Never Work With Children or Animalsby WirelessChaptersChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 1Granny Smith looked down at the filly sitting on the couch, next to a little blue slip of paper. The slip in question informed one parent and/or guardian of the filly that she would be spending next Friday afternoon staying behind at school. “Oh, Apple Bloom. My little Apple Bloom. A detention?” She shook her head sadly. “It ain't my fault, Granny! It's on account of Miss Chalky's a –“ she struggled to think of a word to really describe her teacher, “a dummy!” Granny Smith recoiled. “Apple Bloom! I like to think I've raised you better than to say things like that about your teacher!” Apple Bloom stood up on the couch indignantly. “But she is a dummy, Granny! She said cousin Braeburn didn't exist!” That threw Granny Smith for a loop. “OK, little'un, how about you calm yourself and tell me the whole story?” Apple Bloom took a deep breath. “Well it all started in citizenship class – you know, that special once a week one we started havin' last year – an' we was learnin' about adoption an' orphans an' stuff. An' then Rumble said he'd heard about these two mares lookin' to adopt a foal, an was it the same for a foal to have two mommies or daddies instead of a mommy and a daddy?” “I'm with you so far, girl. What happened next?” “Well, then Miss Chalky got real mad! She said Rumble didn't ought to talk about that, on account of it wasn't somethin' foals should know about.” “What in the world does that mean?” “Well, nopony in the class knew either, so we all put our hooves up to ask her on account of yer meant to put your hooves up to talk in class.” “I remember how a classroom works, Apple Bloom. I ain't that old.” “OK. Well anyway, we was all askin' how come it wasn't right to talk about that, an' was it rude, an' Miss Chalky just got madder and madder! An' she said we shouldn't be thinkin' about them ponies, an' a whole heap o' stuff, an' some of it didn't make no sense, but one of the things was that fillyfoolers wasn't real mares, an' coltcuddlers wasn't real stallions neither!” By the end of this run-on exercise in motor-mouthed hysteria, Apple Bloom was panting for breath. “Well that's not how a teacher is supposed to behave at all!” “Uh huh, that's what I thought. An' I said how that couldn't be right, 'cause of cousin Braeburn bein' a coltcuddler an' him bein' real an' I could prove it, but she just got even madder an' gave me detention! So she's a great big dummy!” Apple Bloom folded her forelegs across her chest and frowned just as hard as she could to illustrate the point. It was liable to get her angry just thinking about it: Braeburn was so real, and her teacher didn't have any call to go saying he wasn't! Why, she had half a mind to say Miss Chalky wasn't real either, see how she liked it! Granny Smith rubbed a hoof under her chin. “Hmm. Well, I still don't approve of speaking that way about your teacher, but she's definitely not right to say that. If any of the kids in your class have friends or family who are that way, she's just confusin' them.” “She's doing worse than that, Granny!” declared a new voice. Applejack stood in the doorway, fresh from a day's work. “Uh, sorry for interruptin', and hi Apple Bloom, Granny. Mac says he'll be home some time after dinner, by the way. But anyway, what if any of them foals in your class grow up to be fillyfoolers or coltcuddlers an' she's tellin' them there's somethin' wrong with them?” Granny Smith gasped. “Oh, my stars! I hadn't even thought of that – and that tears it!” She stamped one hoof on the ground. Gone was the gracefully ageing fixture of the Apple family household, and in her place was the rough, tough, no-nonsense mare who had helped colonise the acres she called her own. “Apple Bloom, your teacher really is a dummy, and a lot worse besides. In fact, first thing tomorrow, I'm gonna go to the mayor and see what she has to say about all this – and I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to kick out Miss Chalky and get a better teacher.” “What are we gonna do about that detention, though?”, pondered Applejack. “I mean, I don't like the thought of a filly bein' punished for doin' nothin' wrong, but can she just skip out on it?” “Ah, phoey to that detention! I ain't lettin' my little Apple Bloom get locked up by some nitwit on account of tellin' the truth. If she thinks she can go around telling ponies that load of rot, she can go and soak her head!” Apple Bloom looked up at her grandmother in awe. She had always known, of course, that she had the best granny in the world, but she had never had it demonstrated this way before. “Does this mean I don't have to do my history homework?” Applejack chuckled. “Sorry, Apple Bloom, but that still needs doing. Tell you what though, you leave it 'til after dinner and we'll work on it together, OK?” “OK, I guess. It was worth a shot, though.” *** Next morning, Granny Smith did indeed head to the Mayor's office bright and early. When she got there, she was pleased but unsurprised to find a number of ponies already waiting to see their mayor, with more turning up in trickles as the morning wore on. Filthy Rich was as smartly dressed as ever, looking for all the world as if he had just stepped out of a boardroom as he discussed recent events with Thunderlane and Berry Punch while he sipped on a piping hot cup of coffee. A particularly hefty white unicorn with a rather impressive moustache was regaling a crowd of mothers and older sisters with a story of his old hoofball days, while his wife looked on indulgently. Even Featherweight's musclebound slab of a father had managed to find time in his schedule to look into the matter. Chalky's outrage seemed to have called together about half of the town, and they all seemed to be of one mind. Eventually the doors opened up, and a startled-looking secretary lead the crowd in and bade them wait in a reception area that could almost, but not quite, comfortably hold all of