Elizabeth Bear - Future Visions - Original Science Fiction Inspired by Microsoft

“From Tennessee?”

“Yes.” Walter had been on the honor roll consistently at UT. He produced a transcript of his grades and gave it to her.

She studied it and nodded. “What else have you done?”

“I was a supermarket cashier during my college years. This past summer I’ve been driving a cab.”

“Do you have plans to pursue a doctorate?”

“Eventually.” Best to sound optimistic.

“Why are you applying for the teaching job, Walter?”

“Because it’s my field of interest. And I thought I could help.”

Her eyes locked with his while she considered her options. Walter tried to affect a confident manner while he wondered if anyone else had applied. And whether he really wanted her to accept his application. He remembered how much he’d hated the public speaking course. It was one of only two C’s he’d received. And that had been a generous grade. He loved physics, but he’d never been comfortable talking to an audience.

“Good enough, Walter.” She delivered a welcoming smile. “We’ll have a preliminary meeting of the faculty Monday at nine. Classes start Tuesday. Check with Melinda on the way out. She’ll have a copy of the curriculum for you.”

Diana was pleased. “I think you’ll enjoy yourself,” she said.

His mom tried to encourage him too, but his father sighed and suggested it was just another dead end. “I don’t want to sound negative. But teaching will never provide any serious money. You might as well stay with the cab.”

Walter suspected he was right. But he needed a start in a different direction. He thought about staying with the taxi while he tried his hand in the classroom. He drove at night, so it wouldn’t interfere with his schedule. But he’d probably need the time to prepare for his classes.

He called the cab company and let them know he’d be in that evening, but it would be his last night. Short notice wasn’t a problem for them. Drivers were easy to come by.

The curriculum looked simple enough. Motion and forces. Heat and thermodynamics. Electricity and magnetism. He’d have a lab available for each class twice a week. There was no list of reading assignments included, so he’d have to put one together. Find some books that the kids would both understand and enjoy.

He spent most of the weekend planning classes. He used index cards to write notes that would guide him through the material. And he put together some assignments. He’d start with Newton’s three laws of motion and tie them into conservation of energy.

He took a break Saturday night and used his Quark-box to watch himself infuriate his superiors as the disc jockey in Good Morning, Vietnam. The software gave his personality a substantial boost. Nobody had ever accused him of being funny, but on that evening he was hilarious. He sat, laughing more than he had in ages and wondering why the computer could make him that good while he couldn’t do it himself.

But he couldn’t. And he knew it. If he could go into the classroom and perform as he had in that film, his students would love him. And more to the point, they’d pick up some basic physics too. The teachers who’d been most useful to him had all possessed a sense of humor and an ability to instill laughs into the process. One of his more vivid memories was a history class on the start of the War of Jenkins’ Ear in the eighteenth century. The Spanish Coast Guard had boarded a British ship, and one of them had used a sword to slice off the ear of its captain, Robert Jenkins. Jenkins, according to the instructor, had picked up the ear, confronted his attacker, and said, “Sir, you’ll ’ear about this ’ere ear.”

But Walter was strictly a monotone kind of guy. Damn.

He spent additional time on the Internet reading about the qualities of a good teacher. Talk with the students, not at them. Take notice of what they do right, rather than spend your time pointing out errors.

Be aware that people spend a considerable amount of their formative years listening to authority figures, parents and teachers and bosses, telling them how they screw up. “Don’t touch it; you’ll break it.” The result is that most of us tend to underrate our own capabilities.

He went out with Diana Sunday evening and told her what he’d been doing. “Perfect,” she said. “You’re going to be one of the great teachers of our time.” They were on the observation floor of the Sunsphere in World’s Fair Park, with a magnificent view of the city.

“So, how’s life with your new company?”

“Okay.”

“What do you actually do for them?” She seemed a bit young to be an advertising consultant.

“I write commercials.”

“You have any background in that?”

She laughed. “I like to write, and I know what turns people on.” Her eyes looked elsewhere as she said it.

The Monday teachers’ meeting was short and generally inconsequential. Walter already knew he’d have five classes per day. There would also be a study hall. And he’d been assigned a freshman homeroom. Dr. Mullen spoke for a few minutes, welcoming everyone back from summer vacation and asserting her confidence that Brackenwood would enjoy another productive year. She passed out folders containing teachers’ schedules, students’ names, and a copy of the Academy protocols. Do not spend time alone in a classroom with one student. Do not under any circumstances use physical force. Announcements will be made over the PA system during the first five minutes of homeroom. Students will be dismissed within one minute after a bell rings. They are to be in the next class when the second bell rings ten minutes later.

Were there any questions?

There were a few. Had last year’s effort to include parents more actively in the educational process succeeded?

“We’re happy with the results,” said Dr. Mullen. “It worked. Largely thanks to the efforts of Harry and Jackie. We’ll be expanding the effort this year. Details are in the protocols.”

Somebody wanted to know whether they would restore the senior field trip to DC.

And had the issues involving Internet use been settled?

When it was finally over, most of the teachers dispersed to local restaurants. Walter received two invitations, but since he didn’t know anyone, he declined both.

He didn’t sleep well, staring for hours at the ceiling while going over his opening remarks in his head. He’d compiled some jokes. Like: What do you say to Schrödinger’s cat at the end of the experiment? “Make up your mind.”

Why didn’t Einstein’s lamps work? Because energy is always conserved.

Why did Heisenberg’s wife hate to go shopping? Because she could never decide what she was looking for.

Hell, no. He’d never be able to get away with any of those. He wished he could get into his Robin Williams persona. But he’d need the Quark-box for that.

On Tuesday he got up too early. He made breakfast, sat down to watch the news show he now thought of as Morning Walter, and finally set out for school. Had he stayed with the taxi, he’d be in bed now. By the time he arrived at Brackenwood and pulled into the parking lot, he was a nervous wreck.