Irrigating the Desert, G, Space Cases Fic
Irrigating the Desert
ladyophelia14
Rating: G
Word Count: 2,696
Summary: Post "It's My Birthday, Too (Yeah!)" Ms. Davenport attempts to make amends to Radu for the awkward position she placed him in.
Fic-a-thon prompt: Cultural Norms
Disclaimer:
Disclaimer: This is a creative fan endeavor. No profit has been made.
AN: Post “It’s my Birthday, Too(Yeah!) The tone of this is different from the last. I wanted to assume Ms. Davenport’s POV, so the narration is a bit more… Pompous and elaborate? Something like that.
I am breaking from the show in one important thing: English is not Radu’s first language. I am assuming that Andromedans speak something else, (someone want to make up a language?) and has been taught English. Maybe less of a break from the show than an elaboration on canon, but anyway, I went there.
I didn’t think this fit the fic-a-thon, but when I went back I saw the prompt ‘cultural norms’ and well, it fits. So this will be for that prompt, as well.
Irrigating the Desert
The task of the modern educator is not to cut down jungles, but to irrigate deserts.
C.S. Lewis
“Class is dismissed. Mr. Radu, please stay.”
Ms. Davenport watched her wayward pupils shuffle out of the Christa’s ‘classroom,’ with various amounts of grumbling over homework. Radu remained seated, with a look of anxiety plastered across his features. Davenport was not surprised by that, she imagined that being singled out was extremely taboo amongst his people, and had ended in being sent away from his nest mates when it happened in Andromeda.
No, a bit of dread was not surprising. That he was nervous in her company should have been surprising; after all, she was his teacher, his advocate and guide as he navigated an unfamiliar culture. In this role she had not served him well. Perhaps, in her years of being an administrator she had lost her classroom ‘touch’, had forgotten what it felt like to reach out to the eager young minds seated before her.
No, whatever the reason there could be no excuse. The fact of the matter was that Radu was adrift, as the recent birthday incident so aptly demonstrated. It was her duty to put her students at ease, to create for each student an optimal environment in which to learn. In treating the Andromedan as if he were just like his fellow students from the Sol system, she had allowed him to fall through the cracks.
The responsibility was hers alone, even Commander Goddard could not be held equal in this fault. He wasn’t truly a teacher, no matter what titles and punishments the Star Dogs laid on his name. He was a soldier, a leader of men, and that was what the students so desperately needed from him out here in the stars. That was the reason she had released him from his teaching duties when they became stranded out here. He was no natural teacher by any means, and it was a waste of his abilities to trap him in a classroom when they clearly needed him elsewhere.
Davenport focused again on Radu, her mind filled with the myriad details of Andromedan culture she’d wrested painfully from Commander Goddard. She was right about his teaching prowess; getting the information from him had been like wringing blood from a stone. The Socratic method was utterly lost on the man.
“Mr. Radu, your hair is a hazard.” Her voice was crisp with aggravation, unintentionally spilling out from her recent encounter with Goddard, confound the man!
Had she less dignity she would have slapped her forehead. She had meant to open the subject gently. Radu seemed to shrink in his seat, blushing violently. His mouth opened and closed on a reply, but without Andromedan hearing his words were lost to her. Davenport observed his distress and remembered painfully that he was, by far, her youngest student.
A different approach was in order.
Leaving the podium and its position of authority behind, she casually took a seat next to Radu. His eyes were like saucers as he watched her, and she almost laughed. She could remember a time when teachers held a similar terror for her.
Davenport smiled in a manner which she hoped was warm and companionable. She had practiced in her mirror that morning, anticipating a stand offish response from the introverted Andromedan… and the rock headed Commander who held the sum of Andromedan cultural information available to her.
From Radu’s expression, a bit more practice may have sufficed, at least in regards to smiling. Davenport allowed her expression to ease, which seemed a relief to Radu.
“Relax, Mr. Radu. I assure you I do not bite.” Ms. Davenport pitched her voice low, just above a whisper, which she had learned today was considered a sign of respect for any outsider speaking privately to an Andromedan.
Radu’s brow furrowed, and at first she worried she had overstepped with this gesture. The truth of the matter followed close behind that brief worry, however. As she looked at his expression, Davenport saw Radu attempting to parse the idiomatic phrase.
Well, you could hardly expect him to be fluent in the Queen’s English, you ninny!
Distracted from her original purpose, Davenport frowned at him in concern. “Mr. Radu, are you having comprehension problems in class? I’m afraid I’ve been taking your grasp of our language for granted. Please know you can ask for clarification at any time, not just during class.”
