(SEPTEMBER) Freshman Homeroom: Mr. Kirrell

Vehemently Emily said, "I LOVE books, and I wish that I had some at the house. But my parents seem to think too much reading is dangerous for me." She sighed.
Emily looked up at him. Was he really going to help her get books to read? She really hoped so. "I'll read anything." she said quietly. She often wondered why her parents had such a strict stance against her owning books.

She loved libraries and was allowed to go to the local one only rarely. She wasn't allowed to read books about bad things like kidnappings, or murders or anything her parents considered violent in nature.Emily offered the teacher a smile, letting out a deep breath.

At Ms. Parkinson's words, Mr. Kirrell dropped any notion that he would play this game with a child, "I don't expect you to understand just how it is very well related to my class, and I am in no way going to help you do that. All I can say is that you are the only one making such a fuss. To know no shame can easily become a downfall. However, you make one valid point; it is not, or in this instance, you are not worth wasting time over. If doing as you see fit means disrupting my class, then by all means, leave. Your tuition is not something that will be sorely missed." Not once did his voice change in pitch or tone as he spoke, and if the girl missed any of his words, it was not his problem.

Mr. Kirrell was determined not to let such a spoiled rotten girl ruin his fun for the day. Completely dismissing the girl after he gave her the choice, having no interest in whether she stayed or not, he turned once again to Lady Macbeth and allowing a minute smile, he told her, "There's no need to be so animated about it, although it does please me to see someone actually willing to learn even though they are not in my English class. Tell you what," John turned away to search behind his desk for something, before pulling out a laminated strip of paper about 5 inches long and 3 inches wide, "here's a pass for the Library." He held the paper out to the girl, but before allowing her to take it, said, "Now, please try to be back in fifteen minutes. You can check out a book and bring it here to read for the rest of homeroom today. I will take it back at the end of class today, and keep it in my drawer for whenever you may need it next. Whenever we have free time, you may read it. Sound reasonable?" Mr. Kirrel wasn't usually one to stick his nose in the affairs of parents, but he considered it cruel not to allow a child the wonders books can bring.

Henna waved away the teacher's comments with a lazy hand. Honestly she just didn't care what the blustering fool said. She was more interested in spending time with her friends and she was getting some enjoyment out of this crabby teacher after all. Henna hoped that her classmates would understand that she was just really confident, not snobby in any way. She was not intimidated in the least.

Henna couldn't help but smirk. He didn't know her way of doing things did he? After all she was only as disruptive as he would force her to be. She knew that the teacher might not miss her tuition, but NO school shared his view on that score since the students' money is what kept the schools alive.

Emily looked at the teacher, excitement obvious in her eyes, as she smiled. "Yes, I'll do my best to be back here quickly," she said. She already was thinking of grabbing the biggest, thickest book she could find. She blinked, and said "I love learning. There's so much that I don't know and I want to learn it." She accepted the pass and said "Thank you so much. I think that's an excellent idea."

She more than ready to go to the school's library and she was wondering where it was. She could imagine the books already.

"Off you go, then, Lady Macbeth. Erase the spot that bothers you so." Mr. Kirrell had no idea whether she would get the reference or not, but he figured it was appropriate nonetheless. Deciding it was time to ask one of the boys of the class his question, John walked around so that he was fairly close to the quiet blond boy that looked a little frail. "And what of you? You look like someone who has at least one piece of literature that you return to more than once," at least, that was what Mr. Kirrell hoped.

Emily smiled, and left the room with a smile on her face, the pass held tightly in her hand. She quickly found someone to ask for directions and she thanked him and went into the library. She looked through as many books as she could in the short time she was there.

She pulled several books down and looked through them. She found one that looked interesting, that seemed to be about a kidnapped boy. She knew her parents would be mad about her choosing this book. And it was thick. She could already see herself reading it, and she smiled to herself as she hurried back to class with five minutes to spare. She went back into class, and gave Mr Kirrell back his pass. "Thank you." she said, showing him the book she'd chosen.

