Magic Under Construction: TOMU #2-18 Take Two
Author's Note:
I'm dispensing with the normal tracking of word count vs. time spent because I've picked up and put down this chapter numerous times over the course of the past two weeks. As I've recovered from my illness and the domestic situation here has settled down, one of the biggest obstacles to finishing this and getting it posted has been my awareness that a transitional chapter like this one is apt to be an anticlimax after so many weeks of minimal posting and communication. I kept trying to scrap it and come up with something a little "punchier". In the end, I'm trying to salvage it by taking it in the opposite direction... from a transition between events to an ending of sorts. This part is in bold because I know from experience what happens when I say the word "ending": I'm not talking about an end to Tales of MU, but of the sequence of events that was happening before illness knocked me on my ass. The story loses momentum when I lose momentum, so the best thing to do here is let it come to a stop and then start again.
Update 6/22: This is coming in fits and starts. I'm confident it will be done this week but I can't say when.
[6/22 - Okay, I've started to pull it together some. I'm not thrilled with any of it. The back half of it... the part with Callahan... is going to be the redemption of it, but it's not coming to my satisfaction.]
Professor Stone had technically given us permission to leave as soon as we had enough notes for the assignment, and a lot of students did just that. I hung around for a bit after I'd completed my lists of threes, out of a mixture of wanting more time to fondle the magic items and a desire to not appear like someone who would ditch class at the slightest provocation.
I'd managed to miss a few classes due to various reasons beyond my control in my first year. While some of those had been crazy, once-in-a-lifetime things, they'd taught me that once-in-a-lifetime experiences happened more often than one might expect. Making a good impression on my new teachers now might help them forgive any regrettable absences that happened later.
Past a certain point, though, it became increasingly clear that the class was over. No one who was left in the room was actually working on their assignment. There was still a cluster of mostly guys around the professor, and knots of design students standing around and talking about fashion and other things. I was the only one who was alone, and I felt weirdly exposed.
This wasn't just random social anxiety... okay, part of it was that. A lot of the G&D students gave off the same vibe that conventionally pretty, well-put-together girls always gave me.
They might have been nice girls. They might have been as insecure as I was. They might even see themselves as nerds. Maybe if I'd sat down with them and talked about something not involving clothing or colors of things or whatever I would see them as fellow nerds.
But they looked like the sorts of girls that registered to me as pretty and popular and petty, and I shrank from their attention even in the absence of any attention, negative or positive.
It was a bit of a disheartening reminder that no matter how much things had changed in the past year... no matter how much I'd changed... I was still basically myself. Okay, put that way, it didn't sound like a bad thing. I didn't want to change so much that I was unrecognizable to myself. I just wanted to find a way to be myself without all the awkwardness, the uncertainty, the feeling of being scrutinized or persecuted... the times when I actually was being scrutinized and persecuted.
I did feel good about how things had gone with Twyla. I hadn't blurted out anything stupid or insensitive. The conversation had been friendly, in the way of conversation between people who aren't exactly friends... and that was itself a sign of how much I'd changed for the better. I'd made friends over the course of my freshman year, but my interactions with anyone outside my little circle had remained somewhat... stilted.
When Professor Stone excused himself from the conversation that had sprung up around him to start bidding farewell to the students he knew from past classes, I figured that this meant he had things he wanted to be doing and it was time to go.
"...and remember to pay your respects to Emily before you leave," he said, waggling his fingers at a group of girls. "You know she can get a little touchy if she's feeling ignored."
"We will!" they answered, in almost perfect chorus.
There was that feeling of cliquishness again. Well, whoever Emily was... a student, or another teacher that they were all on first-name basis with... she probably wasn't anyone I would care to hang out with. Touchy if she's ignored? I'd had enough dealings with Queen Bee types already.
Spending the better part of an hour inside the classroom threw off my bearings to the point that I ended up taking the long way around to the front doors, down the weird looping hallway again. By the time I realized I'd headed the wrong way, I decided just to go with it... it wasn't like I was in any hurry.
As I left the building, I had the feeling of both anticlimax and accomplishment... or maybe a single feeling of anticlimactic accomplishment. The aesthetics of design class was my last new class of the semester, the last unknown quantity to be faced. Now I'd faced it, and it seemed like something that I could do... it didn't in any way play to my strengths, but stretching myself a little would only help me in the long run.