them. He approached the mayor's door and cracked it open, speaking quietly to the mare inside. “Uh, madam mayor, there's a -” he turned back to them “-would you call yourselves a mob?” “We're a group of concerned parents and guardians”, replied Berry Punch. “We didn't bring enough clubs to count as a mob.” “Right. Anyway, there's a crowd here to see you. I think you'd better come out here rather than call them all in.” Evidently mayor Mare decided to heed her secretary's advice, as she opened her office door wide and smiled nervously at the assembly. “Good morning, all of you. Do you mind if I ask what this is about?” Thunderlane's voice cut above the hubbub. “This is about my little brother coming home completely upset yesterday after his teacher yelled at him for asking an honest question – and then went on some kind of bizarre rant about fillyfoolers.” “My daughter told much the same story, though luckily she seems to be too young to really understand what was said”, contributed Filthy Rich. “It seems that Miss Chalky has some very unhealthy views on certain ponies and what they do with each other in a relationship. She was near tears when she said her teacher had told the class that Coltcuddlers somehow stole my marriage. She wanted to know,” he continued, his voice taking on a rare level of venom, “if that was why her mother wasn't around any more.” The mayor held up a hoof for quiet. “Hold on now, I think I might be a little lost. What do fillyfoolers or coltcuddlers even have to do with a schoolteacher?” Granny Smith stepped forward and explained the whole affair as she understood it, with occasional input from another pony in the crowd. Mayor Mare's face fell as the story went on, until by the end of it she was absolutely stunned. “Well, I never! Please, rest assured, I will not stand for a public official behaving in this way. I am going to be having a long talk with Miss Chalky, and if she does not have a very good explanation for all these accusations she may not have a future as a schoolteacher. Not here, and perhaps not anywhere, ever again!” The assembled crowd cheered, with a multitude of sounds ranging from Granny's characteristic whoop to a hearty “YEAH” from Featherweight's father. As the noise died down, a single question came from somewhere in the back of the room cut through the crowd's good mood in an instant. “If we're gonna turf out the teacher we have, who's going to take over?” “Ah.” replied mayor Mare. “You know, I hadn't thought of that.” Chapter 2“So, why am I here?” asked Lyra Heartstrings. It seemed a pertinent question, seated as she was in the mayor's meeting room with a collection of ponies half made up of prominent figures about the town and half seemingly made up of whoever wasn't busy right now. “Well, it seemed important to get the town's backing on something like this”, said mayor Mare from somewhere behind an intimidating mountain of books and parchment. “Of course, I can't expect the entire town to drop everything and come to what might be the first of a long series of meetings, so I thought I'd try a little experiment in virtual representation. I've checked the lawbooks, and this is an acceptable substitute for a democratic majority or, preferably, royal approval. As you can see, getting together all the relevant laws involved a little cross-referencing.” The pile teetered slightly. “But why am I here, though?” “Well, I thought it would help to have a representative of the law, and around here Guard reservists are about the best we can get our hooves on. Sergeant Thunderlane is tied up today and Caramel – or should I say, Corporal Caramel - is out of town for the week, so it falls to you, Private Heartstrings.” The other ponies looked at Lyra in some surprise. Her role in the reserve Guard wasn't something that tended to come up in conversation. Lyra considered this for a moment. “You're just getting a kick out of the rank thing, aren't you?” “A little, yes. Moving on, we also have Doctor Stable Condition to give us a medical opinion, Carrot Top as the voice of the peasant farmers, Mr. Rich as the voice of the town's merchants and Applejack as the closest we get around here to landed gentry. I would have liked to get an artisan in as well, but they were all busy.” Well, busy was the simple way of putting it. In actual fact, at least three of the ones she'd asked had thought she was asking them to join some kind of cult, and another seemed to think it had been a romantic proposition. Mayor Mare had made a note of the stallion's address and moved on. Applejack leaned over to Filthy Rich “What's a gentry?”, she whispered. “I think it's something to do with crop rotation”, he replied in a similarly soft voice. “So”, continued the mayor, “Let's get cracking! We need a new teacher and we need one fast. I've had the children take a week off school, but any more than that during term time could cause a problem. So what we need right now is a plan for finding a replacement for Miss Chalky. Any suggestions from the floor?" “I've been thinking”, began Doctor Stable. “Do we need to replace her altogether? That is, could we not just explain why what she did was wrong and let her get back to work with a warning never to do it again? It seems like it would be the simplest solution.” “It would be simple”, replied the mayor, “but my hooves are tied. The relevant law states that – hold on, it's around here somewhere - 'an a teacher or schoolmistress should say unto ye foals perjury or injurious falsehoods, she shall be cast out and another serve in her stead'. In other words, I couldn't keep her around even if I wanted to.” “In that case”, volunteered Carrot Top, “I think the big question is whether we get a local pony or try to hire out. I mean, I couldn't name any teachers living in Ponyville off the top of my head, but I'm sure there must be some going spare in any of the larger cities.” “Do they have to be a teacher already?” asked Applejack. “Or can they have another job for the time being?” “I looked that