Sketching

French, Sweaty and I took art class every year. We had some cool artsy teachers - they basically let us sit together and draw, or paint what we will. All three of us filled pads upon pads of sketches. Such a great class. I'd look forward to sitting at a table with the lads: chat, joke, and knock out a few pictures.
We could never convince Bruce Fish to take art; he always took shop. Odd, because the guy creates art all the time at the dump. After class, though, Bruce Fish would flip through our drawings and critique every aspect of our work; then he'd be off to welding or machine shop.
French had this great system where he'd convince the prettiest girl in the class to pose for him. He'd pick out his mark then he'd sweet talk her just right. French had really honed his "sweet talk skills"; we were in awe watching him work the girls. Once the teacher came in late, and French had this cute preppy girl (white leggings, skirt, and a Ralph Lauren t-shirt) sitting on a chair that he'd placed up on a big art table. The three of us were positioned around the table sketching and complimenting her every trait and fashion choice.
The teacher was shocked: "Guys get her down, health and safety boys, health and safety". French was ready, he replied: "Sir I'm working on my composition and use of angles and perspective".
The teacher ate it up. The cute preppy girl was thrilled to be the centre of attention and told the teacher how she was glad to help out. She was in her glory, and so were we. The teacher shut the classroom door, chuckled, and walked to his desk. We got back to sketching. French had a big grin on his face and said: "You can thank me later boys".
I'm pretty sure I have some of those sketch pads around, I'll have to dig them up one of these days.