Carson's face registered a lot of surprise--who didn't have books?? Even his athletic, outdoorsy older sister loved a good read sometimes. Besides that, the blatant responses from the white-haired girl shocked him. Even when his sister spoke up against authority by any means, it threw him off. And to suddenly be pulled out of his inner world by this same authority with a question, a very valid question.... The blond considered his answer carefully, as he remembered the dry, annoyed responses the other students before him had received.
He wanted to be truthful, but not as if he was exaggerating... What books did he return to? He knew them, they remained on the tip of his quiet tongue.... Um.... Um... "Um probably...authors more than books....like...Jack London... But Black Beauty is the only one book I can think of right now...." Being put on the spot was extremely uncomfortable for the boy, but considering he'd actually gotten out two faltering sentences, Carson felt as if he'd made some progress. He read many more books of poetry than he did prose, but still, he doubted that that was what his instructor was asking for.

Mr. Kirrell stared on, partly in sympathy, but mostly unsurprised. After all, most students reactions to him tended to fall within the range of the boy before him and Ms. Parkinson. However, he was delighted to get the gist of the stuttering response he received, although his face made no indication of the fact. His voice gave away just as little as he replied, "You assume too much of me, Mr. Joseph Greene. There is no need to be so nervous." John knew he wasn't being entirely truthful, so he amended, "I take that back; more than one of the kids I have taught have ended up crying because of me. But I digress. Although I cannot say I'm particularly fond of the "classics", Black Beauty is a lovely story. I think we'll get along well enough, Mr. Greene."

Accepting the library pass from Lady Macbeth, Mr. Kirrell surmised that while a bit too chatty for his liking, it wouldn't be too much of a hassle to have her in his class. Glancing quickly at the largely sized book, he nodded in approval, before shooing her off to her desk with a wave of his hand so class could continue. He still had a good portion of the class to give names to. Sighing a bit in defeat, he arched an eyebrow at Gary. "I am sure you would probably like a more appealing name than Pet, so tell me, what do you like to read?"

No need to be nervous, right. Carson nodded quickly at Mr. Kirrell, afraid of giving too energetic or too lackluster in a response. He wouldn't cry, he was never that babyish, but stating than right now felt like an out-of-place and unnecessary thing to do. It wasn't that his homeroom teacher intimidated him, but that he was still so unused to being around many others. That was also a cry for sympathy that he just did not need to share, only an excuse and a crutch that might prevent him from growing, moving forward. Johnathan Greene...it took him a moment, but he soon understood the reference.

Carson stared back down at his notebook for some odd, ticking seconds, as if it was some unknown thing. He flipped the notebook open and grabbed a firm hold of his pen, smiling ever-so faintly as the tip began to skritch the formations of words onto the pale lines of the paper.
He continued to listen to his surroundings though, hoping to possibly learn about people that way.

Setting his camera down on the desk for a moment, Gary looked up at Mr. Kirrell, ready to toy with him a bit. He licked his lips before opening his mouth, forming the words in his mind before uttering them aloud. "Now," Gary started slowly, narrowing his eyes at the mad before him. "What if I told you I liked to read comic books instead?" Gary folded his arms, flashing Mr. Kirrell with his signature grin. "I mean, you could call me Iron Man, or Captain America or something. Buuuut, I doubt you read stuff like that." Although the brown haired boy did love to read pieces of literature from F. Scotts Fitzgerald and J. D. Salinger, he thought it would be much cooler if Mr.Kirrell called him by a super hero name.

Mr. Kirrell smirked at Mr. Greene's response, before giving his full attention to the brunette boy with the camera. Narrowing his own eyes at the flippant response, he spoke, "I'd rather not give you the pride of carrying either the name Tony Stark or Steve Rogers. No, I much rather we compromise in a way that will amuse me. So from this day forth, I think I shall just refer to you as The Thing. No doubt you won't actually be offended by this, but that's not the point. I think it works well with your role as a pet." He directed a cold smile to The Thing, and waited for the response that would no doubt be one that John could not amuse himself with; he had already accepted that from the boy's demeanor.

