Mha Classroom Novels & Stories

“12 PM sharp.” ≈≈≈ Harold was beginning to get a hang of how the class buildings were arranged or rather, he was creating a pattern with which he could remember the locations of the classrooms and the potential lectures that could be held in them. Citadels A to H were located in the ‘Generals’ Building and only regular lectures were allowed in there—for everyone regardless of their specie, and the subjects ranged from Mathematics to Geography, Physics, Chemistry, Philosophy and the rest.

Mia had a Planet History class after her morning run & shower with Master Alex. It would be in room 2a. She was a little early so decided to go via the mess hall and help herself to a choc custard. She only allowed herself to have a little a week because she loved them so much and unchecked this addiction could ruin her figure. She had a classic hourglass figure, or she had been told by one of the girls that read all the rich people gossip news, that she had absolutely no interest in. She had left her thick wavy hair out because it was still drying from the shower but now it was starting to annoy her so she chucked it up in a piggy tail and headed for class.

I ask Machiv, and his bright green eyes find mine. "In this class?" asks Machiv. "Yeah. About our school." "No," says Machiv with a shakes of his head, "I didn't know about this." "I hope the presentation is in groups," says Hala, and Syl nods. "Why?" "So we can have Machiv in it," says Syl. "What?" says Machiv. "I mean, you read a lot. You probably know everything about this school and its magical properties or whatever." "Is that what the presentation is on?" asks Machiv.

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.

he says, and then he is gone, folding into the current of students flowing towards the eastern corridor. Maren hooks her arm through mine without asking, steering us towards the opposite doors. The hall’s warmth gives way to cooler air as we step into the stone passageways, the scent of old books and polished floors replacing bread and honey. Our footsteps echo softly as we fall into step with the crowd heading towards the lower classrooms. “What class is he off to?” she asks, more out of idle curiosity than anything else. “Advanced tactics,” I say. “Lucky him.” She groans dramatically. “Meanwhile, we get theoretical application and twelve different ways to be told we are doing everything wr

She donned her cloak and rushed to the door with Marah in tow. "All this jumping about..." Marah muttered, ushering her to the grand hall. Some witches were already disappearing behind the doors of the blue hall. She bounded into the hall and entered the classroom immediately. Witches were already seated. Ochen waved her over to their seat, she sat down just when the warlock walked into the class. As he walked over to the front of the class, the doors were pushed open once again and three witches strode in hastily. The warlock turned sharply and halted them mid stride.

I kind of like that it's not as grandiose. The halls aren't terribly crowded, but they're far from empty. And interestingly, a lot of the people carrying backpacks appear to be older than me. I follow one of them into a classroom on the right. The room is huge, way bigger than I thought could be in a building this size. There are at least twenty rows, each one a step higher than the last so they look stacked. The long white tables stretch from one end of the room to the next on each row so the only way in or out of your row is down the side.