“Thank you all for coming in early,” said Principal Cartwright. “I know that all of you have been wondering about the reason why we chose to begin such a contentious and fraught undertaking as re-interviewing all of you, especially when we’ve just started the school year. Much of the speculation has been focused on the idea of a witch hunt, the idea that I or Headmaster Zhao want to root out the person who reported the condition of the children as some sort of traitor. This simply isn’t true.” He paused, savoring the blatant disbelief on the faces of the faculty.
“I won’t take up any more of your time. Instead, I would like to introduce you to our new Vice Principal, Dianna Ochoa. I’ll let her take over explaining things from here.” John stepped to the side and met Dianna, shaking her hand before walking from the room. His meaning in doing so was clear - she had his complete trust. As she stood up in front of the faculty the others all let out a desultory round of clapping. This wasn’t necessarily good news for them and not just because they didn’t get the position. There had been a faint chance that they had decided to re-interview everyone to look for a suitable candidate to promote. Given that Dianna had already been promoted that seemed unlikely now.
“We all have plenty of things to do so I’ll make this quick. You’ll get more information when we sit down to do the one-on-one interviews. First, let me put some rumors to rest; I was the one who filed the report.” The words caused some shock, but those who knew her nodded instead. It sounded just like her. This revelation received more clapping than her announcement as Vice Principal. “Since I’ve openly admitted it, you can all rest assured that these interviews aren’t a way to root out traitors. The truth is going to be much harder, unfortunately. Our benefactor and true head of this school, Headmaster Zhao, is new to this particular type of enterprise. As such, he’s made some mistakes. When I went to confront Principal Cartwright over this ‘witch hunt’, I found out that, contrary to my expectations, the administration was willing to admit its faults. They invited me in and gave me more responsibility, determining that I should be more involved. But that’s not all.”
Dianna’s voice took on a firm edge as she continued. “They have decided that all of us need to take on more responsibility, to be more connected with the core goals of this school. These interviews are not to determine whether or not you should continue teaching here - you would not be here if you couldn’t do the job you were hired for, of that you can be certain. No, since your roles will be expanding in new and unexpected directions, we will be conducting interviews to determine whether or not you are willing to step into those new roles. Those who are will be receiving a pay raise and some other benefits. Those who choose not to step into these new roles will be offered a severance package equivalent to their pay for the remainder of the year and a letter of recommendation to help you on your way.”
“Let me be clear, folks. The administration is not looking to headhunt. They are looking to rectify the mistake they made by drawing you farther into the circle of trust. This means that you’ll need to decide if you’re willing to shoulder the responsibility that comes with that trust.” She looked around, meeting the faces of the staff.
“For now, have no fear. Things will continue as normal for the time being. I understand that the situation with the students has been alarming, but there is no sign that any have suffered harm from their illness. If you have any specific questions please bring them to your interview so we can discuss them in detail. I’ll let you all get back to the work you do so well. Have a nice day and try not to worry. Remember, the upcoming interviews aren’t to see whether or not they want you to stay, but rather whether you are willing to accept responsibility and do what needs doing. The choice will ultimately be yours.”
With that she surrendered the floor, allowing people to gather their things. A few of the more politically savvy teachers stopped to congratulate her on her promotion and make an abbreviated attempt at small talk, but she and Principal Cartwright had decided to have this meeting first thing in the morning specifically so that they couldn’t dawdle overlong. Within five minutes the room was empty and Dianna was alone. She took a moment to collect her thoughts, remembering everything she’d seen and learned over the last day and a half. It had been a whirlwind, truly, but by the end, she had no choice but to accept both the truth of what was going on and the righteousness of the cause that drove it.
She couldn’t say she was happy that they had decided to experiment on the students, especially without their knowledge, but they had made a convincing argument that it was both relatively safe and offered significant gains. Besides, her choice wasn’t whether to try and stop them or not. No, her choice was whether or not she could handle the responsibility of trying to curb their worst excesses. They had been remarkably frank with her. They expected a significant number of the students to die or drop out. Their goal for this first class had been ten graduates - ten - but they were all hoping they could do much, much better than that.