Professor Stone was the last new professor I'd had to meet, and he seemed to be a pleasant guy... enthusiastic about his subject but laid back on the whole. A year ago I might have taken his obvious familiarity with the returning Glamour and Design students in the class as a sign of impenetrable cliquishness or something but now I just hoped it just meant he was easy to get along with.
Being able to check my last class and teacher off my mental checklist and having the feeling of "yes, I can totally do this" was where I got the sense of accomplishment. I was trying not to feel too cocky on the basis of one session in each of my classes, but I felt like I was on solid footing. In a small but real way, the sense of being a sophomore... or rather, of not being a freshman... had solidified around me. It wasn't enough for the old year to be over... the new year had to have begun, as well.
The anticlimax came from the fact that while I felt a sense of completion, my day was far from finished. Yeah, I only had one class left and it was only an hour long, but it was Callahan's. Even if I didn't exactly dread her classes anymore, I knew that I couldn't afford to go in there feeling like... well, like everything was cool and I had it all covered, which was kind of how I felt. If I was going to have any hope of meeting Amaranth's grade requirement I had to go in with my eyes open, ready not just to learn but to act, to fight.
I'd managed to impress Callahan the day before, mostly by not wanting to let someone who didn't understand the assignment hammer on me for no reason. It was a good start, but I'd basically lucked into it and luck wouldn't get me the A that I needed. A good start was just that: a start. It wasn't even that, if there wasn't anything else coming after it.
I made up my mind to try to catch Callahan before her class. The appearance of eagerness alone might help her opinion of me a little bit, but only a little... and only if she didn't think I was trying to impress her with appearances. No, I wanted a chance to talk to her. Her grading criteria was simplicity itself: she gave students the grade she thought they deserved. There was no syllabus outlining targets to score a particular letter. No quizzes I could study for. No extra credit projects I could do to pad my GPA. If she thought I deserved an A, I'd get one... if she didn't, I wouldn't.
All I could really do was do my best, but I had a feeling that even my best wouldn't be what she considered to be A-level work. I needed a plan... I needed to have something specific to work towards. There was no guarantee that Callahan would give me that. I could count on her help in learning how to defend myself, but I figured the only way she could care any less about my academic goals was if she happened to be dead.
Still, her grading system being what it was, getting an A would mean doing better at the things she did care about. I just needed to get some pointers as to her priorities.
I became aware of the sound of very heavy footsteps coming up the path behind me... to be more specific, light feet being brought down heavily. There was no mistaking the ka-THUNK of Sooni's heavy wooden sandals slapping against the pavement. Evidently she had spotted me in the class, or coming out of it, and she had something to say to me... I wasn't sure there was anything I wanted to hear from her, though, and I almost ignored her and kept walking away, double-speed. But I wasn't sure I could outpace her without getting my legs all tangled up, so the only real choice was to see what she wanted.
I stopped, being careful to make sure my feet were actually planted before I turned. Encounters with Sooni were rarely great for personal dignity, and I didn't want to start this one by falling on my face... or my ass.
"Hello, Sooni," I said. "Can I help you with something?"
"Mackenzie Jo Blaise!" she said, storming up to me as if I hadn't said a word. "I cannot believe you followed me into the design program... what did you think it would accomplish?"
"Hello, Sooni," I said again, wearily... I hadn't spoken to her in months and I already felt tired of her. "Did you look up my middle name just so you could say that?"
"No," she said. "I heard it on the news."
"I was on the news?" I said. That was... worrisome.
"Last year," she said. "I remembered your middle name for just such an emergency as this."
"What emergency?"
"That you are throwing away your future as an enchanter to follow me into the difficult but glamorous world of design," she said.
"Sooni, I'm not following you anywhere," I said. "I'm only here because I need crafting credits for the applied enchantment program. You should know that, since you were in it."
"And I suppose you would have me believe it is just a coincidence that you ended up in the same class as myself?" she asked.
"I can't do anything about what you do or don't believe," I said. "But yes, it's a coincidence. I needed crafting credits and this seemed like the easiest option..."
"Design is not easy!" Sooni said, raising her voice and her foot... though she just managed to stop herself from actually stomping, which kind of impressed me. Maybe I wasn't the only one who had grown over the summer. She lowered her heavy sandal gently to the floor and forced her outraged face into a smile. "It takes a lot of hard work... or a lot of natural talent."
I fought the urge to roll my eyes at the obvious implications of the second alternative. Sooni had produced some fairly stunning original outfits along with some ridiculous ones that were nevertheless high-quality replicas of things her favorite characters wore. For some reason, it was easier for me to believe she'd lucked into the kind of affinity that made such things come naturally than it was for me to believe that she put in a ton of hard work.
