Chapter 7 #2
“That’s another thing! When I put that program together, I guess I thought it would be successful and that within the first year the professors would start noticing, I don’t know, more teamwork in their classes, better test scores after PE, more focus.
Which are all things that my reading suggested would result from a properly run athletics program.
I wasn’t thinking that if it’s not successful, I can’t keep employing Piper.
What will they do? They have so much potential.
” She sighed heavily. “They’re so good with the kids, but I can’t keep them here full-time to teach stickball games to the ten kids who come from non-magical families and think they’re fun. ”
“Is that a problem for today?” Bryn asked.
“No. No, it’s not. Anyway, I’m so sorry that I haven’t been to check in with you more often. How are things going? How are your classes? I really apologize. I meant to come by every day, I swear, and it’s just gotten away from me. Now you’ve been here two weeks? Are things a mess?” Amelia added.
“Things have been touch and go,” Bryn said after a moment. “More touch than go, if I’m, you know …”
“Not lying?” Amelia suggested.
“Well, I wouldn’t lie, but I’m not good at this. I’m afraid you picked a dud. Amelia, I’m so sorry. I’m really completely at a loss with how to do this job.”
Amelia, far from daunted, actually smiled. “That’s exactly where you’re supposed to be two weeks in.”
“That’s what Mr Wicks said.” So why wasn’t it actually reassuring?
“You talked to Mr Wicks about teaching?”
“Well, he talked to me.” Bryn looked down at her hands, then glanced up through her eyelashes, not quite sure how Amelia would handle that, if Mr Wicks was some kind of professional rival. “Sorry, I know that you don’t necessarily get along with him—”
But Amelia only waved this off. “No, no, I think it’s wonderful.
That’s what I hoped my senior teachers would do with a new teacher, especially one in these kinds of circumstances.
I think it’s great, and I don’t have a problem with Mr Wicks.
I really don’t, personally. I’m just worried that he’s going to take my job.
” She slumped. “I guess I’m more worried that he would be right to take my job.
That he would do this job so much better than I am. ”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Bryn said, wondering if she should be in listening mode, or problem-solving mode.
“Anyway, so you’re struggling with teaching.” Maybe Amelia was the one going into problem-solving mode. Or rather, Headmistress Mode: activated.
Bryn blew out a long breath. “It’s so hard. I don’t know why I didn’t expect that, but apparently, I didn’t. Not that I thought it was easy, but …”
“I think it happens to everyone. I definitely struggled when teaching.”
“You were a teacher?”
“Oh, yeah. I mean, Professor Herringbone didn’t just pluck me out of the ether.”
“Where were you teaching?”
Amelia sat back, suddenly looking more relaxed.
“Well, I went for my training at Wyndemere University, and I met some really awesome people there, and one of my professors happened to be a demon and got me an internship—which became a job later—at a demon elementary school. So that’s where I got started.
” She smiled in recollection. “It was fantastic. I mean, very, very different, and the kids constantly made fun of me for having no idea about demon culture, but it was great. I’m so glad I learned there.
Not that here isn’t also good, but it gave me a really different perspective.
Demons have zero rules against technology.
Nobody thinks that tradition means a failure of progress. It was, well, really refreshing.”
“Wow,” Bryn said. “That’s awesome. So that’s why the professor thought you’d be good for this job?”
“Maybe … not exactly? I reached out to her about two days into my first semester of teaching to say I was doing everything wrong. We hadn’t kept consistently in touch after graduation, but you know how much she liked to teach people, and I became her student again, in a way.
And she was absolutely fascinated by how demons do things, so she loved hearing about all that.
” Amelia paused, her smile growing slightly melancholy.
“There’s so much more I wanted to learn from her.
Oh well. Anyway, I think the professor thought Grimoire Academy needed an influx of new energy and new ideas, that we’re falling behind.
You’ve probably noticed that enrollment is lower than it used to be, and we need a significant amount of infrastructure work on some of the buildings.
” She cast her eyes up at the ceiling. “Our broomsticks sculpture required some magical and engineering work last year, which the professor had done, but I’m not sure we could really afford it. ”
Bryn blinked. The crossed broomsticks on the roof of the castle, magically lit at night in different colors depending on the time of year, were a landmark so well known that even non-magical tourist guides pointed to it as a must-see in the area.
(Often with a proviso that unauthorized persons entering school grounds would be faced with “consequences of untold discomfort”, which just about covered being told off by a seriously annoyed witch.) “What was wrong with the broomsticks? I mean, it’s not like we could have them taken down.