Blushing to his ears, Radu stammered a disclaimer. “I-I wouldn’t want to bother anyone, I d-do alright.”
Her reply was brisk. “It is not a bother, young man. It is my responsibility to aid your education in any way you require. I had forgotten that your classes in English language were disrupted when we left the academy. We will resume them. Furthermore, it is not enough to simply do alright. You show a great deal of promise, Mr. Radu, and it should not be squandered. I will not have you ‘doing alright’ when you could easily excel.”
Radu took a moment, and she watched with her usual direct gaze as he made his way through her words, examining each with the delicate care of the unfamiliar. She saw him smile as he found the compliment, and felt the unique thrill of a teacher reaching a student.
How could she have ever thought administration was better than this?
“I’d like to learn more English… especially from you Ms. Davenport. You talk--sorry, speak-- different than anyone else. Not just the accent, but you … use words the way they mean, like they are in the dictionary and the Christa’s info core. Sometimes I don’t know the words, but they always fit exactly how you used them when I look them up. It’s easier to figure out what you mean than anyone else I’ve met.”
Ah… she admired his care to not mention her snooty accent, as Harlan Band was so wont to point out. Although she was prone to rather obscure vocabulary, she was pleased to see that in her precise use of words, she was of some help to him.
“I’ll be sure to schedule some extra practice for you, and to pass along some light reading assignments. I will also speak to the Commander about lightening some of your more time consuming duties to accommodate the extra lessons. After all, it would not do to have a principle member of the bridge crew misinterpreting an order.” Belatedly, she realized that last bit was rather accusatory, but Radu thankfully didn’t seem to take offense.
“Commander Goddard speaks some Andromedan. H-he’s translated things for me, sometimes. He always seems to know when I don’t u-understand,” Radu replied, his tone revealing his great respect for the Commander, a respect which was suddenly very understandable to Davenport.
“Yes, well, that doesn’t surprise me. Commander Goddard is a very talented, intuitive leader. He has a firm grasp of the quirks and foibles of those within his command.”
Davenport watched again as Radu made his way through her sentence, and this time her newly re-awoken teaching instincts told her where and how he got stuck. Before he could even open his mouth, she spoke.
“By quirks and foibles I was referring to the individual characteristics of each member of the team. More precisely, a ‘quirk’ is an unusual trait and a ‘foible’ is a weakness distinct to a particular individual.” Grimacing, she continued, “ and perhaps I should use less esoteric--err, I should use more common words.”
Radu’s mouth snapped shut on the question he hadn’t gotten to ask, and he grinned at her. “That would really, really help.”
Surprised by his mercurial shift in mood, she smiled back, remembering belatedly the real smiles needn’t be practiced in mirrors. The brief moment of accord between teacher and student stretched out, until Radu’s smile faded a bit, his brow tightening in concern again.
“You m-mentioned my hair. You-- you know I can’t cut it… uh, right?”
This time she did slap her forehead, to Radu’s very evident alarm. “Yes, of course, I apologize. I digressed. Oh--that is to say-- I was distracted into an unrelated line of conversation.”
Radu seemed to follow that a bit better, although he still appeared concerned.
“My hair is a hazard?” he prompted.
Davenport sighed. In the sudden euphoria of teaching she had forgotten that she had left it because of excessively awkward situations like this, to which she seemed especially prone.
“No, Mr. Radu. I worded that poorly. Ironic that it preceded an unrelated discourse on precision in language. Oh bother-- ironic is--”
Here, Radu interrupted her. “I spend most of my free time with Harlan, Ms. Davenport. Irony is one of the English lessons I learned LONG ago.”
Davenport smiled as she thought of the Christa’s ever apropos object lessons, usually directed at Mr. Band.
“Quite so, Mr. Radu. Quite so. As I was saying, I did not mean to imply that your hair is offensive. I was attempting to ask why you do not braid it. Commander Goddard informs me that braiding one’s hair is a rite of passage into adulthood for Andromedans, signaling the taking up of responsibilities that require one’s hair to be safely out of the way. Responsibilities such as the post of navigator on a starship.” He could not miss her pointed tone as she finished her statement.
Radu looked surprised, glancing away and fingering one of his long curls thoughtfully. “I’m not old enough… I mean, I’m not really--you know…”
Ms. Davenport affected a stern look. “No, Mr. Radu, I’m sure I don’t know. I have learned that Andromedan adulthood is not based on individual chronology, on age and birth dates, but on deeds and achievements. This voyage is not a lesson or simulation. The Christa is a real starship. You are actually navigating her. By Andromedan standards, if you are shouldering adult responsibilities, you must therefore be an adult.” Her stance softened a bit at his startled look.