Emily hurried back to her desk with the thick book she had chosen, and she sat it down gently. She was already opening it as she slid back into her seat and within seconds she was reading, a happy expression on her face as she absorbed the words she read. She was excited to have been told it was okay for her to read.

She really liked Mr Kirrell and she didn't understand why some of the other students didn't seem to like him. Oh no, to Emily he was a hero and she couldn't wait to come back to every single homeroom class she had with him. Emily looked up from her book momentarily to gaze at him with an awed expression on her face, before returning to the fascinating story unfolding in front of her.

"Oh whaaaat!? C'mon! Why can't I be Tony Stark?" Gary cried, sending a glare towards the thin man. Resting his cheek on his hand, Gary moped in his own little world for a moment before jolting back up in his seat. Stretching his arms and legs forward, Gary smiled a sincere smile. "So, if I'm 'The Thing'," Air quoting The Thing. "How about I call you... Wonder Woman!" Gary stifled a laugh as he pictured Mr. Kirrell in Wonder Woman's costume. He could always go home and Photoshop his face onto her body as well, just to get a rise out of him. "I think we'll make a great superhero pair! Don't you, Wonder Woman?"

So The Thing could be amusing, as well, Mr. Kirrell noticed during Gary's spectacular reaction. He had no reaction whatsoever to the glare sent his way. However, his mirth didn't last long as The Thing attempted to bargain with him. It wasn't the first time a student of his had decided to name their teacher, Long John Silver, Ponytail, and 4 eyes among the least creative, but none of them as of yet had literally called him a woman. "So," he started out slowly, "you may retain your gender while I may not? May I point out that your bargaining skills are very poor?"

"And may I point out I'd be better suited as Tony Stark or Steve Rogers?" Gary laughed. Wonder Woman was a certainly interesting character. (Hah, see what he did there?)He was going to have fun this year. Feeling that he'd messed around enough, Gary informed Mr. Kirrell that he was fond of the book The Great Gatsby. "I'm not a complete waste of time." Gary smiled, before turning his attention back to his camera.

Mr. Kirrell was going to ask why The Thing thought that another name would suit him, disregarding the fact that he might regret doing so, when Gary's next words caused him to pause and consider the boy. Another smirk appeared on John's face as he said, "I never said pets were a waste of time. But if you insist on being such a hero, I suppose the tragic one of the name of Gatsby will do, unless you prefer the ever-confident Tom Buchanan? Or better still, a female? Pammy, perhaps?" Mr. Kirrell was surprisingly enjoying this conversation, but he continued to settle for a smirk throughout, lest the boy thing that he was gaining the upper hand.

Chuckling at Mr. Kirrell's comment on whether or not he wanted to choose a female, Gary looked up to face him. "Mister Buchanan will do just fine, thanks." He grinned, returning his attention back to his camera. "So, what's your favorite piece of literature?" Gary asked nonchalantly. He was a bit interested in what Mr. Kirrell had to say, even though he didn't seem like it. He thought Kirrell was a pretty okay guy... So far anyway.

If Carson could do anything but crack a huge smile at the exchange between "The Thing" and "Wonder Woman" as he stared downwards, his messy straw-colored hair veiling the expression just barely, it was news to him. He struggled not to allow laughter to escape him. This was a kind of humor Becky would have loved to and often did participate in, wholly and cleverly. While there was a kind of irreverence to it that threw him off somewhat, even Carson had to admit that it was rather funny, especially since he recognized every name brought up.
Turning a page to scrawl the list of names in Mr. Kirrell and Mr. Buchanan's play argument, he marked it down for posterity and his own memory--the words outlined his retrospection, they could later be used to return his mind to that piece of the now past.

