Flying Lessons on Quidditch Pitch

Coach Olivers

June 07, 2015 9:47 PM

Flying Lessons by Coach Olivers

During the summer Florence had traveled extensively: first to her hometown in Italy to visit her relatives, then her brother and his family in Chicago, and then New York to visit Nick. She and Nick had some big decisions to make together, but it had been tough to spend quality time with him when she had so many other things to think about and he was busy with work. At a little over fifty-years-old, it was hard to believe Florence had a boyfriend and could still feel flustered and swept off her feet. After losing her husband seven years ago, she had never believed she'd love someone again. But here she was, an old widow being romanced. Eventually they would have to sit down and talk about those big decisions, but until then she wouldn't be the one to bring it up.

As Florence folded the letter and tucked it into her pocket, it was nearly time for her to start class. She grabbed her clipboard and rushed off for the pitch, arriving right on time. "Good morning everyone," she said as she led them over to the pile of school brooms. "Welcome to Flying Lessons. I am Professor Olivers, but you can call me Coach Olivers if you prefer. I am the stand-in Quidditch Coach at Sonora, but I mainly teach Charms. As you all know, flying lessons are mandatory for first-years, but I know not all of you may need them. However, everyone must be on a broom during the class period, so I should see no one loitering around. I'll start every lesson with roll call and then the more experienced flyers can either toss a Quaffle around or fly laps. As long as you don't disturb the lesson or hurt yourselves or each other, you are free to do what you like within reason. I will not bring out a Snitch or the Bludgers, so don’t ask.

“Before I let you go, I’m going to take roll first. Please answer when I call your name.” She made her way through the list before letting the experienced flyers go to the other end of the pitch with a school broom. They had to be close enough for Florence to keep an eye on them, but far enough that they wouldn’t disturb the beginners. Once those flyers had separated, Florence turned her attention to the new flyers.

“For those of you here, please grab a broom to begin with and put it down on the ground next to your dominant hand.” She waited until the students each had a broom and had followed instructions. “Now, hold your wand hand out—that’s your dominant hand—and say, Up!” The broom she had by her side leaped into her hand. “The trick is to be firm when commanding your broom. Don’t be shy; be confident.” Confidence was the key to acting, her former occupation and passion. She had been a stage actress for twenty-three years and much of what she had learned during that time bled into her teaching strategy. “Once your broom is in your hand, mount it either astride or side-saddle. Let me know if you want to ride side-saddle and I will adjust your brooms. Then simply kick off—not too hard—and let the broom take you a couple feet off the ground and no higher. Give it a try!"

OOC:
Welcome to Flying! By posting in this class, you will earn points for your house. There is a minimum of 200 words per post or three paragraphs, but the longer and more creative a post is, the more points you will receive. Points are awarded for how well you write, not how well your character does in a lesson. Keep your posts realistic, relevant to the lesson as much as possible, and creative!

If you have any questions, tag Professor Olivers on the OOC board or check the FAQ

Florence will be present and will stop any situation before it gets out of hand. Make sure you don’t write for other characters without their permission. However, if your character wants to ride side-saddle, you can safely assume Prof. Olivers adjusted their brooms. Otherwise, have fun with your posts!

0 Coach Olivers Flying Lessons 0 Coach Olivers 1 5

Laila Kennedy, Crotalus

June 09, 2015 8:19 PM

Like a tea tray in the sky. by Laila Kennedy, Crotalus

Flying lessons. With broomsticks. As Laila walked down to the Pitch she could almost hear her mother’s chastising voice in her ear, warning against participating in any activity that might otherwise send her redeemable soul to hell. When she arrived there she tried to ignore Arne Reinhardt who seemed hell bent on making sure she couldn’t pay attention to the professor by pulling on the end of the braid she had put her hair in in order to keep it neat for the apparent P.E. substitute of Sonora. And, of course, she tried her hardest to look like she actually belonged—like she was an actual witch who wasn’t afraid of any repercussions of fulfilling the apparent duties that came with being a witch.

She eventually pulled her braid over her shoulder to keep Arne from accessing it at which point he began to drop crumpled up pieces of grass down the back of her shirt. Laila took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down, but the itchiness that was starting to become one of the only things she could think about caused her to slowly move her foot backwards to where Arne was standing and then firmly stomp it down on his foot. His muffled yelp served to satisfy her and when he hissed "careful Kennedy, God's watching," she grinned against her better judgement.

When roll-call finished, Arne went off to play around on the broomsticks with the other experienced flyers and Laila remained with Professor Olivers ready to learn how to fly a broom. Even saying the words in her head caused her to shudder slightly. If only mother could see me now, she thought to herself with a dreading tone in her inner-voice. She raised a hand over her broom and shut her eyes tightly as if afraid to see the result. “Up,” she commanded in a half afraid whisper. She peeped open an eye. The broom was still on the ground though it appeared to have rolled over a little. “Up,” she said again tentatively, and then pleading, “come on, please?”

She looked towards the area where Arne was flying (and likely laughing at her incompetence as she’d always bested him in elementary school) and then turned back to the brooms, squeezing her eyes closed again. “Up!” And then, almost as if it were a sign from God that Laila was not doing something she was supposed to, the broom came up and thwacked her outstretched hand. “Ouch!” she said, springing backwards, surprised, dropping the broom in the process and raising her smarting fingers to her mouth. “That hurt!”

Laila turned to the student standing next to her, brown hair swinging around to her back. “How are you coming along?” she asked. “Better than me, I hope!”

10 Laila Kennedy, Crotalus Like a tea tray in the sky. 318 Laila Kennedy, Crotalus 0 5