Maddox Academy: Grievous Beginnings - Wattys 2022 Shortlister

Chapter Three - Swimming Pools and Greek Philosophers

"As you all know, your independent study projects are due in June. You are expected to give a presentation to your fellow students, teachers and parents. These projects are a huge part of your overall grade for the year, so I expect you to take them seriously," Mrs Clarington said.

Katie and Jo had shown me to my classroom after breakfast and I had chosen a desk in the second row. The room itself was far bigger than any room at my last school, with a large chalkboard across the front wall and several large windows that lit up the room in the rising morning sun. Mrs Clarington stood at the front of the room; her desk sat to one side but at an angle so she could face the rows of desks. A large ruler leant against the side of her desk, but it looked like no one had touched it in a while.

Mrs Clarington was a tall, stern-looking woman with a pointy nose, staring eyes and glasses that rested on the edge of her nose. She wore her hair in a tight bun at the nape of her neck as well as a white blouse and dark red pencil skirt. She seemed to like pacing as she spoke, her heels snapping against the floor with each step.

"The library is at your disposal, and you have one free lesson a week for independent study. Do not waste your independent study period, it is paramount that you put as much time and effort into your project as possible. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Mrs Clarington," we echoed.

"Very well. Take out your books and begin copying from the board."

I reached across my desk and grabbed the green composition book I had bought. The room became filled with the sound of pens scratching against the paper and I hadn't even unscrewed the lid to my ink bottle. Mrs Clarington watched me from the front of the room, her eyes following my hands as I unscrewed the ink, dipped the pen into the pot and started to copy what she had been writing when I came in.

Ever since I could remember, I hated being forced to simply copy something off the board or out of a book. Dad had taught me that copying from someone else would never be a good way to develop academically and he always encouraged me to find my own ways of learning. He had always been one of my biggest supporters when it came to my schoolwork. I always enjoyed reading from a book aloud in the most ridiculous voice I could think of. The voice would always stay in my head, and so did the fact.

That and I had a good memory. I just hated having to copy everything down; it felt so monotonous and dull that my attention often wandered into something a little more interesting. I had once spent ten minutes watching two squirrels fight in a tree because it was far more interesting than the work we were being told to do in class. Unfortunately, it was still winter and there were no squirrels fighting in trees to keep me occupied.

Mrs Clarington placed a piece of chalk under the chalkboard and approached me. I could hear her shoes slapping against the wooden floor and in only a few steps her shadow loomed over me. Not knowing what to do, I placed the pen on top of the book and looked up.

"I just wanted to make sure you know what you're doing for your project. You're coming into this later than everyone else so haven't had as much time to prepare as the other students. They have also done this before, you have not."

"Yes. I have a pretty good idea of what I'm doing. The letter that was sent was very helpful."

"Good. You are probably aware that this project counts for more of your final grade than anyone else here. It will determine whether you continue here next year so it is of the utmost importance that you do well. If you need any extra time and you have completed the work in my class, I am more than happy to send you off to the library for an hour. "

"I think I'll be fine, Mrs Clarington."

"What is your idea? I may be able to point you in the right direction when it comes to your library searches."