This was it; you were ready.
"Hello, new students," you smiled with a radiant smile across your round brown face, opening the door of your classroom, releasing a delightful plume smell of cinnamon, greeting the faces of your students, "or should I refer to you all as freshmen? Please come in and take a seat at a workstation. Four or five, please." You stepped to the side, allowing them in, your amber eyes closed; among the students, a pair of glower orange brown turned away from you; when the last student found an empty seat at one of the ten workstations, you closed the door, and zingly walked to the front. Your long orchid color hair flows behind you with each step, its natural waves moving with the minimal air current in the room, staying in a place with the help of your precious old yellow headband.
Along the way, your ears picked up on discrete whispers exchanged among the students. You hoped it wasn't you're minty airy tunic dress; sure, it hung a bit off your shoulders and was a tad loose fitting, but you made sure to add a large brown elastic belt around your waist to divide it. Perhaps that didn't help as it accentuated your womanly form and legs, from the brown ankle boots you wore. Maybe you should have worn the leggings Adam suggested. Oh, you hoped that wasn't it gripping your small crystal spear hanging from your choker; you chose this outfit since it was spring and the new school year. You wanted the students to feel welcomed. Passing a few more students, you hear their mutters and sigh, relieved it was something else. A giggle threatened to escape from you, but you held it down and added it to your smile you gave the students when you reached the front and turned to face them. All new students. All new first-year students. All new faces among the sea of surprised and blushing students. One student tugged against the collar of their shirt. Another giggle pushed to escape, and this time, you let it softly through the silence.
A new school year, you have always looked forward to it since your tenure as a teacher the last seven years since residing in Karakura for eight years. You could recall nearly every student, their name, and face that passed through your doors. And you hoped to do so again this year.
"Alright," you clasp your hands lightly together, focusing their attention, "now that everyone has found a seat, namaste. Welcome to my class; my name is Miss Bishop," you point yourself and your name on the chalkboard behind you. "It is wonderful to meet all of you. Now, before I thoroughly introduce myself, time for attendance."
Clearing your throat and heightening its projection, call the first name. As you went through the list, someone among the students looked at you with a vague familiarity.
"Tataski, what is it?" asked Orihume noticing her friend's focus on you.
"Our teacher looks familiar."
"What do you mean?"
Tapping a finger rhythmically on the countertop, Tataski took a moment and searched through her memories for any semblance of you that might provide an answer. Your smile. Those eyes of yours. Everything about you rippled waves of familiarity within Tataski; she began to wonder if, as her eyes moved over to them, they felt the same. Before her eyes could reach them, you called her name and clicked.
"Tatsuki Arisawa?" you call and pause; this name. You call it again, lifting your eyes to her, "Tatsuki Arisawa." You smiled, quickly set the roll sheet down, and before anyone could blink, you were by her side and embraced her.
Gasps fell from the students' mouths. Tatsuki was stunned.
"My goodness, it is wonderful to see you again, Tatsuki!" you glee, tightening your hug. "My, how you have grown! By now, you must be an assistant at the dojo!"
Dojo!? Tatsuki, blinking a few times and managing to wiggle from your grasp, looked at you, confused for a moment when it clicked. It was a quick flashing memory, but there was mistaking it; you were that woman who occasionally came to the dojo to pick up Ichigo or drop him off with his mother or father. Who introduced you as...
"Miss Bishop!" Tatsuki exclaimed with wide eyes that turned into a genuine smile. "I knew you looked familiar, hey!"
She remembered you, a wash of relief washed over you that permitted through your eyes. "Yes, hey to you too, Tatsuki." your tone softens, "This is quite a surprise. A welcomed one at that. You look lovely."
Tatsuki, keeping her calm, chuckled at your words, although her stiffened position that Orihime noticed, "Ah, thanks. Yeah, it's been a while. Hehe. But I'm glad to see you again too."
"Indeed. Please come by when you have the time; it would be wonderful to catch up."You lightly pat her shoulder, your smile never leaving.
"Yeah. Sure."
Pleased to hear those words, you leave her and begin walking back to the front when she informs you of another in her class that you stopped mid-stride.
"Ichigo's in the class too!"
Your mouth nearly fell open, but you caught it and turned back to Tatsuki, who thumbed over her shoulder to the left to the farthest workstation in the back nearest to the door. Your eyes follow, and there he sat by Chad, a rather tall, dark-skinned, and muscular teen, trying to hunch and level himself away from you. His eyes remained firmly on the countertop, and despite your incredulous stare, his scowl deepened against his clenched jaw. Your heart jumped elated.
