Chapter Text
Emma is now 21 years old in 1891.
Her students are now thirdies. Very healthy, robust thirdies.
Their families got smarter with budgeting and it showed and she was happy. The kids now wear good clothing, albeit self-made.
Things got more difficult in their lessons now.
She challenges them and again, reminded them of their goals. Securing a great-paying job.
Her accomplishments so far:
- Modern Day-Style Education in Languages and Grammar, and Math
- Domestic Housewifery with a twist --- she taught where to buy this and that,
how to be vigilant when purchasing goods, and about adulterated foods that
they must avoid with loopholes. Gave their families her Guidebooks to cheat
the system for comfort, be it cooking and laundry tricks.
All her students and their families never ate bread since. - Yes they know Bible Stories but she taught them lessons found in the Bible
after dissecting every book. But she also teaches about the 'recommended
curriculum' that involved some singing. GMRC? HER standards and her way
of seeing the given curriculum. But on paper, she lets society see 'what they
want to see'. - She encourages her kids to 'have their own brain'.
- Gained a good reputation here when back in her era, hers sucks and its not
even her fault WHY... - Tea Parties at her house are also in demand --- her snacks are reportedly
delicious according to grannies. - She gained good reputation in London for her Shilling Number
About that...
She had to be careful when giving an interview when she was asked to for one by the Editor regarding her shilling number. She gave it to her students in her classroom, but decided to share what helped her survive Victorian London in a tight purse as an orphan and learned budgeting the hard way. Trial-by-Fire due to being uneducated at the time, and learns by worldly experience until she became a Pupil-Teacher. She wants her students to have the same chances she did in regards to food. How can kids focus in State School if they're hungry?
That's fair.
Now that her kids are eight years old, the Larded Eggs ended. She had taught the value of that meal to parents for little kids in the PTC she held. And the value of lentil stew for ladies as well as a 'crushed stewed chicken offal and drink orange juice every sunday' because it's THEM bleeding every month and they bleed a lot during childbirth. It to heal from blood loss.
'Why every sunday?'
'I was told by my mom who learned it from her paramour that eating any liver becomes bad for body if in excess as that organ is already a super-nutrient-dense food. The rule medicine in excess becomes poison applies that it is only safe once a week, an ounce a serving in just one mealtime. I'm curious, but I don't want to learn the hard way either. They did say curiosity killed the cat. In my case, I cannot afford hospital fees and my family's all gone so nobody to watch my back! But hey, I did just that and I recovered from 'ladies' week' when I started feeling better.'
Wisdom imparted, back to normal life she went.
And now for her class alone, she now has her kids get French Exams based on what she taught.
...aced.
The HMI was impressed again while looking at the test papers in the Headmistress' Office after exams. Emma's class is the last to be checked as she was the only one who taught her students French.
'These results are impeccable...they have a written exam and practical dictation and diction exam...their pronunciation is very good. You put schoolmasters in gentlemen school to shame with these results.'
'Thank you for your kind praise.' Emma smiled sweetly and looking as innocent as ever.
The result of that however, increased her worth. She was now a 190 a year teacher when she got a letter to her cottage next spring much to her joy and got her bonus as proof of it. "Awright~~" she squealed in delight.
While in her Lease Contract enabled her to have her landlord pay for some repairs via 'fair wear and tear' and express covenants---Emma made SURE to study laws regarding renting properties out of trauma for being exploited by the laws of Wizarding Society by being ignorant and she herself didn't care back then(bit her in the ass for that especially in 4th year) and she managed to bargain her way to make sure landlord is at least, 60% responsible. But there are some things that had to come out of her own savings.
Like, the window glasses that were beyond cleaning hope when she first got to that cottage as this era didn't have the effective chemicals of 1990s. She almost wished she had magic back but she's a muggle here now. In a world where magic doesn't exist. She did the cleaning herself one section at a time outside the walls, but she did hire teenaged boys to scrub the roof for her clean as well as tackling cobwebs and spiders for her before she did tackle the walls...inside her house. As far as 'externals' were concerned, she just had the roof cleared up as well as weeding work.
