Three: The Art of Psychology †

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Lunch had finished and now it was nearly half one in the afternoon.

I had Psychology class now and Jason had soccer. I wanted to be given some sort of a chance to watch him play and hopefully, there should be a game coming up.

I was delirious, in all honesty. He's got a girlfriend... why am I even fixating over him like this? Sure, I've had boyfriends, but there has to be something under the surface with Jason.

What you see is not all what you get, I speculated.

Sighing, I had my timetable in hand to see what building and room I was in next. I was already in building 3 but I just needed to get to room 68 and thankfully, I managed to find it. It was near to the first corridor seeing as each building had 20 rooms. I managed to get to room 68 as soon as the bell chimed vociferously through the hallways.

Standing outside of the room, I glanced around at the obscene posters on the wall, "informing" all students about how bad drugs and alcohol were for you. They were all blatantly produced by the previous first years over time due to the lack of respect those posters had received over the years from the second years. Even now I watched a group of popular second year jocks stroll up to the posters on their way to their next class and taking a few seconds out of their day to doodle inappropriate drawings on the posters. They shared an abhorrent laugh with their friends.

Sighing, I glanced up and down the line seeing the group of people who took this class range from the quiet, timid nerds to cocky and conceited athletic students. Finally, the door opened and out stepped Mr. Gellar who was our psychology and sociology teacher. Both those lessons were combined here in North Vale College because not enough people wanted to do both for their first year.

That was somewhat of a perk for this college: you get to choose another subject as well as the program you want to do originally for an occupation and I picked psychology/sociology. And this was the first lesson of the year.

When we got into what seemed to be a presentation room morphed into a class room, I instantly swept over to the back row and sat down in the middle. Another girl with crimson lips and blonde hair sat to my left and a boy with a newly-shaved head sat on my right. I didn't focus on either of them as Mr Gellar bounced his way to the front of the class and began scribbling carelessly on the board.

"Psychology is how an individual behaves," he began after turning around, reading out what he had just written on the board behind him, "and sociology is how a group of people behave." He paused and slowly sauntered to his desk in prior to perching on the edge. "For the whole year, you're going to have an assignment. A project, actually," he corrected himself, shrugging to himself.

From what I had heard, Mr. Gellar was somewhat of a brilliant teacher. He always let students have fun and always gave them their limits but hardly anyone met the limits and that's the reason why so many students love him. He was also only in his late twenties which made him more fun and electrifying than other teachers.

Mr. Gellar had chocolate-coloured eyes and black hair which always seemed to be anywhere on his head. He wore suit trousers and a shirt with a matching tie but no coat which wasn't too surprising seeing as most of the teachers I'd witnessed while strolling here were wearing something analogous.

"You can make up your own projects," he pronounced. "They can range from scrutinizing a group of elderly people sitting on park benches and feeding ducks slices of mouldy bread or seeing how babies behave. Anything – you have no limit. All I ask is that you do complete the project because then I will grade you at the end of the school year. You will also be presenting them to the rest of the class so you will be graded on your presentation skills."

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