Making Art (Open!)

Spring had come to the grounds of Fukui, and the trees were in bloom, filling the campus with a riot of colours, and the air with a heady mixture of perfumes. The air was filled with the sound of birds calling, as they flitted about gathering food for their young. Even the girls of the school were  filled with the energy of like that inevitably came with the arrival of spring.

Deirdre Martinelli smiled as she looked out of the window of her art room. She remembered spring when she was at school, and how it used to make her feel, full of life and energy. She turned from the window and looked around her classroom. Everything seemed to be in place. She smiled as the bell went. She walked to her desk at the front of the room and stood at the side of her desk just as the first of her class entered.

She smiled at each of them as they entered. She was glad that, thus far, other than a couple of double takes, none of them had called her cute. She didn't mind being called cute, persay, but not when she was teaching! When the last of her students had entered, she pulled her glasses off, gave them a quick wipe over with her top, then slipped them back on. She climbed onto her chair, then pulled the lever to raise it, until she could see over her desktop. 'Morning, everyone,' she said with a smile, before she took the register.

 A small girl skips childishly under the array of beautiful cherry blossoms right before her. The subtle fragrance from the leaves carefully enters Madeline's nose with  complimentary birds chirping that overall give a peaceful atmosphere to the school, for once. She smiles in delight with a few giggles right after, that little did she know it was almost time for art class. Being carried away by the beauty of this season makes her forget that she comes to Fukui High for a reason. Her mind clicked as she heard the bell.
 "Ga-ah!" she coughed, finally realizing it's time. The classroom was roughly far from where she was - outside of the main building - it was particularly a struggle for her. She started hobbling away, gradually sweating by the minute. Got lost in between stairs for a minute or two, which left her with more sweat to compensate. She ran through various hallways, until she encounters the door to art class. Sweat was compatible for her at the moment - stubby legs, poor athletic physique - her face was drenched in sweat.
 Before she could come in, she loosely wiped the sweat trickling down to her neck, with wobbly arms to represent how incredibly unfit she was. And there the door stood, obviously taller than her, but bigger than her to handle. She struggled once more, now, with the door that was quite heavy for size, grunting under her squirming voice. The door opened halfway, but she was able to fit through. She saw the teacher, quite short but fairly taller than her by a few inches, standing up front. "U-uhm.. S-s--sorry I'm late!" she frantically apologized and scooted over her seat, embarrassed.

The door slid open just as she closed the register. She glanced over at the door, seeing a small girl standing there. A small, out of breath girl. Who was in the uniform of Fukui. She's a student here? Deirdre thought. But then she realised that's almost what people thought about her, when first meeting her. Only with her people questioned if she was a teacher or not. She opened the register again, glanced down at the names. 'It's okay, Miss...' She glanced at the girl, then down at the names again. 'Adams,' she said. 'You've just made it. Now, take your seat and we'll begin.'

She hopped off her chair and moved to the covered desk situated near the front of the room. She took hold of the cover and pulled. It came off in one go with a flourish, which was impressive considering Deirdre's lack of hight or reach.

Or it would have been had she not mistimed an arm movement and, instead of wrapping the cover in a ball, she flipped half of it over her head. With a few quick movements, however, she'd recovered, just about making it look like she'd done it on purpose. If the girls found it funny, few showed it. But that didn't stop Deirdre's cheeks colouring in embarrassment. She cleared her throat as she put the cover on the floor beneath the desk. She cleared her throat again, sorted her glasses out, and pointed to the objects on the desk.

The objects were a bowl of fruit, three cups of various sizes and designs, and some empty containers. 'Your assignment for today is to draw these, and see what you can make out of them.' She smiled at the girls. 'You can make them into anything you like, within reason of course,' she warned, though she was sure the warning wasn't needed. 'Just use your imagination and turn these simple items into something different.' The girls pulled out their artbooks and collected their pencils and got to work.

