Very well

You wake out of a dreamless sleep to the morning sun shining in your window. You stretch lazily before getting up and starting your morning routine, your mind running through your schedule for the day.

You have a geography class at nine and a history class at two. Your schedule calls for you to hold office hours from ten-thirty to noon, and you can elect to hold those in your classroom, your cottage, or other place of your choosing.

You've spent some time going over the lesson plans you found, and have confidence that with their assistance you'll be able to successfully imitate a teacher. Despite it's pretensions, the Academy's academic standards are not overly high, and it's evident that many girls are here for the social life and the opportunity to network with others of their social class, rather than for education.

Showered and dressed, you head for the dining hall, enjoying another crisp and clear morning as you walk.

You help yourself to eggs and bacon, adding a bowl of fruit and a cup of coffee to your tray before taking a seat at the faculty table. You're early, and there are no other teachers in evidence, and only a few bleary eyed looking students, most of them not yet in their uniforms.

You watch them as you eat, recognising a few faces but seeing none that you've interacted with, much less fucked. You treat yourself to a smug smile at the thought of plundering the pussies of more of these ripe rich bitches, and idly speculate which, if any of the girls in the room will be next.

You're joined by Donna Considine and Lorri McKay, the three of you making small talk as you eat. Mason Carter and Brian Watts sit down a short time later, both of them looking like they could use more sleep, but joining in the inconsequential chat.

Finished, you bid your colleagues good morning and leave the hall, looking forward to what should be an interesting day.