Archery Class

Alex walked down to the shooting range. He had two bows strapped to his back along with a quiver and a multitude of arrows. His light brown hair flowed above and behind him. 'A slight breeze, not enough to disrupt the aim of an arrow.' Alex thought, happy that his class wouldn't have to be relocated or canceled.

There were six targets on his side of the fence, and he was glad that the gunnery class wasn't out here to disrupt his class with loud noises and such. He pulled out his short bow along with a short bow arrow. He pulled back, then released as he let air out. There was a slight whizzing sound, then a soft thump as the arrow hit the target head on, dead center on the bulls-eye. Alex didn't even take a second to glance at the perfect shot. He immediately walked over to where a large chalkboard on wheels stood. He pushed it along the grass and stopped at the front of the target range. He picked up a stub of chalk and wrote:

Hello class, my name is Alex Traverse, but you may respond to me as Mr. Traverse.

My class is to be taken seriously, no horse play or you will be punished. I don't want to have to take anyone to the infirmary because of a lackluster student.

Most importantly, pay attention and follow instructions and class should go by smoothly.

If you don't own or have a bow, there are training bows hanging, along with arrows, on a rack on the side of the shooting range.

Mr. Traverse

He didn't like going through the same beginning routine every year, but the freshman were always unpredictable in their actions. Alex sat silently by a tree, awaiting the class to come.