Advanced Lesson II (Sixth and Seventh years) on Potions

Professor Fawcett

June 22, 2012 7:30 AM

Advanced Lesson II (Sixth and Seventh years) by Professor Fawcett

There was still a chill in the air outside as John fanned the ink dry on the last graded test before his Advanced class came in, but he expected the weather to turn soon enough, the charms which regulated the school’s weather, keeping it in conditions more suitable for human habitation and the founders’ ideals than the desert was likely to produce naturally, moving toward spring.

It would, he knew, be a hectic time for his students; they would all have their classes to consider, and some form of end-of-the-year testing, and all the usual adolescent dramas to contend with, and this year, they would also have to contribute in some way to the school Concert. For some, this might not be a major obligation, but he suspected that a large number of the students who were already the most over-booked would also be the ones who attempted to juggle major roles. The overachiever mentality was one John more or less expected to see in his Advanced students in particular, and in his House, despite how illogical it was to bite off more than could be easily chewed.

He planned to be as merciful as he could, especially since he was very aware that they all had other classes, but with this group in particular, it was hard to let too many things slide without risking their test scores in his class. He had reduced the number of and length of some of his tests, trusting more to their brewing in class and long-term in-class projects to evaluate them on, but the class was still steadily marching on, covering the specific recipes which were most likely to show up in practical exams and regularly doing practice short answers and having at least a weekly – more often twice-weekly – circle-up to discuss concepts. The best he could do was keep an eye out for any signs that anyone was near breakdown and do what he could to back them away from that edge if anyone approached it.

Today, he feared, some might show some signs of the strain as he took attendance by handing students their papers, the blank side of the last page carefully face-up regardless of how well or poorly the student had done, then went back to his desk as the last of them filed into their seats. “I hope,” he said, “that you will all carefully attend to the notes on the last page and not just your grade there; I’ve included an analysis of which areas of the unit were your strongest, and any specific areas in need of improvement.” Even a small area could lead to a few points on the RATS that would otherwise be left unearned, as he assumed all of his Advanced students knew by now.

“If you have any questions, my door is, as always, open. For the present, however, we have another matter to investigate, one which may come up on some RATS problems if it is a difficult exam year, and that is the matter of dosage for ingested potions. This will be of particular interest for any of you who wish to become Healers, or have a particular interest in poison studies, but which can easily arise in day-to-day matters at home.

“Each pair of you will receive a standard potion recipe,” he said, gesturing to the neat row of papers along the front of his desk. On top of each was a smaller square of paper as well. “This will include notes on quantities of different ingredients which will affect persons of certain heights and weights. You will also receive a description of the person to whom the potion will be administered.” He smiled slightly. “None of them will match your basic recipe,” he added, keeping anyone from getting their hopes up too far only to have them dashed. “Try to work out an equation to figure out how to adjust the potion to your fictional patient, and then get started on the potion.”

He did not expect any astonishing successes today. They would work on this for several days. He did, though, want to see how they did with it, so he’d know how much he needed to lecture over those several days and how much they needed to practice. “Pair up, and then come up,” he ordered them. “I will hand you a packet.” Since otherwise, he suspected half the class would be taken up in fighting over who got what, when none of them could predict that for the exams. John had considered giving certain potions to certain students, to ensure everyone was working at the proper level of challenge, but had decided in the end to make it random. If a student already good at antidotes got the three-year-old who’d gotten into an older sibling’s dried hemlock seeds, so be it. It could happen on the exam, and they would revisit the topic enough that he expected everyone’s needs to be met in the end, so long as they kept up with the homework and supplementary readings. Which, at least in the case of that last part, he was prepared to bet few of them would keep up with completely, but they would do well enough, he thought, by and large, in the end – something he was careful to think most days, he thought ruefully. He supposed certain habits died hard in even old overachievers, and worrying, even with ittle real reason to, was one of them.

Subthreads:

Dear Merlin, I am sorry for however I wronged you by Nic Sawyer, Crotalus

0 Professor Fawcett Advanced Lesson II (Sixth and Seventh years) 0 Professor Fawcett 1 5

Nic Sawyer, Crotalus

June 22, 2012 11:06 PM

Dear Merlin, I am sorry for however I wronged you by Nic Sawyer, Crotalus

The first half of Nic's sixth year was difficult. He was bright, bright enough that he had learned in elementary school that it wasn't cool to be smart and had therefore endeavored not to be smart. Consequently, he had intentionally tried to get middling grades throughout his first five years, good enough to not get singled out by teachers as a problem, but not so well that he got singled out by teachers or peers as notably intelligent.

Now in RATS level courses, Nic was actually trying to do well because the negative cool points in working at a job doing things that monkeys could do were far more dire than the negative cool points in being smart. People who were smart did not generally get stuck at a miserable job at minimum wage with a sadistic boss (or so television for the rest of their lives. Despite his extra effort, though, he was still getting middling grades. He really wasn't sure how much of it was ingrained habit sabotaging his attempts to do better and how much was a real jump in difficulty.

He spent a larger than ordinary amount of his midterm break going over schoolwork, when he wasn't busy with holiday events or being confused by Eliza's invitation to her party or his paternal grandmother's invitation to come visit her for two weeks during the summer. He still wasn't sure what to do about that one, and he was sure that would be an even more difficult conundrum to solve than anything even Fawcett could throw at him. Maybe he'd ask Eliza what she thought about it next time they found themselves sitting together in the common room.

Returning to school hadn't made anything better, with the Headmistress's announcement that the concert would be mandatory this time. He'd done backstage work with Eliza's play last time around, though, so he thought he could probably pull off something similar again this time. He hadn't minded making set pieces. He just had to find a play that needed some.

Now, though, there was another potions lesson to get through, preferably with enough success that he wouldn't have to worry about making up for it later. He could usually pull off most of the practical work well enough. Dad didn't make very complicated potions, but Nic had helped him for years and years and the basics were called basics for a reason. Even the most complicated potions were made up of the same dozen or so actions the the beginners used. There were just more of them strung together, in quicker succession, with timing and precision becoming more important.

He grimaced a little as they were instructed to partner up, but it didn't come as a surprise. At Sonora, the classes where they were required to work in pairs easily outnumbered the ones where they were allowed to work alone. Turning to the person sitting nearest him - in the back of the room, where he usually sat so his over six feet of height wouldn't block the view of the board for anybody unlucky enough to sit behind him - and asked, in his usual succinct fashion, "Partners?"

1 Nic Sawyer, Crotalus Dear Merlin, I am sorry for however I wronged you 165 Nic Sawyer, Crotalus 0 5