If a Pony Catch a Pony

If Symphony were here, she'd probably want me to start off by telling you all about my childhood and how I first started playing music when we were just fillies and I didn't know any better than to just plop myself down in front of a piano and bang on it until someone made me stop. Of course I didn't stick with the piano, but that's a different story, and anyway I doubt anypony really cares that much about how I started playing cello. It's hardly earth-shattering, even if it ended up with me getting my cutie mark and all.

So instead of the story of how I found my special talent and all that Trotwood Clopperfield stuff, I'm going to start at Canterlot College, and why I wanted to drop out and move back to Manehatten. It was the Friday before they let us go for Hearth's Warming break, and everypony was at the big assembly at Canterlot Stadium. Nopony cared that it was cold as Windigoes' breath and even starting to snow a little. They all got together to have one last, huge party before they went their separate ways for break. Princess Celestia would even put in an appearance every year. That's how you knew it was a big deal, and you should feel terribly sad about not seeing all your best friends for a whole month afterwards.

My roommate, Amethyst Star, had tried to get me to go, but I brushed her off. I said I had some other stuff to do, and that I would show up later. At the time, I thought I meant it, but standing up on the hill, looking at the stadium off in the distance, I could even hear everypony starting to sing, and all of a sudden, I wanted to be anywhere else in Equestria. I mean, I've had to play plenty of Hearth's Warming songs in my music classes, ever since I was just a filly, and some of them are even really good. But nothing ruins a good song faster than a giant crowd spontaneously deciding to sing it. Most ponies don't actually know all the words, so half of them are just mumbling in tune, while the other half sing as loud as they can to make damn sure you know they know the words and are great singers to boot. But the worst are the ponies that try to harmonize in those situations. As if what this big, off-the-cuff group sing along really needed was a few warbly fourths of whatever notes the loudest ponies in the group happen to be singing.

So I decided that instead of going down to meet up with Amethyst Star and Lyra Heartstrings and whoever else she happened to be hanging out with these days, what I would do instead was go to meet with my math teacher, First Order, who had asked to talk to me before I left Canterlot. Like most of my other teachers that year, he was giving me a failing grade, and I guess he wanted to make sure I knew how I had completely blown it. I don't mean to be too harsh on him—he wasn't a bad pony, even if he really played up the whole absent-minded math teacher stereotype. I certainly didn't relish the thought of failing his class or anything. It was just that I didn't feel like I had any motivation to do well in it outside of just not failing. Which is really no motivation at all.

First Order pretty much lived in his office, so I had a good idea that I'd be able to find him there, even though classes were already over for the day. The math building was all the way on the opposite side of the campus, though, and it was starting to get so cold that I almost decided to go back to the dorms and get this new scarf I'd just bought before I headed over there. What I did instead was just break out into a run. I probably looked crazy, galloping across the campus like a madmare, but I wasn't really thinking about it too much. I just wanted to get to First Order's office and get our talk over with, even if I slipped on the wet walkway and broke my neck in the process.

When I got to the math building, I couldn't get inside and out of the cold fast enough. Which is not to say that it was a whole lot warmer inside. Most of the buildings on campus are about as old as Celestia herself, and are only heated by fireplaces in the winter. Out in the halls, you can still see your breath in front of your face. Fortunately for me, First Order's office was about seventy stories up, and I kept sort of running up as many flights of stairs as I could before I was completely winded. That kept me warm enough, and by the time I finally got to his office, I was fairly comfortable aside from being out of breath.

When I knocked on the door, I thought for a minute that I had interrupted some horrible experiment that First Order was doing. It sounded sort of like he was writing at a blackboard, but dropped his chalk then crashed into a whole row of desks trying to pick it back up before it rolled away.

"Wh--yes, who is it?" he yelled through the door after all the noise had stopped.

"It's Octavia. You told me you wanted to talk to me before I left for break."

It was quiet for a minute, then First Order opened the door just a crack and peeked out at me, like maybe I was lying about who I was or something. Boy does it drive me crazy when professors act all quirky and absent-minded like that. So many of the really good ones do it, too. The mediocre ones always seem like the most boring ponies in the world, but the good ones are the complete opposite. They always go out of their way to be as eccentric as possible, like their brains are so caught up in unraveling the fabric of the universe that they can't remember to brush their manes or open a damn door without destroying the whole room in the process.

