Vane: Welcome Back
Mia had been waiting for this day for years, ever since she fully understood her future responsibilities. It was the day she had always been excited about, had always dreaded. More terrifying than the day she was told that now was her time, more thrilling than the night that made everything official.
This was her first day of school.
Well, not the literal first day, but her first day as a teacher. Her first day as the Guildmaster. Everything she had learned before was the preparation for this. She knew her grand ideas, her work in rebuilding the city, all that she hoped for Vane would depend on her success in this, would depend on her students.
It's strange, standing at the front of a classroom filled with students only a few years younger than herself, students that she had seen on the way to her own classes only a couple of years ago.
But despite her nervousness, she could feel it. That feeling that came with her travels, that came with her time in Milliways. It was the foundation of experience, one that she knew she would have to build upon, but it was a start.
"Good morning, class, and welcome back," she said in greeting to her class, her usually curly hair up in a bun. "To start the year, we are going to take a look at something that we at the Magic Guild have neglected in our education. However, I believe it's vital to everyone's experience in spellwork."
The books were passed out, there was a puzzled murmur, and finally one student said, "Majesty Mia?"
"Yes?"
"I think you might have made a mistake. These are poetry books."
"Precisely."
More puzzled murmuring.
"What does this have to do with magic? Any twit with a pencil can spew this drivel," the student continued.
She approached his desk and said, "You're right, any twit with a pencil can spew drivel, but what we are looking at is the significance of words in expressing something that is both beyond ourselves and a part of us."
Mia then straightened up and said, "If you would turn to the table of contents and find the section on Robert Frost, we'll take a brief look at his poem Fire and Ice."
She returns to the front of the classroom and recites the poem.
"Some say the world will end in fire
some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire,
I hold with those who favor fire."
She slowly brought her hand up as she does when firedancing, flames flickering on her fingertips and off to trace the edge of her desk before she dispelled them, her students watching in awe.
"But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
to say that for destruction, ice..."
At this, she sent a few ice darts towards the door, causing a ripple of gasps in the room.
"...is also great and would suffice."
A brief pause before Mia said, "Poetry is a magic in and of itself, one that we entwine with our own abilities to give it new form and expression in the art of spellwork. In order to be successful in magic, the words must mean something to you, or, as with poetry, you will be any twit with a pencil spewing drivel."
This seemed to satisfy everyone in the class.
"Just like our spellbooks, which we will be getting to later in the week, these poetry books are excellent guidelines for spellwork, but always remember that they are just that. Our best spells are the ones we write for ourselves."
There was some discussion of poetry after that, a few students found poems they wanted to read out loud, and Mia assigned the class to write a spell by the end of the semester. At the end of the lesson, when the class was filing out, there was more murmuring, some of it still puzzled, but some talking about the new and interesting take on the class.
By the end of the day, Mia felt the most important part was that the students were talking.
This was her first day of school.
Well, not the literal first day, but her first day as a teacher. Her first day as the Guildmaster. Everything she had learned before was the preparation for this. She knew her grand ideas, her work in rebuilding the city, all that she hoped for Vane would depend on her success in this, would depend on her students.
It's strange, standing at the front of a classroom filled with students only a few years younger than herself, students that she had seen on the way to her own classes only a couple of years ago.
But despite her nervousness, she could feel it. That feeling that came with her travels, that came with her time in Milliways. It was the foundation of experience, one that she knew she would have to build upon, but it was a start.
"Good morning, class, and welcome back," she said in greeting to her class, her usually curly hair up in a bun. "To start the year, we are going to take a look at something that we at the Magic Guild have neglected in our education. However, I believe it's vital to everyone's experience in spellwork."
The books were passed out, there was a puzzled murmur, and finally one student said, "Majesty Mia?"
"Yes?"
"I think you might have made a mistake. These are poetry books."
"Precisely."
More puzzled murmuring.
"What does this have to do with magic? Any twit with a pencil can spew this drivel," the student continued.
She approached his desk and said, "You're right, any twit with a pencil can spew drivel, but what we are looking at is the significance of words in expressing something that is both beyond ourselves and a part of us."
Mia then straightened up and said, "If you would turn to the table of contents and find the section on Robert Frost, we'll take a brief look at his poem Fire and Ice."
She returns to the front of the classroom and recites the poem.
"Some say the world will end in fire
some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire,
I hold with those who favor fire."
She slowly brought her hand up as she does when firedancing, flames flickering on her fingertips and off to trace the edge of her desk before she dispelled them, her students watching in awe.
"But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
to say that for destruction, ice..."
At this, she sent a few ice darts towards the door, causing a ripple of gasps in the room.
"...is also great and would suffice."
A brief pause before Mia said, "Poetry is a magic in and of itself, one that we entwine with our own abilities to give it new form and expression in the art of spellwork. In order to be successful in magic, the words must mean something to you, or, as with poetry, you will be any twit with a pencil spewing drivel."
This seemed to satisfy everyone in the class.
"Just like our spellbooks, which we will be getting to later in the week, these poetry books are excellent guidelines for spellwork, but always remember that they are just that. Our best spells are the ones we write for ourselves."
There was some discussion of poetry after that, a few students found poems they wanted to read out loud, and Mia assigned the class to write a spell by the end of the semester. At the end of the lesson, when the class was filing out, there was more murmuring, some of it still puzzled, but some talking about the new and interesting take on the class.
By the end of the day, Mia felt the most important part was that the students were talking.