It was a little disconcerting to hear his own question redirected to himself. Mr. Kirrell didn't exactly inspire students to get to know him better; they were much further concerned with getting the hell out of his class. He decided that he would humor the boy anyway, and answer truthfully, "As much as I love a good book, Mr. Buchanan, I must admit I have a striking passion for manga. One such manga by the simple name of Air is a particularly lovely story. I read it some time ago, but it still perplexes me to this day. When the protagonist is asked, 'What do you think it would be like to fly,' he answers, 'I think it would hurt.' I cannot, for the life of me figure out what would prompt such a response." Mr. Kirrell snapped his mouth shut, a bit bemused that he had said all of what he had so freely. Shaking his head a bit, he stared at Mr. Buchanan, an intent gaze that asked, "Will that be all?"

Gary leaned forward in his chair a bit, fixing his glasses as flashed Mr. Kirrell with one of his infamous grins. "Manga, huh?" He mumbled, chuckling a bit. It was quite amusing; the oh-so serious and ever strict teacher had a love for manga. Who knew? Certainly not Mister Winters, that's for sure! Adjusting himself in his chair, Gary ran his hand through his messy brown hair before saying, "I now dub thee, Yukito Kunisaki. That will be all, sir." Although he did know a thing or two about manga, Gary wasn't too into reading it. He much loved the animations better. Stretching his feet out a bit more, Gary fiddled with his beloved camera, before coming to a horrid realization. "Heeeeeey..." Gary frowned. "How come he can choose manga, but I can't pick comics without getting a cheesy name? That's uncool." He soon began to trail off, mumbling to himself how he was deserving of the title Tony Stark, and how crummy it was to get a superhero that didn't fit him.

Mr. Kirrell blinked, at a loss about what to do next. The pe- Mr. Buchanan actually knew what he was talking about. Perhaps the boy wasn't as dull as he led on, after all. Preferring not to comment on his own "dubbing", John had turned around, expecting to leave the conversation at that and look for his next victim (no use denying the term). He had planned on calling on the loud girl with the even louder pink colored hair, but Mr. Buchanan gained his attention once more. At the boy's inquiry, Mr. Kirrell only raised an eyebrow, feeling more himself, and stated, "Because, Mr. Buchanan, I am the teacher. By definition, I am 'uncool'", he finished with a smirk. Frowning as the somewhat intelligible words degenerated into mumbling, John shook his head, and decided to just ask the nosy blond from earlier this morning, since she was right there. "Well, Miss, I assume you have something other than invading the personal life of others to help pass the time. What do you like to read?"

The blonde journalist had taken in entire conversation between “The Thing” and “Wonder Woman” –as she preferred them- (Sorry Gary!) although her gaze was attracted to the ongoings outside the window. In the distance there had been a game of dodge ball in the works, and she had found the pairing rather intriguing. The seniors lobed the ball at each other until the game took a surprising turn - the smallest brunette taking a hard hit. Oooooooh Wincing Danielle shook her head slightly before looking up at the instructor, assuming that he had been addressing her.

Indeed Mr. Kirrell had been correct in his assumption that the persistent journalist’s preferred to “invade” the personal life of others, although she viewed it a type of community service – so to speak. Revealing the secrets and giving the facts and sense of truth back to the inhabitant of the island. She should be considered a HERO! Okay maybe that’s a little overboard, but everyone had to start somewhere. There were things that should never be kept secret... and she intended to unveil them all.

Leaning on her elbows Dani smiled rather innocently at Mr. Kirrell answering his question. “Well aside from the Weekly Paper. I really enjoy the Sherlock Holmes novels!” Sure there were quite a few names the teacher could assign her that she wouldn’t be too excited about. So she planned to try and steer him in the right direction. “Sherlock has a good ring to it don’t you think?” She asked hopeful that he’d kindly take the hint. -doubtful-

Dark blue eyes narrowed at the sight of a student lost in a world not at all related to the only one said student should be concerned with. However, the unmistakable gleam that entered these eyes at the prospect of a chance to put this nosy, over-confident child into her place could not be mistaken. This introductory class was by far his 'nicest'; nobody had yet to be reduced to tears, and that meant that John wasn't doing his job. Unfortunately, something told him that he wouldn't find his willing victim in the one who currently held his attention, and yet, he could not fault her for her own personal strength. He was always envious of those who seemed to go through life so freely, but knew that such a lifestyle was not meant for him. It was a lesson he had learned the hard way.