"Yes, yes, Octavia. I did want to talk to you. Come right in." Right in. That killed me. Like he hadn't kept me standing out in the freezing cold hallway while he crashed around his office for an hour.

When I got inside, it looked like everything was more or less in order, so I had no idea what all the chaos before had been about. "Please, have a seat," he said, and pointed at a chair across from his desk. "Would you like some tea? I just put the kettle on."

"No, thank you," I said. "I'm afraid I can't stay too long, but I did--"

"Fine, fine. Like you said, I just wanted to have a few words with you before you left for break." I tried to ignore the fact that he interrupted me like he couldn't possibly care less about anything I had to say. "You know, of course, that I won't be giving you a passing grade."

"Yes...I was aware of that." I was trying not to sound like I didn't care, because in a way I did. But not in the way he wanted. I just didn't like letting anypony down, even with as much practice as I had had at it recently. As far as actually doing well in math, the truth was it hard to think of anything less important to me.

"You strike me as quite intelligent, Octavia. I know the music faculty is very high on you. Very high indeed. That's why I can't understand the lack of effort you've put into my class. To be brutally honest, you're the only one of my students who seems to have had this much trouble."

He looked at me for a minute, like he expected me to say something, even though he hadn't said anything I could really respond to. I was already starting to regret showing up. I wished I had just gone back to my dorm room, or even to the stadium with all the terrible singing.

"I know that it probably seems to you like math and music couldn't be farther apart, but that's really not the case. In fact, there's quite a lot of interplay between the development of the two. Mathematicians and musicians have always inspired one another to some extent."

That killed me. Not once have I ever had a music teacher try to tell me how important math is to music. But take a teacher of a subject like math that most ponies don't want anything to do with, and they'll find a way to relate it to anything that's actually interesting. He gave me that look again, like he expected me to say something, so this time I did.

"I realize that a lot of music theory is very mathematical," I said, which was basically true--I mean, I understood the concept and all, at least. "But when I play music, I don't notice that. I mean, I'm not thinking about scales and harmonies and things like that while I'm playing. I'm just playing."

I'm not sure he knew what to do with that. He kind of nodded, and I thought he might actually respond, but instead he just changed the subject.

"So how are things in your other classes?"

"Not good," I said, right away. I don't know why. I had no desire at all to talk about it. "I mean, my music classes are fine, but everything else..."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I really am. But I can't say I'm exactly surprised, either. I've seen this more times than I care to think about. Students who could excel, but get so focused on their favorite subject that they neglect everything else."

Wow, did I ever want to leave.

"So what are your plans now? Do you think you'll be able to apply yourself more next year?"

"I don't know," I said, even though I did know. I had already decided that I probably wouldn't come back to Canterlot College. Even if they didn't kick me out for my grades, I couldn't stand the thought of spending two more years there, getting lectured by stereotypically crazy professors about applying myself to subjects I hated. "I mean, it's hard to say right now."

He nodded again, and my mind started racing, looking for any excuse to get away. I wasn't that lucky, though.

"Octavia, I never feel good about failing students, even when they deserve it. But I don't always sit them down and talk to them about it. I'm doing this for you because I know you can do much better than you have this year. I've done this for a long time. I can tell the difference between a student who CAN'T do better, and one who just doesn't choose to. You're the latter. It's too late to fix things this year, but if you come back with a different mindset after the break, I know you can be as successful in all of your classes as you are in your music classes now. I would just hate to see you let apathy get in the way of your ambitions..."

He trailed off, and I knew it was probably my only chance to get out of there. All I wanted was to go back to my room and listen to this record I had just bought a week or so earlier. Right then, it all seemed a million miles away.

"I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me," I said. It sounded trite, but it was all I could think of. "I really do. And I'll remember it next year. But I need to get going now. I have a few things I need to take care of before I leave."

"Yes, well, just remember that whatever math class you end up in next year, I'm always available to help students who want to improve."

"I'll remember that," I said, getting up to leave. "Thanks again for your help."

He nodded, again, and kind of murmured something I didn't understand. I was glad, because it was another of those eccentric affectations that drive me so crazy, and it was the last bit of motivation I needed to get the hell out of his office. I closed the door behind me, and for some reason I was scared to death that I would slam it and knock the blackboard off the wall or something. So I shut it as lightly as I could, then started back to my dorm feeling completely miserable. Nothing feels quite as bad as letting down somepony you don't even care if you let down. It's one of the lowest feelings you can imagine.