1057. Education, 1
(Armylè)
That evening of winter in the young year 15, their teacher asked to talk to me.
My little world was spinning gently.
I was here to pick them up, but he brought me first beside to have a chat about Prume.
To my surprise, all he was advocating was for her to skip next year and head directly into primary school.
She was young, but she was intelligent. And he talked me through everything she had learnt and absorbed already. He had to teach the entire class at their rhythm, and Prume was standing out too much at this point. She would get bored quickly if she remained in this puddle.
It was time for her to jump into a bigger pond, intellectually.
I was a little worried she might have troubled to adapt with children much bigger than her frail stature still was. But the teacher was convinced she should try.
And he made the painful argument that knowing what her health could be, perhaps it would be best to let her run toward things she liked.
I lost my cheer, but I heard his point.
- She could just try for a while? If she doesn’t fit, she can always come back.
A - Okay... I’ll talk to her.
Thus once we were home, I discussed the topic with them.
Prume swallowed her bowl of medicine before agreeing. She wanted to learn more about writing and counting. A lot more.
She was even eager to show me her progress. She still held her pencil like a dagger, but she did well. I was feeling proud. Elyne was in awe as well.
I helped her adjust her way to hold the tools as if they were brushes, going softer and swifter with the movements. Writing could become smooth as calligraphy.
We took this impromptu evening class to help Elyne catch up too. She wasn’t the last one to show good will too.
Prume was not waiting much though. There were still too many tasty things to learn ahead. I could see her drooling figuratively.
Prume was happy to show me how she understood the relations between units and their levels. From millimetre to centimetre to decimetre to metre, to decametre, hectometre and finally kilometre. She understood well enough there was the same jumping factor between each level, and spoke at great lengths about these, holding a ruler and teaching me all about it. I was listening with a bright smile, enjoying.
She was eager to share already.
And therefore rapidly after it was agreed. Prume was invited in the classes of the year after her, in prevision for her skipping it entirely. Elyne thankfully didn’t feel any jealousy, only happiness to see her sister getting better and smarter.
Although that did mean they would be separated at school from now on. Realising that did make Elyne’s eyes grow a little wider in mute worry for a moment. She mulled it over and because she was such a good girl, she agreed.
Against her selfish desire, for her sister’s best interest, she concurred that Prume should and could.
I hugged them both with numerous kisses to spare, while they still were looking forward to me doing so. As much as loving school, I was somewhat ready for them to grow not wanting it much so in the future.
Thankfully, them being separated at school didn’t prove a problem at all. Their days were busy and they could find each other and me soon after. This went better than I expected honestly.
They could still find each other in recesses and at lunch time anyway. It wasn’t bad to be in different classes. And even my worries were quickly forgotten.
Seeing them go so cheerfully away from me and each other as we reached school, I felt a little older, albeit amusedly. I scratched my head, picking up more grey hear. Oh, woe is me...
~
The sisters went their own ways through the corridors, harbouring bright smiles. Prume entered a room where all the children were far taller than her now. She was small. But they were rather well behaved, and didn’t tease her too much about it. The class was kind to the little plum.
Their professor or teacher was doing her course normally. Prume tried her best to follow. She might have a moment of daze or odd behaviour, but she was doing alright. She was often looking beside instead of where she should be focusing when things became complex.
Amélie, the daughter of my good friend Sam, was the teacher there. It helped.
She managed to understand why Prume was behaving like she didn’t want to look at what was happening sometimes. She was trying to focus on the sounds she was hearing.
Prume was possibly better at understanding an dlearning from listening to someone’s voice than looking at what they wrote or drew.
Amélie and Prume had some little chats at the end of the day, exchanging about things like that.
How hearing worked better sometimes. How old they were, and other topics unrelated to anything. Just kind chatters between open people. I did like children for that. They don’t judge nor care, they just go, say and do. Amélie had the same appreciation for that juvenile freedom.
Prume was more at ease than any of us expected following these more grown up lessons. Even if she wouldn’t get everything right away, she could get enough to keep the rhythm. In the end she would sometimes watch Prume take some of her medicine, before sending her away back home.
From hearsay, between mothers chatting, I heard about it. Amélie had felt a little concerned about the kind of medication Prume had been taking. That was the kind of things given to people after successful transplants to keep them alive longer. Hard to believe it was in the weaning phase as her body got better.
She wasn’t a doctor, but her mother was. And Sam spoke to me about it afterward. She was relieved hearing how Prume was getting better and her medication tapered to gradually go off. We had to plan getting our children to meet and play together as well. They were a good bunch the three of them.
So Prume followed these classes, though getting an odd habit of looking elsewhere or even closing her eyes to focus on listening sometimes. She would get over this intuitive habit over the years.
And of course on every recess, the twins would get together and share their adventures with each other. It was almost more stimulating to live them separately, because they had different ones to combine now. They were having fun and they were happy.
I was also relieved hearing how everything was going well.
If Prume liked it there, then she would continue from there with Amélie.
~
Time was then flowing with Prume’s heavy but weaning medication, and the regular scratches and scabs from Elyne being always looking for challenges to overcome. Her horn had grown to its full size by then, just as she grew herself quickly. Prume didn’t, or very little. Though it didn’t affect her directly in her class, she really was tiny for her age. And Elyne being rather precocious in growth spurt, the children more easily flocked around her than the smaller sister.
It wasn’t a problem yet, but I could already tell for which it would be easier to make new friends in the years to come. Prume was naturally a little shyer by then.
I made that year another painting of my daughters.
They didn’t look like twins anymore. Elyne was far taller and her face was getting subtly different lines from her sister. Elyne’s hair line falling down in an arrow over her forehead was a weird difference that had grown over time and was now in full display too. Her symbol was lost inside the hair cutting her forehead. She looked a little like a monkey to me, but she hated that tease obviously.
Elyne’s hair growing wild from the top of her nose, between her eyes and up through her forehead could really look weird if she didn’t comb it properly in the mornings. I helped her at first, so she wouldn’t het it fluttering all over her face. I was pulling these up and back, and braided her normal hair to keep then everything in place.
Prume’s hair was growing just as fast as her sisters, but was easier to comb into bobs since she had neither oddities. She could attach it herself into a ponytail soon enough, only leaving out some locks of unruly bedhair. She was the cutest.
It was nice combing their hairs. They would soon have them far nicer and longer than me, I was a little jealous already. I had begun colouring mines a nut brown to hide the grey before it became majority. I didn’t really like seeing myself grow old.
I prefered to watch my children growing.
~
