Chapter Seven: The Legend of the Quartopus
Of all the things I ever thought I'd end up doing, teaching witchcraft to tween girls wasn't on the list. A portfolio manager? Maybe! A market analyst? Sure, why not! A cryptozoologist? Unlikely, but possible! But I hadn't even known that witches existed, let alone that I might get turned into a teenage girl, trained in witchcraft, and offered a job at a school that I'd once sworn as my hated enemy. But, hey, if hookers and blow aren't your thing, portfolio management is pretty fucking miserable. Teaching witchcraft to promising students, on the other hand, is deeply rewarding. Of course, it was worth asking: why had Lily campaigned to get me a junior faculty spot at St. Circe's. Including, possibly:
- Because I was crimping her style. Fair enough - Lily had a big enough house, but it was nice to get the place to yourself once in a while.
- To get me out of Lily's sanctuary on a regular basis.
The importance of #2 cannot be overstated. While a warlock's compass, even a very good one, cannot find a witch while she is in her (or another's) sanctuary, a more advanced artifice known as a seeker's stone can do so, provided you've assembled the stone correctly (e.g. secured a token of the witch and a token of her sanctuary) and the witch is in harmony with the place. That is, the longer the witch resides in a sanctuary and the more she considers it home, the truer the stone will point, and little you can do will throw it off.
Also of note, and not to be understated, the Gangling Men had a token of Lily's sanctuary (the ring they'd stolen from me), and any number of tokens of my person that they wished to procure from my old apartment in Sacramento. And the Gangling Men certainly knew how to make seeker's stones - while we witches were restricted in what artifices we could make, the pale fucks could cobble together whatever they liked. I hadn't thought of this, and it had very nearly cost me dearly.
The day before my defensive gauntlet, I'd been seated by the pond when I heard them. I sat cross-legged and trying to focus, trying to summon a single dragonfly to my finger. I no longer needed a ritual and was no longer summoning zipping hordes of the things, but a singular insect was a tall order. I'd managed two and was now trying to improve that record. I coalesced my attentions to a single pinhole of awareness and pulsed my summons out one tiny beam at a time, lest my call to arms be intercepted by too many tiny insect brains. And lo! A single dragonfly lit upon my finger, docile and awaiting command. I let out a triumphant whoop that frightened the insect out of its stupor, sending it zipping into the cattails across the pond. And then I heard the crunching of footsteps.
I thought it might be a bear or a deer. While the only animals I'd ever seen in Lily's sanctuary were local denizens, I wasn't sure if animals followed the same befuddlement rules as humans - would a bear acting on instinct and scent be led astray in the same manner as a man acting on sight and cogitation? I wasn’t sure. I heard the crunch of footsteps through underbrush and the murmur of voices. Curious, I approached the standing stones at the far side of the pond, and then I spotted them. Them. A pair of Gangling Men, pale and dark-clad with their broad-brimmed hats.
"To whence does it point?" The taller one asked.
"Yon - and strongly," the shorter one said.
And they were approaching, and I froze like a deer in headlights. They walked up within fifteen yards of my location staring right at me. There's no way they didn't see me, a shapely girl in jeans and a black tank-top, her hair a vivid coppery orange, standing at the edge of Lily's pond. And yet they appeared not to apprehend me - perhaps some illusion or confabulation protecting Lily's domain? With tighter focus than I'd ever managed, I summoned another dragonfly to me. It lit upon my bare shoulder, its weight barely perceptible, grooming its mandible and waiting. I knotted a hair - one of the rose gold ones, one that would have a little lasting power - and tied it into a double-knot around the dragonfly's thorax. Then I sent her on her way.
"Did you see that? Movement!" the shorter one said.
"Yes. She moves. We'll find the witch yet."
And they tromped off through the woods after a dragonfly and a rose gold hair. I breathed a sigh of relief and ran back to the house to message Lily - she was at school, but there were any number of ways I could contact her, from the old rotary telephone to a sympathetic message. She came home early and had me assist with a ritual to render the sanctuary further obfuscated - we'd have to repeat the ritual every few days to keep the effect up and, in time, the land could develop a resistance to the ritual, rendering the spell next to worthless… so Lily was motivated to get me out of her sanctuary from time to time because:
- She wanted me out of her hair.
- I needed to get out of the sanctuary more often for our very safety. And…
- Bethany Lily was engaged in a power play against Prudence Sauvage and I was about to get called into a proxy war.