up too”, came the mayor's reply from somewhere deep in her tower of books. “We can hire anyone we darned well please, so long as they meet a few standards, but it's strongly preferred that they have some kind of experience working with foals.” She poked her head up above the tip of the pile. “Mr Rich, I don't suppose we could all get a father's perspective on this?” “Well I'm not sure what I have to say as a father, but from a business perspective I find that the best way to make sure you get a quality employee is to keep the field as wide open as possible. The more ponies we see about this, the more likely one of them will be the teacher we need. Though, we might find our ideal candidate being excluded on medical grounds”, he finished with a smirk. “Aw, yuck it up”, replied Doctor Stable. “I think my being here is just as silly as you do, but the law says we need a medical pony involved for some reason, so here I am. Getting back on topic, I figure we ought to try and find a local pony first, even if they're not quite a teacher, and if we can't manage that then we start looking elsewhere. This is already going to be a tricky thing to handle well, so we might as well not add additional problems on.” “That sounds good to me” said Lyra. “I mean, I'm hardly going to be giving these ponies the third degree, but I will look into them and that's just going to be so much easier if they're already from around here.” “Detective Lyra on the case”, chuckled Carrot Top. “That wife of yours will get a kick out of that, no doubt.” “Heh. Say, mayor Mare, you don't suppose I could get a detective hat? Maybe one of them old-fashioned raincoats?” “Sorry Lyra, the silly costume budget is tapped out for the year. The parade on National Tea Day really took a lot out of us this year.” “Well that settles it – next year, I'm gonna vote for somepony else.” “Who? This is a one horse town, and I'm the one horse.” “I don't know, maybe that quiet pegasus on the edge of town. She seems like a real 'rule with an iron hoof' type, you know?” “Alright, I think if we've gotten to this point we're basically done here.” Applejack's voice cut through the room. “So we're all more or less agreed?” “More or less”, agreed Filthy Rich, to an accompaniment of murmurs. “The branch of Barnyard Bargains in town is next to a printers' shop, so I can get some fliers on my way there today. Either I'll put up the announcement that we're looking for somepony, or else I'll have one of my staff do it.” “Then it's settled” declared mayor Mare. “This meeting is adjourned. See you all next week, folks – oh! Look out!” Applejack's exit from the meeting room was hurried by the tidal wave of books and parchment that had finally succumbed to the laws of physics. From somewhere in the building, there came the sound of a sighing secretary. *** Two days later, a notice was put up on the board in the town square, in between a flier from the Carousel Botique and an advert for drawing lessons from a local draft horse service. “SCHOOLTEACHER WANTED”, it read, “To take over from the unfortunately departed Miss Chalky. Interviews Saturday the 15th, all applicants welcome”. The notice attracted a great deal of attention, and soon ponies who had never given two thoughts to ever working in education were wondering if them might sign up for an interview, just to see what it was like. One of the ponies to stop and consider the advert was a young mare who worked at Ponyville's hospital. Cheerilee was part of the hospital's crèche, which is to say that she was the entire staff of its crèche, from the charmingly non-threatening mare who welcomed parents in and took their foals to the worn-out rag and bone pony who tidied up to the Grand High Poobah of deciding who got what flavour milkshake. Minding little foals was one thing, but teaching them seemed like it would be incomparably harder and more complicated or, in other words, more important and rewarding. Cheerilee smiled softly, and asked the world “Well why the heck not?” Chapter 3Come the day of the interviews, Ponyville town hall found itself the centre of attention. Mayor Mare's ad hoc committee were occupying the best seats available and a stage had been put up to prepare for a stream of hopeful applicants. Ponies from across the town and countryside had gathered to have a go, and some from further afield were trying their luck as well. The excitement had even drawn a passing griffon, though in fairness he thought he was in line for the box office. Fortunately for those in the queue, very few of the town's weather team were interested in the job, and so the day was as bright and beautiful as could be hoped. Inside the hall, it was the fourth interview of the day and Carrot Top's turn to take the lead. "So, can you tell us why exactly you'd like to be a teacher?" The stallion on the stage thought it over for a second. "I'd like to answer that question with a question, if I may. How strict, on a scale of one to ten, would you say the foal labour laws are in this county? Assuming that one means none at all and ten means they're hoof-written by Princess Celestia herself." "Very," interjected Filthy Rich. "It's honestly a little unreasonable." "In that case I'll just bow out now and thank you for your time. Man, that mare in the ascot is going to be so disappointed." *** "Hey, y'all, for my audition today I'll be singin' Old Mare River." "That's next week, Mac." "Really? Well, more time to rehearse, I suppose. I'll see y'all round." As he left the hall, Mac thought - but was not certain - that he heard the sounds of appreciative murmurs from some of the panel and hushed outrage from his little sister. He chuckled to himself. *** "Can you tell us what, in your personal opinion, is the most important part of being a teacher?" The cheerful, well-dressed mare on the stage took a moment to consider the question. "I'd say it's the responsibility to make sure your kids grow up right." "I think we can all agree that's a significant part of the role. Just for the