Mr. Fenton is a competent teacher. Almost too competent.
If Mr. Daniel Fenton had any more than a BS (with a minor in education), Tim would’ve flagged his profile as a potential Rogue. That’s the way of most charismatic academics, at least in Gotham. (Got a PhD? Instant watchlist.) Instead, he’s Gotham Academy’s newest celebrity, as a young, passionate, out-of-towner substitute while the chemistry teacher’s on maternity leave.
Tim gets the hype. Fenton seems to genuinely love teaching, and is invested in the welfare of the student body. He hands out bananas during exam week, hosts a “study habits seminar” each month to coach effective learning strategies, and the third time Tim falls asleep in his class, he even pulls Tim aside to ask if he’s doing okay. With all the late work he accepts and the protein bars he sneaks Tim, he’s every teen vigilante’s dream teacher. He could’ve been Tim’s favorite.
In fact, Mr. Fenton was Tim’s favorite. Up until Tim walks into Mr. Fenton’s chemistry classroom for a forgotten textbook, an hour after the final bell.
On the board where tallied scores for today’s review game had been kept, “THE CHEMISTRY BEHIND DR. CRANE’S FEAR GAS: ANXIOGENICS, NERI’S, & YOU,” is now scrawled. A detailed diagram of the human endocrine system projects in front of a small crowd of adoring and attentive students.
Fenton is wrist-deep in the skull cavity of an anatomical model. A short tug, and out pops the brain.
It’s plastic. It’s fake.
Tim identifies the nearest emergency exit.
Fenton turns to the door, and in the dark classroom with the projector illuminating half his face, his eyes almost seem to flash red. “What’s up, Tim?” he asks. His friendly grin is too big for his face. “I didn’t know you wanted to join the Just Science League!”
[OR: Danny’s a science teacher at Tim’s school. Gotham’s a pretty wild place, even for someone who grew up a superhero in a ghost-infested town, so he takes it upon himself to start a club teaching kids how to manage themselves in the event of a crisis. These Gothamites are pretty hardy, but a little extra training never hurt anybody! And he suspects one of his students might be a teen vigilante, like he’d been, back in the day. As a senior super, it's Danny’s duty look out for him! Surely, this is the subtlest and most appropriate way to give the kid pointers.]
[Tim immediately assumes supervillain.]
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least favorite student at work today: person who came in 15 minutes before we closed, ran directly up to the print desk and plugged their flash drive in without even saying hello or how are you or hi i'm here to print is it okay if i plug my flash drive in. gave me their files to print but hadn't bothered to actually resize them to the size they wanted them printed, and when asked would not tell me what size they wanted, just that 8.5x11 was too big for their postcards and they wanted them THIS BIG [holding their hands up in a very vague way meant to indicate a size smaller than 8.5x11]. additional context is that our printers literally have 2 settings and they're 'scale the image to fit on the page' or 'print at 100% whatever size the image already is' so i could not make it smaller for them. so they ran off and shrunk the images (cool), came back and i got them printing (cool), then ran off AGAIN and i was like "hey i need to ring you up" and they went "no i have another file i need to change the size on." five minutes pass. we are now at 6 minutes to closing. they come back. they drop their file. it's too big for our quick easy printer so i ask them what size they want it to be and they go "idk a2?" and i say "i'm so sorry but i do not know what size a2 is, you have to give it to us in inches" and they say "no i just want a2 size, indesign let me export it as a2 size," and i say "sorry but i am not indesign and i need you to tell me in inches" and they say "it's 430 wide" and i say "four hundred thirty inches???" and they say "no" and refuse to elaborate. we are at 3 minutes to closing. i finally get their massive file to load and it's like 25 inches tall, which is too big for our quick printer. i say "do you want it 25 inches tall" and they say "i want it a2" as if we had not already just had this conversation. they keep giving me looks like i'm the stupid one in this conversation. i say "listen we close in 2 minutes, that is not enough time to print something that big, i could print it at 12x18" for you." my boss goes "just print it it's fine" and i quietly seethe because neither of us should have to stay past the time we're meant to close just because some entitled student refuses to google what size they want their prints to be for ten christian minutes
least favorite student of yesterday was the girl who, when i came into work first thing in the morning after 24 hours of one of the worst migraines ive ever had, was standing at the desk on her phone while 5 people waited in line behind her, blocking the computers people have to put their files on, and i said very politely "hey you know there's a line, right, and it's a bit rude to be on your phone blocking the line" absolutely blew up at me, kept blocking the line for five more minutes, and then CAME BACK LATER after the line had been dealt with to tell me how horrifically rude she thought it was that i said that to her and demanded an apology
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wow ren ii art transported me back into my 17 year old body for a sec. 4 novembers later feels like so much time
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bt just to get back on that 'porn addiction dont real' and 'sex toys dont fry your nerves' propaganda...im not saying science isn't real, but science is profoundly influenced by large and powerful industries.
and the sex industry, even if you jump all the way up from sex toy manufacturers to the most extreme porn production.... that industry largely has the means to lobby associations and finance studies to state that their money-making products and services DONT influence sexuality negatively AT ALL :) dont worry, nothing to see there :)
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