Flying and lesson should not be in the same sentence. on Quidditch Pitch

Professor Fawcett

December 13, 2008 11:55 PM

Flying Lesson by Professor Fawcett

His personal belongings might get into an awful mess if his wife didn't periodically remind him to straighten them up - or, truth to be told, even if she did - but John had always taken great pride in keeping his classrooms in order. For a flying lesson, there was no proper classroom, but the right number of broomsticks had been laid out for the first years to use, with some extras off to one side in case any second years chose to join the lesson. The roster, so soon after a problem with one being missing during a Transfig class, was also out and ready on top of the red folder he held.

John did not look like a flying coach, or even a wizard to take long walks. This was because he was neither. He was a retired professor of Magisociology, author of two books on his subject that had been well-received and one which had, sadly, not, who was well into his sixties and who had only recently taken to occasionally mixing up the quiet routine of the past ten years by substituting at his old school. A thick, square-framed pair of glasses partially disguised a hint of an anxious frown, but reinforced the impression of age created by his graying hair and severely-cut robes - a fitting enough mix for his old job, but not always for his new.

Of course, his appearance and lack of athletic prowess might turn out to be his smallest problems today.

He wasn't entirely sure why he'd agreed to take this task. His wife, who had played Quodpot in college, had drawn him up a plan for the lesson, but Allison hadn't addressed the major problem, which was what to do if his female students rebelled. John had been slightly out of touch with current events during his years of full retirement, but he'd heard about WAIL; between Allison and the customers, it had been inevitable. He'd studied the pureblooded culture for years and still planned to write a book about it one day, but he had had very few direct dealings with them. Certainly he'd never had to deal with eleven-year-old girls whose mothers had them convinced the class he was teaching would lead to them adopting alternative lifestyles.

Soon, however, there was no more time to think about it; it was time for the lesson to begin. "Good afternoon," he said loudly, to get their attention. Once they quieted, John let his voice drop back to its usual lecturing volume. "For any of you who are concerned, you are not going to be having an additional Transfiguration lesson. In the temporary absence of Prof - " no, that wasn't right, John felt sure of that - "Miss Fox, the Quidditch Coach, I've been asked to get you all introduced to the basics of flying."

However ill-suited I am to the task, he added in his head. "Since, as in every class, safety is the top concern, you will be required to adhere to certain rules. Failure to adhere to these rules can result in loss of credit for this class, which is required for all of you." He didn't, quite, sound apologetic. Quite apart from the controversy now tied to it, there were bound to be some who just had no skill in this direction. "You should all be on time for each lesson, listen attentively when addressed by your instructor, do as you are old in a timely manner, and no..." was there really a diplomatic way to say it? "showing off, if you understand me. We're covering the basics, here, and it'll be best for everyone if everyone goes through the same basic exercises."

Insurance could be inconvenience, but classes like this had a way of reminding John why it was also a great, wonderful, excellent thing. There was bound to be one who thought that he knew everything about a broom, one who couldn't keep his seat on a broom to save his life, or both. "That said, will everyone please take a position beside one of the brooms on the ground, standing so that your wand arm is directly over the shaft." He allowed them a moment to sort themselves out according to his directions. "Good. Now, hold the wand hand out over the broom like so - " he put out his own left hand to show them - "and say 'up'.

"This can take several attempts," he informed them. "A firm tone may help. Shouting, fear, and frustration will make it more difficult. Once you successfully get your broom, mount and kick off gently to hover at about five to ten feet. You may not go higher than this just now, or attempt to fly off anywhere. Please keep both of your hands on your broomstick for now. Broom height may be controlled by leaning forward, you'll have to get a feel for how far to lean to stay where you want instead of coming back down to earth. I advise you not to lean forward or back sharply."

Years of experience allowed him to conceal his unease about this, but it was still there. "Once you have all managed to get in the air, we'll see about moving forward and stopping after you do, if time permits," he told them. "I will watch you all closely, but call out if you run into trouble; this is a big group, and I've only got two eyes. Carry on." With that, he picked up the broom he'd practiced with himself in a spare hour and waited for a disaster.