record, what exactly do you mean by growing up right?" "Oh, the same things anypony would value, really. Good manners, an inquisitive mind, blood sacrifices in the name of Hastur the Unspeakable in his palace in Carcosa, that sort of thing." *** "Suppose one of your pupils was having trouble learning through traditional methods. What would be your approach to the issue?" The stallion on the stage paused for a sip of water before answering. "Well, ma'am, I've always been a big believer in the value of getting foals out of the classroom and letting them learn in the wider world. Field trips, visits to local businesses, that sort of thing." "I see. And assuming a reasonable budget, where would the first field trip you organised take place?" "Well I've heard fascinating things about Tartaros." *** "No, ma'am, I think you'll find that a beret and a bag of spare trombone parts are not considered appropriate teaching aids anywhere." *** "I'm afraid you may be lost, sir. I've certainly never heard of any 'Ungula'. And could you please take your, ah, pets with you?" *** Doctor Stable Condition couldn't help but recognise the next candidate to step out in front of the panel. "Oh, hello Cheerilee. Are you that desperate to get away from the hospital?" "Doctor Stable! What are-I-ah, it's not like that at all!" "I'm only teasing, my girl - but when you're already nervous, that's unfair of me." Nervous was visibly an understatement. The young mare was quaking in her horseshoes. "I apologise, and I wish you the very best of luck." "And you're sure you don't mind?" "Mind what? A bright young mare going after a job she wants? I don't mind at all! And just between us, you have a darned better chance than some of the ponies we've seen today. I was going to take the lead on this interview, but given the circumstances I hope somepony else wouldn't mind?" "I can take over", offered Applejack. After pausing for just a moment to make sure there were no objections, she carried on. "So, Missy, can you tell us what first attracted you to teachin'?" Cheerilee shuffled a little and cleared her throat. "Well, simply put, I like foals. I just love watching them explore the world and find their place in it, and the chance to help them do that as a full-time job is just too good to pass up." "Uh huh, makes sense. Now, what would you say is the best approach to any learnin' or knowledge outside of the curriculum? Say you're teachin' them their numbers and then one foal asks a question, and another and it just sorta spirals off-topic from there." "Well firstly, I would try to stay on topic if it were an important lesson covering a new subject. Much as I value an enquiring mind, sometimes the planned lesson just has to take priority. But if we were doing exercises together, or covering old ground again, I'd start with what the kids already know or think and build on top of it. Get everypony on the same level, and then start teaching them new things." "Alright, I get ya. What if foals started askin' about things they shouldn't ought to know about?" "Hmm. By that, would you mean more 'adult' things than the class is expected to cover? Something like, for example, war? Or some historical tyrant?" "That's right, or stuff that's personal and private to you." Cheerilee rubbed a hoof under her chin. "I think my exact response would vary based on what the foal was asking, but in any case I wouldn't flat out deny them information or tell an outright lie. A few awkward questions are the price for an inquisitive mind, and I think that's worth it. After all, what's the point of being a teacher if I don't help foals learn?" "Good answer, very good answer. Now, we're gonna go into a few of the more practical questions, if ya don't mind." "No, not at all. What would you like to know?" "Well, to start with..." *** Two days later, the group of ponies who had started thinking of themselves as the Ponyville board of education were once again gathered together in Mayor Mare's meeting room. The mayor was visible on this occasion, having been able to get her books and parchments back into their assorted cabinets, drawers and secret compartments. Most of them were sitting calmly except for Lyra, who was indulging in her habit of pacing as she gave a report. "I've checked out our two front-runners and as far as I can tell they're both completely above-board. Of course, I haven't had the time to really dig into their histories, but I think that if they had anything major hidden away I would at least have some inkling of it by now." Filthy Rich raised a hoof. "Two front-runners? I know we all liked Cheerilee, but who was the other one?" "That mare with the thing about Hastur the Unspeakable. You were getting a cup of coffee when we took a vote, but we figured you liked her well enough." "Oh certainly, lovely young mare. I'm sure she'll be an excellent fit for the role, if we choose her. So that raises the question of who we do choose. With two good candidates like that, I'm honestly not sure." "It's a puzzler, alright", replied Carrot Top. "Is there any way we can organise a big, elaborate contest? Possibly with a musical number in there somewhere too?" "No can do", sighed Mayor Mare. "There's no time to organise a contest elaborate enough, and we're already darned close to going over-schedule on this." "Well, shoot. I'm all out of ideas." "I got somethin'," offered Applejack. "You ever have an idea that seems real good, but then you think if it's so good how come nopony ain't done it before?" "Yes," replied Filthy Rich, "that's my entire business model. Go on, what's the idea?" "Well how about we let the kids decide? Have both of 'em teach a class, and see which one does best." "You know, you might be on to something there. We can't let the kids themselves decide, but we could certainly give each mare a trial run, and see who does best. Good thinking, Applejack." "Aw, it ain't no thing. So who goes first?" Mayor Mare considered the question with all the gravity due to something as important as the future of the town's school. "Flip a coin?"
