Professor Danielle Holland

June 30, 2009 5:35 PM
Danielle Holland was terrified. Absolutely, positively, knee-knockingly terrified. They never mentioned this during college. She'd graduated with honors, as befits a Compia and Terrigena, and she'd been so proud when her application for a teaching position had produced results at the sixth school she'd sent it to. But it wasn't until right now, standing in front of an empty classroom filled with empty seats, twenty minutes before her first class was supposed to begin that the butterflies hit with a vengeance.

She wasn't sure if helped or made it worse, knowing that Headmistress - no, Professor, Professor now - Professor Skies was in the room next door, teaching the RATS level class. Danielle was only responsible for the younger years, and only temporarily. She wasn't surprised the school was looking for someone with a little more experience, someone who'd been out of school for a little more than four months, but until such a person could be found, she had a job here at Sonora.

She wrote her name on the board, Danielle Holland, looked at it, then added Professor in front of it. Then she stepped back and looked at it again. How very very strange.

A noise at the door caught her attention and she saw the first of the early arrivals entering the room. She gave the child a reassuring smile, feeling her own butterflies settle at the sight of one of the actual students. They were just children; eleven- and twelve-year-olds in this class. Nothing to be frightened by. She had over ten years on all of them, and though only five one, she should still have height on these guys.

And it wasn't as though she'd never taught before. She'd been all but in charge of the younger classes for Professor Dobb's Theory of Magic at Salem, and she'd been the instructor for Kris's 'independent study' Math course. Plus, Kris had needed tutoring in every subject Salem offered so even today's lesson wasn't new material for her. And those were all before she had a college teaching degree to back her up. After teaching the king of ADHD, a classroom full of first and second years was going to be easy.

Beneath her name, she added, Beginning Transfiguration so the arriving students would know they were in the right place.

Once the chairs were full, she looked out on the sea of young face and smiled. "Hello, everyone. You should all be first and second years, here for Beginning Transfiguration. I am Professor Holland." She paused a moment, to get over that introduction. She was entitled to it, but that did not mean she was used to the sound of it. If she'd had any doubts before, she was now officially grown up. "I will be teaching this class until the school finds a permanent Transfiguration teacher."

"Transfiguration is one of the most difficult disciplines of magic that there is. In this class, you will literally be turning one thing into something else. Obviously, at your level this will not be permanent, but by the end of this class period, most of you will have changed enough of a toothpick's physical characteristics enough that anybody looking at it would have to call it a needle."

She'd been taught using a match instead of a toothpick, but after trying that with Kris, she'd decided the potential for fire was best avoided all together, especially with such a significantly larger class size.

She picked up the box of toothpicks on her desk and started walking up and down the aisles of desks, giving each student three toothpicks. She continued to talk as she did this. "When you get your toothpick, you'll notice that it is made of wood, that it's flat with a rounded top end and pointed bottom end, and that it's about three inches long."

"A needle is made of metal, it's round with a hole for the thread on the top end and a pointed bottom end, and it can be about three inches long. When transfiguring one thing into another, it's important to keep a clear mental picture of both what you have and what you want to have, and what has to change to get from one to the other. That is perhaps even more important than the spell word and wand movements, though, as in Charms, those are what trigger the transfiguration to occur. I'll go over those momentarily."

"This particular lesson is often used for beginner classes because needles and toothpicks do have such similar shapes. It is one less thing you need to change. I realize some of you are second years, and this is probably a great deal of review for you, so if you'd like a greater challenge, you can transfigure your toothpicks into smaller needles, about an inch long."

Reaching the last student and giving him his three toothpicks, she returned to the front of the room and placed the almost empty box back on her desk. "I gave each of you three toothpicks. I only expect one needle at the end of the class, but in case you break one, lose one, or get stuck with a partial transfiguration, you have a couple spares. I have a few more if you need them, but hopefully three should be enough."

Her brown eyes narrowed, "I don't want to see anyone throwing them around. Transfiguration can be a very dangerous class, so I will not tolerate anyone messing around." Kris, her own dear and favorite cousin, had called her a Nazi while she was tutoring him, so she felt little qualms about enforcing an equal strictness on this larger class.

