Classroomoftheelite Novels & Stories

"How each of you chooses to proceed shall ultimately dictate whether you ascend to seize Willhaven's gilded accolades amongst the hallowed elite you were _meant_ to be...." Her mouth set into a tight line, indicating barely concealed disdain. "...Or if you simply surrender to become another page in my memoirs about Willow Creek's tragic failures under the weight of high ideals never intended for privileged parasites and underachievers to grasp. "Class is dismissed!" With that last jape still sounding like a gunshot, she whirled on her heel and strode out via the side door, leaving a trail of shattered quiet and dread resignation across the classroom. Nobody moved or talked for several long m

Alaric’s laughter vibrated through the air. “You could call me materialistic all day long, but I don’t care. After all, it’s not like it’s for free. I’m going to be working for it.” Layla pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you’re really interested, you’re already on the right path. Only elite students can become elite teachers.” “Just elite students? What about the ordinary students?” She raised an eyebrow. “They could become ordinary teachers, but only elite teachers teach elite.” He said, pouring more honey on his remaining pancakes.

Blake replied. "Just so you know, Bryce came too." Zane cautioned. "Why is he?" Blake asked in between his teeth. "Curious, I guess." Zane replied and Blake just shrugged his shoulders gesturing them to come in. Zane opened the door and allowed them. "Hi, Chloe! Blake!" Bryce greeted them as soon as they entered the office. For several seconds Chloe stared down at two teens. One whom she knew well and the other not close to what she was expecting to see. They were both in school uniform which Chloe knew to be the uniform of Elite High, the most prestigious high school in Castile.

Around me, students moved through the hallway, some glanced in my direction as I curse under my breath while some whispered as the others openly stared. A horrible feeling begins to crawl up my spine very slowly and relentlessly because I knew exactly what the elite program was. Everyone did! We all pretend we don’t see it but we do just like how the school always hints on diversity but we know we scholarship kids are charity cases they don’t want. The elite academic track wasn’t just advanced coursework, It was Ravenshire’s inner circle club / class. Only filled with the best of the best and not academic wise but legacy students, billionaire heirs, future politicians, trust fund kids and fu

Maybe that’s all he knows. The instructor enters through a door near the front of the classroom. It’s a large room, more like a theater really, with a podium and microphone and many rows of seats grading upward. He is a tall, lean man with a chaos of ink black hair and ice blue eyes. His voice is deep and booming; he hardly needs the microphone. His class is called The Secret Life of Trauma, and it is packed, most of the seats taken. He teaches his students about things with which I am intimately familiar: the defenses created by the personality to survive the unthinkable. I’m my own best case study.

“There go the elites,” one of the students said sarcastically when they saw the elite class entered the classroom. They had been taking classes with them for a month but they find it hard to approach them since they acted like they have their own world. It was as if they were telling them that they are in a different league of their own. “I don’t have a problem with the other elites, so I don’t really know why I hate that green-haired guy,” Sean Jr., the eldest son of Baron Wyeth said with arrogance.

Don’t want to see such a fine example of the male species go to waste now, do we? "Well, let me see..." he pretends to think while leaning back against the closed classroom door, snapping me out of my sarcastic conversation with my conscience. "Maybe it was your handwriting, since you are in my class, or was it the signature at the beginning of the page? Ah! I got it!" He pretend to be excited, "It was the fact that half the things in there have already been published!" My mouth dropped open. "You're an OGasmer?!"

Malia said and pushed her out of her way to the classroom. "I'm going to kill you with my bare hands," Ivy said angrily as she watched Malia walk into the classroom. * * East High School Junior High Building Junior Year Three Class With the help of Theo, Isabel and Elle had the best time having friends that can do anything for them. They became so close that you will find them everywhere and now, teachers aren't only afraid of Isabel and Elle but including the three musketeers, Theo, Kelvin, and Warren. Those five are the badass of the class but the other students love them so much because they make the class too lively.

All the sensory glass doors, space elevators and sterilized steel labs, just to name a few, make the Ultara interior feel like a NASA station. Later we got to our very first class. We settled in our seats for World History and waited for the teacher to call the roll. Cammie came back and took a seat with me and Alyssa. The smirk on her face grew even more smirky as I stared at her and shook my head. Then the girl she went with earlier appeared with a flushed face. Her hazel eyes almost looked glassy as if she was high on crack. "Seriously?" I said. "Already on the first day of school?"

it is one of her many many achievement and she was proud of it. Nobody knew who Chloe was, not the students, not the teachers, not even the principal. Chloe did a bang up job keeping her identity a secret from the general public. Nobody cared to know who she was all that mattered to them was that she was an elite. During the first period of the school day, a man in his mid 40s who happens to be their homeroom teacher and their math teacher walked into the classroom; "Good morning class" he said addressing the class of 25 students and they replied.