fandomhigh | Ethics [Tuesday, November 25]

Today the desks in Anakin's classroom had been pushed along the walls and replaced with cushy pillows and blankets. There was a giant table in the front of the room creaking with the weight of Thanksgiving treats. Fear not--it was all ordered in. Anakin wasn't a fan of ovens.

"Today we talk about sloth," Anakin said, holding himself even more carefully and clearly uncomfortable with the very idea of relaxing. The students were certainly not expected to be held to the same standard. "Originally, sloth was described as 'an uneasiness of the mind'," Anakin continued. "Apathy. Melancholy. Joylessness. And importantly, the decision not to do anything about it."

He shrugged. "The modern view understands that the mind is slightly more complicated than that and sometimes it is impossible to will yourself not to be sad. Instead, this sin focuses on the failure to utilize your talents and gifts."

He gestured at the table. "This Thursday, there is a holiday celebrating sloth--or at least the lethargy that comes from overeating. Millions of people in this country will spend time ignoring their relatives and watching football. It's a national holiday." He shrugged again. "I don't pretend to understand it."

He lit his lightsaber and began slicing the turkey, mostly because he would never, ever, ever get away with that at the Thanksgiving he'd be going to. "So today, embrace your inner sloth and eat until you're ready to take a nap. But first find a fellow student, tell them one of your talents--and no one is allowed to cop out and say they don't have one--and how you use it here at school."

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"Ho-Ho's are...sweets, right?" Lee asked. "Kind of like Twinkies?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed brightly. "But chocolate cake instead of yellow. They are absolutely brilliant."

"I think I've had them maybe once," he said. "Or twice. I tend to stick with donuts."

"I do like powdered donuts, though I like to think I get enough sugar with my chocolate. My mother keeps me stocked with boxes."

"Any reason why or because she knows you like it?" Lee wondered.

"She knows I like them and in her own way, she wants me to be happy," she answered.

"She's got one up on my dad then," he said. "He doesn't send me anything."

Penelope blinked. "Ever?"

"He's not that kind of dad," Lee said easily.

"Oh."

...

"I'm sorry. But I bet he didn't fake your death when you were a baby, did he?" She was trying to make him feel better, honest.

"No, he didn't," he said, frowning. "That happened to you?"

"Mhm," she replied. "My mother thought she was protecting me from the public eye."

"That's...terrible," he said. "I don't...want to speak badly of your mother but I'm sorry that happened."

She offered him a kind smile. "Thank you. It was a long time ago. The fact that she finally let me out of the house to come here to school, speaks well of her." It did, right? Penelope tried to see the good in her mom, always.

"It's a step," he said. "And that's progress."

"Yes, it is," she agreed positively.

Ethics [Tuesday, November 25]

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