Chapter Text
It was finally happening.
Her first day of 7th grade.
Was it a different school? Well...no. K through 12 meant she'd be stuck in this building until one of her parents moved.
But it did mean that she finally was old enough to start in one class she was desperately trying to convince her dad for three years now.
Shop class.
Specifically metal shop.
What was cooler than welding metal together with fire?
Nothing was the same after watching ‘How's It Made’ and seeing red hot metal pieces being stuck together. It sort of became an obsession of hers. Finding as many YouTube videos on it. Checking everything out in the library. Trying to find any history on it.
Her dad encouraged it. Happy she had a hobby...even if it was a little out of place. And dangerous.
But her dad was already missing a few fingers so he didn’t have any room to talk.
Ever since she learned there was a shop class at her school? Couldn’t get her to stop talking. Begging her parents to let her join the minute she was a 7th grader.
So after signing the form, promising to get better grades in English and history, and paying the fifty dollar supply fee, she was officially enrolled for the Metal Shops class.
Rose had tried to find out more about the teacher. The sore thing was that the 7th to 12th graders were housed on the completely other side of the school. They weren’t kept apart for any reason, it was just easier keeping the younger kids away from the older kids.
There were rumors from her fellow classmate’s older siblings. A lot of rumors, actually.
Like that he was a crazy hobo man just picked up off the streets.
Or that he could bend metal at will.
Or that he made bad kids into robots to do his bidding.
His father said to ignore all of those rumors right then. If she wanted to stay in this class for the rest of her school life she would have to make a good impression. Because her mom said not many schools have metal shop anymore and that she was fortunate enough to have such a wonderful opportunity.
That being said, it was agony until her shop class. It was one the one right after lunch. Her third class of the day.
Thankfully, the maze that was this side of the school had kept her thoughts occupied with not getting lost. Then there was the added bonus of trying to avoid the older students. Not wanting any...attention from an older kid on day one.
At last it was her fourth period. With a full stomach of a tuna salad sandwich and an apple, and a folder and pencil case in hand, she was ready!
The nerves in her hand caused her to shake. Whether that was from nervous jitters or excited ones, she didn’t know.
Maybe it was a little bit of both.
Hope she didn’t throw up!
The shop was on the first floor towards the back of the school. Hidden away behind the art department. No windows were installed this far in the depths of the building. The actual door to the shop was propped open with a rusted torque ratchet.
Once inside it was just like she imagined it to be. Except maybe more well kept.
There were nine long work benches in the center of the room. Stools that weren’t inhabited by kids pushed under the benches. Along the walls were different sets of tools being locked up in yellow cages. Bigger machinery was stored in a much wider, roomier space in the back of the room. In the front was a set of white boards. The cool ones that slide side to side. And a similar work bench with more drawers and papers and stuff.
So far there was no sign of the teacher. Only the early kids, like her, staking claim to their spots. Mindlessly looking through their phones.
She might as well join the herd. Sitting smack dab in the middle of the front row spot.
Once the bell rang not too many other students filed in. About fourteen of them in total this class. Allowed all but one of the tables to have kids at them.
The room was a cacophonous mess within seconds of the teacher not being here. Everybody excessively chatted either about being on the ‘big kid’s’ side of the school or about what cool things were they going to make.
One minute turned to four and now anxious murmurings began to take place.
Where’s the teacher?
Is there still a shop class?
Was this a prank?
At the horrid thought of this being an upperclassman prank, footsteps finally quieted the room.
In walked a tall man wearing a dark brown leather jacket. A worn leather cowboy looking hat on his head. Shoulder length strands of greying black hair coming out from under the hat. Small round sunglasses covering his eyes. He wore thick leather gloves on each hand. Under his jacket was a white, striped button up shirt. His brown slacks were covered in fingerprint stains. The final mark of his getup was some leather boots.
The coolest part of this man, though, was all of the scars on his face. Over his lips. His nose. His forehead.
All Rose could think was that this man was the real deal.
He walked in front of the board and grabbed a blue marker from the white board. The squeak of the marker was the only noise the whole room produced.
Finally, written on the board in large letters were:
METAL SHOP
MR. HEISENBERG
“Alright kiddos, welcome to Metal Shop!” He announced to the world, flourishing a hand out to gesture to the room as a whole. “I am your humble teacher, Mr. Heisenberg.” He gave a deep bow. Causing some of the kids to giggle. “You may call me Mr. H. Or just Heisenberg. Don’t call me Berg.”
He rose again. Sweeping his eyes over the kids. “Good thing we’re not starting any work today because you’re all a hot mess.” There was a groan but he waved them off, “Oh please. I don’t trust any of you on the first day until you’re a freshman. If that.”
Rose did feel the pang of disappointment but brushed it off as he picked up a clip board.
“Now listen, I’m not good with names. Just kidding, I’m great with names. I have so few students compared to the other poor saps that work here I have nothing but time to know your names. But I will say not many of you youngins stay very long. Not your fault and no hard feelings on my part. Too intimidated by either my charm or the fact you need big tools and dangerous machines to do half this shit.” Heisgenberg cleared his throat after the swear but after eyeing the door he shrugged and looked down at his clipboard.
There was then a rapid fire sound off of names. Each kid had to be on their toes to be the next in line.
Naturally, as every other list she was ever on, Rose was last.
“Rosemary Winters.”
She raised her hand and announced, “Here! And it’s Rose!”
Heisenberg quirked an eyebrow as she belted out ‘here’ not a foot from him. A smirk playing on his lips as he scribbled something down. “Easy enough.” He mumbled to himself.
Setting the clipboard down, he pulled out a stack of papers and began handing them out. Expecting the person in the front to pass the papers back. “We’re going to learn the safety rules front ways and back! This whole week! I want you to know these rules in your sleep. Because, trust me, it is very possible to lose fingers and toes here. Eye balls. Maybe a whole arm. Most of your skin…”
A few kids gasped as they shakily held the papers in front of them.
Rose was hardly fazed by this. Her own dad made sure she knew the risks of going into a hobby so dangerous. Reminding her that even though he never lost his fingers in shop or something like it, it could happen to her.
Heisenberg cackled at a few of the paled faces after rattling on about the worst that could happen, “Listen, as long as you follow along with the safety guidelines, and only use the big kid machines when I’m with you, you’ll be fine. Maybe. There’s always a chance something might go wrong, but being safe will make sure nothing will kill you.” He paused before going, “Oh! And some of those machines back there -can- and will kill you. So no one be stupid on my watch, okay? Be stupid on someone else’s watch.”
Rose then raised her hand.
Heisenberg gave her a finger gun.
“Winters.”
“Uh, Rose, and when do we get safety goggles? And when do we start learning to weld things!?”
Her teacher gave her an excited grin. “Love the enthusiasm, kid. Well, -Rose-, all of my classes share goggles. We have a cabinet over there,” He snapped over to a cabinet behind him, “from which to choose from. Unless your parents want to buy you your own. Which I don’t suggest until you’ve been in this class for two years. Two, welding isn’t until far later in the year. Unless you’ve proved you can handle the responsibility.”
Rose slumped into her seat, disappointed.
He rolled his eyes but more in a light-hearted manner than annoyed, “Oh cheer up buttercup. This is a general class course. I’ll teach ya welding with general machine know-how. You know, how cogs work and shit.” He eyed the door but kept talking, “What tools do. Some light mechanical work but, you know, doesn’t hurt to know. I start you kids off slow. Making sure your little hands can even hold a wrench.”
After a quick glance around the room, waiting for any more questions, he cleared his throat again. Begging his speech, “Now, who has ever seen metal stick out of skin?”