She gave them another few moments of her warning glare, before she drew her wand and held up one of the toothpicks. "The wand motion you'll be using looks like this." She moved her wand point downwards at a diagonal and finished with a flick of her wrist that brought the wand tip back to its original position. "The spell you'll use is Myxanti Nere."

The syllables were foreign and she could see that on some of the faces of the students. She spelled it out on the board then repeated it more slowly, drawing a line under each separate syllable as she said them. "Mix Ann Tea Nair. Emphasis on second syllable, please." She darkened the underline under the 'an' then repeated it all together again, "Myxanti Nere."

"Then you'd put them together." She dropped her wandtip diagonally toward the toothpick, cast, "Myxanti Nere," and flicked the tip back up. The needle held between her fingers gleamed in the sunlight slanting in through the open windows of the classroom.

"Now each of you can try. Feel free to - quietly - discuss your work with your neighbor if you're having trouble. I'm also right here if you have any questions. Raise your hand when you're finished so I can mark you off as a pass. If you don't have a needle by the end of the period, I'll see how far you did get and grade you accordingly. It doesn't have to be perfect - in fact, I'd be surprised if it was - but I'd like to see some change from the wooden toothpick."


OOC: You should all have the idea of how this works now. Standard posting rules apply. Keep all posts to a ten sentence minimum. Be detailed, be creative, have fun. Also, don't feel obligated to successfully complete the assignment; transfigurations are hard. Happy posting!
Subthreads:
1 Professor Danielle Holland Years 1 & 2: Beginning Transfiguration 0 Professor Danielle Holland 1 5

Marissa Stephenson

July 23, 2009 10:49 PM
During her first class at Sonora, Marissa had learned about the difficulties Sonora had with getting and keeping people to teach Transfiguration. The foreword of her textbook also warned that Transfiguration was the most difficult and most dangerous branch of magic, at least in the opinion of quite a few well-educated people. She had passed the stacks given over to it in the library as well, and most of the books in there were thicker than her hand was long and had titles so long she lost track of them.

With all of these facts before her, Marissa was absolutely terrified of Transfiguration. Reading, her favorite way of dispelling the myths about things, had not helped; all she got from books on this topic was a litany of ways that she could fail. As she entered the classroom, her eyes far too wide and her face paler than usual, she felt as if she was about to meet her executioner.

What made it worse was not knowing if, in a way, she was.

In the face of all this doom imagery, the witch in front of the room came as a total shock. She wasn't that much taller than Marissa herself, and looked very...young, at least for a teacher. She managed to find a tiny smile as, books still held tight against her chest, she took a seat. Not quite as crowd-winning as usual - there was an art to getting teacher approval, and desperate anxiety had no part in it - but better than throwing up on the floor, which had occurred to her as a possibility if the new teacher looked mean.

Professor Holland. Like the country. That was easy. It was a bit of a letdown to learn Professor Holland was only the temporary teacher, but since thinking about having to meet another teacher for the Death Class on top of having the difficulty of the subject confirmed was enough to make her feel sick all over again, Marissa decided just not to think about it. Instead, she would think about...turning a toothpick into a needle, apparently. Odd topic, but better than the alternative.

Her hands were still a knot under her desk by the time her three toothpicks were placed on its surface. Her mind felt blank and fuzzy as she stared at them. There was no way on earth she could do this. No way. It was going to go wrong. It wasn't going to go anywhere at all. After the way she'd performed in Charms the day before, she was surprised that Headmistress Powell hadn't realized letting Marissa in was a mistake yet, and this lesson was just going to prove it, and...

...And she had to do this. Right now. She could fall down crying or having a panic attack later, on her own time. A constant of all teachers was that they didn't really care what she did on her own time, so long as she did what was expected of her in their presence. Marissa shook her head slightly, trying to clear it.

The visualization trick was key to it. That was good. She'd always been able to see pictures in her head before she put them to paper in her art classes, and that was the way that she was going to think of this.

The thought actually calmed her down a little. It made the subject less intimidating. It almost made it sound...good, though that wasn't quite the word she was looking for. The first thing she had thought of when she'd heard that magic was real was making what she could imagine real, and that, it seemed, was what Transfiguration offered.

If she could just make the magic part work, she thought she might like this class.

