Chapter Text
“I have come to believe that a great teacher is a great artist and that there are as few as there are any other great artists. Teaching might even be the greatest of the arts since the medium is the human mind and spirit.”
— John Steinbeck
The tall, majestic beech trees swayed gently in the autumnal breeze, harmonising as their branches shook and leaves rustled. Every now and then a single golden leaf would break from the branches, drifting gently towards the ground before landing among its brothers and sisters who had fallen not too long beforehand. There they would sit, in piles of red and orange and yellow, before being swept up by a gust of wind so that they could be carried across the wet, shimmering grass. The leaves tumbled and bounced before their journey would end quite abruptly as they were crushed beneath the brown leather shoe of an absent-minded student, too busy listening to a long lecture about the importance of education from their mother and father to pay attention to some measly little leaf. The leaves crinkled and crunched under the feet of the students and their parents as they stood out on the green in front of the school. It was impossible to count how many were in the crowd—maybe a thousand or so people in total—but even then the process was the same between each student and their parents: a short lecture, a joke or two, maybe a hug if they were lucky, before each child was eventually left to go forth on their own, like leaves cast from the branches from whence they grew.
As the farewells between the children and their parents continued, Lee stood off to the side, observing the crowd from the safety of the cobbled footpath. His gaze bounced from person to person as he tugged on the collar of his brown, tweed jacket. While it certainly looked nice, especially when paired with the navy blue tie he had bought specially for this, in hindsight it might have been a good idea to buy a jacket that was a little more comfortable. The collar nagged and chafed at the back of his neck, though to be perfectly honest he'd take this over the mind-numbing boredom of the school's opening ceremony. As a history teacher, he usually loved listening to long, winding speeches from wrinkled old men, but being crammed into a drab, cold chapel definitely made the experience less enjoyable. He was surprised none of the students acted out during the ritual, because he had certainly considered doing it himself.
Eventually, he gave up on trying to find comfort, opting instead to focus his attention elsewhere. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket in an attempt to protect them from the frigid air, turning his head to look up towards the extravagant school building. Founded in the early twentieth century, Ericson's Academy (Which was presumably named after its founder, or at least someone he had been fond of) had a campus that spanned across an odd three hundred acres, with classes, dorms, and other facilities all being housed within the powerful, neo-Gothic buildings that had become synonymous with the school's identity. How could they not? Each building was so intricately and expertly designed, their elegance adding to the prestigious reputation of the school. Plus, their placement next to the lake provided a nice view for when you were having some lunch or simply strolling the school grounds.
But as Lee stared up at the main building, his eyes tracing the outline of each brick all the way up to the top, he struggled to think about everything he had read about the school prior to his arrival. Its humble origins, its architectural styling, its curriculum, his accommodation; all of it seemed to slip his mind as he stared at the school. How did he wind up here? Not in a literal sense—he still had a copy of the letter of recommendation that secured him the position—but how did he end up almost a thousand miles away from home? What had brought him here? Some compulsion? Some desire for something more than what his old life could offer him? Because it certainly wasn't the weather; each clouded breath was a reminder to Lee of how much he was going to miss being back home in Georgia by the time the winter rolled around.
“Was hoping it would be at least a couple of weeks before you considered getting out of here, but looks like I was wrong.” At first, the voice didn't catch his attention, mixing in with the monotonous drone of the crowd, until Lee realised it was directed at him. He turned his head to see a woman stood next to him, her arms crossed over her chest as she smirked to herself. The first thing Lee noticed about her was that she was quite small, relative to him at least. He watched as she lifted her hand to brush her hair out of her face; it was dark brown and cut neatly into a bob that sat a bit above her shoulders. At first, he wondered if she might be the parent of one of the students, but she didn't look like one of them—most of the mothers here wore formal dresses, not too dissimilar to the type you'd see in church, and sported fine jewellery and pearls. This lady was much more reserved in how she dressed; her white shirt was quite plain compared to what most of the women here were wearing, though it didn't look bad per se, especially once paired with her burnt-orange, woollen sweater. To be honest the colour of her outfit was enough to make her stand out, since adding in her high-waisted brown pants—which upon closer inspection featured a subtle plaid pattern—gave her this autumnal look, in contrast to the regal greens and royal blues that featured heavily in the crowd of aristocrats. She looked familiar, but he couldn't exactly pin why.