OOC: Nice, detailed posts, please. If anyone's confused as to why he didn't introduce himself, John was the Transfig. sub while a new teacher was being searched for, so all the students would have seen him before. Also, if you need him for something, I'd appreciate it if you'd include a tag in the title. Happy writing!

Subthreads:

Flying and lesson should not be in the same sentence. by Indy Choudhry with Daniel "Nate" Nash

I prefer to stay on the ground. by Adelita Garcia (Crotalus)

A question I've always wanted to ask (Tag Professor) by Quentin Melcher with Professor Fawcett

*gulps* by Pippa Brockert

Flying!!!!! by Ethan and Elliot Valentine

Lesson Closed (nm) by Professor Fawcett

0 Professor Fawcett Flying Lesson 0 Professor Fawcett 1 5

Indy Choudhry

December 15, 2008 1:10 AM

Flying and lesson should not be in the same sentence. by Indy Choudhry

The day of the required flying lesson, Indy had gotten ready with a certain fidgety combination of emotions--frustration at having to listen to what would probably be a boring, long-winded explanation, excitement at getting back on a broom, and a tinge of nervousness about the school's flying policy. He knew first years weren't allowed to be on the house Quidditch teams, but would they be allowed to fly period? He was used to going flying at least once a week at home, him on the old Cleansweep 11 that had been his ninth birthday present, and his dad on his Nimbus 2004. He was already itching to get back into the air.

When he got down to the Quidditch Pitch, he waited, fidgeting anxiously, for the professor (an older man he'd seen around the school a few times before) to finish his spiel on rules and listening and yadda yadda yadda. Professor Fawcett's words went in one ear and out the other; all of Indy's brain cells were focused fully on the statement that would allow them to disperse and pick their broom. He'd been eyeing them already, and positioned himself close to a Cleansweep 7. It looked a little banged up, but he knew the series pretty well, with his own 11, and if they were putting these brooms out for first years to use they couldn't be too dangerous, right?

"...everyone please take a position beside one of the brooms on the ground..."

"Finally!" Indy murmured under his breath, grinning at the student next to him. Moving quickly--not quite a run, but definitely a bit hastier than a walk--he stepped up beside his Cleansweep 7, glancing at the students on either side of him. "These aren't half bad for school brooms," he whispered, unable to restrain his excitement. "D'you think they let first years use 'em whenever? Or do we have to--"

Before he finished, he noticed other students commanding their brooms 'up!' Some of them sounded awfully nervous, and others were almost yelling at the brooms. A few, he noticed with a wash of pleasure, were doing it just the way his dad had taught him. Of course, Indy had practiced for months until he could do it without actually having to say it. He looked down at the broom and summoned it up into his hand.

The wood fit perfectly into the curve of his hand, and he mounted it with a grin on his face, pushing off gently to hover about ten feet off the ground. This, this was perfect!

He grinned at the student nearest him. "I can't wait until we can do more than just hover."

0 Indy Choudhry Flying and lesson should not be in the same sentence. 0 Indy Choudhry 0 5

Daniel "Nate" Nash

December 16, 2008 8:30 PM

I think I might need the lesson part by Daniel "Nate" Nash

Flying lessons, from what Daniel understood from Holly was half homage to a sport she could care less about and half gym class. Despite the fact she hated both of those things, she had voluntarily taken it as an optional class during her second year because, she claimed, it was as close to riding a horse as she could get at Sonora. She had decided against rejoining it for her third, and for that, Daniel was grateful.

He had spent an undue amount of time looking into his closet to decide what to wear. Gym, sports, or horseback riding suggested to him that perhaps his finely tailored robes were not his best option and he might want to go with something less likely to get him tangled up. He enjoyed riding a bike but doubted he could handle even that familiar activity wearing school robes. His tie and the rest of his old school uniform from North Hollywood Academy was definitely out.

Unfortunately, that cut out the majority of his options, leaving him only with some clothes that more rightly belonged to Nate Bealer than Danny Nash. But wardrobe had let him take the clothes home and he'd worn them around both his homes and the Greers' when more informal wear was called for, so he figured he could do the same here at Sonora.

