McKinley High School students had never really liked school – too much work, too much stress, such a waste of valuable time – so when June rolled around, all of the students celebrated. They overslept, they over ate. They infested movie theaters and malls. As July ended, and the more responsible kids got head starts on their summer assignments, a rumor spread that the entire school faculty had been replaced by teachers from God-knows-where.

"That's ridiculous. Why would an entire faculty quit at the same time?"

"Maybe they realized their lives were going nowhere. Collective mid-life crisis?"

"Even Mr. Jones? He's, like, thirty!"

"It could happen!"

As word reached curious parents, nosy mothers flooded the school with phone calls. Many of them went unanswered, unsurprisingly, but it only fueled the rumor mill. Several hopeful students speculated that McKinley High had been shut down permanently. However, a resourceful school mom had placed a call to the superintendant of the school district, who had just returned from a nice vacation in Hawaii. McKinley High had not, in fact, been shut down, but the rumor was true: the entire faculty, including the principal and vice principal, had been replaced by an entirely new staff. When asked why, the superintendant suddenly sounded uncertain, as if he wasn't sure of the answer himself.

As August approached its end, disgruntled McKinley students decided to start their summer projects. Those who had been productive enough to finish early continued to speculate about the upcoming school year.

The first day of school came too soon, however. Hallways were flooded with bodies – people were decorating their lockers, or, more commonly, sitting with their backs against the walls trying to finish whatever work they hadn't finished during the summer while others stood in the middle of the hallway, catching up on much missed gossip. The bell rang promptly at eight o'clock, and the mass of students all parted ways to their respective homerooms.

The new biology teacher was a god. The students didn't figure it out immediately, however.

His name was Poseidon, although people had been so kind as to rename him several times throughout history. Zeus had told him that schools today required their teachers to be clean cut and well dressed, but Poseidon rather liked the scraggly beard he'd sported for the last couple of centuries, and the suit he had been presented with looked much too stuffy – he preferred the Roman togas, to be honest, but he settled for a nice sea blue shirt (a Hawaiian shirt, he had learned later) with a goldfish print on it.

He told his younger brother to deal with it – never mind that Zeus could very well zap him on a whim – and this is what he wore on the first day of school, much to the astonishment of his period one Biology class.

"What is he wearing?"

"Does he know what a razor is?"

"Why does it smell like fish in here?"

"My name," Poseidon spoke, sounding like he'd rather be somewhere else. "is Poseidon."

A few of the kiss-ups laughed good naturedly, while the rest of the class gave him an unimpressed look of incredulity.

"Was that an icebreaker?"

"Is that a joke?"

"Oh God, this year is gonna be just great."

"Seriously, guys, does anyone else smell fish?"

Poseidon ignored the teenagers. He was tempted to curse his brother for such a stupid idea, but Zeus had a temper he was not willing to test any more than necessary.

"I say nothing but the truth." Poseidon shrugged. "The gods are all here – we're going to make you heroes, because today's society, without our guidance, is severely lacking some. At least, I think that was the plan…"

"Yeah, and my name's Hercules." A particularly brave student muttered, and several students around him snickered or smirked to themselves. The rest of the class privately debated their new teacher's sanity.

Poseidon was a god, however, and being a god meant having impeccable hearing and a short temper. Within moments his long legs brought him to the back of the room, and his trusty trident was leveled just inches away from that brave student's pale face.

"The gods do not tolerate sarcasm." Poseidon said gravely. "Understood?"

The poor boy only nodded, too scared to do anything else.

"What is your name, mortal?"

"Jason." The boy murmured.

Poseidon's grip on his trident remained for several tense moments. The two girls on either side of Jason edged to the far side of their seats, just in case their classmate was about to be burnt to a crisp. But they had nothing to fear, really, for Poseidon lowered his trident with a grin.

"Ah, it's a fortunate day for you, Jason. I can't kill you." Poseidon sighed good naturedly. "Zeus would have my head. Since you're his favorite and all."

"What?"

"Stupid rule of Zeus'." He shrugged. "I can't kill anyone with the name Hercules, Jason, et cetera, et cetera."

"Oh."

"Anyway," Poseidon continued, returning to his new desk. He absently noted that it was so terribly plain – he'd have to decorate it or something. A fishbowl, maybe. He picked up his predecessors' syllabus from the year before. "I didn't like Mr. Jones' plans for you. Terribly boring; nothing important either."

A girl near the front of the room blinked, shooting her new teacher an incredulous look. "Biology isn't important?" She asked, disbelief evident in her nasally voice. "But it's the study of life!"

"Typical. Instead of focusing on the fact that we have a madman with a pointy stick of doom for a teacher, she zeroes in on 'biology isn't important'." A boy near the back muttered. And it would've been a funny comment if they hadn't just seen Poseidon's pointy stick of doom aimed at a classmate.

"Are you questioning me, mortal?" Poseidon raised an eyebrow in the girl's direction. He waved his trident from side to side in a threatening gesture. "I can and will smite you; remember that."

The girl audibly gulped. "Noted," she said.

"Good." Poseidon sounded pleased. He picked up the syllabus again. "Right. Zeus didn't give me permission to change things around, so here's how it's going to work. I assign chapters to read, you read them. I give worksheets to do, you do them. And when I assign tests, you will pass them, because the gods to not tolerate failure. Understood, mortals?"

Thirty heads nodded in unison, too scared to do anything else. Poseidon hummed, muttering to himself about how easy this was, and plopped down on his chair, absorbed in thoughts of redecorating it.

September

As it turned out, Biology was one of those classes. Poseidon never made an effort to get up in front of the class and explain any of what the students had read the night before. It really was a read, do worksheets, then read some more kind of class.

