Being a responsible fencing teacher…
What he says: “Can we switch to unarmored drills? I’m hot. This thing” (His arming coat) “is hot.”
What I say: “Yeah, sure thing, Adrienne you want to get the Gatorade from my trunk?”
What I think: “Your last name is French… In the battle of Crecy, Your ancestors walked or rode miles wearing that very same coat, over linen, under chain maille, under plate armor, in August. Amongst the death rattles of family, friends and horses they marched through mud, uphill, through a wall of oncoming arrows and a waiting army of 35,000 men, most of whom weren’t knights and didn’t give a damn about Chivalry.
But yeah… Let’s stop my class because you’re hot…”
Drink your Gatorade boy, and rest, because next class I’m going to show you what you don’t know you’re made of.
(Image from hotfrog.com)