ART CLASS: Day One (Open to all Students)

[Nigel Hobart]

Nigel Hobart stood in the center of the Courtyard, musing to himself and going over what he had planned to say. Today was his first class at the Hammel Institute you see, and he wanted to make a damn good impression on the students right off the bat. Back at Kocher, he'd had a reputation of being both cranky, irritable, but also brilliant and skillful in teacher. Art was his passion, and it was his goal to spread this passion to as many young ones as he could.

Hearing the bell for the current period to end, Nigel turned and made sure the easel and chalkboard he'd brought with him were steady and upright. The grassy around was most unlike a typical classroom floor, so he had to be careful. The hubbub and clattering of students going to and fro in the halls filled the air. Nigel smiled. He felt at home once again.

The dim lessened, and he saw that students had begun to enter the courtyard and wander towards him.

"Please, come, just sit down and be comfortable. No need to be formal today. Leave your backpacks by my own case if you will." Nigel said, motioning towards his briefcase a few feet away from the chalkboard. He'd left a note on the front of the art studio entrance, a large piece of sketch paper with the words "CLASS SHALL MEET IN THE COURTYARD" written in calligraphy ink upon it. By the looks of it, it had worked. By the time the next bell rang, all of today's class was sitting down on the grass in various postures. Holding up a hand to motion for silence, Nigel took a deep breath and began once the mummer had died down.

"Good afternoon everyone." Nigel said in his crisp British accent, turning to write his name on the chalkboard in his usual elegant calligraphy. "My name is Mr. Hobart. You may call me Mr. H if you'd like. I am your new art teacher, and before you ask, yes... I am British."

He smiled, anticipating any potentially distracting questions. "We are here today instead of the studio for various reasons. Chiefly, it is the summer, and I just know you lot would have begged me to have a class outside at one time or another. Well, I know good weather is rare in this area, so I've gone ahead and just gotten the whole thing over with. We have now had a class outside."

Nigel set down the chalkboard and took a few steps back. "Today is less of a class and more of a lecture. We shall not be doing actual art today, but trust me, we'll be diving into that faster than you think." A ever so faint flash of energy filled his eyes, as if to signal the upcoming display. "I know some of you are in the art club, of which I am now the advisor, and that most of you aren't. I shall simply be discussing the very nature of art to begin with, and since it is a visual experience, I shall enlighten you with a display more than words. But, as you can see, I have no real mediums other than that deary chalkboard. Therefore... I shall simply have to improvise."

Nigel took a few steps back, smiling as he saw the eyes of his pupils staring back at him. Some were bored already, some were enraptured; the usual turnout. Nevertheless, he began his display, multicolored energy flowing from his fingertips as he spoke.

"Since the dawn of man, humans have had art. It is instinctual to our very being." Nigel traced out some crude caveman drawings in the air, the energy crackling as its creator wove it like paint upon the nothingness. "Even before we could really speak, we could express ourselves. Art is beyond comprehension. We simply feel it." With a swipe of his hand the energy smudged together and was reformed. This time, as various pictures. "It is everywhere, in every form. Paintings, architecture, even science." Loops of energy swirled together as Nigel roughly traced Van Gogh's "Starry Night." It formed solid sticks and pillars as the Eiffel Tower was erected. A double-helix of DNA spun on it's axis as it flowed from Nigel's hands like water. The teacher's head began to ring. Such complex shapes were difficult, but he knew he had to throw a real showstopper to earn his students respect from the get-go.

"It is sometimes beautiful. Sometimes it is ugly. A single work of art can sometimes mean a thousand different things to a hundred different people. It has united us, divided us, made us strong, and brought us to our knees." The energy massed together in the artists cupped palms. As it glowed brighter and brighter, a single rose "grew" from within it, blossoming from the sphere of white plasma. A trickle of sweat trickled down Nigel's back, hidden from view by his clothing; the first tell-tale sign of the strain. He had to come to an end soon, but he had timed his short display perfectly.

"The very nature of art is, my students, ever changing. To some it can be the force that enlightens their world..." Nigel "plucked the rose from the air, and tossed it up to the sky. "Or it can be the very thing that destroys them." The rose blasted apart as the energy dissipated, going off like a firecracker. With a wide, open mouthed smile, Nigel looked down from the blast back to his students, seeing the looks upon their face. "We must always remember this. Understood?" The students clapped, began to talk again, and did whatever it was they usually did.

"Now, I only have one last thing to say before I cut you loose upon your own projects. Yes, projects, for on this first day I shall be assigning you homework. Just because this is art, don't expect an easy A." Nigel's words were a bit more stern here then before, but the mood quickly faded away again. "In one weeks time, I expect every one of you to turn in a work of art. But not any work of art. We are gifted, every one of us. I want you to USE those gifts. You're assignment is to craft a piece of art using your powers. The only rules are that you must PLAN OUT your project ahead of time, and discuss it with me either in my office, in class, or via e-mail. You are allowed to brainstorm with friends, with me, or with anyone else you so wish. You can do anything you want, so long as I approve it for safety reasons. The quality need not matter; bad art is still art. I am looking upon your willingness and creativeness."