"Sooni, about design not being easy, I'm sure you're right," I said. The awkward phrasing was necessary... if I'd started with you're right, it wouldn't matter what followed it because she would have heard an admission that everything she'd said was absolutely, perfectly, one-hundred-percent correct. "But I had no idea what classes you took when I signed up for mine, I had no intention of winding up in the same class as you, and I'm certainly not giving up my plans to be an enchanter."
"Oh," she said. She wasn't exactly deflated... it was more like she was a great big inflated balloon that suddenly wasn't sure which way the wind was blowing, or if there was any wind. Disabusing Sooni of a mistaken notion was never enough. Given sufficient momentum, Sooni could power through any objection reality threw in her path.
[]
"Welcome back, Frybaby," she said. "You made it... and early, too."
"Are you surprised to see me?" I asked.
"Mildly," she said. "Oh, not really you personally. But I'm expecting a lot of people to ditch today."
"Why?" I asked.
"It's the second day of a daily class," she said. "People are going to assume there's a lot of padding in a five credit hour fighting class. They showed up for the first one, saw that it wasn't exactly planar topography, and figure they can get away with cutting ever now and then, and what do you know? It happens to be now right now."
"What, have they never taken a class with you?" I asked.
"I don't grade on attendance," she said. "I grade on performance."
"But you can't perform if you don't show up," I said.
She nodded.
"You get it," she said. "Not everybody does. If I did grade on attendance in any class, it would be this one. There are reasons I made it a five day class. One of them is momentum. Yesterday I didn't teach a damn thing... it was all about breaking down the barrier that's going to stop people from being able to react appropriately when they need to put someone down. Some people can get to that point right away. Some people take the better part of an hour. Everybody got there eventually... but how many people are still going to there after two whole days of not swinging anything at anyone?"
[]
"Momentum counts for a lot," she said. "In a fight, and the parts of life that happens between fights. When someone says they've gone rusty, they mean they've lost momentum. Hesitation has crept back in.
[]
"The reason I showed up early was I wanted to talk to you about my grade," I said.
"Little early for that, isn't it?" she said. "I don't even think about them until a few weeks in... even the people who punk out on me this week aren't setting anything in stone. I'll judge them by what they learn from the experience and how quickly they learn."
"This class is going to be a huge chunk of my grade for this semester," I said. "It's important for me to do as well as I can."
"Two unrelated statements," Callahan said.
"Look, I'm concerned about my future in the sense of wanting to make sure I'm not just helpless and flaily and falling over myself if someone tries to kill me," I said. "But I'm also concerned about my future in the sense of... my future. So I need to know: what's it going to take for me to get an A in this class?"
"You," Callahan said.
"Yeah, me," I said. "Is that so hard to believe? You've always said that your grading 'system' is fair even if you make it up as you go, and if that's true..."
"It wasn't a question," she said. "You is the answer. What will it take for you to get an A? It'll take you. You wanting it, you working for it, you showing up every single fucking day, rain or shine or hell or high water... and because I know you and your life, then on the days you don't show up it had better be for a reason that will let you keep that momentum we were talking about. If you want an A, you are going to have to fight for it and I mean fight."
[A currently disconnected bit of dialogue with Mackenzie and Callahan.]
"Welcome back, Frybaby," she said. "You made it... and early, too."
"Are you surprised to see me?" I asked.
"Mildly," she said. "Oh, not really you personally. But I'm expecting a lot of people to ditch today."
"Why?" I asked.
"It's the second day of a daily class," she said. "People are going to assume there's a lot of padding in a five credit hour fighting class. They showed up for the first one, saw that it wasn't exactly planar topography, and figure they can get away with cutting ever now and then, and what do you know? It happens to be now right now."
"What, have they never taken a class with you?" I asked.
"I don't grade on attendance," she said. "I grade on performance."
"But you can't perform if you don't show up," I said.
She nodded.
"You get it," she said. "Not everybody does. If I did grade on attendance in any class, it would be this one. There are reasons I made it a five day class. One of them is momentum. Yesterday I didn't teach a damn thing... it was all about breaking down the barrier that's going to stop people from being able to react appropriately when they need to put someone down. Some people can get to that point right away. Some people take the better part of an hour. Everybody got there eventually... but how many people are still going to there after two whole days of not swinging anything at anyone?"