Deciding on the dark green sweatsuit Nate had worn for a gym class scene, Danny put it on and hoped nobody would ask where Harrison Hayes Middle School was. He also hoped Ashley - no, Taylor, her name was Taylor. He hoped Taylor wouldn't laugh. He was pretty sure she'd been in that scene, too, and had worn a nearly identical set of Harrison Hayes gym clothes. He wondered if she got to keep hers, and if she had, did she sell them on eBay or burn them? Taylor didn't seem the type that would have planned to wear them again. Maybe her mom encased them in glass for posterity.

He didn't bother styling his hair either. He figured it would just be wasted effort since it was likely to get messed up if he did any sort of real broom flying. So he just ran a comb through it and otherwise left it alone. The full effect, he saw as he checked himself out in the mirror, was that he looked more like Nate Bealer than he had since leaving the set. With a shrug and a sigh and the conscious decision that he didn't care, he headed down to the pitch. It was probably better to be Nate than Daniel for this particular class anyway.

As he stood among his classmates, listening to Professor Fawcett go over the ground (air?) rules, he found himself
standing like Nate stood, fidgeting like Nate fidgeted, and otherwise acting like Nate acted. He blamed the fact that the class introduction had the same feel as the beginning of that gym scene, which was to say, he was standing with a bunch of kids he barely knew but who were supposed to be his peers and classmates while a grown-up droned on in the foreground.

Except there were no cameras, mike booms, or lights.

Huh. This was real. Daniel had never before realized how surreal real could be. When he'd been filming this scene, he'd never imagined he'd ever actually experience it.

Fortunately, the eerieness was shattered when they were instructed to line up next to a broom on which they would soon be flying. This, Nate had never done, and Daniel was relieved by that.

He picked one that didn't look ridiculously old and put his right hand out over it. "Up," he said, feeling like a fool. He was instructing a piece of wood to defy gravity and he wasn't even holding his wand. Given the copious evidence, he could accept that magic was indeed real, but surely there were rules about needing to use the appropriate props - like wands - for it to work.

The boy standing next to him had no difficulty getting his to rise to his hand and he hadn't even said the word. Daniel's broom didn't so much as twitch.

While Daniel tried again with equally abysmal results, the other boy lifted up into the air as if it were as easy as breathing.

"I can't wait until we can do more than just hover."

Daniel snorted. "I'd be happy if I could manage the hover," he groused, irritated with himself that it wasn't coming as naturally as some of his other forays into magic. Okay. Daniel and his analytical brain wasn't working. He would try being Nate. Nate was here on the Quidditch Pitch. Daniel's stance changed, became more confident and relaxed. Nate was good at sports. Nate didn't over analyze things. Nate knew what was supposed to happen and had seen it work. Plus, he had the benefit of a script on his side so he knew what he was supposed to say and what was supposed to happen after he did.

Nate held out his right hand over the broom and commanded, "Up!"

Daniel was shocked when the broom rose about a foot into the air before falling back down to the ground. He blinked at it for a few seconds. "I can't believe that actually worked," he said incredulously, not sure if he meant the magic without the benefit of a wand or the psychological chicanery to get around his mental block.

1 Daniel "Nate" Nash I think I might need the lesson part 130 Daniel "Nate" Nash 0 5

Indy Choudhry

December 20, 2008 3:33 PM

We can work on that. by Indy Choudhry

The kid next to him seemed to be having some trouble. Indy dropped out of the hover and swung off the broom, holding it with the bristles up and the end in the ground, half-leaning on it. He brushed a shaggy lock of blue-black hair out of his face as the other boy managed to summon his broom from the ground for a moment. "I can't believe that actually worked."

Indy grinned at him. "Good job! Yeah, it's pretty frogging awesome the first time. And you picked it up pretty fast. It took me a while when my dad first taught me," he admitted. Hey, he wasn't ashamed! It may have taken him an hour or two to get the broom to hover, but he'd come leaps and bounds since then, and he loved it. His dark gray eyes were bright with the love of flying.

He shifted his weight, hugging his own broom against his chest and resting his cheek against he bristles. "Go on, try it again! It probably only fell because you were surprised. This time you won't be." He grinned.