For those not familiar with my trials and tribulations as a student at St. Circe's, Dr. Prudence Sauvage was the assistant headmistress under Lily, subsequently promoted to co-headmistress after last year's ill-fated Winter Festival. This shift in power dynamics led to some friction, due to deep differences in vision for the school - Lily was a reformer, jolted out of complacency by one Natalia Cadence Storm, and Sauvage was a traditionalist and a very strict disciplinarian, jolted out of complacency by one Natalia Cadence Storm. And Sauvage and I did not see eye to eye on… well, anything, really. Her favorite color was gray, her favorite mood was dour, and her favorite former student was not me. It turned out that Sauvage had already verbally promised a faculty spot to a former St. Circe's student but Lily had gotten the jump on her and secured the administrative support to recruit me to the spot instead.
I had a lunchtime meeting with Lily penciled in to discuss my schedule and responsibilities, but it ended up being a lot more fractious than a typical teacher orientation. Sauvage found out about the meeting and stormed in as soon as I showed up at Lily's office. I'd just set myself in one of the little leather meeting chairs when the co-headmistress marched in without knocking, hands on her hips, face twisted in anger.
"Bethany! What in the sweet stars is this?" Sauvage said. "You cannot hire the Bryce girl to the math and symbology position… I've already promised it to Amber Grim, and that's a sort of contract."
"Please, have a seat," Lily said coolly. And, even so incensed, Sauvage was too much of a stickler to deny her.
"She's barely a witch," Sauvage said, studiously avoiding any eye contact with me. "She's inexperienced, disruptive, and has absolutely no teaching experience!"
"Absolutely no experience!" Lily chuckled. "Why… that's not what Natalie's resume says. Is it?"
"It's not," I agreed. "I've taught a number of girls right here at St. Circe's witchcraft and mathematics and was a peer tutor for precalculus and calculus when I was at university. And I taught witchcraft to hedge witches during my stint at SyphoPharm and mathematics and programming to financial professionals at Vobis Finance. I have a bachelor's degree in mathematical economics from…"
"Yes, yes, very droll, Miss Bryce… but have you ever taught a classroom of students?" Sauvage finally glanced in my direction, a triumphant smirk upon her usually-dour face.
"This will be my first time," I said. "How much experience does Miss Grim have?"
"I'd have to check, but she has been a witch for seven years!"
I was all smiles and earnest emerald eyes. "Then it's sure to be a lot! I'm not sure how I can compete against a resume like that!"
Lily glanced between the doctor and myself, mischief twinkling in her eyes. "Prudence, you make an excellent point. Like yourself, I only want the best education for the girls at St. Circe's, and our two candidates bring very different skillsets to the table. We'll bring both candidates before the administrative committee and screen them, may the best woman win?"
How could Sauvage argue with that? I was a bit miffed, obviously, because I'd thought the job was mine for the taking… but not too miffed, because I still had mixed whether I actually wanted to teach magic to the St. Circe's Junior girls for the long haul. But now I was committed - I'd accepted the ring, committing myself to a contract (albeit a weak one) - and a witch is only as good as her bond. Well, her bond and the massive storm of magical energies at her beck.
+++++
The next day, we met at the little boardroom in the upstairs of the administration building, the five high-backed chairs behind the mahogany table seating the members of the St. Circe's administration: Lily, Sauvage, Dr. Clay, Mrs. Bishop, and Mrs. Law. In front of it were two more modest chairs for the two candidates: myself and Amber Grim.
I'm not sure what I was expecting from Amber, who was (I presumed) a disciple of the gray and dispassionate Dr. Sauvage. A colorless martinet like her, I suppose. But Amber wasn't that. Blonde and young, she certainly looked the part of an aspiring schoolteacher, albeit perhaps half a century behind in fashion: sensible flats, a forest green skirt, box-pleated and down to her ankles, a long-sleeved white blouse, a neck bow to match the skirt, and dark-framed glasses. I could easily imagine her in a classroom circa the Johnson administration, cheerfully explaining to little Amanda how her answer was incorrect.
"Ladies, please have a seat," Dr. Clay said. "Since Ms. Lily and Dr. Sauvage have nominated each of you to our vacant teaching post, I'll be chairing the committee to prevent conflict of interest."
I wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing. Certainly, Ms. Law would have been better and Mrs. Bishop would have been worse. My most frequent memories of Dr. Clay were from chorus, snapping at me to pick up my flat note, to pipe up (I was reasonably loud, but I guess she thought I could do better), or to tell me that 'on time is late' and that one more tardy to her class would get me a punishment… though that 'one more' tardy always seemed to be one more than the current one. So, whether Dr. Clay could barely tolerate me or secretly liked me, I hadn't a clue.
She started by asking us questions - each of the five administrators, as well as Ms. Sturm (the other Best Behavior teacher along with Mrs. Bishop) had submitted several questions, and Dr. Clay selected one question of each, alternating which of us would answer the question first. For instance:
"Discipline in the classroom is crucial to maintaining a structured learning environment. What is your philosophy on discipline, and how will this translate into an orderly and productive classroom?"