Ignoring how stupid it might look, she practiced saying the two bizarre words that were supposed to make the tiny piece of wood turn into a tiny piece of metal. She wanted them to come out exactly right, down to the precise intonations of Professor Holland and the right placement of stress on each syllable. Then she practiced the wand movement with a still-unsharpened pencil, wanting that perfect, too. Once it felt like she had those down, she got to picturing a needle.

Her parents had always been very enthusiastic about getting her and Paige involved in things. They'd both been in dance lessons since they were three, finished an etiquette class, taken music lessons and language classes, and learned basic tennis, though Paige had quickly gone to golf as her sport. Neither of them had stuck with everything their parents had thrown them into - it wouldn't have been possible, timeline-wise - but they'd at least reached basic proficiency in the activity before quitting. Sewing was what Marissa had been, at the advice of a friend of her mother's, working on right before her Sonora letter, and she hadn't decided whether or not to keep it up, but it provided her with a clear picture of a needle to work with.

She held on to that image, doing her best to clear away the attendant pink fabric her mind paired it with. "Myxanti Nere."

Nothing happened.

Her teeth clenched together almost painfully. She'd wanted this to work. "Myxanti Nere," she repeated, putting more force behind both the words and the wand movement. It had no visible result except splitting the toothpick right in half. The sight - the total ridiculousness of it - took a lot of the fight out of her. Maybe she had been right to fear Transfigurations.
16 Marissa Stephenson Here we go... 147 Marissa Stephenson 0 5


Jethro Smythe

July 24, 2009 11:37 AM
There was a queue outside the door of people that Jethro recognised. That was a good sign he was in the right place. He followed the other boys and girls into the classroom, sat at a desk, and even remembered to get his wand, quill, ink and parchment out of his bag. It was proof that one could learn by conditioning; Jethro was getting used to being a student. Of course he hadn't really handled the part where you had to sit and listen to the teacher at the start of each class. He diligently copied her name and the subject off the board onto his parchment, and that was the end of that.

Some time later, the professor put some toothpicks on Jethro's desk. He hadn't eaten recently, and didn't really need a toothpick. Plus there were three of them, so Jethro thought maybe they were for some other purpose. He looked at his neighbors' desks, and they were just leaving the toothpicks alone. For now, Jethro did, too.

A short while later again, the professor made them all say some funny words outloud. Jethro assumed it must be a spell, probably to do with transfiguration, because that was still written up on the board. He even managed to stay on track long enough to pick up his wand and copy the flicky movement they were being shown. Some pale blue feathers came out of the end of his wand on one practise swish, but Jethro ignored them. Mostly. He did pick one up and rub it between his fingers to feel the soft fibres, but he let the rest of them alone to fall to the ground.

When he lost interest in the feather, Jethro turned to talk to the person sitting next to him. "I've met you before," he said. "Marissa," he remembered the name. It didn't occur to him he might not be correct. "Like a snake," he voiced his memory cue out loud, too.
0 Jethro Smythe I've met you before 146 Jethro Smythe 0 5

Marissa

July 24, 2009 1:30 PM
She still had two more toothpicks. Two more chances to get it right. She could work with that. Breaking her first one proved she could do magic, and it couldn't be that much of a leap from doing magic she didn't want to and doing magic she did.

Marissa was swapping the broken toothpick for one of those that remained intact when Jethro, who she'd been too wound up to notice sitting beside her, spoke. She looked at him, confused, for a moment, trying to figure out what on Earth snakes had to do with anything. That was the House mascot, but there was no reason to associate it with her more than anyone else. She also didn't think she was a very venomous person, so...

"Yes," she said uncertainly. "We met the first night here." He was also in all of her classes and shared a common room, but she thought he was referring to when they met, not when they'd just seen each other around.

Belatedly, it occurred to her that he might be making some odd joke. Half her family swore she had no sense of humor, and while she preferred to think of it in different terms, they had a point in noting that she didn't often catch on. People too often failed to make sense in their attempts at wit. Marissa decided to just change the topic. "Not having any luck with yours, either?" she asked, nodding to his three toothpicks. They all seemed unchanged. "I broke my first one."
16 Marissa ...Though you don't know where or when? 147 Marissa 0 5