"Do you want to tell me why you're in my office, Miss Koutolika?" Maisie Gala might consider herself severe and down to earth, but Natalia considered her politely soft. To her, teaching was a job like any other, and science was something you paid someone else to do and eventually new things came out.
It was all very reminiscent of the Old Country to Natalia, really. Hardly worth mentioning.
So, Natalia sat down, and said, bluntly, "Accurately called Professor Lustre's taste garish."
Headmistress Gala paused and blinked. "Surely that cannot have been the only thing."
"Oh, he attempted to give me one of his lectures," Natalia replied. "I've heard worse from better. Doesn't change he'll brighten the minute you glue a shell on a greeting card."
"Miss Koutolika. I cannot condone backtalk to teachers," Headmistress Gala said, looking her square in the eyes.
"I'm sure you won't," Natalia shrugged. They hadn't even made her do pushups yet. This was milquetoast. "It doesn't change the man throws a tantrum every time someone does something not according to his tastes. I had thought them mere rumor before someone else signed me up for this. He goes around demanding every student add glitter and braze foil on."
"Well. Brazing is an appropriate skill to learn for an artist," she replies, with a certain level of tact. "Regardless. I can't just let you run rampant through the campus sassing the faculty on your own say so."
"What do you propose? Two days without lunch? A thirst ban? Ah, perhaps a ceremonial beating--"
"Miss Koutolika. I understand that you are from a land where such things are applauded, but that is beyond the pale!"
"Not applauded," Natalia says, voice in a dangerous tone of anger. "Merely quietly borne."
"... Perhaps you should see a counselor."
"Would we had one," she replies, with fire in her eyes and a firm expression. "But I take your meaning. Go on. What shall it be, to keep me in that class, which I remind you I did not sign up for? What can you possibly put out that I have not already felt?"
"Rather fatalistic of you to say."
"Professor Lustre expects some punishment he may lord over me yet. Perhaps you shall dip me in glue and pour sand on me. He'd like that."
"Please take this seriously!" Natalia saw this as much as begging for mercy from her sense of humor as a genuine plea to understand the consequences. "This is your education."
"I am. The man does not wish to teach. You know my history. You know why, after having experienced one of his tantrums, this scene will repeat until the contest is over or I, or he, are gone."
"... I have a counter-proposal. You still aim to follow through on this contest?"
"I would prefer not to."
"Let me rephrase that: you will follow through on this contest. Because I believe you can express yourself far better than this. If necessary, I will even rent you the pottery room after classes. But you will fire an artwork and you will enter."
"... headmistress?"
"This is your punishment. Make him have to think about disqualifying your work. Because he will. And I will see it for myself."
no subject
It was all very reminiscent of the Old Country to Natalia, really. Hardly worth mentioning.
So, Natalia sat down, and said, bluntly, "Accurately called Professor Lustre's taste garish."
Headmistress Gala paused and blinked. "Surely that cannot have been the only thing."
"Oh, he attempted to give me one of his lectures," Natalia replied. "I've heard worse from better. Doesn't change he'll brighten the minute you glue a shell on a greeting card."
"Miss Koutolika. I cannot condone backtalk to teachers," Headmistress Gala said, looking her square in the eyes.
"I'm sure you won't," Natalia shrugged. They hadn't even made her do pushups yet. This was milquetoast. "It doesn't change the man throws a tantrum every time someone does something not according to his tastes. I had thought them mere rumor before someone else signed me up for this. He goes around demanding every student add glitter and braze foil on."
"Well. Brazing is an appropriate skill to learn for an artist," she replies, with a certain level of tact. "Regardless. I can't just let you run rampant through the campus sassing the faculty on your own say so."
"What do you propose? Two days without lunch? A thirst ban? Ah, perhaps a ceremonial beating--"
"Miss Koutolika. I understand that you are from a land where such things are applauded, but that is beyond the pale!"
"Not applauded," Natalia says, voice in a dangerous tone of anger. "Merely quietly borne."
"... Perhaps you should see a counselor."
"Would we had one," she replies, with fire in her eyes and a firm expression. "But I take your meaning. Go on. What shall it be, to keep me in that class, which I remind you I did not sign up for? What can you possibly put out that I have not already felt?"
"Rather fatalistic of you to say."
"Professor Lustre expects some punishment he may lord over me yet. Perhaps you shall dip me in glue and pour sand on me. He'd like that."
"Please take this seriously!" Natalia saw this as much as begging for mercy from her sense of humor as a genuine plea to understand the consequences. "This is your education."
"I am. The man does not wish to teach. You know my history. You know why, after having experienced one of his tantrums, this scene will repeat until the contest is over or I, or he, are gone."
"... I have a counter-proposal. You still aim to follow through on this contest?"
"I would prefer not to."
"Let me rephrase that: you will follow through on this contest. Because I believe you can express yourself far better than this. If necessary, I will even rent you the pottery room after classes. But you will fire an artwork and you will enter."
"... headmistress?"
"This is your punishment. Make him have to think about disqualifying your work. Because he will. And I will see it for myself."
"... And I will not have to return to his class?"
"Indeed not."
"Done."