Teach me to Live 
Sven was not your average Swedish dude. He was short, muscular and Latin. He looked more like a Javier or a Ricardo, but Ritchie supposed one of his parents must have had some sort of reason for naming their son Sven.
“There are a lot of rules around here, i’m only going to name some, others you’ll pick up living here. There’s no food in the dorms, 10PM curfew on the weekends, no cursing, no fighting, there is a dress code, but by the look of your clothes i don’t think any of your stuff will be confiscated. Let me see…” Sven paused. “Oh yeah, showers are short, they’re group showers, they’re taken at 9 and you should be in bed by 9:30 on weekdays, visiting day is Sunday, that’s also when your laundry should be out to be washed. If you follow me, i’ll get you a schedule.” Sven got up and left, Ritchie followed slowly wondering how he was going to remember all of this.