” The castle would look unnatural without its trademark sculpture.
“Professor Herringbone looked into that too, quietly, but in fact it would have cost more.” Amelia’s lovely face creased in a frown. “You should investigate that yourself. She said the spell work was magnificent and nearly indestructible. Tied into the school’s roots, or something.”
“Roots,” Bryn repeated. “I wonder what that means. And how they did it.”
“I don’t know. But I do know we’re still paying off the magical engineering firm that worked on it last year.”
“Yikes.” There didn’t seem to be much else she could say, though this felt inadequate.
The frown softened and Amelia sipped her tea before saying, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to drop all this on you. It’s not your responsibility. I just wish the professor were here.”
It made sense that Amelia had lost so much more than a colleague in Professor Herringbone, but Bryn had really only considered her own loss, which seemed shortsighted now.
She wished she could reach out, take the other woman’s hand.
But she didn’t. She settled on saying, “I’m so sorry for your loss.
She meant so many different things to everyone. ”
“She really did. We’re still getting emails and letters from people. I keep thinking, I don’t know, maybe we should put up a memorial somewhere. Online, or here in person.” Amelia’s expression turned pensive.
Tempting as it was to get sidetracked, Bryn braced herself to deliver more bad news. “I’m also really sorry I’m not measuring up. Not to add to your burdens at the moment.”
“What? What do you mean?”
Bryn took another breath. “I gave my classes MSE pre-tests today for their year levels.”
Amelia went tense. More tense than she’d been with Madame Schneider in the room. “What happened? How’d they do?”
“Well, I made a discovery.” Oh, this was so hard. How could she break it to Amelia that her really inspiring technology program was having a disastrous effect? At least on the students in Professor Herringbone’s classes. “It turns out some of the kids have been cheating a little bit.”
“Okay.” Her voice was deceptively mild, the kind of mild that meant she was practically holding her breath, waiting for the ax to fall.
And I’m the one with the ax. “They seem to be using their phones and their smartwatches, and I’m pretty sure at least one of them was using some kind of fancy glasses.”
“What do you mean?”
Bryn didn’t think Amelia was having trouble understanding. She thought Amelia was in denial and she didn’t really blame her. So she explained about the first two classes, and how she used them as control groups, and then her new spell that disabled the use of electronic devices during the class.
“I’ll refine it later. It really only disabled connections to networks outside the school, but I’m afraid the grades plummeted. I don’t know how long it’s been going on, but it doesn’t seem like it’s all my fault. I mean, I wish it was and then you could just get a new teacher, but—”
“I’m not getting a new teacher,” Amelia snapped. “Damn it.” She set down her mug with a thud, got up, and began to pace. “Fuck. Oh shit, what am I gonna do? I need these MSEs to go well. This is not— I can’t let this—”
Bryn watched with growing concern. Amelia wasn’t finishing sentences, and she looked very, very upset, but what else could Bryn have done? She had to tell her. Maybe she should have gone to Mr Wicks, but he was already anti-technology, so that wouldn’t have been good either.
Finally, when the pacing seemed to be speeding up, Bryn stood and set herself right in front of Amelia, who stopped just in time to avoid a collision.
“Can you undo the charm? Maybe if we can just squeak by this year, then next year I’ll figure something else out. Next year we’ll start afresh. They can keep their phones, we’ll put charms on them, everything will be fine.” Amelia frowned. “I know it’s not really ethical, but maybe this once—”
“Amelia, the MSEs are proctored by an outside organization. There’s no way they’ll be able to cheat. Plus, half of them are practicals. I don’t see how you could use your phone to cheat on a practical.”
Amelia’s shoulders slumped, her head lowered, her eyes closed. She looked like she was about to cry. Bryn reached out impulsively, her hands on Amelia’s shoulders.
“Why is this a crisis? I know it’s inconvenient, but even if it’s more than one class, it’s just a blip.
New program, new policies. Maybe we can argue the MSE class has had, I don’t know, too much disruption this year and get them a delayed test. That happens sometimes.
” Bryn wanted so much to pull Amelia into a hug, but it was too soon.
Or too abrupt. Or just not the right moment.
“It doesn’t seem like this is a crisis,” she said softly.
Amelia looked up, tears in her eyes. “They’re going to fire me. That’s what Governor Schneider was here to tell me. They had a meeting and if the MSEs do not maintain or exceed an average grade of B, they’re going to remove me from my position.”
“Oh shit,” Bryn said.
Amelia started to cry.