(no subject)
Jul. 19th, 2016 09:43 pm"I could do that." Fry says, watching TV. "I could learn all the railway stations in an hour easily."
Mum raises an eyebrow. She hadn't planned to let Fry watch the 'Child Genius' television competition, although he wanted to see what George and her older sister Gemma were auditioning for next term, but had given in because it was distracting him from the heat.
"I'm sure you could memorise the stations." she says eventually. "And you'd do well in the maths. But to do well in Child Genius, you have to be good at everything, like spelling and English literature and general knowledge."
"Can I try it though?" Fry asks, looking round.
"You won't be old enough." Mum says. "You won't be eight by September. So why don't you see how George and Gemma find it first?"
Fry looks back at the television hopefully. That wasn't a no.
"I don't mind so much if it helps you be more rounded." Mum adds. "And so long as you're not going to get upset if you don't get very far, because there will be a lot of other very clever children there. But these television shows can make children look... a bit weird, and you might not like how you get shown on television."
***
The next day, at school for the last day of term, he goes to find George and ask what she made of it. She shrugs, casually.
"I'm not scared, I have ages to revise. Why, are you entering?"
"If I do, I can't enter until next year." Fry says. "Because I won't be eight in time. But I don't know yet."
As he goes off, George watches after him thoughtfully. If she enters this year, with Gemma, Gemma will definitely beat her. If she waits until next year, there's a good chance that she'll beat Fry, and that would be very satisfying indeed. She makes a mental note to tell her mum to let her go in for it next year instead.
The last day is, as usual, noisy and chaotic with everyone playing games. Mr Irons sits quietly at the front of the classroom, avoiding the chaos. Fry spends most of the day in the resources room, watching the fish tank.
Eventually, Mr Irons comes out to join him, and beckons him through to Miss Havisham's classroom.
"She's taken her class outside." he says, getting out a roll of paper. "So I took the opportunity to bring you in and get you orientated."
"This is my seat?" Fry asks, pointing to the one he was in before.
"No." Mr Irons says. "You will be starting off here." he points to the next seat along. "Xiao is joining your class, and she will be sitting in the seat next to Miss Havisham, then you, then Pixie. Most of the rest are the same."
Fry comes to look at the roll of paper. On it is a map of who is sitting where.
"Now Fry." Mr Irons crouches down next to him. "Miss Havisham's approach to seating is not like mine. She will move people around, and she will move them around often, and without warning." he pauses, and then adds. "This year you have learned to deal with predicted changes, where you sit and who with. I can tell you some clues as to how to predict when Miss Havisham will move you, but it would be better if you don't tell the other children if possible."
"Okay." Fry says, wondering where this is going.
"Miss Havisham has a bad back." Mr Irons says. "That's not a secret, she will tell you at some point, but she doesn't complain much. It doesn't bother her so much when she walks around, but it does hurt when she gets up and down, so she doesn't move around the classroom more than she can help. She moves you, instead.
"Now, look at the diagram. What do you see?"
Fry looks at the map. A few seconds later back at his teacher.
"All the smart kids are on my table, except George, who got moved because we were fighting." he says.
"Wrong." Mr Irons says. "You're seated with people who need similar help, there's a difference. The reason you see this as a 'smart table' is that you're mostly sitting with the other kids who find English harder than maths, and you are used to thinking of maths people as smart."
"Oh." Fry nods. "Okay."
"When you are doing something you find hard, and someone across the room also finds it hard, you might get moved next to them for that bit of the lesson." Mr Irons says. "So that Miss Havisham doesn't have to keep getting up and down going between you saying the same thing twice."
"Why can't I tell the others?" Fry asks.
"Well." Mr Irons says. "It could be misinterpreted as something called 'streaming' - exactly the conclusion you first came to actually, that you are being divided up by how smart you are. And that sort of thing is not allowed, because it's not fair. Also, if you go around calling it the smart table, people will get cross with you."
Fry nods. That kind of makes sense.
"Mr Irons? Will you still explain things to me next year?" he asks.
"Of course." Mr Irons says. "I'll still be your special ed teacher, and we'll still have one-to-one once a week."
Fry looks at the table. Today is hard, because it's not goodbye, but it's a change. It's a time to say thank you for the past but it isn't over either.
Mum had suggested they get Mr Irons some chocolate or a card, but that hadn't seemed quite right. Instead, he digs into his pocket, pulls out the top he spins on the desk to calm down, and hands it to his teacher.
"You want me to spin it for you?" Mr Irons asks.
"No. I want you to have it." Fry says.
