Division

"Okay, class!" the woman grinned, and it wasn't entirely friendly. Students closer to the front might have noticed that her left eye didn't move in the same way her right did, and was a slightly different hue – since they were 1st years, they had not yet experienced Miss. Serket's favourite trick of popping out her eye and looming behind a student she feels wasn't paying attention. She ran a thin hand through her long blond hair, and then pointed at a nervous looking boy in the front row.
"You! What's your name?"
"R-Rufus, miss."
"Great! Okay Rufus, tell me what you know about long division." She listened with half an ear to the stuttering answer, but in truth the question hadn't been all that important. She treated the Mathematics room as her own little church, and the first order of the day was to instil the Fear of Vriska into these wet behind the ears supplicants. After the boy had spoken for about thirty seconds, she cut in over him.
"Thanks, Rufus. Now, seeing as you're all such geniuses, we'll do a little test so I can get a feel where everyone is, ability wise." She smirked as the class groaned in unison, and she was pleased to see a few dark glances shot at the luckless Rufus. She sighed happily as she began handing out the papers. It was going to be a good year.

Mr. Nitram rubbed his eyes.
"Uh, so, no-one has done the homework I set over summer? Uh, guys, it was kind of important..." He looked sadly at his 3rd years. Most of them didn't even bother looking back at him. "Well, I need you to get it to me by Friday, okay?" He sighed. "Okay, everyone get out your copy of-"
The door opened, and a flustered girl slipped quickly into the classroom.
"Sorry I'm late, Mr. Nitram." She slung her bag down and began riffling through it.
"That's ok. Try to be on time, please." He raised his eyebrows as the latecomer thrust a slightly crumpled wad of paper at him. He wheeled over to her desk and took it.
"What's this?"
"My creative writing homework?" The girl looked worried. Mr. Nitram's face broke into a wide smile.
"Oh! Uh, thank you!" He piloted his wheel chair back to the front of the class, spirits raised a little. Maybe if at least one student remembered her homework, he wasn't a total failure as a teacher.

After class, Mr. Nitram retired to the staffroom to mark the piece he had been given. Mr. Vantas and Mr. Captor appeared to be having a loud argument in the kitchenette, so he parked his wheelchair at the table by the window. He put his bag on the floor, and rolled his eyes with a smile as he noticed a doodle of a clown face in some spilt coffee. Gamzee. He liked the RE professor, he didn't make him as nervous as some of the other staff. He was quietly reading the students story when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
"Hello, Tav. Good first lesson?" said an amused sounding voice behind him. Tavros winced, and turned his head. Vriska grinned down at him.
"Uh... yeah. It was ok..." He flinched as the woman swept round and sat gracefully in the chair next to him. She could move like a spider, Tavros thought. One second she was still, the next she was leaning with an arm draped over the chair back, her one good eye focused on him from behind her round glasses. Vriska had been at the school much longer than him, and as far as he could tell the mathematics teacher was given a cautious berth by the other, more experienced staff. Unluckily, she took a 'shine' to Tavros on his first day, and since then had taken every opportunity to speak to him. The woman made him nervous – there was always a slightly mocking edge to her voice, and she went out of her way to be more cautious of his wheelchair than was really necessary, holding open doors for him before he was even halfway down a corridor. This embarrassed him so much that once or twice he had wheeled through a door he had no prior intention of going through, leading to his getting very lost in the first few months he taught there. He wasn't sure what he had done to provoke Miss. Serket; maybe simply being himself was enough.
"3rd years are always a handful, aren't they? Too old to be nervous, too young to be focused. Bitch of a year group." She winked, an unsettling gesture as it left only the unfocused glass eye pointing at Tavros. Tavros nodded, frantically hoping the woman would go away so he could read his students work.
"They're... they're good kids at heart. It just takes a little to, uh, motivate them..." He faltered in the face of the math teachers snide grin.
"See, that's exactly why you can't control a class, Tavvy. When you've been teaching as long as I have, you'll realise that despite one or two decent kids, the majority are lazy, conniving little bastards." Tavros winced; he disliked swearing and didn't like Vriska describing the students in that way. It didn't seem professional, or fair. She ignored him, continuing. "The best thing to do is make sure they know you're not to be messed about. Better have the reputation of bitch than be known as a pushover. They'll spot weakness, and walk all over you." Tavros wondered if he had imagined the slight emphasis on the word 'walk', or if he was just feeling rattled. Vriska grinned again, and flicked her eye to the work still held in his hands.
"But I mustn't keep you! Looks like you've got lots of marking to do." And she was suddenly out of her seat and walking towards the kitchen, one hand on her hip.