fandomhigh | Practical Philosophy, Monday

Ender had gotten into the habit of teaching outside in any circumstance but all out rain (or frost, but that was unlikely in summer). He checked outside whether or not it would be tending towards the rumored storms any time soon, but having noted the all clear, 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.

"So I didn't bring any books, and I didn't make a reading list either," 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. "I'm 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. Neither do I, for that matter. I have, however, been gifted with a boundless supply of questions, and that's no terrible thing. 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 having a conversation through those questions. Everyone here has sat through something in their life that they feel the need to question - 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 shot Cade a wry look. "That still 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. If you don't want to talk about something, you're free to say so, and if you want to talk to me about it outside of class, that's fine too. 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."

He paused, then pointed towards one of the boys. "Sparkle is my teaching assistant, by the way," he said. "Feel free to test his propensity for questions. He's got his own brand."

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"Shit," Sparkle laughed, reaching over to poke Gert's shoulder. "Should'a said something. Happy kinda late birthday. Sweet freakin' sixteen?"

"Thanks," Gert said, adding dryly, "Yeah, I'll be having a big bash at a hotel ballroom just as soon as my dead parents decide what kind of fancy car to buy me."

She made a face. "It's just a day. That happens to correspond with how many earth rotations I've been around for. Pretty freaking insignificant in the grand scheme of things."

Oh, Gert.

"You survived another year. That's a big fucking accomplishment for some people." Sparkle gave his shoulders a shrug. "Worst-case scenario, it would've been an excuse to go drinking on a fake ID or something. It's not like I've got parents, either, you know."

"I'd say join the club, but there's a literal one and our membership process is pretty exclusive," Gert said. Since the Runaways' last new recruit had tried to eat them and all. "And I'll pass on the drinking. I don't need to celebrate, and if I did, getting all fuzzy and stupid wouldn't be my celebration of choice."

"Hey, fair enough," Sparkle replied, holding up his hands. "Birthdays aren't for everyone. Fine, I get it. Isn't like I do anything huge for mine, either."

Granted, that was mostly because he'd never been able to, before. There was maybe, like, cake when Lewis remembered someone's birthday at the home, but more often than not... meh.

"Sixteen's not all that different from fifteen, anyhow. You're that much closer to being legal, people expect you to grow up a little more. Whatever."

"People can get ready to be disappointed, then," Gert grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. "Because that's so not happening ever."

"Yeah, I'm not in any hurry either," Sparkle replied with a dismissive shrug. "Seventeen and stupid until I'm like eighty, if I can get away with it. Why the hell not?"

Gert drew her knees up to her chest, scowling in earnest now. "There's plenty of reasons," she said. "Money and power and agency, for a start. I'm just saying fuck it."

"Money, power, and agency are three things I'm probably not going to end up with no matter what I try," Sparkle noted, and then tilted his head at Gert curiously. "Gotta admit as a born-and-raised 'have-not,' I'm curious why you don't want any of it, though."

"Born and raised 'have' here," she replied. "Figured out pretty quick that most of the people doing the having are self-interested assholes who'd screw over the whole world to keep their pots of gold. Don't really want anything to do with them."

Didn't really want to turn into one, either.

Edited 2013-07-08 20:27 (UTC)

"Hey, I can respect that," Sparkle replied, nodding thoughtfully. "I mean, not gonna stop me from wanting a handful out of that pot of gold, but odds are I'm never gonna see it. I learned that lesson about the haves a long while ago, no surprises here."

"It's not as great as you think," Gert said. "Especially when you know it's blood money. And I'm talking literal blood."

Well, that got Sparkle's eyebrow up, right there.

"People were getting hurt for that money?" He actually wasn't acting particularly surprised. Toronto was tamer than some American cities, sure, but that didn't change the fact that he knew just what lengths people would stoop to for cash and power. "Shitty deal."

"Wow, there's someone on the island who missed my 'my parents were supervillains' memo?" She had been talking about it a lot. It was a part of her life, and a big one; keeping quiet about it was pointless. "Yeah, people were getting hurt. One human sacrifice a year plus every little bit of Los Angeles' criminal activity."

Sparkle gave his shoulders a shrug. 'Parents' and 'super' were two sure-fire ways to ensure that his selective hearing went on. If the memo had ever headed his way, he'd managed to totally miss it.

"Then, yeah, I can see where you'd want to avoid becoming like that," he noted, frowning a little. "Like I said, I'm not really in any hurry to turn into the entitled assholes that turn their nose up at me in the streets back home, but you've got more to it, there, than I figured."

"Those entitled assholes might as well be supervillains too," Gert said. "Along with ninety-nine-point-nine percent of other adults on the planet."

"Might as well be," Sparkle agreed with a nod. "I haven't met all that many that have gone out of their way to prove otherwise."

Lewis, maybe. Lewis did the best he could for the kids under his care.

Aside from that? Nope, not really.

Practical Philosophy, Monday

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