But the 60% costs pounds and sovereigns she's NOT willing to cover, OK? Like pro-level labor work and materials? NOPE. And that'll attract unwanted attention to her too. Especially as she tends to pay proportionately to the labor and never underpays unlike most victorians. She felt difficulty level = price worth. Trauma no.2: she was grossly used up and not compensated for all she put up with, and she believed in don't do to others what was done to you. Because Karma happens.
Her karma was her cushy good life now. She has very few friends but its better. No pressure, no subtle digging into what she thinks or what they feel she can't do. It was kinda refreshing.
She has respect of people around her. The good kind and she was appreciated.
She had none of these before.
Now, she made sure while her class knows French and can write neatly, while she did instill ambition, she taught how to 'act to fool the enemy' because of how the classism works in England.
Knowing French was a complex double-edged sword for a Victorian woman. While it was viewed as a prestigious 'accomplishment', it also carried a deep cultural stigma of foreign corruption. But not for Men? Reeeaaalllyyy??? Well, they DID want an Angel of the House...they do not want intelligent women! They don't like it when women are smarter than them.
She utilized French in her job, but never advertised it. She simply taught because they were told, 'teach as you see fit as long as we see results' so she did. Nobody could refute that even if the HMI is impressed with her, but he warned her to never expose herself to aristocrats, clergy and even the gentry playing 'pretend' just to try and fit in while social-climbing.
'Miss Potter I hope you have your kids trained well to NEVER advertise the fact you taught French?' the HMI asked her anxiously.
'Of course. I am aware of the...double-standards.' said Emma with a bitter smile.
A schoolmistress teaching French in a state school would not be looked at in a good light by Queen Victoria, the aristocracy, the gentry, or the Church.
French was considered a high-society 'accomplishment' reserved exclusively for upper-class young ladies (taught by private governesses) to help them secure wealthy husbands.
If a state schoolmistress started teaching French to poor, working-class children and it got known publicly, the gentry and aristocracy would view it as dangerous and absurd. They believed state schools existed strictly to churn out submissive, practical laborers, agricultural workers, and domestic servants. Teaching them French was seen as filling their heads with 'unfitting' ambitions and causing social rebellion. Well, she DID give her kids ambition.
Girls who went to College with her also knew French. Schoolmistresses here and there or a Governess here and there. They don't dare. Only she did.
To the Victorian Church, France was the home of godless revolutions, Roman Catholicism, and scandalous, sexually explicit literature. The Church expected schoolmistresses to teach strict Anglican piety, Bible verses, and basic needlework. Introducing French to poor children would trigger immediate suspicion from the local vicar and school inspectors, who would worry the teacher was secretly exposing children to moral corruption or Catholic influences.
While Queen Victoria was multilingual herself, her government’s state education acts were designed for economic utility. The crown and parliament wanted the working class to learn basic literacy and arithmetic to operate machinery and build the British Empire—not to waste state funding on foreign languages. A teacher diverting from the Three R's would be viewed as highly inefficient and insubordinate.
If its like THAT, why then, do these guys imported French Chefs, ate French Cuisine, learn their language and copied fashion off them if they look down on the French??? It boggles her mind. Oxymoronical Hypocrisy indeed!
'See that you do...this society of ours is an oxymoron. They say they want progress, but education is on a weird line here and we know it. And I cannot protect you due to my social status if this gets out, and I have my family in mind.' said the HMI. 'I only gave your class that one and only French Exam just to test your ability but it never made it to authority to protect you. They don't even know I made and gave that exam.' he grunted. 'Bury this for your sake. Remind your students. Your salary did raise to 190 but that was because you're a tad successful in Scripture Class, not because you're fluent in French. And your Shilling Number solved the food problems of the Clergy. Humble, but Filling befitting men of the cloth.' Emma twitched in her brow. 'You even had found two bible dishes and recreated it in your Shilling Number...with high praise in your Ezekiel Bread and Fig Cake Recipes I once saw in the conference room.'
