A State of Conflict

[James Lawrence]

James Lawrence could honestly say that he'd never had to deal with a teacher one-on-one before. This was outside his realm of expertise; the education system was not something he was too familiar with any more, besides the training aspect. Not only academics, but actually going to talk to a teacher. He hadn't done that since graduating college.

Only this around, it wasn't for himself. It was for one of his students. One of his first students had been having a hard time in English class, ranting about how the teacher was too strict and the homework assignments that had left her in tears. It wasn't just a one time event; nearly every week that they met his student had a complaint regarding someone by the name of Miss Blaise. This wasn't conductive behaviour for his training sessions, which left both James and the student feeling stressed out from the effects of the teacher he didn't even know.

So, he figured he'd wander off and have a small chat. See how Jennifer was doing in relation to the rest of the class and seeing if there was some way that he and Penelope could come to an agreement. Ease up on the homework or harshness so he was better able to attend to her power needs instead of turning training sessions into therapy sessions; a job he was definitely not qualified for.

After a bit of searching, James was able to find her classroom. The door was only slightly ajar, but his hearing picked up on the sounds that came from the other side. Still, he knocked and waited for some sort of indication.

[Penelope Blaise]

Penelope Blaise made people cry. It was a fact of life, and one that the teacher had no issue in owning up to. She was harsh. She knew it, but such a fact would never change her teaching strategies. There was a reason why her grading criteria was practically university level; students needed it. So it meant for strict marks, and even stricter deadlines. She literally felt the frustration students held over her class, memories carried within essays that built up on her desk, but never enough to make a change.

So she continued to do even just that - marking papers. A red pen made precise shifts across an essay. Jennifer. She'd been doing poorly lately, and the grammar proved she wasn't improving. From the looks of it, she was hardly trying. She pursed her lips, flipping to the final page before putting a harsh D circled at the bottom. Of course, she still offered notes to help improve. She was a teacher, after all, even if she doubted Jennifer even read them at this point.

When she set the paper aside there was a knock at her door. Few students bothered to actually come in during the lunch hour, and she never bothered to knock at all at this point, so she raised her eyebrows in surprise but hadn't looked up from the next paper.

"Come in."

[James Lawrence]

While waiting outside of the classroom, James ran a hand over the strands of his hair, smoothing down any possible imperfections that could have occurred during the morning. Lunch was the perfect time to go because he had to meet with Jennifer in the afternoon to work on her training routine. Though he had a feeling it would turn into another round of therapy instead of focusing on her ability. Emotions were messy and emotions had the capability to shift at any moment.

The sound of a pen making fluid movement across paper. The 'come in' that followed; all echoed in his ears for seconds. He opened the ajar door further, stepping inside. Dark eyes scanned the empty classroom, except for the figure who sat at a desk marking papers, he assumed. James walked in with his back straight; the image of pure confidence only ruined by heightened nerves underneath the surface of his skin.

"Penelope Blaise? My name's James Lawrence. If you're not busy I was wondering if we could talk about something. Someone, actually. A student of ours." He began, making his way through rows of desks over to where her desk was situated. The uneasy formalities were almost jarring coming from the New Yorker, who still wasn't sure of the best way to approach the situation. Offer a solution right away? Try to appeal to her emotional side? Get personally involved and explain that he couldn't handle the emotional outbursts any longer? Dark eyes landed on her face, flickering between her expression and the pages massacred with red.

[Penelope Blaise]

Although the sound of her door swinging open fully, and then the footsteps that carried an unfamiliar figure through her classroom could be picked up by the English teacher despite her lack of a hearing ability. Yet she refused to even glance up towards the individual, not even as he introduced himself. So it wasn't a student; she knew from the moment he spoke, though she didn't recognize his name as a fellow teacher, which only confused her further as he continued.

She marked another grade, this one managing a C+, circled with a couple of notes before finally looking up at the man. She'd never seen him before, but her unexpressive features didn't react in the slightest as she glanced up at his slicked back hair to his attire.

Her back remained straight, setting the essay aside as she stood, gaining a bit more height though still unable to meet his eye level, even while in heels. "Who?" She asked simply, feeling no need to introduce herself properly for the man. "And what about them?"

[James Lawrence]

Pausing in front of her desk, James' gaze faltered to take in the endless sight of comments written across the essay she had been grading. His nose instinctively wrinkled; no wonder Jennifer had been having a hard time in the class. He wasn't against constructive criticism in the slightest, but there was a certain line that had to be drawn. These were high school students, afterall.

She stood up, and so did he. Dark eyes moved with her, flickering to meet her own. "Jennifer. Jennifer Miller. I'm her trainer and lately she's been coming to our training sessions upset over this class. Like, crying over the stress that it's causing her."

"So, I came here so maybe we could work something out. See how she's doing and what we can do to help her improve and understand the material. Think it'd be a little easier for both of us that way." James finished, waiting for her response to his offer. Maybe he could explain it in a better way to the student; help alleviate some of her anxiety towards English.

[Penelope Blaise]

Jennifer Miller. Penelope's eyebrows quirked up at the name, though she offered little more to her expression than that. Even upon the news that the young woman left her class and went to training in tears had little effect over the English teacher. She brought her hands together, patiently letting the man finish voicing his concerns.

He wanted to help, if anything to ease both their student's suffering and his own. Penelope could only imagine that her distressed state made matters hard for training, but she took no responsibility for it. She graded each student in the same manner; nobody was to receive special treatment simply because they struggled with the material. It was her duty as a teacher to remain impartial.

