Casefile: LITRature

Chapter 7 - Charlotte

AT FIRST, WHITE WAS BOMBARDED WITH QUESTIONS, instead of the complaining which he had expected. The teens—or as White had been addressing them in his head, children—hadn't really a complete grasp of schools, classrooms, and the concept of education itself. They were taught how to speak, but never how to read or write, much more how to express themselves.

It's the same as the present generation of students in my world. Mga hindi marunong magsulat ng simpleng essay. Ultimo essay tungkol sa mga pangarap nila, ipapagawa pa nila sa AI.

"What's in a classroom?" a young girl asked, tilting her head as they all walked to follow White to the pavilion.

"It's a place where you learn new things," replied White in simple terms. He inspected the long tables in the pavilion that was left from the feast, thinking how to turn them into study tables. "Usually classrooms have papers, books, chalkboards... pencils and pens..."

The teens looked even more confused. Those weren't objects they usually see in their everyday lives. They had held more guns than pens and had seen more violence than books.

"Where can we find those?"

"We've never seen a chalkboard!"

"Can I eat books?"

"We don't have any of those in this place, how can we turn this into a classroom?"

"We'll never get that brunch now."

White drew a deep breath and turned to them. "Listen," he said, and the children flinched. White softened his tone. "The most essential component of a classroom is the existence of a teacher"—he pointed to himself—"and his students." He pointed to the children. "For now, don't worry about having papers and pencils. I just need you to listen."

The children whispered and pointed among themselves, the words 'teacher' and 'student' floating around in hushed wonder.

"Take a seat," White instructed, walking to the dais where he could be seen by everyone, and where he could see everyone. The children—who again, were of ages 6 to 19—shuffled and arranged themselves quietly, taking their place in the 'study table'.

Nikolai stood beside White, and asked, "You know, I can provide papers and pencils."

White shook his head. "That's not sustainable and you can't always produce school supplies. We need something they can reuse again and again." He pursed his lips for a moment, and added, "We'll figure it out later. Right now, let's make sure they're motivated to learn."

"How are you going to motivate them to learn?"

"With an ice breaker, of course."

White bit his fingers and whistled loudly, which stopped the distracted babel of voices in the pavilion. He did a little head count, and realised that his situation was still better than the situation in his real world.

He had fifty-two students sitting on long tables in a pavilion. That was already way better than most classroom situations back in his real world.

"I want you to show me one belonging of yours that you love, and tell me about them," said White, already expecting to see furrowed brows. "I will call you one by o—"

But the confusion didn't come, everyone jumped out of their seat, scrambled to get something from their tents, their pockets, and the communal space. A few minutes later, they started crowding White and brandishing their favourite weapons in his face.

With a low whistle, Nikolai had quietly moved away from White and the overly excited children with the guns and rifles. He sat on top of a rubble and wrote himself a little bowl of mixed nuts and berries to snack on whilst watching his dear believer shield himself from the armed mob.