How long had it been, you thought, remaining fixed on Ichigo, years no doubt. You notice his scowl, and your heart slightly deflated; it was quite a 360 from the smile he originally carried. You could still recall his smile, brimming with kindness and joy. It mirrored her's beyond a doubt, and it also...
The students filled the room with anticipative silence, their eyes on you, then shifted to Ichigo, awaiting if you would do the same thing as you did with Tatsuki. Chad even scooted over a bit, just in case. As reactive as you wanted to be and run over to him, embrace him(as it was long overdue), hold yourself back, and smile wistfully.
"Welcome, Ichigo," you give a light wave and walk back to the front. You pick up the clipboard, clear your throat, and continue calling and checking off attendance.
When you came to Ichigo's name, he quickly responded and returned to sinking away. Once you finished with the last word, you set aside those climbing feelings eating away at you and smiled brightly at the students.
"Alright, now that we have finished," you stand with a relaxed poise, your shoulders straight and back, chin slightly lifted, legs together, and hands clasped gently before you rest on your dress. "let me properly introduce myself."
Blush spread across a few faces, and eyes stared with awe. Orihime blinked a few times while straightening her posture. The way you stood with grace, one would think you came from royalty. Your voice wasn't high, nor was it too low. It was elegant velvet, which was the best way Orihime could describe it. And held everyone's attention(almost).
Seeing you had the students' attention, you continued, "Again, I am Miss Bishop. Your nexus teacher." The students exchanged confused looks between them; you understood and provided an explanation, one you still were trying to understand. "Yes, well, the term does sound rather baffling. I came up with it as it seemed fitting. What I mean is I will be your teacher covering a variety of subjects. One is Home Economics. The room we have, originally used for physical education equipment, was renovated to suit all our subject needs."
The confusion still hadn't left the students; you noticed and understood. You also felt that way when you discovered this about a week before school started and received the assignment in the mail. This change came because the previous teachers moved and you were chosen without much explanation. Either way, you'd make it work and adjust to it. It also explained why your original room was moved out of the four-leveled building to the one-leveled building near the track and adjacent to the locker rooms a few feet away. The inside was significantly transformed to accommodate the subjects you were teaching, and the ten workstations doubled as a work area for the other subjects, even with the fitted stoves, lower cabinets, and sink. It was enough to counter space and ample space between them. You had your station in the center for demonstrations. You immediately knew this was remolded way before you got the letter. Because this room didn't have enough outlets for the ten refrigerators lined up against the wall behind each station, some were added.
All in all, the room was constructed and designed well to accommodate built-in storage for supplies for cooking and other materials and a walk-in cooler to store the food.
"I understand if that sounds confusing," you assure them doing your best to settle their confusion, "please believe me when I, too, experienced this sudden change. However, we shall adjust together with new change together."
In the back, Ichigo nearly lifted his eyes to you from your words. You repeated them precisely as she had years ago. You continued.
"The remaining subjects are as follows art, science, and history. Music was nearly added in here. However, it diverged to another." You said with some relief quietly. "Since I have four subjects to teach you, it has been divided throughout the week. Every day for home economics. Three for art. Two for science. One day for history. Please write this down." They took out their notebooks. "You will come here twice out of each day of school. Morning and then afternoon. Before lunch and after. Two subjects every day. Understood?"
A few students nodded. Some remained confused; you thought as much and reached behind you to the stack of papers you had and began passing them out. Written on them is what you just explained.
"Follow this, and I assure you, this will assist you in understanding this interesting time. Now, there is something I want everyone here to understand," you finished passing out the last one to a student and went back to the front. You waited for everyone's attention, your eyes sweeping over the class, locking eyes with a few, conviction resonating from yours, "this is not merely a classroom, and you are not merely students. You are my students. Students, I promise and ensure you will prosper here. This is your haven. I solemnly vow to protect you inside and out in this haven until you graduate. Those doors behind you will be open should you ever need anything. I am here for you, all of you."
The room fell into a stun silence for a moment. This reaction isn't what you were expecting; you begin to worry. Did you say the wrong thing? No, you were quite sure; you've said the same thing for years, and with each word, you meant it. While the students registered what you said, you used this time and walked over to your workstation, where a plate covered with a white cloth sat. Humming to yourself, you take it off, revealing a plate of freshly baked cinnamon and chocolate chip cookies.
"Who would like one?"