[]
"Momentum counts for a lot," she said. "In a fight, and the parts of life that happens between fights. When someone says they've gone rusty, they mean they've lost momentum. Hesitation has crept back in.
[]
"The reason I showed up early was I wanted to talk to you about my grade," I said.
"Little early for that, isn't it?" she said. "I don't even think about them until a few weeks in... even the people who punk out on me this week aren't setting anything in stone. I'll judge them by what they learn from the experience and how quickly they learn."
"This class is going to be a huge chunk of my grade for this semester," I said. "It's important for me to do as well as I can."
"Two unrelated statements," Callahan said.
"Look, I'm concerned about my future in the sense of wanting to make sure I'm not just helpless and flaily and falling over myself if someone tries to kill me," I said. "But I'm also concerned about my future in the sense of... my future. So I need to know: what's it going to take for me to get an A in this class?"
"You," Callahan said.
"Yeah, me," I said. "Is that so hard to believe? You've always said that your grading 'system' is fair even if you make it up as you go, and if that's true..."
"It wasn't a question," she said. "You is the answer. What will it take for you to get an A? It'll take you. You wanting it, you working for it, you showing up every single fucking day, rain or shine or hell or high water... and because I know you and your life, then on the days you don't show up it had better be for a reason that will let you keep that momentum we were talking about. If you want an A, you are going to have to fight for it and I mean fight."
[Half an hour in to latest attempt.]
After I finished my assignment, I had the feeling of both anticlimax and accomplishment... or maybe a single feeling of anticlimactic accomplishment. The aesthetics of design class was my last new class of the semester, the last unknown quantity to be faced. Now I'd faced it, and it seemed like something that I could do... it didn't in any way play to my strengths, but stretching myself a little would only help me in the long run.
Professor Stone was the last new professor I'd had to meet, and he seemed to be a pleasant guy... enthusiastic about his subject but laid back on the whole. A year ago I might have taken his obvious familiarity with the returning Glamour and Design students in the class as a sign of impenetrable cliquishness or something but now I just hoped it just meant he was easy to get along with.
Being able to check my last class and teacher off my mental checklist and having the feeling of "yes, I can do this" was where I got the sense of accomplishment. I was trying not to feel too cocky on the basis of one session in each of my classes, but I felt like I was on solid footing. In a small but real way, the sense of being a sophomore... or rather, of not being a freshman... had solidified around me. It wasn't enough for the old year to be over... the new year had to have begun, as well.
The anticlimax came from the fact that while I felt a sense of completion, my day was far from finished. Yeah, I only had one class left and it was only an hour long, but it was Callahan's. Even if I didn't exactly dread her classes anymore, I knew that I couldn't afford to go in there feeling like... well, like everything was cool and I had it all covered, which was kind of how I felt. If I was going to have any hope of meeting Amaranth's grade requirement I had to go in with my eyes open, ready not just to learn but to act, to fight.
I'd managed to impress Callahan the day before, mostly by not wanting to let someone who didn't understand the assignment hammer on me for no reason. It was a good start, but I'd basically lucked into it and luck wouldn't get me an A.
He had technically given us permission to leave as soon as we had enough notes for the assignment, and a lot of students did just that. I hung around for a bit after I'd completed my lists of threes, out of a mixture of wanting more time to fondle the magic items and a desire to not appear like someone who would ditch class at the slightest provocation.
I'd managed to miss a few classes due to various reasons beyond my control in my first year. While some of those had been crazy, once-in-a-lifetime things, they'd taught me that once-in-a-lifetime experiences happened more often than one might expect. Making a good impression on my new teachers now might help them forgive any regrettable absences that happened later.
Past a certain point, though, it became increasingly clear that the class was over. No one who was left in the room was actually working on their assignment. There was still a cluster of mostly guys around the professor, and knots of design students standing around and talking about fashion and other things. I was the only one who was alone, and I felt weirdly exposed.
This wasn't just random social anxiety... okay, part of it was that. A lot of the G&D students gave off the same vibe that conventionally pretty, well-put-together girls always gave me.
They might have been nice girls. They might have been as insecure as I was. They might even see themselves as nerds. Maybe if I'd sat down with them and talked about something not involving clothing or colors of things or whatever I would see them as fellow nerds.
But they looked like the sorts of girls that registered to me as pretty and popular and petty, and I shrank from their attention even in the absence of any attention, negative or positive.
