The Pub Discussion Board

"I already have a full class load."

"David, please.  You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.  Prof. Maskelyne can take over some of your load, if it's really necessary.  What I'm hearing is that the new instructor isn't competent, and this is one class where 'almost' is really bad."

David frowned.  "Why did you hire him, then?"

"You think it's easy finding qualified instructors?  There's a reason we were stuck with Quayde, and there's a reason I had to hire Prof. Swartridder.  But this isn't working out."

"Emile, you know how long it took me to work out a comfortable teaching style for Conjuring.  Now you want me to tackle something like that?"

"Look... just... go watch a couple of his classes."

"He probably won't act the same if he's being supervised."

"Stop trying to weasel out of it.  You know you can go invisibly."

David sighed.

"Please?  If you take over his class, I promise I'll set a date for our wedding..."

"You think I'm going to fall for that?  You've been promising that for six years now.  Angela will probably get married before we do."

Emile frowned.  Angela had loudly sworn off boys after her last failed relationship.  She said, "Please don't make me beg."

David sighed loudly.  "I will go observe.  I will not promise anything beyond that."

"Thank you."

    ---===<<<O>>>===---

David had watched Prof. Swartridder for two days.  He grudgingly had to admit, the man was a menace.  But before he could take over the class, he had to practice.  After about a week, he felt he was ready.

"Who are you?" the professor demanded as David walked into the gymnasium.  David was glamoured, so no one there recognized him.

"Transfer student," David said.  He walked over and handed the professor a parchment from the registrar.  Transfer students were exceedingly rare, but they did happen.

"Why wasn't I informed ahead of time?" the professor demanded.

"Professor, I just go where they tell me, okay?" David said.

The professor sneered. "Don't get mouthy with me!  I'll put you on your ass!  What training have you had?"

"Some, with sword and staff.  A bit of hand-to-hand."

"Well, let's see about that," the professor said.  "Pick your weapon."

David pulled out his staff and enlarged it, twirling it a couple times to loosen up.

"Very fancy, but useless in a fight," the professor sneered.

"I'm not fighting at the moment, professor, I'm just getting stretched."

"Cut the mouth!" the professor snarled.  "On guard!"

David slid into position, his staff held in a defensive posture.  Apparently, unlike Prof. Teller, Prof. Swartridder didn't bother with the niceties of "Respect".

Without warning, or at least without visible warning, the professor attacked.  David blocked the swing, and then the next one.  He hopped over the low strike that the professor attempted, and he made an intentionally sloppy attack of his own.  It missed, but the professor had been surprised.

"You think you've got the balls to challenge me?" he snapped.  He swung hard at David, but David angled his staff so that the strike slid off harmlessly.  David then stepped forward and snapped a blow to the professor's ribs.  The professor grunted in pain, and the class gasped.

"Motherfucker," the professor growled under his breath.  He started to move faster now, becoming more aggressive.  His swings were more purposeful, but just as useless, as David simply matched his level.  It had been over a decade since David had done this against a real opponent, but he still practiced daily.

Prof. Swartridder was growing truly irritated at not making any headway against David.  He was now moving at his maximum speed, trying every move he knew to make it past David's defenses.  That was a pointless effort, and it yielded no good results.

Finally, David had put up with enough of the professor's verbal abuse and lackluster fighting skills.

"Okay, I think I've let you try for long enough," David said.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" the professor demanded.

David spun in a blur.  His staff hit the professor's so hard that the professor lost his grip on his weapon, which went skittering across the gymnasium floor until it hit a wall.  David now put away his staff.  He snapped a kick to the professor's chin, sending him flying to the floor.

Prof. Swartridder scrabbled to his feet, only to have David set him on his ass again with a leg sweep.  Before the professor could rise, David snapped another kick to his face, and the professor's head bounced off the floor.

David rose and walked away from the professor, remaining within the magical square that protected them from injury.  He didn't want to hospitalize the man, after all.

The professor clawed his way back to his feet, but he was staggering now.

"Who the fuck are you?" Prof. Swartridder demanded.

"Why does it matter, Professor?" David asked.  "It's not my fault that you made an incorrect assumption about my skills.  You walked into a fight with no understanding of your opponent, a chip on your shoulder, and the arrogance to think you could beat anyone who dared to take your class.  Me?  I'm just a messenger.  The message comes from the dean.  That message is, 'You're fired.'"

At that, David ended his glamour.  There was a collective gasp as recognition swept the room.  Prof. Swartridder went pale.

"Yeah, me.  You should be glad for the square on the floor, or you'd have several broken bones now."

David turned to the class.  "From this point on, I will be taking over this class.  Do yourself a favor and forget everything you've been taught over the last five weeks.  Next class period, come expecting to work your ass off, and to learn proper technique.  You will not be fighting me.  That is inappropriate, and frankly ineffective.  You will start sparring again in a couple weeks, but with each other.

"Now we'll wrap up today's class here.  Going forward, you need to remember just two things to do well in this class.

"The first is, getting angry won't win you a fight, but it very well may lose one for you.  Keep your head.  When you're angry, you stop thinking, and when you stop thinking is when you make mistakes.

"The second thing to remember is this:  For every skill that exists, someone in the world is the best at it.  That person isn't you.

"Line up!" David said, and the class fell into formation.

"Bow," David ordered.  The class all bowed, and he returned it.  "You are dismissed."

As the class left, David turned to Swartridder.  "And so are you, you clown.  Get the hell out of our school."

- Eric Storm