Chapter 1Granny Smith looked down at the filly sitting on the couch, next to a little blue slip of paper. The slip in question informed one parent and/or guardian of the filly that she would be spending next Friday afternoon staying behind at school. “Oh, Apple Bloom. My little Apple Bloom. A detention?” She shook her head sadly. “It ain't my fault, Granny! It's on account of Miss Chalky's a –“ she struggled to think of a word to really describe her teacher, “a dummy!” Granny Smith recoiled. “Apple Bloom! I like to think I've raised you better than to say things like that about your teacher!” Apple Bloom stood up on the couch indignantly. “But she is a dummy, Granny! She said cousin Braeburn didn't exist!” That threw Granny Smith for a loop. “OK, little'un, how about you calm yourself and tell me the whole story?” Apple Bloom took a deep breath. “Well it all started in citizenship class – you know, that special once a week one we started havin' last year – an' we was learnin' about adoption an' orphans an' stuff. An' then Rumble said he'd heard about these two mares lookin' to adopt a foal, an was it the same for a foal to have two mommies or daddies instead of a mommy and a daddy?” “I'm with you so far, girl. What happened next?” “Well, then Miss Chalky got real mad! She said Rumble didn't ought to talk about that, on account of it wasn't somethin' foals should know about.” “What in the world does that mean?” “Well, nopony in the class knew either, so we all put our hooves up to ask her on account of yer meant to put your hooves up to talk in class.” “I remember how a classroom works, Apple Bloom. I ain't that old.” “OK. Well anyway, we was all askin' how come it wasn't right to talk about that, an' was it rude, an' Miss Chalky just got madder and madder! An' she said we shouldn't be thinkin' about them ponies, an' a whole heap o' stuff, an' some of it didn't make no sense, but one of the things was that fillyfoolers wasn't real mares, an' coltcuddlers wasn't real stallions neither!” By the end of this run-on exercise in motor-mouthed hysteria, Apple Bloom was panting for breath. “Well that's not how a teacher is supposed to behave at all!” “Uh huh, that's what I thought. An' I said how that couldn't be right, 'cause of cousin Braeburn bein' a coltcuddler an' him bein' real an' I could prove it, but she just got even madder an' gave me detention! So she's a great big dummy!” Apple Bloom folded her forelegs across her chest and frowned just as hard as she could to illustrate the point. It was liable to get her angry just thinking about it: Braeburn was so real, and her teacher didn't have any call to go saying he wasn't! Why, she had half a mind to say Miss Chalky wasn't real either, see how she liked it! Granny Smith rubbed a hoof under her chin. “Hmm. Well, I still don't approve of speaking that way about your teacher, but she's definitely not right to say that. If any of the kids in your class have friends or family who are that way, she's just confusin' them.” “She's doing worse than that, Granny!” declared a new voice. Applejack stood in the doorway, fresh from a day's work. “Uh, sorry for interruptin', and hi Apple Bloom, Granny. Mac says he'll be home some time after dinner, by the way. But anyway, what if any of them foals in your class grow up to be fillyfoolers or coltcuddlers an' she's tellin' them there's somethin' wrong with them?” Granny Smith gasped. “Oh, my stars! I hadn't even thought of that – and that tears it!” She stamped one hoof on the ground. Gone was the gracefully ageing fixture of the Apple family household, and in her place was the rough, tough, no-nonsense mare who had helped colonise the acres she called her own. “Apple Bloom, your teacher really is a dummy, and a lot worse besides. In fact, first thing tomorrow, I'm gonna go to the mayor and see what she has to say about all this – and I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to kick out Miss Chalky and get a better teacher.” “What are we gonna do about that detention, though?”, pondered Applejack. “I mean, I don't like the thought of a filly bein' punished for doin' nothin' wrong, but can she just skip out on it?” “Ah, phoey to that detention! I ain't lettin' my little Apple Bloom get locked up by some nitwit on account of tellin' the truth. If she thinks she can go around telling ponies that load of rot, she can go and soak her head!” Apple Bloom looked up at her grandmother in awe. She had always known, of course, that she had the best granny in the world, but she had never had it demonstrated this way before. “Does this mean I don't have to do my history homework?” Applejack chuckled. “Sorry, Apple Bloom, but that still needs doing. Tell you what though, you leave it 'til after dinner and we'll work on it together, OK?” “OK, I guess. It was worth a shot, though.” *** Next morning, Granny Smith did indeed head to the Mayor's office bright and early. When she got there, she was pleased but unsurprised to find a number of ponies already waiting to see their mayor, with more turning up in trickles as the morning wore on. Filthy Rich was as smartly dressed as ever, looking for all the world as if he had just stepped out of a boardroom as he discussed recent events with Thunderlane and Berry Punch while he sipped on a piping hot cup of coffee. A particularly hefty white unicorn with a rather impressive moustache was regaling a crowd of mothers and older sisters with a story of his old hoofball days, while his wife looked on indulgently. Even Featherweight's musclebound slab of a father had managed to find time in his schedule to look into the matter. Chalky's outrage seemed to have called together about half of the town, and they all seemed to be of one mind. Eventually the doors opened up, and a startled-looking secretary lead the crowd in and bade them wait in a reception area that could almost, but not quite, comfortably hold all of them. He approached the mayor's door and cracked it