THAT'S WHY?!?!
'While we did say 'teach as you see fit', when we saw your Scripture Class Curriculum, the Priest who looked at the exams was deeply impressed, and you effectively taught the ideal 'right' straight out of the holy book, instilling good moral character in little kids and you even have a source. He was the one who decided to raise your salary, thinking your moral character is very high if you're very learned with the scripture.'
Emma has no idea what to say to that.
Is being a good person with basic decency hard for them to understand now...?
"Too bad for that old man I raised capable future women, not submissive doormats." she feels the 'Angel of the House' title is those for women raised to be doormats with patience of saint while putting up with bullshit for years before she blows up like Vesuvius when enough is enough! She raised them to thrive with spite, not just survive. She taught them French, how to stitch neatly but securely using scrap fabrics, sew garments starting with their first-ever pantaloons, followed by chemise, then dresses with sleeve length and types of skirt varieties, and aprons. Then mens' wear by choosing boys in their class to sew for. And they have her Wisdom Guide. And Utility Crafts. Forget embroidery, that's a pretty waste of thread and time belonging to useless flowers in a garden behind a golden fence.
'Is that so...I'm grateful to that guy then. I am saving up for retirement after all.' Emma snorted before her smile made it clear she's not happy. 'He thinks I'm just another machine producing submissive laborers for aristocrats, am I?'
The Headmistress knows she knows French. Heck, they all do having come from the same school! Because one day they'll be Governesses if they're unlucky. Most girls dread the job unless they have no choice. Even then they'd rather work for Merchants than Nobles!
Governesses never belong anywhere upon employment. She's in Status Hierarchy Limbo if she was a Live-In. Low status than her employers, higher status than jealous housemaids and prone to becoming 'a victim of circumstance she's helpless against'. But she can get away from all that if she wasn't a live-in. The trade-off, is Commute to and fro, waking at shitty hours daily.
'And do not tell anyone you got a salary raise. That may inspire envy and conflict in workplace when last everyone checked, you're equal.'
Emma's best revenge to this piece of shit classism years later, was that at the age of 25, her first classroom could leave her class highly intelligent, and could find work as assistants, never laborers. They now earn 10 shillings a week by showing competence in math, money math, possess neat handwriting with great grammar and capable of office jobs. In their last year of school, she trained her girls how to measure and sew. She gave them fabrics ideal for working in an office and showed them what apprentices wear, and full-fledged. She rented the outfits for a day just for show. She paired up all girls, measure each other and
It was a success for her.
Clara, the girl pressured to be a maid, now earns more than her parents individually do. She wound up being the family clothier and paying rent while they pay for food and 'bathing privilege'.
She now has a new batch of students. Ages 4-5 again.
But her classroom door is closed. 'Huh?!' she ran for the Headmistress' Office.
'I've been expecting you if you saw your classroom locked.' said the Headmistress wryly. 'You have a lousy task this year but rest assured your salary isn't compromised at least.'
'What's going on?' Emma wondered aloud.
'Well, since you're known to do charity for your part-timers which is rare for a schoolmistress, you are tasked with your next class to work a miracle...with Workhouse Children.'
'Hah?!' Emma gawked at her. 'Don't they have schoolmasters over there?!'
Living inside a Victorian London workhouse was intentionally designed to be a bleak, regimented, and highly dehumanizing experience.
Under the Poor Law Amendment Act of 1834, the system operated on the principle of 'less eligibility'. This meant conditions inside the workhouse had to be far harsher and more miserable than the life of the poorest independent laborer outside, strictly to ensure that only the utterly desperate would seek entry.
Life there is misery on purpose with a draconian routine to weed out the truly desperate from sneaky lazy freeloaders.