Dianna was betting on it.
Zhao Gang, Immortal Zhao, she’d learned was his title, was quite possibly the single scariest person that any person, or any person born on Earth, had ever met. Yet she wasn’t afraid of him. Quite to the contrary, something about him, now that she knew his true origins, soothed her. He was going to make these students special. It wouldn’t be easy and in all likelihood there would be some losses, but she was confident that by the time the need for them to venture out into the other planes came she could convince them to take a different path. It was blatantly obvious that he had the power to protect the students from any danger they might encounter, barring true catastrophe. The only thing she had to do was convince him that doing so was the right thing to do.
In that, at least, she had discovered an unexpected ally - Rejya Xinasa. She had been quite surprised to find out that the ‘demure young lady’ was thousands of years old, had completed several doctorates, and was the one who had put together the majority of the curriculum for the school. Upon learning this, many of Dianna’s questions regarding how things were structured instantly evaporated - the woman had done the coursework, sure, but theory always had to bow before reality. Once she had discovered this fact she had taken Ms. Rejya aside and talked to her about some of the problems with the curriculum, both its ideals and its implementation. Despite her experience with Headmaster Zhao admitting his faults, Dianna was surprised, but gratified, to find that she was willing to accept her criticism with grace. She had to wonder if it was the wisdom born of being truly long-lived.
She had gotten caught up in thoughts of what she’d seen several times already this morning, which she had to admit was more often than was appropriate, even now. Each time she did she found herself doubting the truth of what she’d seen. Yet she was always taken in by one simple fact - they hadn’t tried to hide anything. They had answered almost every question she’d posed to the best of their ability. When they hadn’t been willing to share, they’d admitted it and told her why. When they hadn’t known they’d simply stated so, expressing, again and again, their desire for her help to answer those very questions. If she was honest she had to admit it was a little intoxicating. A man who’d lived longer than there had been people on Earth and he was asking for her help. How could her ego not be touched?
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
She shook off the thoughts and pushed on with the day. Now that she’d been consulted she’d pointed out the most obvious flaw in their proposed program - they weren’t doing enough to integrate cultivator culture from the beginning. It started, from everything she knew, with language. Children learn languages much easier than adults due to their brain still possessing a unique advantage - neuroplasticity, or the ability for the brain to adapt, not just ephemerally through changing thoughts or mindsets, but the ability to build new neuronal pathways. They’d assured her that ‘cultivators’ retained this ability and even enhanced it, but she was firm on the idea that anything introduced in early childhood, no matter how long the life, would shape a person far more than things taken up later. They hadn’t disagreed.
So now she was off to a meeting with Ms. Rejya and several other ‘disciples’. She and John had discussed at length her proposals the previous night and he’d pushed her to be the one to champion them. The idea was simple, really; she wanted the disciples to start teaching their language now. Teaching the language would also slip in the rudiments of the associated culture and set the foundation for future studies. Doing it now only made sense.
Convincing Ms. Rejya of that probably wouldn’t be difficult, but it would present a different problem - none of the mortal teachers were capable of teaching the class. Worse, they didn’t have the faintest idea of the language in general. It wasn’t something they could easily remedy, either. She’d taken a peek at the language primer that one of the disciples had whipped up based on children’s books and been lost almost immediately. The reason was very simple - the written language was a logographic system, meaning that each character represented a word or idea, resulting in thousands and thousands of characters. To her eye, it bore more than a passing resemblance to Chinese. Regardless, learning the system would be something for younger minds.
In the end, it required her to officially hire one of the disciples, which meant they had to have a teaching certificate. Given that more than one had gone through the effort to earn a doctorate, she wouldn’t be surprised if a disciple or two had one, but she still had to verify they had the actual qualifications to teach the courses and build a syllabus. It would take time.