open, speaking quietly to the mare inside. “Uh, madam mayor, there's a -” he turned back to them “-would you call yourselves a mob?” “We're a group of concerned parents and guardians”, replied Berry Punch. “We didn't bring enough clubs to count as a mob.” “Right. Anyway, there's a crowd here to see you. I think you'd better come out here rather than call them all in.” Evidently mayor Mare decided to heed her secretary's advice, as she opened her office door wide and smiled nervously at the assembly. “Good morning, all of you. Do you mind if I ask what this is about?” Thunderlane's voice cut above the hubbub. “This is about my little brother coming home completely upset yesterday after his teacher yelled at him for asking an honest question – and then went on some kind of bizarre rant about fillyfoolers.” “My daughter told much the same story, though luckily she seems to be too young to really understand what was said”, contributed Filthy Rich. “It seems that Miss Chalky has some very unhealthy views on certain ponies and what they do with each other in a relationship. She was near tears when she said her teacher had told the class that Coltcuddlers somehow stole my marriage. She wanted to know,” he continued, his voice taking on a rare level of venom, “if that was why her mother wasn't around any more.” The mayor held up a hoof for quiet. “Hold on now, I think I might be a little lost. What do fillyfoolers or coltcuddlers even have to do with a schoolteacher?” Granny Smith stepped forward and explained the whole affair as she understood it, with occasional input from another pony in the crowd. Mayor Mare's face fell as the story went on, until by the end of it she was absolutely stunned. “Well, I never! Please, rest assured, I will not stand for a public official behaving in this way. I am going to be having a long talk with Miss Chalky, and if she does not have a very good explanation for all these accusations she may not have a future as a schoolteacher. Not here, and perhaps not anywhere, ever again!” The assembled crowd cheered, with a multitude of sounds ranging from Granny's characteristic whoop to a hearty “YEAH” from Featherweight's father. As the noise died down, a single question came from somewhere in the back of the room cut through the crowd's good mood in an instant. “If we're gonna turf out the teacher we have, who's going to take over?” “Ah.” replied mayor Mare. “You know, I hadn't thought of that.”
Chapter 2“So, why am I here?” asked Lyra Heartstrings. It seemed a pertinent question, seated as she was in the mayor's meeting room with a collection of ponies half made up of prominent figures about the town and half seemingly made up of whoever wasn't busy right now. “Well, it seemed important to get the town's backing on something like this”, said mayor Mare from somewhere behind an intimidating mountain of books and parchment. “Of course, I can't expect the entire town to drop everything and come to what might be the first of a long series of meetings, so I thought I'd try a little experiment in virtual representation. I've checked the lawbooks, and this is an acceptable substitute for a democratic majority or, preferably, royal approval. As you can see, getting together all the relevant laws involved a little cross-referencing.” The pile teetered slightly. “But why am I here, though?” “Well, I thought it would help to have a representative of the law, and around here Guard reservists are about the best we can get our hooves on. Sergeant Thunderlane is tied up today and Caramel – or should I say, Corporal Caramel - is out of town for the week, so it falls to you, Private Heartstrings.” The other ponies looked at Lyra in some surprise. Her role in the reserve Guard wasn't something that tended to come up in conversation. Lyra considered this for a moment. “You're just getting a kick out of the rank thing, aren't you?” “A little, yes. Moving on, we also have Doctor Stable Condition to give us a medical opinion, Carrot Top as the voice of the peasant farmers, Mr. Rich as the voice of the town's merchants and Applejack as the closest we get around here to landed gentry. I would have liked to get an artisan in as well, but they were all busy.” Well, busy was the simple way of putting it. In actual fact, at least three of the ones she'd asked had thought she was asking them to join some kind of cult, and another seemed to think it had been a romantic proposition. Mayor Mare had made a note of the stallion's address and moved on. Applejack leaned over to Filthy Rich “What's a gentry?”, she whispered. “I think it's something to do with crop rotation”, he replied in a similarly soft voice. “So”, continued the mayor, “Let's get cracking! We need a new teacher and we need one fast. I've had the children take a week off school, but any more than that during term time could cause a problem. So what we need right now is a plan for finding a replacement for Miss Chalky. Any suggestions from the floor?" “I've been thinking”, began Doctor Stable. “Do we need to replace her altogether? That is, could we not just explain why what she did was wrong and let her get back to work with a warning never to do it again? It seems like it would be the simplest solution.” “It would be simple”, replied the mayor, “but my hooves are tied. The relevant law states that – hold on, it's around here somewhere - 'an a teacher or schoolmistress should say unto ye foals perjury or injurious falsehoods, she shall be cast out and another serve in her stead'. In other words, I couldn't keep her around even if I wanted to.” “In that case”, volunteered Carrot Top, “I think the big question is whether we get a local pony or try to hire out. I mean, I couldn't name any teachers living in Ponyville off the top of my head, but I'm sure there must be some going spare in any of the larger cities.” “Do they have to be a teacher already?” asked Applejack. “Or can they have another job for the time being?” “I looked that up too”, came the mayor's reply from somewhere deep