Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Folken Teaches the First Grade ❯ Pain in the ass and mathematics ( Chapter 2 )

Chapter 2

*****

This is just great. That sound was just too distinctive. It was a sound that usually caused Folken's most intense migraine headaches.

"Geheheheh. Poor Strategos." Dilandau had just rounded the corner and had a sick smile plastered on his face; a smile that Folken wanted to slap off.

"What are you doing here Dilandau? Catching up on some light reading, perhaps?" Folken asked dryly with a hint of disdain.

"Um...no." The head Dragon Slayer quickly moved his hands behind his back. It seemed that he placed something in his back pocket. He then ran his hands through his snow-white hair. "I came here because you were absent from the weekly review and I inquired as to where you were. And I must say, when I was told... I just knew I had to see it for myself."

Dilandau walked the remaining distance between Folken and himself, and stood directly in front of the mildly agitated substitute. He craned his neck to look at the taller man and shook his head in mock sympathy. "How the mighty have fallen!" He clucked his tongue. "It's a shame, really it is."

Folken suppressed the growl that was rising in his throat and the urge to choke the insolent punk. That's what Eriya called him. Well scratch the insolent part.

At this time the children who were still waiting for their turns to relieve themselves were listening with rapt attention, their heads moving form Dilandau to Folken and back to Dilandau again. All of the children knew who Dilandau was. In fact he was several of the boys role model.

It was a known fact that for Folken, Dilandau equaled irritation, but he was starting to get seriously pissed. "Dilandau, I am fulfilling a duty that was assigned to me by the Emperor himself, and unless the Emperor assigned you to remedial education, it seems you are neglecting yours. Should you not be training with your men now?" Folken asked in a deceptively mild tone.

Uh oh. The children thought. The tone of Folken's voice had taken a drastic turn. It was the tone of voice their parents used on them when they were in big trouble. Not the time-out voice, but the 'I'm three seconds away and I mean three seconds away from whooping your butt' voice.

Jasmine thought, Strategos Folken is giving you an out guy. You'd better take it.

Evidently Dilandau had some sense because he took that out. "Well I've seen what I came to see." He sneered at Folken then looked down at the children neatly lined up and returned his ruby-red gaze to Folken and snickered. "Sucks to be you, Strategos. Don't get to much play-dough in your hair or too much snot on you cloak."

With that final quip, the black and crimson clad man-boy left.

"That pasty faced jerk!" Teresa exclaimed heatedly.

"You shouldn't speak of people that way," Folken said half-heartedly.

*****

Folken and the children returned to the class room ten minutes later. The most peculiar thing happened though. The children informed him that Ms. Millard allowed them to drink from the water fountain during this time also. Folken just didn't understand that; wouldn't that defeat the purpose of taking them to the rest rooms if the had to go again in twenty minutes. Folken knew how temperamental children's bladders were, yet he relented because he respected the fact that this was part of the children's daily routine, and he knew that sticking to structured routines was very important in educating children.

Ah, what to do now. Today was going to be a long day for Folken and it's just started.

Folken decided that they should do some mathematics, seeing that they did what could be considered a language arts assignment.

The children had a few minutes of their break left and were talking and playing amongst themselves.

Folken went up to the board and started writing very simple math problems such as 7-3, 2+9, 10-2. This shouldn't be too hard. When he finished there were twenty four problems on the board.

A bell rang letting it be known to all that recess was over. The kids looked up and saw all the math problems and groaned and mumbled.

"Oh it's not that bad," Folken said as he passed out more practice paper. "Please copy down the problems on your paper and answer them. If you have any questions, raise your hands."

Folken returned to the teacher's desk and found a red pen in a drawer and began grading the children's 'breakfast' papers.

The children were working very quietly which Folken greatly appreciated, even though it didn't take much effort to grade first graders papers. There were several spelling mistakes but for the most part, the work was structurally sound. It didn't take long for him to complete the grading. Since he was finished he decided to make an answer key to the problems he put on the board.

Thirty seconds later he finished. He observed the class. Many students were counting on their fingers. That was a humongous pet peeve of Folken's. He knew that if these children did not break out of that bad habit now, they would become adults doing the same thing. It would hinder them. He decided then and there to nip the bad habit in the bud.

"If you didn't have hands how would you add and subtract." He asked the children, breaking the intense study of their digits.

"Uh, we would use our toes?" Harold, who Folken decided then was the class clown, replied. Folken looked at him grimly.

"Or we could get metal hands," Blaine, the blonde boy that so warmly welcomed Folken, said snidely. A few of the boys sitting next to him tittered.

Folken ignored the barb. Over the years living with his prosthetic arm he became used to people's stares, whispers, and blatant ignorance. But this didn't mean he wouldn't put a note next to Blaine's name on the roster: 'Behavioral Problems'.

Folken wondered what the boy's problem was. He stumbled upon an idea. If his mother named him Blaine maybe he would have been a little butthead too. But then again he had been a prince, so that would have made his name excellent by default. Ponderous. Everyone would have wanted to name their son Blaine under those conditions.

The smallest girl in the class came to Folken's defense. "Aww, Blaine you're just mad that your girlfriend isn't here... Ms. Millard." For some reason she started making simian noises.

What a strange child. Folken thought.

"Oooooo," the class cooed.

"Shut up Cecile!" Blaine yelled over his classmates teasing. His face was tomato red.

All the children started laughing louder, including the shy Armand.

Cecile just wore a smug expression.

"That's enough class!" Folken declared getting annoyed with their antics. Even though Cecile's little outburst did shed some light on Blaine's attitude problem, it was still disruptive. "Let's get our minds back on the problems."

Sometime had passed while Folken was explaining that counting mentally was a much more efficient way of doing math and the more the kids practiced, it would become instinctive.

He called out problems for them to think about and answer. As expected they got the first few wrong because they were being put on the spot, but the more problems the children did, the better they became.

"You can't depend on your fingers for counting because you won't be in first grade all your life and you won't be working with numbers this small. Just wait until you get a job and it comes time for you to do your taxes. You'll be two years trying to get done."

"My father pays someone to do his taxes," Blaine said snottily.

"How nice for him," Folken said sardonically. He wanted to be nice, he really did, but the boy was making it extremely difficult.

"Okay. Now do the problems that are on the board." Folken returned to his seat. The day was going really slow. He looked at his timepiece. It was almost lunchtime.

Thank goodness these kids aren't as good in math as they are at writing, because I'm about all tapped out of ideas. His stomach made a little sound. And hungry. His mouth quirked into a little smile. He would think of something.

*****

TBC

A/N: I mean no offense to dudes named Blaine. Lunch time is coming up and that's just going to be a mess, I can tell you that now.