(no subject)
Alcuin was glad to be teaching again. It was proving to be a sorely needed distraction. He had taught French here on the island for long enough that he had a stockpile of lesson plans and texts, but every new term had to tailor them to the individual proficiencies of his students. It was a bit of a challenge having a class full of students at different levels of prior knowledge, so the first thing he'd done was to get a baseline of where they were beginning.
He was referencing those scores now with his lessons to come up with a new plan for the term, and had notes and texts spread out on the kitchen table as he wrote in neat, scrolling text in a notebook and sipped from a cup of black tea.
Though at some point he realized that he had become distracted yet again - and had begun instead to draw in the margins of the paper, over and over again, the tattoo that Giles had designed to commemorate Mohinder, a stylized double helix that now graced Giles' upper arm.
He was referencing those scores now with his lessons to come up with a new plan for the term, and had notes and texts spread out on the kitchen table as he wrote in neat, scrolling text in a notebook and sipped from a cup of black tea.
Though at some point he realized that he had become distracted yet again - and had begun instead to draw in the margins of the paper, over and over again, the tattoo that Giles had designed to commemorate Mohinder, a stylized double helix that now graced Giles' upper arm.