in her tower of books. “We can hire anyone we darned well please, so long as they meet a few standards, but it's strongly preferred that they have some kind of experience working with foals.” She poked her head up above the tip of the pile. “Mr Rich, I don't suppose we could all get a father's perspective on this?” “Well I'm not sure what I have to say as a father, but from a business perspective I find that the best way to make sure you get a quality employee is to keep the field as wide open as possible. The more ponies we see about this, the more likely one of them will be the teacher we need. Though, we might find our ideal candidate being excluded on medical grounds”, he finished with a smirk. “Aw, yuck it up”, replied Doctor Stable. “I think my being here is just as silly as you do, but the law says we need a medical pony involved for some reason, so here I am. Getting back on topic, I figure we ought to try and find a local pony first, even if they're not quite a teacher, and if we can't manage that then we start looking elsewhere. This is already going to be a tricky thing to handle well, so we might as well not add additional problems on.” “That sounds good to me” said Lyra. “I mean, I'm hardly going to be giving these ponies the third degree, but I will look into them and that's just going to be so much easier if they're already from around here.” “Detective Lyra on the case”, chuckled Carrot Top. “That wife of yours will get a kick out of that, no doubt.” “Heh. Say, mayor Mare, you don't suppose I could get a detective hat? Maybe one of them old-fashioned raincoats?” “Sorry Lyra, the silly costume budget is tapped out for the year. The parade on National Tea Day really took a lot out of us this year.” “Well that settles it – next year, I'm gonna vote for somepony else.” “Who? This is a one horse town, and I'm the one horse.” “I don't know, maybe that quiet pegasus on the edge of town. She seems like a real 'rule with an iron hoof' type, you know?” “Alright, I think if we've gotten to this point we're basically done here.” Applejack's voice cut through the room. “So we're all more or less agreed?” “More or less”, agreed Filthy Rich, to an accompaniment of murmurs. “The branch of Barnyard Bargains in town is next to a printers' shop, so I can get some fliers on my way there today. Either I'll put up the announcement that we're looking for somepony, or else I'll have one of my staff do it.” “Then it's settled” declared mayor Mare. “This meeting is adjourned. See you all next week, folks – oh! Look out!” Applejack's exit from the meeting room was hurried by the tidal wave of books and parchment that had finally succumbed to the laws of physics. From somewhere in the building, there came the sound of a sighing secretary. *** Two days later, a notice was put up on the board in the town square, in between a flier from the Carousel Botique and an advert for drawing lessons from a local draft horse service. “SCHOOLTEACHER WANTED”, it read, “To take over from the unfortunately departed Miss Chalky. Interviews Saturday the 15th, all applicants welcome”. The notice attracted a great deal of attention, and soon ponies who had never given two thoughts to ever working in education were wondering if them might sign up for an interview, just to see what it was like. One of the ponies to stop and consider the advert was a young mare who worked at Ponyville's hospital. Cheerilee was part of the hospital's crèche, which is to say that she was the entire staff of its crèche, from the charmingly non-threatening mare who welcomed parents in and took their foals to the worn-out rag and bone pony who tidied up to the Grand High Poobah of deciding who got what flavour milkshake. Minding little foals was one thing, but teaching them seemed like it would be incomparably harder and more complicated or, in other words, more important and rewarding. Cheerilee smiled softly, and asked the world “Well why the heck not?”
Chapter 3Come the day of the interviews, Ponyville town hall found itself the centre of attention. Mayor Mare's ad hoc committee were occupying the best seats available and a stage had been put up to prepare for a stream of hopeful applicants. Ponies from across the town and countryside had gathered to have a go, and some from further afield were trying their luck as well. The excitement had even drawn a passing griffon, though in fairness he thought he was in line for the box office. Fortunately for those in the queue, very few of the town's weather team were interested in the job, and so the day was as bright and beautiful as could be hoped. Inside the hall, it was the fourth interview of the day and Carrot Top's turn to take the lead. "So, can you tell us why exactly you'd like to be a teacher?" The stallion on the stage thought it over for a second. "I'd like to answer that question with a question, if I may. How strict, on a scale of one to ten, would you say the foal labour laws are in this county? Assuming that one means none at all and ten means they're hoof-written by Princess Celestia herself." "Very," interjected Filthy Rich. "It's honestly a little unreasonable." "In that case I'll just bow out now and thank you for your time. Man, that mare in the ascot is going to be so disappointed." *** "Hey, y'all, for my audition today I'll be singin' Old Mare River." "That's next week, Mac." "Really? Well, more time to rehearse, I suppose. I'll see y'all round." As he left the hall, Mac thought - but was not certain - that he heard the sounds of appreciative murmurs from some of the panel and hushed outrage from his little sister. He chuckled to himself. *** "Can you tell us what, in your personal opinion, is the most important part of being a teacher?" The cheerful, well-dressed mare on the stage took a moment to consider the question. "I'd say it's the responsibility to make sure your kids grow up right." "I think we can all agree that's a significant part of the role. Just for the record, what exactly do you mean by growing up