Certified Lies
1st Vhalar, 721
erdita had been rather surprised to find out that she had, in fact, passed her Letter of Humanities in History. Despite that quiet voice in the back of her mind being quite insistent that it was, it had not been a lie or a joke. No one had jumped out and screamed "Fooled you!" when she went to pick up her certificate, and there on the parchment in very fancy writing was her name. Her name, and her now-certified qualification.
Had it been a practical joke, she really would not have been surprised. That it wasn't one had shocked her quite significantly.
And then, there was the idea of progressing onward. After everything that had happened to her over the last few seasons, Perdita knew that no one would blame her for simply saying no. But that wasn't her way. She'd made a decision that she would pursue this qualification - both of them, History and Art - as far as she could and so she would. But she was faced with the reality that she was not a fraud, she wasn't there by mistake and no, they were not just being kind. So, she had to simply get on with it.
Which was what she did.
So it was that, with notebook and pencils at the ready, Perdita sat in the lecture hall in the Scalvoris Campus, waiting for her first lecture in her Certificate of Humanities in History. While she waited, she went through a mental checklist. Her mouth was dry, she was shaking slightly, eye contact with anyone was impossible and she wanted to run or hide or run and hide. Tapping her pencil gently so that it was exactly lined up, she internally nodded to herself. Yes. Situation normal. She had, however, prepared herself this time. At the back of her notebook were some small reeds. Perdita took them and began to weave them together, making what could end up as the base of a bag or bowl, or maybe even a woven coaster. She made sure to focus on that while she waited, keeping her gaze there. She keep the woven joins tight, in order to ensure that the thing didn't fall apart . She wasn't good, and it was rough, but she sat and made a small square coaster and it did the trick. It kept her mind off things.
Just then, Professor Deadnut walked into the room. Perdita was pleased that he was still going to be teaching her, she liked him very much and got on well with his teaching style. So, she was rather surprised when he turned and wrote in large letters on the chalkboard behind his desk. It wasn't surprising at all that he went and wrote something, but when he wrote "History is a Lie", Perdita had to admit to some level of surprise.
"Welcome!" Professor Deadnut said, looking around at them. "I hope and trust that you are all prepared. The step from Letter to Certificate is a large one and many of you will not make it. So, take notes, remain focused and keep up. Or, of course, leave." Perdita watched him carefully, her neat handwriting transcribing his words as much as possible.
"We are going to begin," Professor Deadnut said, gesturing to the board, "with a consideration of this quote. You have two bits to write down five arguments for, and five against, this statement. Begin."
Lowering her head to her notebook, Perdita considered that when he said that it was a big jump, he really wasn't joking. Still, she didn't have time to think, so she started the task.
Had it been a practical joke, she really would not have been surprised. That it wasn't one had shocked her quite significantly.
And then, there was the idea of progressing onward. After everything that had happened to her over the last few seasons, Perdita knew that no one would blame her for simply saying no. But that wasn't her way. She'd made a decision that she would pursue this qualification - both of them, History and Art - as far as she could and so she would. But she was faced with the reality that she was not a fraud, she wasn't there by mistake and no, they were not just being kind. So, she had to simply get on with it.
Which was what she did.
So it was that, with notebook and pencils at the ready, Perdita sat in the lecture hall in the Scalvoris Campus, waiting for her first lecture in her Certificate of Humanities in History. While she waited, she went through a mental checklist. Her mouth was dry, she was shaking slightly, eye contact with anyone was impossible and she wanted to run or hide or run and hide. Tapping her pencil gently so that it was exactly lined up, she internally nodded to herself. Yes. Situation normal. She had, however, prepared herself this time. At the back of her notebook were some small reeds. Perdita took them and began to weave them together, making what could end up as the base of a bag or bowl, or maybe even a woven coaster. She made sure to focus on that while she waited, keeping her gaze there. She keep the woven joins tight, in order to ensure that the thing didn't fall apart . She wasn't good, and it was rough, but she sat and made a small square coaster and it did the trick. It kept her mind off things.
Just then, Professor Deadnut walked into the room. Perdita was pleased that he was still going to be teaching her, she liked him very much and got on well with his teaching style. So, she was rather surprised when he turned and wrote in large letters on the chalkboard behind his desk. It wasn't surprising at all that he went and wrote something, but when he wrote "History is a Lie", Perdita had to admit to some level of surprise.
"Welcome!" Professor Deadnut said, looking around at them. "I hope and trust that you are all prepared. The step from Letter to Certificate is a large one and many of you will not make it. So, take notes, remain focused and keep up. Or, of course, leave." Perdita watched him carefully, her neat handwriting transcribing his words as much as possible.
"We are going to begin," Professor Deadnut said, gesturing to the board, "with a consideration of this quote. You have two bits to write down five arguments for, and five against, this statement. Begin."
Lowering her head to her notebook, Perdita considered that when he said that it was a big jump, he really wasn't joking. Still, she didn't have time to think, so she started the task.
History is a set of lies agreed upon