This entry automatically cross-posted from http://alexandraerin.dreamwidth.org/272067.html. Comment hither or thither. Void where yon.
I'm dispensing with the normal tracking of word count vs. time spent because I've picked up and put down this chapter numerous times over the course of the past two weeks. As I've recovered from my illness and the domestic situation here has settled down, one of the biggest obstacles to finishing this and getting it posted has been my awareness that a transitional chapter like this one is apt to be an anticlimax after so many weeks of minimal posting and communication. I kept trying to scrap it and come up with something a little "punchier". In the end, I'm trying to salvage it by taking it in the opposite direction... from a transition between events to an ending of sorts. This part is in bold because I know from experience what happens when I say the word "ending": I'm not talking about an end to Tales of MU, but of the sequence of events that was happening before illness knocked me on my ass. The story loses momentum when I lose momentum, so the best thing to do here is let it come to a stop and then start again.
Update 6/22: This is coming in fits and starts. I'm confident it will be done this week but I can't say when.
[6/22 - Okay, I've started to pull it together some. I'm not thrilled with any of it. The back half of it... the part with Callahan... is going to be the redemption of it, but it's not coming to my satisfaction.]
Professor Stone had technically given us permission to leave as soon as we had enough notes for the assignment, and a lot of students did just that. I hung around for a bit after I'd completed my lists of threes, out of a mixture of wanting more time to fondle the magic items and a desire to not appear like someone who would ditch class at the slightest provocation.
I'd managed to miss a few classes due to various reasons beyond my control in my first year. While some of those had been crazy, once-in-a-lifetime things, they'd taught me that once-in-a-lifetime experiences happened more often than one might expect. Making a good impression on my new teachers now might help them forgive any regrettable absences that happened later.
Past a certain point, though, it became increasingly clear that the class was over. No one who was left in the room was actually working on their assignment. There was still a cluster of mostly guys around the professor, and knots of design students standing around and talking about fashion and other things. I was the only one who was alone, and I felt weirdly exposed.
This wasn't just random social anxiety... okay, part of it was that. A lot of the G&D students gave off the same vibe that conventionally pretty, well-put-together girls always gave me.
They might have been nice girls. They might have been as insecure as I was. They might even see themselves as nerds. Maybe if I'd sat down with them and talked about something not involving clothing or colors of things or whatever I would see them as fellow nerds.
But they looked like the sorts of girls that registered to me as pretty and popular and petty, and I shrank from their attention even in the absence of any attention, negative or positive.
It was a bit of a disheartening reminder that no matter how much things had changed in the past year... no matter how much I'd changed... I was still basically myself. Okay, put that way, it didn't sound like a bad thing. I didn't want to change so much that I was unrecognizable to myself. I just wanted to find a way to be myself without all the awkwardness, the uncertainty, the feeling of being scrutinized or persecuted... the times when I actually was being scrutinized and persecuted.
I did feel good about how things had gone with Twyla. I hadn't blurted out anything stupid or insensitive. The conversation had been friendly, in the way of conversation between people who aren't exactly friends... and that was itself a sign of how much I'd changed for the better. I'd made friends over the course of my freshman year, but my interactions with anyone outside my little circle had remained somewhat... stilted.
When Professor Stone excused himself from the conversation that had sprung up around him to start bidding farewell to the students he knew from past classes, I figured that this meant he had things he wanted to be doing and it was time to go.
"...and remember to pay your respects to Emily before you leave," he said, waggling his fingers at a group of girls. "You know she can get a little touchy if she's feeling ignored."
"We will!" they answered, in almost perfect chorus.
There was that feeling of cliquishness again. Well, whoever Emily was... a student, or another teacher that they were all on first-name basis with... she probably wasn't anyone I would care to hang out with. Touchy if she's ignored? I'd had enough dealings with Queen Bee types already.
Spending the better part of an hour inside the classroom threw off my bearings to the point that I ended up taking the long way around to the front doors, down the weird looping hallway again. By the time I realized I'd headed the wrong way, I decided just to go with it... it wasn't like I was in any hurry.
As I left the building, I had the feeling of both anticlimax and accomplishment... or maybe a single feeling of anticlimactic accomplishment. The aesthetics of design class was my last new class of the semester, the last unknown quantity to be faced. Now I'd faced it, and it seemed like something that I could do... it didn't in any way play to my strengths, but stretching myself a little would only help me in the long run.