The true horror of the workhouse wasn't just the hard work or the bad food—it was the profound loss of dignity, the enforced silence, and the complete destruction of the family unit. To the Victorian working class, entering the workhouse was viewed as the ultimate social failure and a living death sentence.
'Yes, but their results are lackluster to say the least. The HMI aren't too happy because everyone must be productive. But they failed to churn out these kids into good future employees. But I bet these guys have no motivation due to lackluster salaries. Same education as us, but salaries too low for dignity of an educator.' the Headmistress snorted. 'It's nice being us. But due to your good repute, our HMI assigned to us recommended you.'
'Uggghhh...'
'You have a free day today, so report to the Workhouse at the plainest most boring dress you have. You cannot look rich there, you have to look strict ad unforgiving just like them. Your assignment is St. Luke's Chelsea Workhouse, but be careful over there alright?'
'Yes ma'am...'
'Hmmm...that Miss Potter is assigned to the Workhouse to 'work a miracle' there on children inmates?' Richard Jones asked when Stevens reported with a Tenant issue.
Steven reported that Emma paid for a year's worth of rent just to keep her house because of her being 'voluntold to do it'.
Steven wound up learning that made-up word that's a portmanteau of 'volunteer' and 'told'. Combining which, means, you're chosen and ordered to do it whether you like it or not!
But returned her keys for an occasional check for things that may happen while she was away. She will come every winter to pay for every year she's gone until she can come back. 'Yes sir. Here is this year's worth of rent.' he said, putting a cloth pouch on the table with a tag that reads, 156 shillings -- Emma Potter, (insert address). 'She had to organize giving away what's in her pantry as charity than have it rot and attract bugs while she was gone. And they were also from a nearby Tenement of ours.' Steven added. 'Four lucky launderesses she picked out of a ballot box were called.'
'...lucky them I guess. What was given away?'
'Small sacks of red lentils, baskets of vegetables both leafy and roots, evenly-distributed condiments and lard and cheap spices, and amounts of sugar and cocoa powder. Enough to last a week. Well, they can afford rent this week.'
'You're finally here.' said the Workhouse Master. His expression may as well be carved stone from years of doing inhumane treatment on the poor who came to apply just to sort out who actually deserves charity to those who doesn't and just wants freebies. 'The authorities have a lot to say about you.'
Capable teacher in her first class with great results. Great public repute through The Times.
'...what happened?' Emma asked him. She was dressed in a black stereotypical dress maids wear, and her hair in a tight bun. She has a brown wool shawl wrapped around herself and tied to a knot at her front.
'Well, routine here is that we do everything we can to weed out the truly helpless from those faking it to freeload off charity, the true waste of undeserving tax money.' the master began, 'But we do treat kids somewhat better than the adults here as they are still kids, yet to learn about the world, but they do learn early on being lazy won't get you a good life.' he said. 'The problem, is education. The kids are totally zoned out. Staring into space, sluggish even if they had their daily meal and couldn't remember what's in class yesterday and even forget what happened minutes ago that they can't even run an errand. We haven't the foggiest what's going on. Mr. Ruckford is on the verge of going crazy as no matter how he tried, nothing sinks in.'
'How old are these kids? Did some come here? Some born here?'
'A little bit of both. They're about 300 total here. Those born here, their mums died from the process. They simply came here to give birth, leave names like a last will if they had a son or daughter, and die satisfied thinking their kids will be cared for here. But we're a workhouse, not an orphanage.' the master whose name he has yet to say griped. 'This baffles even us, but we can't turn them away because we're still a charitable organization somehow. But when we investigated, all orphanages are full so...we're the last resort now. Word has it other Workhouses had pregnant poor too who did the same here.'
'Then with food conditions here, the problem is obvious...they are wasting away.' Emma pointed out. 'While adults are stronger before ending up here, children who are still growing are vulnerable to this, leading to your current problem that schoolmaster hires of yours gave up on them. I have an ideal stew in mind and I have the work-around to get it done.'
