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fandomhigh2013-07-08 09:30 am
endsthegame) wrote in fandomhigh2013-07-08 09:30 am
Entry tags:
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."
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."
Re: Talk.
Re: Talk.
He liked to think of it as a victory. It didn't change anything, but at least the people talking to him were made aware that not all kids were actually created equal. Not so far as socio-economics were concerned, at least.
"So, you're a gymnast, huh?"
Re: Talk.
"Been competing for years," she said. "Started when I was small. It was my parent's compromise between the ballet my mother wanted me to take and the kung fu lessons I wanted."
Re: Talk.
"... Huh." Sparkle tilted his head a little, looking at least a little interested in that. "I've never taken anything like that. Kinda curious about it. About, like, classes outside of classes. I'm on the cheer squad in the fall, but that doesn't mean I can do, like, flips and shit."
Re: Talk.
"If we weren't in the middle of class, I'd show you some," Kathy said. "Not that I'm an instructor or anything! But there are simple things you can learn, so long as you're flexible enough."
And not afraid of falling.
Re: Talk.
"I'm gonna have to take you up on that one later, then. Sounds like fun. A little bit of ballet-fu might even come in handy, right?"
Re: Talk.