Just Another Day in the Life of a Teacher's Aid
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
19
Views:
9,670
Reviews:
16
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
19
Views:
9,670
Reviews:
16
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Prologue
(I have a vision for this story that includes all the warnings that I applied to it. But, in order to maybe(?) get there, I have to fill in a whole bunch of gaps that I don't know exactly how to. A promising author, aren't i :D aka be patient with lil ole me, please:) )
Prologue Our eyes met, again. I hastily looked down at the papers I was grading. I didn’t have the guts to look up again to see if he was still staring at me, or I suppose he could have just been spacing off in my general direction; but probably not, right? I mean, he’s not spacing off, I mean, he can’t be! Who the F spaces off like that? It's not even like he happens to look up when I look up. I would notice that. So, here’s the deal. I needed volunteer hours to complete my graduation requirements. Apparently, sixty just wouldn’t cut it. That’s why I’m here, sitting in this little corner, at this knocked up wooden desk. My little corner is at the front of the room to the right. There are two lines of desks across from me that face to the left and there are two lines on the left side of the room that face the right. Why is this important, you may ask? Well, it just is. So you’re going to just have to keep your pants on. Then, in the back there are two more lines of desks that face toward the front of the room. You get the upside-down U effect if you’re standing at the front of the room. There’s the overhead projector in the middle of the room. By the way, that overhead projector is just gross and old fashioned. For some reason, the language department didn’t get the upgrade of those cool things that aren’t overhead projectors. So, what do I do? Well I sit at my creepy little corner and grade papers, make origami examples—I’m basically subject to my teacher’s every whim. Her name’s Haruka, and she’s the Japanese teacher. “Oh, GOD, it’s one of those nerdy snot-nosed kids who are obsessed with anime and what’s it called, MAYnga?” Is that what your impression is of me? Well, F you. It just so happens that Haruka needed a teacher aid for her class because all of those other aids of her’s weren’t doing shite. Yes, I like to say “shite.” I’m working on my cussing. Anyways, let me recap what happened before I got paranoid of making eye contact with him: