WHO: Kvothe and OPEN WHAT: A rather interesting Shop Class WHEN: Backdated to Friday, during the school day WHERE: Madison Valley High School, Home of the Madison Valley Marching Llamas. WARNINGS: TBD STATUS: Open/Ongoing
Kvothe had been horrified at the fact that he was being forced to go to school in this place. Oh, of course there was nothing wrong with learning. Quite the contrary! He adored learning, and had been absorbing every fact that came his way since a very young age. The problem with this however, was the fact that these students seemed to be years and years behind him. The lessons he was being taught in all of his classes were...sophomoric. Useless. Things he'd learned from Abenthy back when he was eleven years old. It was, to say it bluntly, a waste of his time.
He'd sat through English (he'd read the book eventually...maybe), math (he hated math), biology (learned everything already in the Medica), and drama (these kids made him cringe), and his last class of the day was something called "shop." He hadn't a clue what that meant, but it was the last class, so at least it had that going for it.
Hunting down the room, he found himself in what looked like...a very primitive version of the Artificery. Well. That was a slightly pleasant surprise. Listening enough to the teacher that he was appearing to pay attention...almost...he began to tinker with a few of the parts on the table where he was assigned. They were good enough quality parts, and with a few runes, and a bit of sympathy, he was pretty sure he could make something at least vaguely more interesting than the little stools the teacher was drawing on the board. Stools? Really? Just plain wood stools. No wonder all the kids around here hated school.
He didn't need a stool, and he certainly wasn't a woodcarver who was going to waste his time making one. So instead, when the teacher set them free to work, he began making a sympathy lamp. Very simple, of course, but surely it would impress the teacher enough that he'd let him do something more than make stools.
When the teacher reached him, he looked up at him with a flash of amusement in his sea-green eyes. The teacher gave him a long look, looking at the beginnings of what was most certainly not a stool, then back at him, disapproval - and maybe a bit of anger - filling his eyes.
"What is that?" he asked, keeping his voice steady with the practice of someone who had taught teenagers for many years.
"Ah, it will be a sympathy lamp," he said with a smile. "I'm not a woodcarver, after all, and I have no need of a stool."
The teacher looked from the lamp to the board, where he'd drawn the diagram of the stool, to the beginnings of the lamp, and back to Kvothe, then without speaking, took the lamp, threw it in the trash, and collected the pieces for the stool, placing them - rather adamantly - in front of his student.
"The assignment is to make a stool," he said, struggling to keep his patience. "And so you will make a stool."
Kvothe's eyes flashed, but the teacher waved a hand, indicating that he would hear no objections. "I am not trying to be mean," he explained. "But the assignment is to make a stool, and that is what I have asked you to do. I don't know what things were like in your world, but you will follow the rules in my class. And one of those rules is that we don't move on to more complex things until I am certain that you know your safety standards. Do you? For God's sake, you're not even wearing your goggles."
He thrust the goggles towards Kvothe, and walked away, shaking his head in disgust.
Kvothe looked after him angrily, his face nearly the same color as his hair, and mumbled something derogatory in Temic before looking down at the ridiculous project. Which...he had no idea how to do. He scratched his head, looking at the diagram on the board, and wishing for once that he'd actually paid attention. His anger grew, and after a moment, he simply slammed down the pieces and stormed from the room, slamming the door loudly behind him as he went.