Not that many of the McKinley High School students minded, however. Once they got over their initial shock that McKinley High had been overrun by Greek Gods, they were quite happy to do as Poseidon ordered and sit idly for forty-five minutes a day.

Of course, this temporary Study Hall had to be taken away from them eventually. Zeus, the new principal of McKinley High, had demanded that his older brother "stop being such a lazy [insert rude word here]" and start doing what he was supposed to do!

"I'm not paying you to read fishing magazines all day!"

"You're not paying me at all," Poseidon felt compelled to mention.

So three weeks into the school year, on a perfectly normal Thursday, as his first period class shuffled into the classroom in anticipation of another day of nothing, Poseidon, for the first time ever, called roll.

Needless to say, the class was unsure what to make of it.

"Is he sick? Since when does he call roll?"

"Do gods even get sick?"

"I heard Zeus told him to actually teach."

"Shame. I really needed to finish my English homework."

"Today, I will be doing something different." Poseidon announced, tossing his notebook over his shoulder, letting it flop messily onto his desk. "Since someone –who shouldn't even be ruler of the skies—"—a loud roar of thunder could be heard in response to this—"—has ordered that I take a more 'active' role in teaching, I will no longer tolerate idle action during class."

"Will we be discussing last night's reading?" One of the students who had actually done the reading asked.

"Absolutely not; why would I do that?" Poseidon sounded offended. "I am not here to baby you. If you do not understand, you must strive to understand on your own. Sink or swim, I say."

"Then what are we doing today?" A girl from the back row asked.

"Yes, well, I thought we'd skip around and get to the good stuff." Poseidon explained. "My kingdom is a rather fascinating place to study. So we will be watching an educational video about marine life."

And with that, Poseidon returned to his desk, and with the help of a student – whose perplexed expression alerted his classmates to another surprise—turned on his projector and inserted the DVD into the computer.

"Finding Nemo?" The same girl who had spoken before exclaimed. "How in the world is that educational?"

"I've never seen it," replied the god, unaffected by the mortal's outburst. "But anything about my seas must be good."

Some of the students watched the god closely to observe his reaction to the movie, but he remained stoic throughout the film. Eventually, one of the boys raised his hand and asked:

"How does this movie portray sea life?"

"I'll admit the plot's not the typical daily life of any old fish, but I've met a lot of Nemos and Merlins and Dories and Bruces in my time."

"As in…do they talk to you?"

"Of course they do. Don't you ever stop to have a conversation with a tuna fish every now and then?"

"Uh…no."

"Strange." Poseidon hummed.

November

Poseidon often put movies on for the class to watch. They were always related in some way to the ocean (which kept Zeus off his brother's back), although he had sworn off The Little Mermaid because it was "wholly unfaithful" to the portrayal of his underwater palace, and therefore un-educational. Sometimes, though, after running out of movies and not feeling like handing out more worksheets, he would sit at his computer and practice his typing. On these days he was particularly lazy maintaining order and often allowed his students to do whatever they pleased, as long as they weren't tardy.

On one uneventful morning, Poseidon was in this exact mood, more so than usual. He even let one of his students, Jason (who turned out to be a favorite of his after he helped Poseidon operate his computer), arrive three minutes late without a single threat to erase his existence off the face of the earth.

"He plays favorites," A girl whispered to her friend. They chose to sit at the very back of the room that day. "It's because Jason helped him with computers, I bet."

"Yeah," her friend replied. "I mean, if I was late I'd be a pile of ash right about now."

"That's more my brother's signature than mine. You'd be a goldfish if I chose to smite you right now." Poseidon drawled from the front of the room, glancing nonchalantly at the duo. He was obviously too lazy to summon his trident for added effect. "And the gods do not play favorites; that is offensive."

Thirty pairs of incredulous eyes landed on the god.

"That's not what my knowledge of Greek mythology tells me." A boy near the front crossed his arms. He was one of the few who had gotten comfortable with the godly presence at McKinley High. Therefore, he was only moderately scared for his life when Poseidon directed a glare in his direction.

"Use of the m word is forbidden!" He exclaimed. "The gods are history, not some pathetic legend! What has Athena been teaching you mortals? I knew she couldn't be trusted with history – passing down the godly legacy obviously shouldn't have been entrusted to her. I'm going to have a talk with that annoying brother of mine—"

"Uh, sir. Artemis teaches history. Not Athena."

Poseidon paused mid rant. "Oh," he said. "Well, I suppose that makes sense. I really ought to pay more attention at faculty meetings."

"Anyway," he continued. "The gods don't play favorites. Usually, we only favor those who have demonstrated a value the gods esteem. Other than that, we hate you all equally."

Thirty students rolled their eyes and returned to whatever they were doing before.

January

Midterms were easy peasy, not that Poseidon's students expected anything else, really. He was just too easy.

Which left much to be desired in the eyes of some of the more ambitious students of McKinley High School. That semester, many students transferred to any other school willing to take them. They kept the truth to themselves, wishing to avoid being labeled as crazy or smote by annoyed gods.

Poseidon was unfazed upon having a class of only twenty-five.

"They were unworthy." He shrugged. "The gods won't forget, though—we never forget. We will meet them again, someday. Or, more accurately, Hades will."

Poseidon could not suppress the amused smirk that curled his bearded mouth upwards, and there was certainly no concealing the glint of mischief in his eyes.

The twenty-five remaining students shuddered.

_ AN: This was my Creative Writing Club's assignment from a couple weeks ago. There's really no plot to this even though we delegated all of the gods to teaching positions and everything! I hope it was funny enough (or just funny, period). I would appreciate feedback!