That question might have been a Dr. Sauvage one, but from Mrs. Bishop's enthusiastic little nod, I could tell it was hers - no big surprise there. As my Best Behavior teacher during my Advanced months, she'd been a stern disciplinarian, though perhaps not so rigid and single-minded about it as Ms. Sturm. Amber answered first:
She smiled amiably and turned right to Mrs. Bishop. "Yes, discipline is very important. Now… you can have too much discipline, and when that happens, a student doesn't feel safe in her classroom. She's too afraid of punishment to properly learn. This might not be a popular opinion here, but I think too much discipline is just as bad as not enough - there's a fine balance to be made. I have my rules, I make them known, and I enforce them - no funny business, but no capricious punishment, either. For instance, for speaking in the classroom, I like to use a traffic light at the front of the room. A green light means the students are free to speak, so long as they keep it at a reasonable volume. For group projects, free discussion, things like that. Green light means anybody can speak, no permission required. The red light means quiet time - no speaking at all. If a student absolutely has to say something, she may write it on a note or whisper it to me and will be punished only if it's for spurious reasons. And the yellow light means speaking by permission - raise your hand and wait to be called upon. So that's one rule to keep the classroom in order. I like to have a list of Ten Classroom Commandments, which I'd post up front next to the traffic light. So I suppose my answer is: clear rules, fair rules, and consistent enforcement."
This, at least, pleased Mrs. Bishop. And, let's admit it - it was a pretty good answer.
Dr. Clay nodded. "Thank you, Miss Grim. And what about you, Miss Bryce? What is your philosophy on discipline, and how will this translate into an orderly and productive classroom?"
"That's a good question - and I'll be frank, I'm not sure how to answer it… a productive classroom. Because what are we in the business of producing here at St. Circe's? Is it well-behaved young women or is it well-prepared young witches? Because these two goals are at odds with one-another. Or at least they can be if 'well-behaved' means a willingness to abide by unjust rules. Who here has a poor opinion of me? Natalie Bryce, the discipline problem, the troublemaker, the rabble-rouser? But I challenge you to name one time that I broke a St. Circe's rule without good cause. You won't be able to because no such incident exists, and it's in no small part because of the discipline that this school has helped instill in me. Not the discipline of blindly following rules, but the most important form of discipline, bar none: self-discipline.
"Some of you don't like me much, but ask yourself this: is it because I'm a poor witch? Or is it because you've deemed my behavior at odds with my 'proper place' in an outdated scheme to churn out docile, smiling housewives for the Rowan Bryces of the world? It's that second one - in fact, I'm a very good witch because I'm disciplined. I spend eight to ten hours every day at study and practicing witchcraft. Every day, without exception. When I get this job, perhaps that will go down to five or six hours - there are only so many waking hours in the day. I understand discipline, ladies, and self-discipline is the only discipline that will carry itself out of the classroom and beyond the St. Circe's standing stones, and that's what I'll endorse. I'll endorse it through three C's: collaboration, competitiveness, and creativity. Because when the girls are guided to their own internal motivations, I do not need clever gimmicks or rules from on high to keep them in line. And for any girl who's truly determined to be a disruptive influence and ruin things for the rest of the class… you all know well enough where I stand on cheating, bullying, and toxic behavior."
"Thank you, Miss Bryce," Dr. Clay said. "And you're first for the next question: Imagine yourself teaching a class on introductory symbology to a group of eleven and twelve year-olds, and one of your students is struggling with lumieh. How do you help her?"
I tapped my lip in thought... that was Lily's question. It had her name written all over it because it was a trap question.
"A group of eleven- and twelve-year-olds shouldn't be learning symbology, not unless they're all math and art geniuses - and, let's face it, even at St. Circe's, most of us aren't." I tapped my foot against the floor about ten times, starting slowly and gradually speeding up. "That's the patterned pulse that approximates lumieh. Any girl with a basic grasp of algebra and decent rhythm can do that and a dozen other useful patterns. She can get to learning useful magic right away and, when it comes time to learn the symbols two or three years down the line, all that knowledge will slot into place. There's plenty to learn about witchcraft without throwing an eleven-year-old into the deep end of symbology."
"Thank you, Miss Bryce. And what about you, Miss Grim? How do we help our wayward student with lumieh?"
Amber smiled again. She was all rosy cheeks and pearly smiles - though I got the impression there might not be a whole lot of joy lurking underneath. Still, I imagined she was an entirely pleasant person in person, even if she had a heaping helping of Dr. Sauvage-style orthodoxy in her head. "I respectfully disagree with Miss Bryce. An eleven-year-old can learn symbology. It's a matter of patience and breaking the thing down into parts. About understanding the patterns intuitively and in many dimensions. We break lumieh down - the shape, the spin, the color, and gradually put them together, one piece at a time. I'm sure she'll get it!"