Professor Stone was the last new professor I'd had to meet, and he seemed to be a pleasant guy... enthusiastic about his subject but laid back on the whole. A year ago I might have taken his obvious familiarity with the returning Glamour and Design students in the class as a sign of impenetrable cliquishness or something but now I just hoped it just meant he was easy to get along with.
Being able to check my last class and teacher off my mental checklist and having the feeling of "yes, I can totally do this" was where I got the sense of accomplishment. I was trying not to feel too cocky on the basis of one session in each of my classes, but I felt like I was on solid footing. In a small but real way, the sense of being a sophomore... or rather, of not being a freshman... had solidified around me. It wasn't enough for the old year to be over... the new year had to have begun, as well.
The anticlimax came from the fact that while I felt a sense of completion, my day was far from finished. Yeah, I only had one class left and it was only an hour long, but it was Callahan's. Even if I didn't exactly dread her classes anymore, I knew that I couldn't afford to go in there feeling like... well, like everything was cool and I had it all covered, which was kind of how I felt. If I was going to have any hope of meeting Amaranth's grade requirement I had to go in with my eyes open, ready not just to learn but to act, to fight.
I'd managed to impress Callahan the day before, mostly by not wanting to let someone who didn't understand the assignment hammer on me for no reason. It was a good start, but I'd basically lucked into it and luck wouldn't get me the A that I needed. A good start was just that: a start. It wasn't even that, if there wasn't anything else coming after it.
I made up my mind to try to catch Callahan before her class. The appearance of eagerness alone might help her opinion of me a little bit, but only a little... and only if she didn't think I was trying to impress her with appearances. No, I wanted a chance to talk to her. Her grading criteria was simplicity itself: she gave students the grade she thought they deserved. There was no syllabus outlining targets to score a particular letter. No quizzes I could study for. No extra credit projects I could do to pad my GPA. If she thought I deserved an A, I'd get one... if she didn't, I wouldn't.
All I could really do was do my best, but I had a feeling that even my best wouldn't be what she considered to be A-level work. I needed a plan... I needed to have something specific to work towards. There was no guarantee that Callahan would give me that. I could count on her help in learning how to defend myself, but I figured the only way she could care any less about my academic goals was if she happened to be dead.
Still, her grading system being what it was, getting an A would mean doing better at the things she did care about. I just needed to get some pointers as to her priorities.
I became aware of the sound of very heavy footsteps coming up the path behind me... to be more specific, light feet being brought down heavily. There was no mistaking the ka-THUNK of Sooni's heavy wooden sandals slapping against the pavement. Evidently she had spotted me in the class, or coming out of it, and she had something to say to me... I wasn't sure there was anything I wanted to hear from her, though, and I almost ignored her and kept walking away, double-speed. But I wasn't sure I could outpace her without getting my legs all tangled up, so the only real choice was to see what she wanted.
I stopped, being careful to make sure my feet were actually planted before I turned. Encounters with Sooni were rarely great for personal dignity, and I didn't want to start this one by falling on my face... or my ass.
"Hello, Sooni," I said. "Can I help you with something?"
"Mackenzie Jo Blaise!" she said, storming up to me as if I hadn't said a word. "I cannot believe you followed me into the design program... what did you think it would accomplish?"
"Hello, Sooni," I said again, wearily... I hadn't spoken to her in months and I already felt tired of her. "Did you look up my middle name just so you could say that?"
"No," she said. "I heard it on the news."
"I was on the news?" I said. That was... worrisome.
"Last year," she said. "I remembered your middle name for just such an emergency as this."
"What emergency?"
"That you are throwing away your future as an enchanter to follow me into the difficult but glamorous world of design," she said.
"Sooni, I'm not following you anywhere," I said. "I'm only here because I need crafting credits for the applied enchantment program. You should know that, since you were in it."
"And I suppose you would have me believe it is just a coincidence that you ended up in the same class as myself?" she asked.
"I can't do anything about what you do or don't believe," I said. "But yes, it's a coincidence. I needed crafting credits and this seemed like the easiest option..."
"Design is not easy!" Sooni said, raising her voice and her foot... though she just managed to stop herself from actually stomping, which kind of impressed me. Maybe I wasn't the only one who had grown over the summer. She lowered her heavy sandal gently to the floor and forced her outraged face into a smile. "It takes a lot of hard work... or a lot of natural talent."