right?" "Oh, the same things anypony would value, really. Good manners, an inquisitive mind, blood sacrifices in the name of Hastur the Unspeakable in his palace in Carcosa, that sort of thing." *** "Suppose one of your pupils was having trouble learning through traditional methods. What would be your approach to the issue?" The stallion on the stage paused for a sip of water before answering. "Well, ma'am, I've always been a big believer in the value of getting foals out of the classroom and letting them learn in the wider world. Field trips, visits to local businesses, that sort of thing." "I see. And assuming a reasonable budget, where would the first field trip you organised take place?" "Well I've heard fascinating things about Tartaros." *** "No, ma'am, I think you'll find that a beret and a bag of spare trombone parts are not considered appropriate teaching aids anywhere." *** "I'm afraid you may be lost, sir. I've certainly never heard of any 'Ungula'. And could you please take your, ah, pets with you?" *** Doctor Stable Condition couldn't help but recognise the next candidate to step out in front of the panel. "Oh, hello Cheerilee. Are you that desperate to get away from the hospital?" "Doctor Stable! What are-I-ah, it's not like that at all!" "I'm only teasing, my girl - but when you're already nervous, that's unfair of me." Nervous was visibly an understatement. The young mare was quaking in her horseshoes. "I apologise, and I wish you the very best of luck." "And you're sure you don't mind?" "Mind what? A bright young mare going after a job she wants? I don't mind at all! And just between us, you have a darned better chance than some of the ponies we've seen today. I was going to take the lead on this interview, but given the circumstances I hope somepony else wouldn't mind?" "I can take over", offered Applejack. After pausing for just a moment to make sure there were no objections, she carried on. "So, Missy, can you tell us what first attracted you to teachin'?" Cheerilee shuffled a little and cleared her throat. "Well, simply put, I like foals. I just love watching them explore the world and find their place in it, and the chance to help them do that as a full-time job is just too good to pass up." "Uh huh, makes sense. Now, what would you say is the best approach to any learnin' or knowledge outside of the curriculum? Say you're teachin' them their numbers and then one foal asks a question, and another and it just sorta spirals off-topic from there." "Well firstly, I would try to stay on topic if it were an important lesson covering a new subject. Much as I value an enquiring mind, sometimes the planned lesson just has to take priority. But if we were doing exercises together, or covering old ground again, I'd start with what the kids already know or think and build on top of it. Get everypony on the same level, and then start teaching them new things." "Alright, I get ya. What if foals started askin' about things they shouldn't ought to know about?" "Hmm. By that, would you mean more 'adult' things than the class is expected to cover? Something like, for example, war? Or some historical tyrant?" "That's right, or stuff that's personal and private to you." Cheerilee rubbed a hoof under her chin. "I think my exact response would vary based on what the foal was asking, but in any case I wouldn't flat out deny them information or tell an outright lie. A few awkward questions are the price for an inquisitive mind, and I think that's worth it. After all, what's the point of being a teacher if I don't help foals learn?" "Good answer, very good answer. Now, we're gonna go into a few of the more practical questions, if ya don't mind." "No, not at all. What would you like to know?" "Well, to start with..." *** Two days later, the group of ponies who had started thinking of themselves as the Ponyville board of education were once again gathered together in Mayor Mare's meeting room. The mayor was visible on this occasion, having been able to get her books and parchments back into their assorted cabinets, drawers and secret compartments. Most of them were sitting calmly except for Lyra, who was indulging in her habit of pacing as she gave a report. "I've checked out our two front-runners and as far as I can tell they're both completely above-board. Of course, I haven't had the time to really dig into their histories, but I think that if they had anything major hidden away I would at least have some inkling of it by now." Filthy Rich raised a hoof. "Two front-runners? I know we all liked Cheerilee, but who was the other one?" "That mare with the thing about Hastur the Unspeakable. You were getting a cup of coffee when we took a vote, but we figured you liked her well enough." "Oh certainly, lovely young mare. I'm sure she'll be an excellent fit for the role, if we choose her. So that raises the question of who we do choose. With two good candidates like that, I'm honestly not sure." "It's a puzzler, alright", replied Carrot Top. "Is there any way we can organise a big, elaborate contest? Possibly with a musical number in there somewhere too?" "No can do", sighed Mayor Mare. "There's no time to organise a contest elaborate enough, and we're already darned close to going over-schedule on this." "Well, shoot. I'm all out of ideas." "I got somethin'," offered Applejack. "You ever have an idea that seems real good, but then you think if it's so good how come nopony ain't done it before?" "Yes," replied Filthy Rich, "that's my entire business model. Go on, what's the idea?" "Well how about we let the kids decide? Have both of 'em teach a class, and see which one does best." "You know, you might be on to something there. We can't let the kids themselves decide, but we could certainly give each mare a trial run, and see who does best. Good thinking, Applejack." "Aw, it ain't no thing. So who goes first?" Mayor Mare considered the question with all the gravity due to something as important as the future of the town's school. "Flip a coin?"