Nigel picked up the piece of chalk, and wrote down the due date, finishing his speech. "Art is the link to the soul. Our gifts are a part of that soul. Fuse them together, and you will have true expression. Today's formality is over. You may begin brainstorming. If you have any questions, please ask them. Write down any ideas you have, and submit them to me by the end of the hour. Now go! Think! It is your turns to talk."

Hiding his fears, he hoped to God this idea was a good one. He'd find out soon enough at least.

[Nigel Hobart]

((If you/your character gets an idea, please both include it in your post and send it to me via forum PM. Nigel will have to approve it before they can actually begin.))

[Estelle Flores]

Wow. This guy was so. Cool. Estelle listened to Mr. Hobart's speech with her mouth slightly agape. She had her doubts at his assertion that everyone was artistic and that everyone had gifts, but the way he spoke about it, she almost believed him. Double points because he was letting them have class outside in the sun. Estelle hadn't known what to bring, since there hadn't been a list of supplies for his class or anything, but she was starting to de-stress from that. She was more than a little intimidated by this class, because she was no artist, and Mr. Hobart seemed really passionate, but she was determined to do her best.

She blanched, however, at the thought of doing something with her powers. Was he... serious? That didn't seem like a good idea at all. Her powers were dangerous, and they could hurt people, and he wanted her to use them for homework? Estelle's hands shook a little bit and she wanted to tell him that she definitely couldn't do that without freaking out, but she didn't want to make a scene in the middle of his class. Instead, she raised a shaking hand and asked:

"Mr. Hobart? C-could you give us some examples of some projects people used before? I just want to get an idea."

[Alice Halifax]

Alice stood outside the room in which art class was generally held, but today something different awaited here there. On the door, written in calligraphy, was a note directing students to the yard outside where today's class was going to be held. "How quaint," she muttered to herself, adjusting the strap across her shoulder which secured her large canvas bag full of art supplies. For some reason, everyone thought that art class always needed to be held outside every time the sun came out. Sure, Alice could see the occasional trip outside for some exceptional and rare specimen to paint or sculpt but in all honesty, being inside worked just as well. However, Alice was far from being the teacher and so followed directions with a sigh and slow footfalls.

Art class was the only time anyone in school would see Alice dressed so lazily. A pair of denim overalls covered in splotches of paint and dried clay with a mid-rift white tee shirt and sandals, her hair pulled back in a tight bun. When dealing with any aspect of art, whether it be painting or sculpting, Alice knew wearing good clothes would only ruin them, hence the outfit she wore now. However, what made things bad was the knowledge that some people considered this outfit to be everyday clothes....How lazy.

As she finally exited into the fresh air and bright sunlight of the day, Alice looked about and spotted the area where her class was set up. She knew there was a new teacher and even from this distance, Alice could read him like a book from his appearance. He was dressed rather eccentrically, but Alice liked the look. She continued on her way toward the area set out for the class, taking up a position not quiet in the middle of the makeshift teaching area and sort of off to the right side. She dropped her canvas bag by the new teachers briefcase as instructed and then waited on the others to fall in so that class could begin.

Mr. Hobart's accent gave away his nationality from word one but it didn't bother Alice as she had been around the world several times with her father. She smiled though, rather enjoying the accent. From her experience, Alice saw the British people as rather courtesy and civilized, which was a welcome change from the knuckle dragging apes she had to put up with on a daily basis around here. Once everyone settled down, Mr. Hobart put on his little light show, which only intrigued Alice all the more.

The constructs which Mr. Hobart created were wonderful and beautiful, holding Alice's attention rather securely. She had never seen a power like this and had to admit she found it very enjoyable. Mr. Hobart was exceptionally talented with is ability and his way with words was noteworthy too. If he appeared strained, Mr. Hobart hid it well but Alice was too hypnotized by the energy constructs to pay to much attention to Mr. Hobart personally.

Finally he finished, and Alice smiled, nodding her head at Mr. Hobart to show her approval and respect for the magnificent display of his ability. She dropped her head and gaze just a tad however, as Mr. Hobart went on to outline their first assignment. It was a fine idea, if you possessed a power which would allow you to create, however, Alice was no where near the ballpark on that one. She could vocally hypnotize people with her voice and she failed to see how that could be used to create any art what so ever. She would give a few others a chance to question Mr. Hobart first, perhaps address her problem with him after class so as not to look too foolish publicly.

[Aaron Walker]

AJ was running a little late for art class. He got distracted in the hallways chasing down a few rouge bouncy balls that had flown out of his pocket as he was running about. When he finally got to the art class room, he stopped for a few minutes to admire the calligraphy. Man, he thought to himself. I hope we learn how to write like that. He stood there for a few more minutes before it occurred to him that he should actually read the note instead of admiring it.

He arrived in the courtyard just as the teacher was finishing up his power display. “Dude,” he said, awestruck. “That was awesome!” He clapped a few times, until he realized the teacher was still trying to speak.

After he heard what his first assignment was to be, AJ rose his hand immediately in the air. “Um…Mr…” AJ said, realizing he had arrived to late to learn the new teacher’s name. “Mr. Sir? What if? What if our power is kinda dangerous? I mean, can we do artwork in the training room or something?” He had a feeling that the janitors, especially that creepy Dylan guy, would have some major objections to the training rooms getting a new paint job.