The bigger fight, however, would likely be getting Ms. Rejya to admit that extending the school day for one more class would be detrimental. If she had an accurate read on the woman then she would assume that a slightly longer day wouldn’t make a difference, but Dianna knew otherwise. The school day was short for a reason and until these ‘cultivator benefits’ started appearing, they needed to respect that. Which meant they would need to drop one of the classes students were already taking. She intended to recommend dropping music which, while important, was something the students could pick up a little later. Given everything else going on, she doubted they needed a school choir.
To her surprise, when she brought the idea up in the meeting she was met with absolute rejection. “No, absolutely not,” was Xinasa’s answer.
“Why not? It’s just music. I mean, I understand it's good for their development and all, but these kids listen to music constantly in their free time. We don’t need to force it on them while they’re here too.” Her confusion must have been obvious because Xinasa just smiled at her before explaining.
“The path of cultivation is broad and not every student will find their calling in the martial Dao. For those who don’t, we need to provide other avenues. One of the most popular, and powerful, avenues for non-martial cultivators is music. Those who cultivate the Dao of Music can soothe even the most troubled heart or turn sound itself into a fierce weapon. They can use melody to attack body and spirit, and infuse the very notes with Qi to spread their influence to even the farthest reaches of the battlefield. I would rather they stop taking math than music.” The response horrified Dianna.
“What? They can’t stop taking math! Math is the foundation for all the sciences. Without math they’re all just theories with no way of actually using them.” She was rather embarrassed to admit that her voice had taken on a shrill note but she couldn’t help it. The idea of failing to teach math was… impossible.
“I understand. I hope my comparison shows just how important teaching music is to their potential cultivation. The Dao of Music is a fairly minor path, but typically that is because it needs to be picked up early and worked into one’s foundation. If we have any hope of doing that they need to start learning it now. Failing to do so will delay the cultivation of those who choose it for years, maybe decades.” Ms. Rejya’s voice was firm, unyielding, and Dianna couldn’t blame her if what she said was true. Everything they were teaching was important, sure, but ultimately their goal was to make these children into successful cultivators. Pushing off anything that would do that was self-defeating.
“Fine, then I need a suggestion. If we can’t delay teaching them music then we need to drop a different subject for now. We need to be teaching this language class as soon as possible.” Dianna was adamant about this fact. Failing to begin teaching it now would cause massive problems in the future.
“Very well. I suggest we avoid teaching history for now. Once they progress their cultivation they will be able to take in the information much quicker and it shouldn’t overly hinder them.” Dianna thought about it for a long moment before shrugging.
“I’m not a fan of the idea,” she said finally, “But it seems to be our best bet. Delaying teaching history will have one unavoidable disadvantage, however - children are taught history early to help form their identity as citizens. Failing to do so will mean they have less connection to their roots.”
“Hrm. This sounds like we’re trading their roots for ours. No, it can’t be done,” said Ms. Rejya.
“I have a suggestion,” said one of the disciples. “I’ve been looking at the curriculum and I think I have an answer. The way the day is divided is more fluid this early in their education, without the strict delineation that comes later. This means that we could, ideally, decrease the time the teachers spend teaching history without eliminating it, compressing the other sections slightly to make up for the additional time. If we combine that with a mild increase in the length of the day - maybe ten minutes - we should be able to fit it in.”
The disciple had thoughtfully drawn up a rough outline of his idea. Dianna had to admit it looked surprisingly reasonable. It did make some sacrifices, but if what they were telling her about the student’s ability to learn later on was true, then the losses could easily be made up as long as they didn’t completely ignore the subject. She said as much, and in just that way, and got looks of approval all around. They spent some time working out the exact details, but it was surprisingly simple when all was said and done. Still, it sat rather poorly with Dianna. After all, the entire plan rested on the promise of the student’s future potential, something that she had no way to gauge. In the end, however, the necessity of the situation overrode her objections.
She prayed that wasn’t just a platitude.