Mr Irons looks at the top, then at him, and then smiles the little smile he does when he's very pleased.
"Thank you Fry."
Mum raises an eyebrow. She hadn't planned to let Fry watch the 'Child Genius' television competition, although he wanted to see what George and her older sister Gemma were auditioning for next term, but had given in because it was distracting him from the heat.
"I'm sure you could memorise the stations." she says eventually. "And you'd do well in the maths. But to do well in Child Genius, you have to be good at everything, like spelling and English literature and general knowledge."
"Can I try it though?" Fry asks, looking round.
"You won't be old enough." Mum says. "You won't be eight by September. So why don't you see how George and Gemma find it first?"
Fry looks back at the television hopefully. That wasn't a no.
"I don't mind so much if it helps you be more rounded." Mum adds. "And so long as you're not going to get upset if you don't get very far, because there will be a lot of other very clever children there. But these television shows can make children look... a bit weird, and you might not like how you get shown on television."
***
The next day, at school for the last day of term, he goes to find George and ask what she made of it. She shrugs, casually.
"I'm not scared, I have ages to revise. Why, are you entering?"
"If I do, I can't enter until next year." Fry says. "Because I won't be eight in time. But I don't know yet."
As he goes off, George watches after him thoughtfully. If she enters this year, with Gemma, Gemma will definitely beat her. If she waits until next year, there's a good chance that she'll beat Fry, and that would be very satisfying indeed. She makes a mental note to tell her mum to let her go in for it next year instead.
The last day is, as usual, noisy and chaotic with everyone playing games. Mr Irons sits quietly at the front of the classroom, avoiding the chaos. Fry spends most of the day in the resources room, watching the fish tank.
Eventually, Mr Irons comes out to join him, and beckons him through to Miss Havisham's classroom.
"She's taken her class outside." he says, getting out a roll of paper. "So I took the opportunity to bring you in and get you orientated."
"This is my seat?" Fry asks, pointing to the one he was in before.
"No." Mr Irons says. "You will be starting off here." he points to the next seat along. "Xiao is joining your class, and she will be sitting in the seat next to Miss Havisham, then you, then Pixie. Most of the rest are the same."
Fry comes to look at the roll of paper. On it is a map of who is sitting where.
"Now Fry." Mr Irons crouches down next to him. "Miss Havisham's approach to seating is not like mine. She will move people around, and she will move them around often, and without warning." he pauses, and then adds. "This year you have learned to deal with predicted changes, where you sit and who with. I can tell you some clues as to how to predict when Miss Havisham will move you, but it would be better if you don't tell the other children if possible."
"Okay." Fry says, wondering where this is going.
"Miss Havisham has a bad back." Mr Irons says. "That's not a secret, she will tell you at some point, but she doesn't complain much. It doesn't bother her so much when she walks around, but it does hurt when she gets up and down, so she doesn't move around the classroom more than she can help. She moves you, instead.
"Now, look at the diagram. What do you see?"
Fry looks at the map. A few seconds later back at his teacher.
"All the smart kids are on my table, except George, who got moved because we were fighting." he says.
"Wrong." Mr Irons says. "You're seated with people who need similar help, there's a difference. The reason you see this as a 'smart table' is that you're mostly sitting with the other kids who find English harder than maths, and you are used to thinking of maths people as smart."
"Oh." Fry nods. "Okay."
"When you are doing something you find hard, and someone across the room also finds it hard, you might get moved next to them for that bit of the lesson." Mr Irons says. "So that Miss Havisham doesn't have to keep getting up and down going between you saying the same thing twice."
"Why can't I tell the others?" Fry asks.
"Well." Mr Irons says. "It could be misinterpreted as something called 'streaming' - exactly the conclusion you first came to actually, that you are being divided up by how smart you are. And that sort of thing is not allowed, because it's not fair. Also, if you go around calling it the smart table, people will get cross with you."
Fry nods. That kind of makes sense.
"Mr Irons? Will you still explain things to me next year?" he asks.
"Of course." Mr Irons says. "I'll still be your special ed teacher, and we'll still have one-to-one once a week."
Fry looks at the table. Today is hard, because it's not goodbye, but it's a change. It's a time to say thank you for the past but it isn't over either.
Mum had suggested they get Mr Irons some chocolate or a card, but that hadn't seemed quite right. Instead, he digs into his pocket, pulls out the top he spins on the desk to calm down, and hands it to his teacher.
"You want me to spin it for you?" Mr Irons asks.
"No. I want you to have it." Fry says.
Mr Irons looks at the top, then at him, and then smiles the little smile he does when he's very pleased.
"Thank you Fry."