In an affluent neighborhood within Mosman, you'll find a
high school. The restroom facilities there are very un-maintained in D
block. It seems like the seventh graders
switch their romantic interests almost as often as they swap out pads. Furthermore, a significant majority of the student body has taken up
vaping, resulting in a rather unusual aroma in many of the school's bathrooms. The teachers are mostly old and crusty, the school's teaching staff is, for the most part, comprised of elderly instructors who have overstayed their welcome in the education system. These educators, whose prime days are long behind them, bring a sense of staleness to the institution that permeates through their classrooms. The
basketball kids scream and the 7th grade boys have 3 braincells combined, there exists the curious phenomenon of the seventh-grade boys, who collectively appear to possess a mere
trifling sum of intellectual capacity—three meager brain cells, if one were to be charitable in their estimation. As one ventures into the canteen, their culinary expectations are quickly dashed, mirroring the rather uninspiring personalities of a significant portion of the student body. The fare on offer hardly qualifies as gourmet, paralleling the lackluster demeanor of many of the students who frequent it.
