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."

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"It's hard to believe that," Sholeh said softly, "when everyone here is special and wonderful and magic, and then I'm just me. Quiet, mousey me, who can't even stay alive with people looking out for me and then just gnaws on her own liver about it afterwards."

And then she looked up at him, expression unhappy. "And this isn't proper talk for class. You're going to think I'm mopey and self-absorbed, because the first thing we ever talked about was me complaining about how things are. I'm not like that, I'm not."

"Actually, what I think is that you're a girl who's terribly worried about being a burden to anyone, who wants to make a good impression by doing as normal, upstanding people do, and who doesn't realize she's a unique human being in her own right who deserves to have her feelings respected," Ender said, less soft, seeking eye-contact the moment he could.

"And who, I'm sure, can often be special and wonderful and magic, like everybody else. Just not always. Just like everybody else."

That answer surprised Sholeh right back into silence. She searched his eyes for something, she wasn't sure what, perhaps a sign that he was less than sincere.

"Nobody likes burdens," she mumbled, confused. "They deal with them, tolerate them, but no one likes them. And standing out from normal, upstanding people...that can be dangerous."

"Dangerous, sometimes. Good for you, sometimes," Ender said. While his expression showed nothing of himself, as it usually did, it had not a hint of insincerity. He was merely saying the truth as he saw it. "Of course, the vast majority of us aren't terribly normal or upstanding. We've all got our eccentricities."

He shrugged gently.

"As for being a burden, that's something we've all done. Try taking it up with the mothers of the world and ask them if they minded. Ask anyone who's had a friend or a lover or a parent or a sibling. If we didn't make time to carry each other every now and again, none of us would get very far."

"More often dangerous than good for you," Sholeh said flatly, with the authority of someone who had seen the outcomes of the 'dangerous.'

It was the one thing he'd said that she could respond to. His other comment, she was still poking at mentally. If she didn't take the time to think about it, she wouldn't be able to make a cogent point and she found herself wanting Ender to think of her as someone who could speak intelligently about things.

Perhaps it was because he was speaking intelligently to her. Perhaps it was because he was making her think. Either way, she wanted him to feel that she deserved the time and thought he was devoting to her.

"Maybe," Ender acquiesced. Then he fell silent, giving her time and space to work out whatever she was going through in her mind.

That was something else Sholeh wasn't entirely used to, someone giving her the space and time to work something through in her own mind.

"I think the difference is about equality," she said slowly. "I mean, I'm not equal to my mothers and I don't expect to be. So...while I don't want to be a burden on them, I accept that sometimes I will be because I'm their daughter. But friends...sisters...that's a more equal relationship. Yes, they'll prop you up, but there's the expectation that you'll prop them back if they need it. When I'm here, looking at everyone else, I feel like I'm the only one who needs propping. And everyone else has it all together and is fine. I don't want to be inequal in a relationship with my peers. I don't want them to look at me and think that I'm the girl that can't handle herself in a school full of people who can."

"You're not the only one who needs propping, Sholeh," Ender said. "Even if it feels like it today. I'll guarantee you tomorrow one of these stoic-faced people around you will fall over. And they'll scramble up to their feet and brush off their busted pants until it looks like their knees aren't scuffed, because they're ashamed, or because they're scared that if they show a moment of weakness whatever happened to them will become real, or because they don't want to burden anyone. One thing, though: you can't heal a wound you're ignoring. You're just going to make it worse."

There didn't seem much else for Sholeh to say to that, so she just nodded and withdrew back to herself. "I'll give some thought to that," she said slowly, mostly because she couldn't promise to do much of anything else. She was meeting with Yeul on Wednesday to talk some, which was sort of what he meant, right? Or at least was down the right path?

"Thank you for listening," she added. There was always the opportunity to be polite.

"Thank you for speaking," Ender returned, matching her tone of voice - because he knew hers was a politeness, even though she had contributed, if not more, at least as much as he had to the conversation.

Practical Philosophy, Monday

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