0 Indy Choudhry We can work on that. 0 Indy Choudhry 0 5

Adelita Garcia (Crotalus)

December 20, 2008 7:42 PM

I prefer to stay on the ground. by Adelita Garcia (Crotalus)

Of all the classes that Adelita was being subjected to in her first year of learning, Adelita had to say that flying lessons were her most nerve-wracking and the class she was least looking forward too. Adelita had no desire to learn how to fly. She hated flying. Her dad used to take her on a broom around her Great Grand Papa's country home in Spain where they had so much land that no one could see them, but Adelita always started to cry when he got to high.

And now, the idea of being on a broom made Adelita queasy.

Standing with the rest of her class, Adelita casually wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans. This was the first time she had worn jeans to any of her lessons. Although this was her first flying lesson and appearances were still very important, Adelita wasn't about to try out a broom in a skirt. Even she was smarter than that. She had already had a bunch of issues in her other classes while wearing a skirt (although meeting Nathaniel had been fun, Adelita had to sit on a floor and crawl into a tent wearing her skirt) and she definitely did not want to have any problems or fears on top of her already having fears of her flying lessons.

Adelita had heard about the Quidditch Coach from her relatives. Tio Jake enjoyed Coach Fox, but that was because they had shared a passion in the sport. Tia Izzy liked Coach Fox because she was a strong female. Tio Jose respected Coach Fox, but that was all he ever mentioned about her. And Tio Mateo, well… Adelita wouldn't repeat what he had to say about the Coach. So, Adelita had hopes that although she would be forced into the sky on a stick that she would at least like the professor. Only, it wasn't Coach Fox. It was the substitute. She couldn't remember his name, just his face, but she remembered Tio Jose explaining to her what his role was. Which made her wonder where exactly Coach Fox was.

But, more important things were going on and Adelita was sure to pay as close attention to …the substitute (she would have to ask Charlie if she remembered what his name was) as an eleven year old girl could. She didn’t want to mess up and break her neck by falling off her broom. The showing off part would never be an issue for Adelita in this class. Much like the idea of playing with a killing plant in Defense Against the Dark Arts had little excitement for her, playing around on a broom was not something Adelita really felt the need to do.

As the lesson began, Adelita reluctantly stood beside an old school broom. Having grown up with magic, Adelita was aware that the broom was more than capable of holding her in the air, but that didn’t stop her from looking doubtfully down at it while the professor explained what they would need to do. She really did not want to learn how to fly, which was funny since she was learning how to leap high into the air. Somehow, flying while dancing was acceptable. Flying on a broom was not.

“Up.” Adelita stated rather hesitantly after they were told to begin the lesson. The broom did nothing more than wiggle on the ground. “Up.” She said again, but the same results occurred. A frown formed in the corners of her mouth as she saw better results from those around her. As much as she didn’t like flying, she hated failing even more. “Up!” She commanded more loudly than before and although the broom lifted from the ground, it wasn’t to the height she needed or long enough to do anything about it. “Up you stupid broom!” Letting the anger get the better of her, Adelita’s broom flew quickly into the air and smacked hard against her fingers.

Adelita squeeled in pain when the broom made contact, and held her now numb fingers to her while she tried to calm down in hopes of not crying. The last thing she needed was to be seen as a cry baby. But that hurt. Looking at her hand, her fingers were bright red and throbbing. Giving the broom a death glare, Adelita climbed onto the thin wood and gently kicked off the ground to raise into the air. She felt her stomach drop the moment her feet left the ground. Her hands clenched the wood so tightly she thought for sure she would get splinters.

Oh she did not like this. She did not like this at all. “I want down now, please.” Adelita said into the air. She closed her eyes for a moment, but realized that it only made her stomach feel even more worse. “How do I get down? Please, I want down now. I don’t like this. Let me down now!” She was pleading now and she could hear it in her voice, but she didn’t care. She wanted back on the ground. Now.

