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the schoolhouse rock
Aug. 17th, 2024 05:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
logicalities[ Spock has little hope for this year's crop of first year cadets. He has little disappointment at their showing, either, of course; both are emotions, and as he is Vulcan, he feels neither. As the cadets trickle into his classroom on the first day of the semester, he regards them with level appraisal. Some may do well in his Introduction to Xenolinguistics class. Some may believe they will do well and find they are unprepared for the rigors of Starfleet. Some will undoubtedly fail to properly grasp the material and will either change tracks or change their planned career paths.
Were it left to his preferences, Spock would only teach the advanced xenolinguistic courses. He finds it significantly more rewarding to deal with cadets who are both dedicated to their education as well as intelligent enough to hold coherent conversations. Unfortunately, as he has three years to teach at Starfleet Academy before the Enterprise is space-ready and the Academy is currently in the process of filling the lower level position, the assignment falls to Spock. He is both capable and available to teach the course; there is no logical reason to object.
And so Spock finds himself teaching the expected advanced courses in ethics, xenolinguistics, and computer programming as well as the colloquial Xenolinguistics 101 this semester.
He does not look forward to the task.
By the time this first class is halfway through, Spock has: enraged twelve students by proving their lack of both acumen and knowledge; locked the PADDs of seven underachievers playing CandyCrush 3000 with a basic but doubtlessly challenging encryption when given their skill level in computer programming; made two cadets cry by repeatedly correcting their sloppy pronunciation; and finally, paid Cadet Uhura one compliment for her advanced understanding and translation of a traditional Klingon war cry.
When the class period finally ends, the low level of mental anguish radiating through the room is strong enough to have a headache pounding behind Spock's eyes even without a single instance of physical contact.
Spock is gathering his things — and allowing the cadets to beat a hasty, undignified retreat while his back is turned — when he hears someone clearing their throat.
Bemused, he turns to see one of the cadets waiting for him. Kirk, he remembers, from his glance over the enrollment list. Behind Kirk, the room is, unsurprisingly, entirely empty of other students.
Spock tucks his PADD into his bag and straightens, turning to face Kirk fully. ]
May I assist you, Cadet?
Were it left to his preferences, Spock would only teach the advanced xenolinguistic courses. He finds it significantly more rewarding to deal with cadets who are both dedicated to their education as well as intelligent enough to hold coherent conversations. Unfortunately, as he has three years to teach at Starfleet Academy before the Enterprise is space-ready and the Academy is currently in the process of filling the lower level position, the assignment falls to Spock. He is both capable and available to teach the course; there is no logical reason to object.
And so Spock finds himself teaching the expected advanced courses in ethics, xenolinguistics, and computer programming as well as the colloquial Xenolinguistics 101 this semester.
He does not look forward to the task.
By the time this first class is halfway through, Spock has: enraged twelve students by proving their lack of both acumen and knowledge; locked the PADDs of seven underachievers playing CandyCrush 3000 with a basic but doubtlessly challenging encryption when given their skill level in computer programming; made two cadets cry by repeatedly correcting their sloppy pronunciation; and finally, paid Cadet Uhura one compliment for her advanced understanding and translation of a traditional Klingon war cry.
When the class period finally ends, the low level of mental anguish radiating through the room is strong enough to have a headache pounding behind Spock's eyes even without a single instance of physical contact.
Spock is gathering his things — and allowing the cadets to beat a hasty, undignified retreat while his back is turned — when he hears someone clearing their throat.
Bemused, he turns to see one of the cadets waiting for him. Kirk, he remembers, from his glance over the enrollment list. Behind Kirk, the room is, unsurprisingly, entirely empty of other students.
Spock tucks his PADD into his bag and straightens, turning to face Kirk fully. ]
May I assist you, Cadet?