The recipe is a hearty-thick stew made of red lentils and oats, and a sunday-only addition of pureed stewed chicken livers mixed into the stew. This way, kids no longer need bread and potatoes, two of which will cut down on costs as long as this is served for children's daily meals until old enough to leave the workhouse for jobs. And water must be boiled the night before and stored in very clean containers to avoid a list of waterborne diseases for access to drinking water for next day's use. By then its cold enough to quench thirst.
'It's a nourishing recipe that aligns perfectly with the hyper-frugal, salvage-driven economy of a Victorian Poor Law Union and it does a lot.' Emma told him. 'It halts muscle wasting, restores standard growth curves for kids, and fixes bone deformities. The cost a year is would be 1226 pounds, 9 shillings, and 6 pence.' the master's eyebrows went all the way up. 'The budget of over 1,200 for a single ward's food would cause an absolute uproar among the cost-cutting Board of Guardians.'
'Under the 1834 Poor Law, the 'less eligibility' rule stated that paupers must never eat better than an independent working man. Feeding children to a full stomach state three times a day would be viewed as an illegal political indulgence. To pass this ledger through an audit, we can list the meals on the official sheets as Standard Thickened Workhouse Skilly making it sound like cheap, thin oatmeal water, while secretly recording the nutrient-dense lentils, lard, and salvaged chicken bones under the 'Medical Comforts' infirmary budget—signed off by the parish doctor as temporary prescription medicine to stop a fatal outbreak of disease.'
'This latter part is actually true as our standard local lazy skilly is fatal to these kids who would never survive past ten...or they will, but become residents here for life as brittle-boned dimwits, therefore qualifying for a legal eternal stay here under charity when if they had the chance to grow up strong, they can leave and be productive as the country needs.'
'...we need the local doctor...' the master groaned. 'We need him to draft documents, not just your knowledge of law to get away with that!'
Thus Emma had to justify this 'children's only diet' to the local doctor. They noted she's great with law and loopholes to get it done, and has knowledge of minor medical treatments and diseases children can get from malnourishment and 'Workhouse diet' is the main cause of their current conditions. Ricketts, Scurvy, Anemia, and Wasting. This is also great in hospitals for anyone who lost a lot of blood from injury, surgery or childbirth. They need at least one year just to get them functional in classrooms, but several years till 'Leaving Nest Day' just to be functional to jobs that demand physical labor endurance and stamina expected of blue collar jobs for men and domestic service for women. By then they are fully-healed from all four diseases. This is also great for servants' meals for anyone working in Domestic Service.
Then the kids are to be educated in how to feed themselves on the cheap while still satisfying rather than chase luxury beyond one's means, only to learn they can't afford this week's rent after a few minutes of indulgence and be kicked out to the streets as consequence. And be smart in order to be able to afford rent, food and warmth come winter. An effective educational plan for children also had to be planned.
Emma HATED being manipulative, but if she strays from 'the program' with government workers around, she's in trouble. So she had to 'satisfy' their criteria and flatter here and there with acting skills to match. Resigned to the fates of these kids becoming Blue-Collareds. At least they'll be healthy 12-13s when doing it...and Emma negotiated job endorsements for these Child Inmates, ensuring they get jobs as soon as they leave, so they won't be back here 'too soon'.
And that had been up for discussion. The master and Emma had to wait for a week. Until then, she made use of her time by going to her landlord to pay a year's worth of rent due to her sudden situation and she worried potential damages happening while she's gone that she's NOT responsible for, and returned her house keys just incase, bathing all children with soap out of her own pocket and washed their clothes. Then do it again after they clean up children's quarters, wash the pillowcases, sheets and blankets. And while the laundry is out to dry, the rooms are ventilated, and floors mopped with soapy water for the smell of urine to go away.
She also discovered that accommodations of her fellow teacher was next to the children's. While they had to endure the noise of the pauper children, their personal chambers were completely walled off, containing private bedding, a writing bureau, and an allotment of personal coal for their grates. They also have access to internal, clean flushing water closets and private bathtubs. There's also privacy via heavy oak doors. And they have the privilege to use the inmates as random maid-of-the-day.