0 Adelita Garcia (Crotalus) I prefer to stay on the ground. 0 Adelita Garcia (Crotalus) 0 5

Quentin Melcher

December 21, 2008 1:04 AM

A question I've always wanted to ask (Tag Professor) by Quentin Melcher

If there was one class Quentin had less enthusiasm about than others, it was flying. He had no intentions of ever playing Quidditch and there were many other ways to travel. The main issue, however, was it just wasn't intellectual. It was one thing to study the theories in the academic classes, then perform spells. That was practical, useful. Flying was not.

He would still try his best however. His father would be none too pleased if Quentin got less than an Acceptable in anything, even flying. Melchers did not get low grades, according to his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather.

His whole argument to that statement that they didn't was that yes, it could happen and had.Quentin would bet anything that his uncle Jethro had gotten more than his fair share and wouldn't have a problem with his daughter, Quentin's first cousin, Kirstenna, bringing home a less than wonderful report card when she got to Sonora. The response was that they did not want him to and would be quite displeased if he did. Quentin knew it would embarass them greatly what with their reputations as educators if he got poor grades, but seriously, they should not have phrased the demand in such a way. Melchers had indeed got less than Acceptables in the past. Such an inaccurate statement irritated him.

Quentin turned his attention to the lesson at hand. He would be sure to show up on time and listen to his instructor. After all, how could he learn anything if he didn't? Even if Quentin did find learning how to fly basically pointless, it could still be considered learning for learning's sake.

He placed his broom on the ground, put his wand arm over it and said "Up" as instructed. Five tries later, Quentin's broom was hovering in the air. He looked at it, about to mount it, when he frowned. He raised his hand. "Professor Fawcett,um..." Quentin wasn't sure how to best phrase this question without getting kicked out of class and there were just certain words he didn't want to say in mixed company. "Wouldn't sitting on a broom be, well, uncomfortable for guys? You know, having it, knocking against....well, what's down there."

11 Quentin Melcher A question I've always wanted to ask (Tag Professor) 129 Quentin Melcher 0 5

Professor Fawcett

January 02, 2009 2:15 PM

Only one? by Professor Fawcett

Because he had taught them all Transfiguration, John could put together names and faces for this class. With most, it was all the information he could, if asked, offer up about them. Only a few had the personality or, at this point, an impressive enough record to stand out. Quentin Melcher was one of those few.

He suspected he was not alone in so categorizing Quentin. A proclivity for gossip ran in his family, and he'd heard the story about Mr. Melcher and Professor Flatt. Because he was fond of the idea of himself as a fair man, he had formed no deliberate opinion, but it was with a certain wariness that he acknowledged the first year's raised hand.

"Yes, Mr. Melcher?" he asked.

At least it was only one question. "Cushioning Charms, Mr. Melcher," he said. "History records they were developed to deal with that...problem." He was a little foggy about the development of Cushioning Charms, but John felt reasonably sure that broomsticks had definitely been part of why they had been developed. When they had gone to England, Allison had forced him to accompany her to the Museum of Quidditch in London, and that had definitely been mentioned. At some point. He thought.

He made a note to look that up when he had the time.

OOC: My apologies for the delay in answering you.

0 Professor Fawcett Only one? 0 Professor Fawcett 0 5

Quentin

January 02, 2009 7:33 PM

Yes, but I probably could come up with more by Quentin

"Thank you, sir" Quentin was pretty relieved that Professor Fawcett had neither yelled at him nor given a detention for what was probably considered borderline inappropriate by most,though Quentin himself felt it was an important question that everyone, particularily males, should know the answer to.

Furthermore, the man had given him pretty satisfactory answer and actually educated him on something. Quentin was also glad that he had actually learned something of value in an otherwise basically worthless class. That was the kind of stuff they should be learning in a class about Flying. It was far more interesting than merely getting on a broom and taking off into the air. Not that that wasn't learning anything at all, it just wasn't anything important. Quentin would much prefer to learn the history of brooms or what made them work or what kind of wood a good broom was made out of. While he wasn't the least bit afraid of flying, he just thought it was a silly waste of time that could be better spent on far more intellectual pursuits.