“Seems like you're still deep in thought, which is strange for a history teacher,” She remarked, semi-sarcastically. All of a sudden, it clicked: Lee had seen her at the staff meeting the day earlier, only she had been sitting up the front while he remained off to the side as usual, never wanting to draw too much attention to himself. Obviously that hadn't worked as well as he'd hoped, otherwise he wouldn't be in this situation right now. “The last guy here never shut up, neither does the other history teacher, so you might be a nice change of pace. Unless you do talk, then we're going to have a problem.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm no different.” He joked, a smile appearing on her face as he spoke, despite her previous claims about history teachers. He glanced back up towards the school, doing his best to hide how imposing he found the structure, before giving his colleague a little shrug. “Can't say I've thought about running away, still getting used to being here is all. Why, is it normal for teachers to leave?”
“Well, not until they meet the students, then they start running for the hills.” She let out a small laugh, but stopped upon seeing Lee's horrified expression. “I'm kidding, they're not all bad. Well, they're not all that bad, but you'll manage just fine, from what I hear.”
“I think I can handle them, I'm just… Nervous, is all. New teacher in a place like this, who wouldn't be, right?” She gave him a little nod, though the smirk on her face implied she found some amusement in his suffering. It was hard, being the new guy. “So, you've heard of me? Nothing, uh, bad, I hope.”
“While I was hoping for some juicy gossip, it was only praise. Mr. Williams seemed very fond of you.” Mr. Andrew Williams, or 'The Blue Coat' as he had been called by Lee and his college buddies back in the day due to his obsession with the American Revolution, a period he discussed and wrote about to exhaustion. Williams had always been somewhat of a personal hero to Lee; his passion for both history and teaching were largely responsible for him following a similar path. A lot more similar than he had originally thought, seeing as Lee was taking his position now that he had gone into retirement. “You're probably aware that you've got big shoes to fill, especially in terms of rambling on about military history until all your students are drooling on their desks.”
“Yeah, only I talk about the Civil War, way less interesting.” Based on the worried expression on the woman's face, it was safe to assume she wasn't thrilled by the idea of being subjected to hearing about how significant the Gettysburg Address was to the Union's war effort, so it was probably a good idea to hold off on that. He stared down at her with an uncomfortable look on his face, trying to figure out where to go next. Small talk had never been his thing, especially not with co-workers. “Uh, I'm Lee, by the way. Or, Mr. Everett, now that we're on the clock. Never really liked the formality, but I'm not going to be the one to question it.”
“Well, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Everett. I'm Ms. Suen.” She extended her hand out to him with as her lips curled into a little smile, clearly amused by his comment about not liking formality, for whatever reason. Lee smiled back, removing his hand from the pocket of his jacket and giving hers a shake. She let out a little chuckle, though it still wasn't clear to Lee what he had said that had her in such a good mood. “But whenever you see me off-duty, it's just Carley. I never liked the whole 'Mister' and 'Miss' thing either.”
“I'll keep that in mind,” He said as he withdrew his hand, shoving it right back into his pocket to prevent it from getting any colder. He brought his attention back to the crowd, watching as more and more parents began to take leave, cutting their children loose until they saw them again, probably some time around Christmas. Lee watched as some of the parents began to approach teachers, asking them about who knows what. He was suddenly reminded of how little he actually knew about day-to-day life in the school and how the cogs in this academic machine turned and squeaked. “I don't know about you, but I don't want to be one of the poor bastards getting interrogated over there.”