As for food, they ate like middle-class! They had their own private kitchen, a specialized cook, and premium grocery deliveries. She could eat meat after several years!
However, operating a workhouse was a grim, exhausting, and dangerous job; staff faced constant exposure to infectious diseases like typhus and cholera, alongside the threat of inmate riots. That the current Skilly was to weaken them on purpose so the fewer employees can defend themselves. By providing comfortable, private spaces isolated from the pauper population, the architecture reinforced the staff's moral authority. It reminded them daily that they were respectable members of the middle class, completely distinct from the 'morally failed' paupers living right through the wall.
Living Conditions Improved after cleaning for the children.
Now time for bath again!
Then children are taught responsibility of cleanliness. Now that they tasted a clean room with fresh smell and air, they don't want the stink to come back, right? So always use chamberpots or the privy than 'just do it anywhere'. She got to know the new students, and introduced herself as a teacher. She was tasked to teach Language and Grammar, Arithmetic, Scriptures and GMRC, and Domestic Skills for Girls.
A week later, the Parish Doctor came back.
'Well I had to report Children's Disease Outbreak if we keep up the current Skilly for them. I also took a child with me as Exhibit One to prove the conditions are real. We all saw through tests what Miss Potter described.' said Dr. Owen Edwards grimly. 'Thus it's decided that children born in the Workhouse, and children who came here as old as three to six, gets the 'red skilly' to toughen them up for 'leaving the nest'. Until 12 for boys and 13 for girls, they must be trained in skills of their trade to justify the Red Skilly expense. This is a test drive in our Workhouse. If we see results in seven years, the Children's Red Skilly will be Implemented in ALL Workhouses in the country. Only the children as at least, they are able-bodied enough to work.'
'So we're a test-drive for now?' the Master, Mr. Greg Jordan looked thoughtful.
'Yes.' said Dr. Owen. 'Thus the children must know the Three Rs, Scriptures, and by age ten, practical life skills that will get them jobs by thirteen and calisthenics.'
'If they are set up for labor, Calisthenics are not gonna be enough.' Emma argued. 'They will experience the life of achey feet soon as well as sore everything. They need true physical conditioning and endurance. It helps that we're in a Workhouse and access to a lot of buckets and rocks, and scrap materials. And pulleys and stuff...so let's make the lazybones create an ideal training gym here on the cheap.'
'...Gym??'
'This only works for healthy kids, OK? Malnourished kids will not survive this with anemia and skeletal cookies.' Emma tut-tutted with a smile. 'Until then, we focus on education.'
...
...
...after one year of nourishment rehabilitation, the gym was specifically run up and down stairs which is more challenging than running on the grounds...and carrying buckets of sand that gets heavier every three months every after classes before they can have dinner. At winter, they do chin ups on bars at the first half, then on the second half, they do bicep curls with the buckets. Then squats while hugging a bigger bucket while leaning against the wall for support, strapped to a wooden 'wall frame' with pulley wheels and rope just to protect their clothes from friction while squatting.
'...why are girls even muscle-building?' Mr. Ruckford was baffled. 'Only men build muscle...right?'
'A maid carries buckets of coal from basement all the way upstairs to warm rooms after cleaning up said rooms. Hampers of laundry be it dry or wet every single day which is heavier than a coal bucket and they cannot collapse or else it's docked pay or if mistress is cruel, a whipping. Yanking cords to tighten their lady's waistlines to satisfactory levels or get smacked. Those require muscle, stamina and endurance. I would know since I once tried lifting a tub of wet laundry, I was weak compared to my part-timer launderesses.' Emma deadpanned as her co-worker looked blue at the notion. 'A maid cannot survive her daily jobs without a strong body and high level of stamina. Sewing lessons can wait until their last year here while boys can go all the way in physical training that's loads harder.'
'Riiiight...'