"Miss Miller is struggling, yes." She replied finally, giving a tilt of her head in acknowledgement to the man. "Yet she is making no effort to improve upon her work. She does not take the opportunity to come in during lunch or after school. I always make myself available to students, if they wish." And the students often didn't wish, a prime example being the empty classroom they stood in now.

"Babying her simply to stop a few tears will do nothing to actually help her, Mr. Lawrence." Penelope continued. "Do not think you are doing Miss Miller any good by coming here."

[James Lawrence]

Her classroom was surprisingly empty; James could only imagine that the students felt intimidated by Miss Blaise and were too scared to come ask for help. He was a little intimidated in her presence, if not by stature but by the way she carried herself, but managed to keep it together enough to pass as his normal self. Nothing underlying the surface to give away his concerns.

"Well, what does she need to improve on? If you let me know then I can tell her, or try to get her to come in to hear the feedback for herself." James offered. He genuinely did care for his students and to hear someone like Jennifer struggling as much as she was, there had to be a solution. Maybe if she was too afraid to contact Miss Blaise herself, then he could share a couple pointers with Jennifer later on in the afternoon when he met with her.

Her next sentence caught James off guard; the visible cues on his face were a dead giveaway, with his narrowed eyebrows and a sudden frown. "I don't think I'm babying her, Miss Blaise. All I'm doing is trying to help my student overcome her anxiety from this class." He said. "Do you think you're helping by being this harsh? She's still in high school, you know." James finished, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

[Penelope Blaise]

The man looked offended, though it showed no effect over the English teacher as she simply raised her eyebrows. She had never intended it to be something to challenge, but suddenly it was. With squared shoulders, she sat back down. Legs crossed, back straight. She listened to what he had to say, analyzing every word with scrutiny. Were she one to laugh, Penelope might have found humor in his response.

"You are quite right," she started, though she was hardly agreeing. "This is high school." Reaching for the stack, she pulled out a marked up paper from the stack - the student in question. "In a year, Miss Miller will be entering college or the work force. Too often students are not prepared for this; I will not stand for it." She was, in her own way, looking out for these children.

Looking down at the paper, she glanced over the marks she had made only minutes before. A psychometrist wasn't one to forget, but looking at bright ink was much more appealing than the man standing at her desk. "Her grammar must improve, as well as her substance." Briefly, she glanced up at James to insure he was listening. "Too often is she repeating ideas as an attempt to fill in space."

[James Lawrence]

Dark eyes refocused as the woman chose to sat back down again, her back straight against the chair. Naturally. James' gaze shifted once more as his ears caught movement from the stack of papers on her desk. Jennifer's paper appeared, and he tried to scan the comments. "Prepared for what, the harsh criticism? I'm not saying it's necessary to coddle students but you do have to understand that they are still children." It was something to this day James still didn't understand, even as a trainer himself.

Grammar and substance; at least that was a detail they could focus on. It was a fair suggestion, but was it really necessary to grade it as a D? He nodded, out of politeness, and tried to hold back any more commentary until she was done speaking. James' eyes caught hers momentarily before looking back down to the paper. "Quality over quantity. Now, I don't mean to offend, but don't you think it's reasonable considering the essay prompts tend to be vague but expect a long, detail orientated response?"

"And I doubt it's just Jennifer, either. The class as a whole must be struggling, I assume."

[Penelope Blaise]

It was quite clear that this man had a strong opinion of his students, an opinion that had heavily contrasted Penelope's own. Yes, they were children, but ones that were ill prepared for the life ahead of them. She was being harsh, but not cruel. There was a difference that most people seemed blind to.

She tilted her chin upwards, listening but not taking his side of the argument into consideration. Her hands pressed together as they rested on her lap, eyebrows remaining raised. "Are you criticizing my work, Mr. Lawrence?" She asked, tone daring him to answer yes.

This was exhausting. She had no desire to prove her skills to this man. A trainer no less. Her own experience with trainers were less than pleasant. He was essentially everything the English teacher stood against standing in front of her under slicked back hair. "My curriculum is not well liked by students, but it is effective."

Her eyes narrowed, but she wasn't looking towards the man, rather past him. "You've gotten the information you were looking for. Is there anything else you wish of me?" Passive aggressive, at best.

[James Lawrence]

"I would say you're misinterpreting what I mean. Criticism is too harsh of a word." James answered; because he wouldn't even dare to answer yes. Not in response to a pair of sharply pointed dark eyes underneath raised brows. That practically begged for a death sentence.

An inner part of James wanted to continue to counter her arguments, to offer rebuttals against the defence of her rigid curriculum. He wanted to ask how she genuinely believed that it helped students out. Students who would inevitably grow frustrated by her impossibly high standards; students like Jennifer who would then go on to develop extra anxiety over one class.

But, he didn't say a word. Jaw clenched, he shook his head. "No, that is all. Thank you for your time Miss Blaise." James replied, but the formality behind his words was all for show. He took a step back, to see if there was anything else she had to say before turning to leave her classroom.

[Penelope Blaise]

No, of course he wasn't criticizing her. She didn't smile at the fact, but the English teacher considered it something like a win. For someone with that looked as bold as this trainer did, he fell into submission the moment a set of facts were laid out in front of him.

She nodded at him, though didn't speak as he started out the door. By the time Penelope looked down at her papers again, he was practically forgotten. Red pen was within her hand again, marking down an improper use of a colon.