“Do not be so surprised, Radu. Being the youngest on this ship is not something to be ashamed of, even if Mr. Band teases. You are, in fact, the youngest Star Dog cadet to ever assume a post on a starship. You have not failed or let anyone down, but rather have acted with honor and loyalty beyond your years on many occasions. You and your fellow cadets have risen to every challenge you have faced thus far, and though we don’t say so often enough, the Commander and I are extremely proud of all of your achievements.”
Radu looked very pleased, and also as though he wished the deck of the Christa would open up and swallow him whole to spare him having to look at her again. Davenport hoped he didn’t wish for that too hard, as the Christa seemed uncommonly fond of her youngest crew member, and might oblige him. Heaven knows the sentient ship had come down on Mr. Band like the proverbial ton of bricks when he’d occasionally targeted Radu in the past.
Radu, his eyes still firmly fixed on the Christa’s deck, mumbled something just below Ms. Davenport’s hearing.
“Do speak up, Mr. Radu. As I have previously demonstrated, you are not a child.” Her soft tone mitigated the harshness of her words, and his face swiveled up to face her directly.
“I said I--I don’t know how to braid my hair. I l-left before they could teach me.” Radu’s voice was low with remembered pain, and Davenport wondered what other things were over looked or left behind when he was so precipitously sundered from the hatchery.
Well,
she thought briskly. Their loss is our gain.
“I would be honored to show you how, Radu, if you’d like that.”
He looked at her in surprise. “You--you know how-- would teach me that?”
Davenport wasn’t sure which he was more shocked by, that she knew how to braid or that she’d trouble to teach him.
“To answer both of your questions, yes, I do know how to braid hair. I was young once, and kept my hair quite long. As for your second question, of course I will show you how. I am your teacher. Teaching is what I do.” Teaching was what she did. Davenport had forgotten how much she loved it. She’d forgone her chance to explore the stars to teach, though her parents said she was wasting her best years cloistered in the academy.
Looking at the shining expression of hope on Radu’s face, the look of eager anticipation, she could dream of nothing better than teaching, stars be damned. This was a skill Radu would carry his entire adult life, this small gift she was giving him.
Pulling some ribbons she’d procured from Catalina out of her pocket, she separated the strands and laid them before her.
“Pay attention, then, Mr. Radu. I will demonstrate first with these and then we shall practice a bit with your hair. Now, there are many different ways to braid, but the simplest consists of three strands intermittently woven together--”
“In--intermittently?”
“Ah… yes, the ribbons alternate as you weave them, like so…”
That evening, Ms. Davenport paused as she returned from the girls’ curfew check to see Commander Goddard standing outside the boys’ dormitory. Bracing herself for whatever shenanigans were surely afoot, she paused to listen with him. Inside, she could hear the boys talking amongst themselves.
“She taught you to braid your hair, and then assigned you extra reading? Man, I thought I had a weird day,” Harlan’s voice was muffled. “Although I agree that something needs to be done about this wacko mop of yours. Hey, you can twist that and wrap it with string to hold it. That’s what my ma did to my hair when I was a kid.”
After a beat, Radu replied. “Hey, thanks. That’s better than tying a bow at the end.”
“Was it weird? I bet it was weird,” Bova interjected, his voice further away. In the wash room, perhaps.
“No, it was--was nice. And the reading is helping me learn more English.” Radu’s voice lowered as he admitted this.
Harlan’s voice was hearty as he argued. “Aww, you talk fine, man. You take too many lessons from her, you’re gonna start yapping in a snooty accent. Then you’re gonna need to find new room, ‘cause I get enough of that in class.”
Ms. Davenport grimaced wryly at Goddard. On one hand, Harlan’s support of Radu was heartening, on the other hand, her accent continued to take abuse. Though, if someone was going to be teased by Harlan, far better it be her than Radu.
Surprisingly, Radu rallied to her defense, risking his tenuous stance as ‘one of the guys.’
“Ms. Davenport’s accent isn’t the problem, Harlan. Half the time I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Outside, Ms. Davenport smiled to herself, as Bova sleepily replied to Radu before Harlan could take offense. Bova, she’d noticed, was adept at derailing conflicts before they disrupted his sleep.
“Radu, that’s not just you. No one understands Harlan half the time.”
“Hey!”
Grinning, Goddard mouthed ‘good work, T.J.’ at her. Nodding regally in response, she continued on towards her quarters. She and her snooty accent were going to enjoy a spot of tea and some well earned reflection on a very good day, indeed.