"Way ahead of you. I already volunteered to watch over the girls as they settle into their dorms, y'know, so that they don't kill each other over who sleeps where." They both laughed, with Carley's gaze following the small crowds of teenagers that were beginning to make their way to the other side of the building to settle into what would be their home for the next school year. She let out a small sigh, giving Lee a quick nod before heading in their direction so that she could fulfill her aforementioned duties. “Don't worry too much about settling in. Just give it a day or two and you'll already be calling this place home.”
Lee gave her a short wave, watching as she disappeared into the crowd. He sighed, watching as his breath condensed in the cold air before turning to face the school once again. It still looked as intimidating as ever, but as he turned his head back to look at the crowd of rich parents, eager to inform teachers about how special their child in particular was, the grand stone building didn't seem all that scary. He hastily made his way to the steps that sat just in front of the entrance, tugging on the collar of his jacket as he made his way towards the large, intricately designed wooden door that marked the entrance of the school, the school motto of 'INCIPIT VITA NOVA' carved into the stone arch in which it sat. It had been left open for the day, so it was fairly easy for him to slink in without bringing too much attention to himself. Last thing he needed was for the headmaster to see him avoiding responsibility, then he'd really have a hard time trying to settle in.
The tapping and squeaking of Lee's brown, somewhat-dusty dress shoes echoed through the empty halls of Ericson's Academy. Being able to break away from the bustling crowds provided him with a bit of peace, but he'd be lying if he said the school's interior wasn't as intimidating as what was outside. The long hallways were pristine, to the point where he wondered if the custodial staff had waxed the floors due to how shiny they were. The walls were adorned with various flags, photos, and banners, showcasing slogans and past alumni, all of whom most likely went on to be very rich and very successful. It seemed that at every corner there was something to remind Lee that this school was one of the most prestigious this side of the Mississippi, whether it be a portrait of some famed chemist who went on to cure a formerly incurable disease, or a photo of the school rowing team holding the champion cup for their fifth year in a row. Part of him had been hoping the talk of this school's excellence had been greatly exaggerated, but now he was staring right at it, with its glory shining so bright it practically blinded him.
Lee eventually reached the end of the hallway he had been pacing down, placing his head in his hands as he let out an enormous sigh. It was hard not to feel the pressure, no matter how many times people reassured him. His parents, his brother, his mentor, even his co-workers couldn't relieve him of this stress. Teaching at public schools was hard enough, but this was a whole different beast. The parents outside expected their child to be the next person to be framed in these halls, and it was his responsibility as their teacher to ensure that that happened. And while he didn't like to admit it, rich parents were a lot different from the regular folk: they'd have you by the scruff of your neck if their child so much as dropped half a grade in your class. Why wouldn't they? After all, they're the ones paying your salary.
He looked up into the large hallway, noticing that it became wider around this area, perhaps due to the fact that he had reached one of the other entrances to the building. Tall glass windows allowed the mid-morning sunbeams to break into the hall, casting light onto what had immediately caught Lee's attention upon entering: trophy cases, lining the each and every wall. They were packed full of various cups, chalices, and shields, with some awards dating back to when the school had first opened. Track and field, rowing, debating, chess, if you could win a trophy from it, it was probably here. Lee stared in complete awe for a moment; he had never seen so many awards in the one place, the beauty of their gold, silver and brass bodies glistening in the sunlight temporarily distracting him from the fact that this room would only deepen his anxieties regarding the elite nature of this school.
Though as his eyes scanned the various cases, something else caught Lee's attention, more specifically someone: a girl, on the far side of the room, studying one of the trophy cases with great interest. She was so focused on the various cups and shields in front of her that she hadn't seemed to notice there was someone else with her. Lee observed her for a moment, watching as she eyed up each and every award, getting as close to the glass as possible without accidentally pressing her nose against it. It was evident she was a student, seeing that she was wearing a uniform, though he had assumed most of the kids would be in their dorms by now, talking with their friends or getting a head start on their studies. But here this girl was, admiring trophies from years, maybe even decades ago.