His inward reflection lost him the chance to bark at the too-cheery teen, but that didn't mean that he had run out of tricks just yet. Clearing his throat, he pulled his lips away from his teeth in a way that was most certainly unattractive, and responded to his student's almost surprising revelation, "Yes, but doesn't Irene Adler sound like it was just made for you?" His inflection at its most contemptuous, Mr. Kirrell paused briefly, hoping to at least rouse a sense of indignation from the blonde.

Mr. Kirrell wasn’t too shabby! Here she was wandering once again wondering where the rumors of the “terrible teacher” had generated from! Though he had a bit of an uncaring (borderline frightening) exterior from time to time, if you were perceptive enough you could get a glimpse through the cracks as he went from student to student in the naming process . . .John Kirrell was truly enjoying this –even just a little-  possibly even intrigued by this handful of unique students. Oooor Danielle was completely off and her instructor truly hated kids and that invisible smile that peeked out at the corner of his lips was just a hint of what his sick twisted mind was planning to unload on these poor unfortunate souls that landed in his class this year

Of course Dani was ecstatic to receive the name of ingenious Irene Adler, the one and only person to ever have “beaten” Holmes. Though every girl that’d ever seen the movies of that heartthrob Robert Downey Jr.  playing the devilishly handsome Sherlock Holmes, they’d immediately release their fan girl squeals at the chance to be his Love Interest ! Ugh. . .  Danielle’s stomach turned at the thought of that. Unlike other young teenage girls the platinum blonde’s mind was far from hotties and crushes, and she’d ACTUALLY read the books instead of basing all her facts on the blockbuster movie. Holmes never loved Irene . . . not it that sense of the word. He loved her resourcefulness, which earned her his unbound admiration! She was brilliant and tactical, everything Dani felt empowered by so of course she’d happily accept the name.

“I couldn’t have chosen a bett …..errrr” Dani’s reply had faded as she caught sight of Mr. Kirrell’s look of hidden devilish humor. The student immediate felt as though she’d been missing his jest at appointing her that particular name. Sure Irene was a bit cocky always leaping out to take charge because she didn’t want to be controlled, and ultimately it was her overconfidence that led to her eventual downfall. And even though Holmes hadn’t truly loved her; the same couldn’t be said about Irene’s feelings towards Holmes. Sitting back in her seat Dani slightly shook her head feeling as though she’d just fallen into Mr. Kirrell’s spider web, as  all of Miss Adler’s negative traits had now been flowing non-stop into Dani’s mind. Jeez thanks Kirrell! Alas the journalist would still proudly accept the name in reminder that Kirrell was much much more malevolently brilliant that she’d given him credit for! “Yes, I do believe that Irene Adler was made just for me, hopefully though I don't tread too closely in her footsteps!”

He was hardly surprised at the elasticity of the girl before him. At the very least, he wouldn't be crucial to constructing her backbone. The same could be said for a select other few in the bunch, and despite his attitude, John didn't actually dismiss the trait. He simply found it overbearing and felt compelled to push them to use it with a bit more... Tact. His year certainly wouldn't be dull.

Mr. Kirrell could practically hear the cogs spurring into overdrive as she let his words sink in fully. If he needed any proof that the child was serious about her passion for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's progeny, this was it. The second guessing, the shrewd eye as she recalled that along with many strengths, quite a few pitfalls follow, if her last comment was anything to go by. All according to plan. Satisfied, he let his eyes roam over his class in completion, which was smaller than average even by his standards. He couldn't complain; what he did have was quite a bit for his plate. Despite this, John was up for the challenge and said as much, "By the end of the year, I expect you all to be aware of your strengths and weaknesses and how to exploit the former and hide the latter. Now, any questions before I turn you lose on this school and hope that none of you come in with injuries or some nonsense?" Kirrell was exaggerating, he knew, but where was the fun in life without hyperbole?