 She promptly sat on her chair, puffing a small sigh of relief. If only she was more attentive to the time, she would've avoided being completely worn out immediately. Plus, she'd ready herself for her own convenience - but that's the past and it's all over now. All Madeline has to concentrate on was the present. It wasn't time for her to sulk on all her foolish actions,  just accept it either way.
 Her eyes shifting back to the teacher, she was doing something.. rather childish for her apparent age. But she can relate to the teacher herself - she's rather small for her age, likewise to the teacher - probably compatible enough to make friends with. She couldn't defend Ms. Deidre, because she's more likely to get embarrassed after what happened earlier. She listened to her teacher rather than the mean giggles lurking out of the other girls' mouths. An.. assignment? Draw.. huh. she thought to herself, already challenged by what was assigned to them. Something new? Different? Madeline may look like a child, but she won't think like one.
 She pulls out her artbook, scribbling freely on the blank paper. She had no certain focus on anything - neither the cups, fruits nor containers. Her thoughts could go wild if she were to think clearly; But no, she just took a random pick. She just drew cute little fruits as to regard it as 'different'. They were rather simple for someone who doesn't specialize in drawing at all, still contributing a cute factor to it. The sketch was rough, indeed, but the cute kind of quality can be promptly exposed with a few erasures here and there. Maybe that's what she'll draw instead, cute, living fruits, smiling like there's no tomorrow.

Eulalie had been one of the first ones in the classroom. Although she was a laid back person, she took art class very seriously, and was normally one of the first ones in and already doodling and sketching before class even started. And this class today was taking a particularly long time to start! First this little kid comes in late stumbling all over herself, and then the teacher was being a klutz, as usual. Eulalie had to sigh through her nose. It was hard to believe this teacher was at least ten years older than her, and Eulalie been at the school longer than her as well. Actually, she had probably been at the school longer than most of the girls in here, considering there were mostly first and second years here.

Why was a 4th year like her doing in this class? Well...extra credit, partly. Her grades were getting pretty abysmal as of late as graduation neared and her worries about the future deepened. She almost didn't want to graduate. But mostly, it was stress relief. She truly loved art and painting was her passion. She thought re-taking this class now that it had a new teacher would be a good way to get back to basics.

She was sitting smartly in her stool, hair in a messy bun, sleeves rolled up, her usual cardigan tied around her waist so it didn't get in the way. After the small teacher's mishap with the cloth and her proposed project, Eulalie got to work.

First she'd draw what she saw. Her eyebrows were furrowed as her pencil scratched across the page, dark eyes flicking back and forth between the table and her paper. Her fingers were nimble, linework sketchy. Lines didn't need to be precise now. Finally, she got what she wanted down on paper. And now came the fun part, what would make her picture really magical!

'Paint...' she thought to herself, moving over to the cabinet on the far side of the room where the paints normally were held. Or, used to, before the new teacher moved things around. Probably so she could reach them easier.

She turned around, her loose bangs swishing across her face.
"Hey! Miss Martinelli!" she called from across the room as she brushed her hair back from her forehead, leaving a smudge of pencil graphite on her face. "Where's the paint? Here?"
She unceremoniously squatted down to open a cupboard below the counter, something she wouldn't do if she hadn't been wearing leggings today, but whatever.
"OH! In the back, right?!" she called, voice muffled by the cupboard as she got on her hands and knees to practically crawl into the cupboard, pushing stuff out of the cupboard and on the floor as she searched for her treasure. Paint paint paint...where was that paint?

 Her mind was lost in thought on how to finalize her sketch. The idea can look bland to one person, or just cute in general. She wouldn't dare to take a little peek at any work that sits beside, in front or behind her, since she wants to be original after all. Although art isn't her forte, it won't stop her from dropping her grades that slip through her tiny fingers. It was ultimately her decision after all.
 Few minutes had passed, a minute or two, when she got her final idea in tact. She thought crayons would be okay to amp the cuteness a bit, or paint for a little professional look. Madeline doesn't have her full control on holding a brush just bigger than her, so crayons go well for someone who's as small as a child. She reached out for her box of crayons that fell in a small array of colorful sticks which certainly roll towards the far back. Gently coming off her chair, she parades with the crayons as if it were to roll endlessly. She caught very few of them, then again still more to get back. It was then she stopped, being startled by the large outburst of one girl's voice, who was looking for some paint. She nearly cried, wanting to hide under a table.
 Trembling in fear, she slowly crawled to get the remaining crayons now staying still on one spot of the floor. Her face clearly resembling how scared she is, instantly despising that very person.

 This will take a very long while for short arms to reach her things at a fairly far distance.