Bzzzt. Nice try, but no cigar, Amber. Yes, you might be able to teach the easiest-fucking-symbol to a tween and, after lots of practice and angst (and probably a little crying) she'll eventually get it. But so fucking what? Are you going to go that same route with every other symbol, most of them substantially harder? You'll turn the poor girl off of witchcraft for life. It doesn't take a Ph.D. in teaching to know that students learn best when they're challenged enough that they need to try their hardest to succeed, but they only fail in their efforts every sixth or seventh time. I could have said all this, but this wasn't a debate and, in any case, the battery of questions was over.
"Thank you both. Will you both please wait outside for a few minutes while we discuss your answers?" Dr. Clay said.
"I thought you did really well," Amber whispered once the door shut behind us. "Prudence made you out to be pretty awful."
"You can see why she'd think that, can't you? For what it's worth, you did well, too - not the hard-line answers I was expecting from a Sauvage disciple."
"Disciple?" Amber giggled. "What did she ever do to you?"
And, when I told her exactly what, that gave Ms. Grim a lot to think about. Dr. Clay called us back in a few minutes later and - wouldn't you know it - I got the job. Cousin Vince might be the lawyer in the family, but let it never be said that Natalia Cadence Storm cannot ace the fuck out of an interview. And then, right in front of me and the whole administrative board, Amber Grim lost her plastered-on smile and broke into sobs.
"Sorry… I'm sorry. Don't mind me," Amber sniffled. She shielded her face, but I could already see the purple and brown streaks of cosmetics precipitating down her cheeks. "I… I really wanted this job," she said.
I shot Lily a panicked look: this isn't what I'd wanted at all. Of course I'd wanted the job and rub it in Sauvage's face, but I hadn't wanted to ruin Amber Grim's life in the process, nor watch her descend into an emotional mess. I put my arm around the woman, pulled her sobbing face into my shoulder, and glared at the administrative board. They had arranged for our tandem interview, so it was their fault Amber was crying. Do something, I mouthed to them.
"Ah," Lily said… "That isn't to say we're going to leave you without a job offer, Miss Grim… just not the teaching job. I'm sure you remember Mrs. Glace, the night matron for the Junior girls" It so happens that she's retiring in the next few years - family obligations, and what have you - and so we'll need a full time assistant matron." From what I knew, Mrs. Glace had been threatening to retire for decades now - she was a kindly old witch, probably the oldest on staff, and she took the appearance of somebody's kindly old nanna (though she would lay down the law when necessary). Lily continued: "I'm afraid it's mostly evening and night hours, but there's plenty of opportunity for one-on-one and small groups tutoring, and the matrons frequently substitute teach on classes."
She looked up from my shoulder. Beige had been a bad choice for me - I had half an Amber face-print in pink, violet, and brown on my blouse. Hopefully, it would wash out.
Amber wiped at her cheeks with her palms. "You're making me night matron?"
The school administration huddled for a moment, muttering among themselves. Sauvage's head popped up first. "Assistant matron," she said. "It's an adjunct spot, just like the teaching spot… with the option of becoming permanent if we're all happy with how things go. I want to emphasize this to both of you: an adjunct position, even more so than most jobs, is contingent upon satisfactory performance. And this whole board will have to agree upon whether or not to continue your employment. Are we clear?"
"Yes, doctor," Amber said.
"Crystal clear," I said.
I wonder how quickly you can expect a child with an affinity for math to be able to get from addition tables to learning multivariable calculus, if they are being taught optimally from toddlerhood. Probably needs 1-on-1 homeschooling, because smart kids are held back in public schools.
Yes, probably. I'm not sure - I've alluded to it here that starting witches really only need to understand algorithms in order to do simple spells, but that this practice wasn't really favored since they were thought to be too young for the responsibility.
Yes, I imagine that you'd need special tutoring to learn the necessary maths at a young age. As a basic function of pragmatism, public schools aim toward the median student in each classroom and hope the standard deviation is broad enough to encompass most of the class. However, outliers will always be disserviced by this. Not only that, even accounting for the "median student" approach, the pedagogical techniques that politicians and school administrators love to push are absolutely awful for developing student capacities, let alone cultivating truly promising young minds.
With THAT family-given silver-tongue, I'm sure that Natalie won't need any disciplinary measures for creating an orderly and safe learning environment.
Unfortunately, many children are utterly immune to persuasion or reason. For that matter, many adults are, too!