It wasn't entirely Quentin's fault that he felt this way about non-intellectual pursuits, it was how he had been raised. He came from a family of intellectuals who didn't particularily care about frivolity, though Great-Grandfather had mellowed considerably in his old age. Technically, though, Quentin should say he came from a family made up primarily of those prizing intellectualism. There was still Uncle Jethro, of course, and untold amounts of distant cousins that Quentin had very little idea about.

He gave a small sigh and turned back to his broom, which had now fallen back to the ground during his exchange with Professor Fawcett. Quentin moved his hand over it and tried to get it up. He mounted it and hovered, as instructed.

11 Quentin Yes, but I probably could come up with more 129 Quentin 0 5

Pippa Brockert

January 05, 2009 6:42 PM

gulps by Pippa Brockert

Despite being a pureblood, Pippa had never been on a broom in her life and had never truly wanted to. Her mom said flying was dangerous and her grandmother said it wasn't ladylike. Pippa was far more worried about the former than the latter. Not that she wanted to let down her grandmother either, but Pippa wasn't one of those pureblood girls who was into the old-fashioned ways of acting proper and perfect. She didn't care one bit about bloodlines really. It just sort of happened that her interests and demeanor lent themselves well to be more what was considered socially acceptable. She was quiet and never talked back. Her interests were more of the indoor quiet sitting down variety rather than the rough and tumble sort. Pippa would much prefer needlework, an old-fashioned "proper" activity which also went well with her love of arts and crafts to Quidditch which she was quite frankly scared to death of, more because of the fact that bludgers would be flying at her than even the flying.

Still, Pippa would listen to Professor Fawcett and do exactly as he instructed, whether she liked it or not, whether it was dangerous or not. Pippa would be in far more trouble if she didn't listen and do her work than anything else. Besides, the school wouldn't make it mandatory if it there were not safety precautions in place. She was not in the least bit likely to show off, because Pippa never did and she was unlikely to even have much to show off.

Still, she couldn't help feeling apprehensive. Pippa eyed the broom warily. She placed her hand over it and said "Up." It didn't go up immediately and she wasn't all that surprised. Professor Fawcett had said it might take several attempts. Plus, there was a fair amount of fear in her voice. Pippa wasn't entirely sure that she wanted it to go up, as much as she didn't want to get poor grades and upset her parents, she didn't want to have to get on it either.

11 Pippa Brockert *gulps* 132 Pippa Brockert 0 5

Ethan and Elliot Valentine

January 07, 2009 4:07 AM

Flying!!!!! by Ethan and Elliot Valentine

There was nothing Ethan and Elliot were looking forward to more than flying lessons. They already knew how to fly, thanks to constantly bugging Earl to teach them. Granted they never got to fly more than five feet in the air before their father yelled at them. They lived in a muggle neighborhood and the orange trees and camellia bushes only grew so tall.

Earl had also taught them the rules to Quidditch and that they were going to be learning from former Heliopaths beater, Amy Fox. So they were particularly disappointed when there was a substitute instead, who didn't even explain why Coach Fox wasn't there. So, their experience was tainted.

"Great. The transfiguration professor is teaching flying? Was he, like, a former Quidditch player?" Elliot just shrugged at his brother's rant as they each stood next a grounded broom.

"Hey, Earl never taught us this," Elliot said, after Professor Fawcett told them how to get the broom off the ground. Ethan shrugged, but grinned confidently. "Up!" he said and the school broom he was standing next to jumps up and smacks him in the hand hard. Ethan grimaced and stuck two fingers into his mouth, hissing through his teeth in pain. Elliot suppressed his laughter as long as he could before snorting in laughter. Ethan sent him a dirty glare and just picked his broom off the ground.

Elliot calmed down and tried it himself, managing it perfectly in two tries and joined his brother in the air where they floated just above the ground. Elliot sighed and flipped himself upside down so that his hair was brushing the blades of grass. Ethan snuck up behind and whacked Elliot's broom with his own. Elliot swore and fell to the ground.

"Oh you're goin' down!" he said as he chased after his broom, which had begun to drift away.

0 Ethan and Elliot Valentine Flying!!!!! 0 Ethan and Elliot Valentine 0 5