“Are you supposed to be here?” He said, his voice reverberating around the empty hall. The girl's body shot up, obviously frightened seeing as she had assumed she was alone, and turned to face Lee. He took a few steps closer, keeping his hands by his sides as he approached the trophy case. Now in clearer view, he could see that she was of average height, with thick, curly brown hair that had been cut short and tied into two pigtails that hung above the back of her neck. She remained silent as Lee approached, doing most of the talking with her round, brown eyes and sharp eyebrows, both of which were very expressive. He could practically hear her thoughts as she raised her eyebrow, confused as to whether or not she was breaking any rules and if the man in front of her was even a teacher, seeing as she had never seen him before. Lee brought his hand to his face, scratching his beard as he looked down at the girl. “That wasn't a rhetorical question, I was just asking since I'm not too sure on what's normal around here. You know what rhetorical means, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright.” Her response was dry and matter-of-fact, like the way in which a teacher might scold you for asking a stupid question. Ironic. He examined the girl for a moment, trying to pick out any telltale signs of a troublemaker. In schools like this, the uniform was usually a good way to figure out what kind of kid you were dealing with. The girl had all of the essentials: a white shirt, a grey, v-neck sweater, a red tie with subtle gold lines, a blazer with the school's red and gold crest sewn onto the breast, a skirt that cut off just below the knees, even her socks were the right colour. She seemed to check every box in terms of respect for the dress code, yet there were subtle details in her appearance that suggested otherwise: a loose-fitting tie, an unbuttoned blazer, an untamed thread in her sweater. It was uncertain whether these came from a general carelessness or some spark of rebellion. Guess there was only one way to find out. “So... You're allowed to be down here while all that business outside is going on?”
“Mhm,” She replied, clearly not threatened by his authority—or lack thereof—as she turned back to examine the trophies. He watched as her eyes glided over the shiny things, carefully reading each name that was etched into their base. It didn't look as if she were searching for something in particular, like how you might search for your father or uncle's names on some old sports trophy, rather she was simply taking in the long, extensive saga that was Ericson's sporting legacy. She glanced back over at Lee for a moment before turning to face him again, raising her eyebrow once again. “Are you allowed to be down here? I thought that a new teacher would want to be, I don't know, mingling, I guess.”
“Hey, if you don't tell I won't either.” The girl chuckled, dragging her fingers across her lips in a little zip motion to signify her agreement. “How did you know I'm new here anyways?”
“Well, I've never seen you here before,” A painfully obvious answer, one that made Lee feel stupid for even asking the question. Of course they'd be able to tell he was new here, these kids lived alongside their teachers every year, he wouldn't be surprised if they were all on a first name basis. Obviously he was exaggerating; students were strictly prohibited from referring to their teachers by their first name. “Also, you haven't yelled at me for being smart with you. Most of the teachers here will give you a slap if you don't stand up straight when you talk to them.”
“Oh, I, uh, forgot about that.” Lee had forgotten that part of why parents loved Ericson's so much was their use of disciplinary action; students who stepped out of line, even by an inch, were to be punished, swiftly and without mercy. Back at his old teaching gig, corporal punishment was reserved for the kids who got themselves in real trouble, whether it be for attacking another student or breaking school property, so the idea of students being hit for not speaking properly felt a little old-fashioned, even for him. “Look I don't think I'll hit you or anything, but maybe keep things proper when there's other people around. Don't want the new guy losing his job in his first week.”
"Yes, sir." She said, dryly, straightening herself up like a wooden plank as she gave him an unimpressed look. Lee let out a quick laugh, stifling it before anybody heard it echoing through the halls; last thing he needed was for someone to find him laughing at a student’s casual misbehaviour instead of tending to the needs of the school's patrons. The girl even cracked a smile herself, giving him a curious look. “So, are you Mr. Williams' replacement?”