I fought the urge to roll my eyes at the obvious implications of the second alternative. Sooni had produced some fairly stunning original outfits along with some ridiculous ones that were nevertheless high-quality replicas of things her favorite characters wore. For some reason, it was easier for me to believe she'd lucked into the kind of affinity that made such things come naturally than it was for me to believe that she put in a ton of hard work.
"Sooni, about design not being easy, I'm sure you're right," I said. The awkward phrasing was necessary... if I'd started with you're right, it wouldn't matter what followed it because she would have heard an admission that everything she'd said was absolutely, perfectly, one-hundred-percent correct. "But I had no idea what classes you took when I signed up for mine, I had no intention of winding up in the same class as you, and I'm certainly not giving up my plans to be an enchanter."
"Oh," she said. She wasn't exactly deflated... it was more like she was a great big inflated balloon that suddenly wasn't sure which way the wind was blowing, or if there was any wind. Disabusing Sooni of a mistaken notion was never enough. Given sufficient momentum, Sooni could power through any objection reality threw in her path.
[]
"Welcome back, Frybaby," she said. "You made it... and early, too."
"Are you surprised to see me?" I asked.
"Mildly," she said. "Oh, not really you personally. But I'm expecting a lot of people to ditch today."
"Why?" I asked.
"It's the second day of a daily class," she said. "People are going to assume there's a lot of padding in a five credit hour fighting class. They showed up for the first one, saw that it wasn't exactly planar topography, and figure they can get away with cutting ever now and then, and what do you know? It happens to be now right now."
"What, have they never taken a class with you?" I asked.
"I don't grade on attendance," she said. "I grade on performance."
"But you can't perform if you don't show up," I said.
She nodded.
"You get it," she said. "Not everybody does. If I did grade on attendance in any class, it would be this one. There are reasons I made it a five day class. One of them is momentum. Yesterday I didn't teach a damn thing... it was all about breaking down the barrier that's going to stop people from being able to react appropriately when they need to put someone down. Some people can get to that point right away. Some people take the better part of an hour. Everybody got there eventually... but how many people are still going to there after two whole days of not swinging anything at anyone?"
[]
"Momentum counts for a lot," she said. "In a fight, and the parts of life that happens between fights. When someone says they've gone rusty, they mean they've lost momentum. Hesitation has crept back in.
[]
"The reason I showed up early was I wanted to talk to you about my grade," I said.
"Little early for that, isn't it?" she said. "I don't even think about them until a few weeks in... even the people who punk out on me this week aren't setting anything in stone. I'll judge them by what they learn from the experience and how quickly they learn."
"This class is going to be a huge chunk of my grade for this semester," I said. "It's important for me to do as well as I can."
"Two unrelated statements," Callahan said.
"Look, I'm concerned about my future in the sense of wanting to make sure I'm not just helpless and flaily and falling over myself if someone tries to kill me," I said. "But I'm also concerned about my future in the sense of... my future. So I need to know: what's it going to take for me to get an A in this class?"
"You," Callahan said.
"Yeah, me," I said. "Is that so hard to believe? You've always said that your grading 'system' is fair even if you make it up as you go, and if that's true..."
"It wasn't a question," she said. "You is the answer. What will it take for you to get an A? It'll take you. You wanting it, you working for it, you showing up every single fucking day, rain or shine or hell or high water... and because I know you and your life, then on the days you don't show up it had better be for a reason that will let you keep that momentum we were talking about. If you want an A, you are going to have to fight for it and I mean fight."
[A currently disconnected bit of dialogue with Mackenzie and Callahan.]
"Welcome back, Frybaby," she said. "You made it... and early, too."
"Are you surprised to see me?" I asked.
"Mildly," she said. "Oh, not really you personally. But I'm expecting a lot of people to ditch today."
"Why?" I asked.
"It's the second day of a daily class," she said. "People are going to assume there's a lot of padding in a five credit hour fighting class. They showed up for the first one, saw that it wasn't exactly planar topography, and figure they can get away with cutting ever now and then, and what do you know? It happens to be now right now."
"What, have they never taken a class with you?" I asked.
"I don't grade on attendance," she said. "I grade on performance."
"But you can't perform if you don't show up," I said.
She nodded.
"You get it," she said. "Not everybody does. If I did grade on attendance in any class, it would be this one. There are reasons I made it a five day class. One of them is momentum. Yesterday I didn't teach a damn thing... it was all about breaking down the barrier that's going to stop people from being able to react appropriately when they need to put someone down. Some people can get to that point right away. Some people take the better part of an hour. Everybody got there eventually... but how many people are still going to there after two whole days of not swinging anything at anyone?"
