(no subject)
Nov. 18th, 2012 09:13 pmFirst parents' evening. Brooke isn't nervous. Sure, her previous parents' evenings have gone pretty badly, but it doesn't particularly bother her. Mum and Dad have refused to be resigned to her poor performance, so there's usually long and boring consequences.
They queue for Mrs Samson, her form tutor. Some of the other girls give her a grin as they pass back through the queue, knowing she's probably in for a roasting. But it's not a mean grin; she may not be in the 'official popular girls' group, but she's confident that she's well liked by most of the others. And that's far more important than happy teachers.
"I'll get to the point." Mrs Samson says, when they sit down. "Brooklyn is clearly very bright, but she's got quite an attitude. You might think it's funny, Brooklyn, but it isn't."
"What do you mean, an 'attitude'?" Brooke asks. "When have you ever found anything you could actually punish me for?"
"There have been several incidents of cheekiness with staff, and your attitude to classwork is one of minimal effort, one we don't expect of a scholarship student."
Brooke is about to respond that she didn't ask them to give her a scholarship, she just happened to score a hundred percent on every paper. But Dad shoots her a warning look.
"I'm afraid there have also been allegations of cheating." Mrs Samson says.
Now Brooke sits up. "Who accused me of cheating? On what evidence?"
"Well, you get one mark more than the minimum on every single piece of homework, and between ninety five and a hundred on every test." Mrs Samson says. "Some of the teachers find this suspicious that you are copying from your sisters' old work."
Brooke gives her a long stare.
"You have to answer that Brooke." Mum says.
"Have you met my sisters?" Brooke asks her form tutor. "I'm hardly going to copy from Coral, she's severely dyslexic. Nor am I going to copy from Rahne, who learned most of her primary school work from a man with an undiagnosed brain tumour. She has an entire notebook about 'Henry the ninth'."
"I've not seen any evidence that Brooke is copying." Mum says. "I supervise the girls' homework."
"Brooke, are you getting the minimum mark on purpose?" Dad asks, perceptively.
"Well why waste time doing every question when I can pass with seventy and go out and practice karate?" Brooke asks.
Now it is Mrs Samson's turn to stare.
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." she says. "But if that's the way you want to play it, I shall instruct all of your teachers to increase your minimum pass mark on homework to ninety percent."
"Wait, that's not fair! You can't do that." Brooke says.
"Sure I can. You are one of my brightest students, Brooklyn Sandhu, and I am not giving up on you."
Brooke pouts, realising that she has just talked her way into being outsmarted by a teacher.
They queue for Mrs Samson, her form tutor. Some of the other girls give her a grin as they pass back through the queue, knowing she's probably in for a roasting. But it's not a mean grin; she may not be in the 'official popular girls' group, but she's confident that she's well liked by most of the others. And that's far more important than happy teachers.
"I'll get to the point." Mrs Samson says, when they sit down. "Brooklyn is clearly very bright, but she's got quite an attitude. You might think it's funny, Brooklyn, but it isn't."
"What do you mean, an 'attitude'?" Brooke asks. "When have you ever found anything you could actually punish me for?"
"There have been several incidents of cheekiness with staff, and your attitude to classwork is one of minimal effort, one we don't expect of a scholarship student."
Brooke is about to respond that she didn't ask them to give her a scholarship, she just happened to score a hundred percent on every paper. But Dad shoots her a warning look.
"I'm afraid there have also been allegations of cheating." Mrs Samson says.
Now Brooke sits up. "Who accused me of cheating? On what evidence?"
"Well, you get one mark more than the minimum on every single piece of homework, and between ninety five and a hundred on every test." Mrs Samson says. "Some of the teachers find this suspicious that you are copying from your sisters' old work."
Brooke gives her a long stare.
"You have to answer that Brooke." Mum says.
"Have you met my sisters?" Brooke asks her form tutor. "I'm hardly going to copy from Coral, she's severely dyslexic. Nor am I going to copy from Rahne, who learned most of her primary school work from a man with an undiagnosed brain tumour. She has an entire notebook about 'Henry the ninth'."
"I've not seen any evidence that Brooke is copying." Mum says. "I supervise the girls' homework."
"Brooke, are you getting the minimum mark on purpose?" Dad asks, perceptively.
"Well why waste time doing every question when I can pass with seventy and go out and practice karate?" Brooke asks.
Now it is Mrs Samson's turn to stare.
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." she says. "But if that's the way you want to play it, I shall instruct all of your teachers to increase your minimum pass mark on homework to ninety percent."
"Wait, that's not fair! You can't do that." Brooke says.
"Sure I can. You are one of my brightest students, Brooklyn Sandhu, and I am not giving up on you."
Brooke pouts, realising that she has just talked her way into being outsmarted by a teacher.