“Sure am. Did he teach you?” The girl gave him a quick nod, one that filled Lee with a bit of relief now that he knew he'd have at least one student who wasn't a complete nightmare to handle. “Well, that means I'll probably be teaching you history from now on. I'm Mr. Everett, it's nice to meet you–”
“Clementine Betula, sir.” Lee had to do a double-take, uncertain as to whether or not he had heard her correctly. 'Clementine Betula', he had never heard a name like it, so part of him wondered if she was pulling his leg. Though based on the way she winced at his bewilderment, it was safe to assume that this was in fact her real name, and she had been subjected to this little routine far too many times throughout her life. “It's Clementine the fruit, not the song. I don't want to be one of those people named after a song.”
“Note taken.” Lee tapped the side of his head, wondering how many times Clementine had had to hear that old tune and be subjected to teasing from those around her. He once knew a girl named Georgia who had had a similar fate when boys would sing 'Georgia on My Mind' as she walked down town, to the point where she had even considered changing her name and moving halfway across the country just to escape it. He considered commenting on how the second half of Clementine's name sounded just as interesting as the first, but decided against it, seeing as how she already seemed bothered enough by her first name. “So, what are all these trophies then? Any reason they got your attention?”
“It's the soccer case,” She said, turning back to face the plethora of awards and memorabilia. Lee followed her gaze and upon closer inspection was surprised he hadn't notice all of these awards were for various soccer games. Emblems and medals bearing soccer balls, a photo of the various teams throughout the years, even a beat-up soccer ball sat in the case, perfectly inflated. Wonder who's job it was to maintain that thing. “The school's been playing ever since they opened, so it's tied with rowing for the sport we've been playing the longest. We're good too; I went to all the games last year, there isn't a team like us.”
“You like sports?” Clementine gave him a little nod, not breaking her gaze from the glowing cabinet. Her attention was fixed on an ornate, silver chalice that read 'Most Valued Player 1982' on its base. It was expertly crafted, with the school emblem etched into its cup, along with some beech leaves. Lee had taught lots of girls throughout his career, very few of whom took a liking to watching sport. They'd often roll their eyes as he and their male classmates chatted about football or basketball, so this was a nice change of pace. “It's nice to have an interest like that, nothing like rooting for your favourite team.”
“Yeah, nothing like it.” There was a notable shift in Clementine's tone as she stepped away from the case, her eyes lingering on the trophies and cups as they glimmered in the morning sun. Her voice had become distant all of a sudden, a dissatisfied glint in her round eyes as she eyed up each award, shaking her head slightly. When she turned back to face Lee she seemed a little surprised, almost like she had forgot he was even standing there. Before he had the chance to ask her if he had said something to upset her, the thunderous tintinnabulation of the school bells rang throughout the halls, signalling to those on campus that the opening ceremonies had officially ended and it was back to being a regular old Sunday. Clementine looked down the corridor before letting out a sigh of relief. “Now I can finally get out of this uniform. I'll be going now, Mr. Everett.”
“Take care, Ms. Betula, and remember: I didn't see you here, and you didn't see me.” Clementine chuckled, tapping the corner of her lips to motion to the invisible zipper that she had used to seal them earlier. Lee watched as she darted down the hallway, going at a swift yet careful pace before disappearing once she turned the corner. Lee smiled, happy that his first interaction with one of his students had gone down so well. Hopefully they were all as respectful and lighthearted as she had been, though knowing how teens could be he wouldn't be surprised if she had been one in a million. Oh, who was he kidding? She was probably one in a billion.
He made his way over to the tall glass window that allowed for the hall to be so bright, gazing past the condensation and out onto the green where the crowd of parents, students, and teachers had once congregated, now left undisturbed, save for the foliage that spread across it like a sea of gold. He watched as more of the yellow and orange leaves fell from the trees, drifting tumbling across the school grounds in flurry, their fiery colours only adding to the chaos of the scene. And as he rested his head against the glass, he wondered where the leaves would end up. Because they had no control over which way they went, that as all up to the wind. They couldn't choose when to stop, when to turn left or right, they just had the wind, and they had to pray it was good to them. So where would the leaves find themselves, in the end?
Where they needed to be, he hoped.