ForsytheFor the third time in his entire teaching career, the final day, belonging to the first week of school had come to a close. Out on the mahogany desk, Brendon Kelan had piles of papers stacked in various places, some of them even on the little coffee table that he had in the area that he considered his living room. All of the papers were handed in from his students from the various classes then he held throughout the day. It was their first actual piece of homework, having given them the question of what they wanted for him to cover in class during the year. The previous days were spent getting to know one another, especially for the first year students who had yet to really get acquainted with other people.
But now, he had the joyous task of looking over each and every paper, while also taking notes himself, figuring out what big topics he was going to cover in each class. The world was a big place, and there has been a lot of time between the start of man and now. Of course, his class focused on Asian history. European history was over-done, and there were many other professors out there who enjoyed that sort of history. But not Brendon. He didn't care too much for it, having grown up taking many United States and European history classes in his youth. From his High school years onward, he looked into Asian history and culture. His mother was firmly Korean, who had sought out life in America at the soonest possible moment. His father, for which he had taken his looks from, was a strange mix of Irish and Native American, Brendon's grandmother and grandfather respectively.
His left hand gripped the red pen in hand, hovering down one of the papers as he read and made notes on it. His right hand moved the papers from the center of his desk to one of the piles on the sides, careful to not hit his mug full of coffee on the way to the pile. The mug sat calmly on the right side of the desk, mirroring the little stand that his phone rested against upright. It was plugged in, charging while it displayed the time like an alarm clock. His phone had an alarm to go off at six in the morning, while his actual alarm clock in his bedroom was set for five thirty. Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to have to get up and turn it off in the morning.
The pen was set down and his other hand grabbed the mug, taking a sip and setting it back down as he let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't going to make it through his long day without coffee, he was sure of that, and his students this year were going to keep him up until the crack of dawn. It was still strange to him that he was only a few years older than they were. The last two years were filled with experimental lessons and tests to get his own grip on teaching, and this year was going to be no different. Of course, he actually would teach them. There was going to be teaching and the passing of information, but Brendon knew that he still needed to find that groove.
His eyes flicked to his phone. It was six thirty seven in the evening, the date August twenty second. He still had another pile of papers to go, and he had yet to even finish the pile that he was currently working on at the moment. There was also the little note pad with what he planned on focusing on in each class based on what the class had given him, which sat next to the paper at hand. It was just another pile and a half, he reminded himself constantly, hoping that it would make things speed up so that he could be done better.
But now, he had the joyous task of looking over each and every paper, while also taking notes himself, figuring out what big topics he was going to cover in each class. The world was a big place, and there has been a lot of time between the start of man and now. Of course, his class focused on Asian history. European history was over-done, and there were many other professors out there who enjoyed that sort of history. But not Brendon. He didn't care too much for it, having grown up taking many United States and European history classes in his youth. From his High school years onward, he looked into Asian history and culture. His mother was firmly Korean, who had sought out life in America at the soonest possible moment. His father, for which he had taken his looks from, was a strange mix of Irish and Native American, Brendon's grandmother and grandfather respectively.
His left hand gripped the red pen in hand, hovering down one of the papers as he read and made notes on it. His right hand moved the papers from the center of his desk to one of the piles on the sides, careful to not hit his mug full of coffee on the way to the pile. The mug sat calmly on the right side of the desk, mirroring the little stand that his phone rested against upright. It was plugged in, charging while it displayed the time like an alarm clock. His phone had an alarm to go off at six in the morning, while his actual alarm clock in his bedroom was set for five thirty. Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to have to get up and turn it off in the morning.
The pen was set down and his other hand grabbed the mug, taking a sip and setting it back down as he let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't going to make it through his long day without coffee, he was sure of that, and his students this year were going to keep him up until the crack of dawn. It was still strange to him that he was only a few years older than they were. The last two years were filled with experimental lessons and tests to get his own grip on teaching, and this year was going to be no different. Of course, he actually would teach them. There was going to be teaching and the passing of information, but Brendon knew that he still needed to find that groove.
His eyes flicked to his phone. It was six thirty seven in the evening, the date August twenty second. He still had another pile of papers to go, and he had yet to even finish the pile that he was currently working on at the moment. There was also the little note pad with what he planned on focusing on in each class based on what the class had given him, which sat next to the paper at hand. It was just another pile and a half, he reminded himself constantly, hoping that it would make things speed up so that he could be done better.