 'punk rock phase'. It's probably just Photoshopped."
"Probably?" Lillie pointed out.
"W-Well knowing that idiot, he'd probably just cut my head out of a picture and glue it to some picture of a punk rocker." He cleared his throat completely and utterly unsuspiciously.
Meanwhile, in the Orchestra room, many of the players were quite unhappy about the announcement. The brass section was being especially vocal about it, while the woodwinds grumbled quietly among themselves.
"I shall not tolerate this complaining!" the teacher announced hotly (By that I mean he's upset. Sorry, fangirls.). "There was no point in you signing up for Orchestra if you were not planning to commit to it."
"Yeah, well, we were planning to commit to it an hour a weekday," a trumpet-player, Sallie, grouched.
"That is disrespectful to the art of music," Mr. Edelstein retorted. "Now, let's stop disgracing ourselves and continue with today's practice."
The students readied their reeds, bows, and fingers, and soon the teacher resumed conducting their sight-reading piece. In just a few measures, he cut them off.
"Stop, stop, stop! You are playing this Tchaikovsky like it is Rossini!"
"What does that even MEAN?" Leslie responded, lowering her bow.
The teacher then went into a rant concerning different composers that somehow deviated into how the orchestra was insulting the great land of Austria (because, of course, all composers he mentioned were full-blooded Austrians).
Most of the Orchestra kids were starting to wish they hadn't signed up for this.
Then again, a lot of the new students found this school was more than they bargained for.
Like those in Biology.
"…and that's how sex works!" the teacher finished happily, leaning against the blackboard at a spot that wasn't covered in R-rated illustrations.
Most of the students were still in shock, while a few were covering their eyes and whimpering.
"Um, Mrs. Hedervary?" one of the students started shakily.
"Yes, dear?"
"Isn't that a little deep into the material for the first day? I mean, this isn't even Human Biology… It's just Biology…"
"Haha, deep," the teacher snickered. "Hm, what were you asking?"
"Uh… Nothing…"
"All right, then." Mrs. Hedervary seated herself, carefully spreading out the flounces of her dress as she did so. "So, that's our first lesson. Trust me, this class is going to be a lot of fun." She beamed, which would have been very soothing if it didn't come from someone who was just covering explicit material in graphic detail.
"Do you all have any questions, about today's lesson or the rest of the class?" she continued, apparently forgetting she had left her illustrations on the blackboard.
"Um?" Jessie, who had heard many a horror tale of this class, raised her hand.
"Yes?"
"We… We ARE covering things other than reproductive systems this year, right?"
Mrs. Hedervary immediately burst out in giggly laughter. That was the only response that was really needed to assure the students they were pretty much screwed (pun not intended) this year.
Across the hall from the Biology classroom, the German class was also wrapping up.
The teacher had, to avoid being confused with his brother, instructed the students to refer to him as "Mr. Ehrfürchtige". Of course, this being the first day of German class, none of the students could get anywhere close to pronouncing this correctly. The German teacher narrowly avoided being called "Mr. Erf" by telling them that, until they were able to pronounce his real teaching name, they could just call him "Mr. Awesome".
That was just about the only thing he had taught them today. Being grumpy from the loss of his normal morning beer (or two) and slightly hung-over, he really wasn't in the mood to do much teaching. He just scribbled some random page numbers on the blackboard and told the class to get their books and start working.
Second period ended, and the third began. It was pretty much the same as all of the other hours: students despairing, being traumatised, and wondering how the Physics teacher was someone whose being able to stand up straight being so top-heavy probably broke most of the laws of physics not already broken by bumblebee flight. Same old, same old.
And then the bell rang for lunch.