fandomhigh | Practical Philosophy, Monday

Ender had always preferred to teach his classes outside whenever possible. When it became obvious the morning would be a little chilly but not rainy, he posted a note on his designated classroom's door pointing all the students towards the dorm lawn.

He sat down on the grass out there, legs folded. By his side was a bag full of sandwiches, just in case any student had missed breakfast. And there he waited, quiet and patient, until everyone had arrived.

"You'll notice I didn't bring any books," he said, once they had. "Because despite what the title of this class might imply, I'm not actually here to tell you about Hegel or Kant and what they were thinking. They might come up, but if they do, it's because they have had interesting ideas that might be useful to us."

He stretched his legs out. "My name is Andrew Wiggin, though some people call me Ender," he said, "And I don't bring books here because I don't think they have all that many answers. I don't spite them for that, because I don't exactly have a lot of answers of my own. What I have are questions, which are far more useful in the long run. You can keep asking questions as the situation changes - answers tend to be the same thing no matter when you check up on them."

He smiled wryly.

"This class is about questions," he said. "And it's about opening a dialogue with those questions. Everyone here has sat through something in their life that they have questions about - though whether they want to admit that is another thing entirely. We're here to talk about those questions as they come up. No more, no less."

He tilted his chin up - maybe at Cade, maybe at nothing in particular. "Of course, that means I expect all of you to participate," he said. "You don't have to share about yourself if you absolutely don't want to, though I'll have you know that it helps. But I expect you to talk along. If you don't, I'm not going to apologize for the kinds of questions I'll ask. While we're at it, I also won't tolerate shaming anyone in this class for any reason."

Having said that, though, Ender's mouth quirked up. "Enough with the threats," he said. "I don't believe in classic introductions - I think I know what most of your names are, and I'll learn the ones that I don't, and what year you're in is of absolutely no concern to me."

"Let's open a dialogue instead," he finished. "For some of you, this is all new. How is it working for you? Are you elated? Annoyed? Don't want to be here? Achingly happy to be here? And for those of you who aren't - how has the past year treated you? Has there been anything that made you cry or made you think or made you wonder?"

"We can talk about that. Or we can talk about something else. I'm open to talking about anything, as long as you think it's worth questioning. Because you can assume from here on in that I really don't know a thing; but maybe by educating me, you can find something worth educating yourself about."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It really, really does," Bay agreed. "A couple things that never made sense do now, but everything else ... so much of what I thought I knew about myself isn't even true. It's like I'm two people sometimes."

"That's... that's exactly what it's like," Evan agreed, nodding a little more. "It's like you're suddenly caught between the person you thought you were all along, the person you were led to believe you were, and this other person that you don't even know, but that's who you've really been all that time, not even knowing."

And that person that he didn't really know kind of scared the crap out of him. Especially whenever that other person gave the world a sneak preview of what he was capable of when Evan let himself slip.

That was such a spooky-good way of putting it that Bay was momentarily taken aback.

"And you can't just stop being your parents' kid," she said. "I can't turn off ... you know, everything I was for practically 16 years. But I'm my biological parents' kid too, and I can't turn that off. I mean, my middle name is supposed to be Paloma." She finished with a tiny laugh -- she knew the middle name thing was not that important in the grand scheme of things, but it stuck with her.

"They don't just stop being your parents, just because it wasn't real," Evan agreed, nodding along. "I mean... no matter what's changed, I still love them. I can't just turn that off now that I know the truth. They've... been there for me. They raised me to be who I am."

And they had never really existed at all. That made the holiday especially hard on him, yesterday.

"It's way harder to reconcile both realities, the truth, and what I knew, than I ever imagined it could be."

Bay wasn't sure she was following, but she nodded anyhow. The emotions were in line with hers, even if she didn't exactly think in terms of 'realities.'

"See, I never imagined it," she said instead. "I don't know your situation exactly, but mine -- I thought maybe, maybe I was adopted and my parents were being mega-weird and lying about it. You don't expect the hospital to switch babies outside a soap opera. So yeah, it takes some time to get used to."

"I... never really expected that my parents weren't really my parents," Evan admitted. "I never had any reason to believe differently. It wasn't so much a switched in the hospital situation, though. It's kind of complicated."

Weren't these things always?

"Either way, there's... a lot of adjusting to do."

"See, I look nothing like the parents who raised me, so people kept asking if I was really theirs, so --" Bay shrugged, figuring that more or less explained why she'd wondered about adoption. (It was that or wonder if her mom had cheated, and that seemed even more impossible.) "Anyhow. It's definitely a whole adjustment thing, no matter what exactly is going on."

She was kind of madly curious about Evan's story now, but that was a rude question and this wasn't a kind of kinship she found often. She was inclined to let him explain it when he felt like it.

"For what it's worth, my parents and I don't look at all the same, either. I mean... Ma and Pa... they always looked normal." This was Evan conceding that his face was kind of weird, by most standards. "But I come from a place where weird faces aren't totally unheard of, so you can have... you know... a pale grey-blue kid with powers, born to completely human parents."

And he'd never had any reason to question that.

"I mean... I did have questions, but those didn't start until after I left home and people noticed similarities between me and someone else. And even then, I kind of just figured it was a weird coincidence, and let it drop."

Bay appreciated the explanation about Evan's face. She'd been curious, but hadn't wanted to ask.

"And the person you kept being compared to ended up being your dad, or something like that?" Bay guessed. "Yeah, that'd be a rough way to figure it out."

"Something like that," Evan agreed, wrinkling his nose a bit. "I mean... I'm me enough that I'm not him, but I do have his genes and all."

Completely. Identically. They might as well be twins, but Evan had come from his DNA, so 'father' would be more accurate.

"And with the way it worked out, I can't really go back and ask my parents about it, or my Uncle, who really did know all along. I have more questions now than I ever did."

"Well, that stinks," Bay said. "It's bad enough when you can talk to your parents. Nobody can help you figure it out now?"

"Not the stuff I really want to have explained to me," Evan agreed. "I mean... I can talk to people about some of my personal, um, issues, since I found out about it. But things like why it happened at all... Nobody can tell me that."

"Maybe there's not a reason," Bay suggested. "Maybe sometimes crap just happens because it does."

That was where she tended to land when she thought about what happened to her, anyhow.

Evan was quiet for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip.

"I think," he said softly, "in my situation, I'd rather there be a reason. Too many people got hurt for it to all be a 'just because.'"

Bay winced, because she really couldn't help with that one. "Sorry," she said sincerely. "Hope you figure it out."

"Thanks," Evan replied, offering her his best attempt at a reassuring smile. It wasn't her fault he didn't know which way was up these days, after all. "I hope so, too."

Practical Philosophy, Monday

Re: Talk.

Re: Talk.

Re: Talk.

Re: Talk.

Re: Talk.

Re: Talk.

Re: Talk.

Re: Talk.

Re: Talk.

Re: Talk.

Re: Talk.

Re: Talk.

Re: Talk.

Re: Talk.

Re: Talk.

Re: Talk.