[]
"Momentum counts for a lot," she said. "In a fight, and the parts of life that happens between fights. When someone says they've gone rusty, they mean they've lost momentum. Hesitation has crept back in.
[]
"The reason I showed up early was I wanted to talk to you about my grade," I said.
"Little early for that, isn't it?" she said. "I don't even think about them until a few weeks in... even the people who punk out on me this week aren't setting anything in stone. I'll judge them by what they learn from the experience and how quickly they learn."
"This class is going to be a huge chunk of my grade for this semester," I said. "It's important for me to do as well as I can."
"Two unrelated statements," Callahan said.
"Look, I'm concerned about my future in the sense of wanting to make sure I'm not just helpless and flaily and falling over myself if someone tries to kill me," I said. "But I'm also concerned about my future in the sense of... my future. So I need to know: what's it going to take for me to get an A in this class?"
"You," Callahan said.
"Yeah, me," I said. "Is that so hard to believe? You've always said that your grading 'system' is fair even if you make it up as you go, and if that's true..."
"It wasn't a question," she said. "You is the answer. What will it take for you to get an A? It'll take you. You wanting it, you working for it, you showing up every single fucking day, rain or shine or hell or high water... and because I know you and your life, then on the days you don't show up it had better be for a reason that will let you keep that momentum we were talking about. If you want an A, you are going to have to fight for it and I mean fight."
[Half an hour in to latest attempt.]
After I finished my assignment, I had the feeling of both anticlimax and accomplishment... or maybe a single feeling of anticlimactic accomplishment. The aesthetics of design class was my last new class of the semester, the last unknown quantity to be faced. Now I'd faced it, and it seemed like something that I could do... it didn't in any way play to my strengths, but stretching myself a little would only help me in the long run.
Professor Stone was the last new professor I'd had to meet, and he seemed to be a pleasant guy... enthusiastic about his subject but laid back on the whole. A year ago I might have taken his obvious familiarity with the returning Glamour and Design students in the class as a sign of impenetrable cliquishness or something but now I just hoped it just meant he was easy to get along with.
Being able to check my last class and teacher off my mental checklist and having the feeling of "yes, I can do this" was where I got the sense of accomplishment. I was trying not to feel too cocky on the basis of one session in each of my classes, but I felt like I was on solid footing. In a small but real way, the sense of being a sophomore... or rather, of not being a freshman... had solidified around me. It wasn't enough for the old year to be over... the new year had to have begun, as well.
The anticlimax came from the fact that while I felt a sense of completion, my day was far from finished. Yeah, I only had one class left and it was only an hour long, but it was Callahan's. Even if I didn't exactly dread her classes anymore, I knew that I couldn't afford to go in there feeling like... well, like everything was cool and I had it all covered, which was kind of how I felt. If I was going to have any hope of meeting Amaranth's grade requirement I had to go in with my eyes open, ready not just to learn but to act, to fight.
I'd managed to impress Callahan the day before, mostly by not wanting to let someone who didn't understand the assignment hammer on me for no reason. It was a good start, but I'd basically lucked into it and luck wouldn't get me an A.
He had technically given us permission to leave as soon as we had enough notes for the assignment, and a lot of students did just that. I hung around for a bit after I'd completed my lists of threes, out of a mixture of wanting more time to fondle the magic items and a desire to not appear like someone who would ditch class at the slightest provocation.
I'd managed to miss a few classes due to various reasons beyond my control in my first year. While some of those had been crazy, once-in-a-lifetime things, they'd taught me that once-in-a-lifetime experiences happened more often than one might expect. Making a good impression on my new teachers now might help them forgive any regrettable absences that happened later.
Past a certain point, though, it became increasingly clear that the class was over. No one who was left in the room was actually working on their assignment. There was still a cluster of mostly guys around the professor, and knots of design students standing around and talking about fashion and other things. I was the only one who was alone, and I felt weirdly exposed.
This wasn't just random social anxiety... okay, part of it was that. A lot of the G&D students gave off the same vibe that conventionally pretty, well-put-together girls always gave me.
They might have been nice girls. They might have been as insecure as I was. They might even see themselves as nerds. Maybe if I'd sat down with them and talked about something not involving clothing or colors of things or whatever I would see them as fellow nerds.
But they looked like the sorts of girls that registered to me as pretty and popular and petty, and I shrank from their attention even in the absence of any attention, negative or positive.
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