Kyle and Charles - not quite a career change

[x-wildchild.livejournal.com]

Backdated to Sept 4 - Charles asks Kyle if he'll take on the job of handling a very small class of students who can't yet attend the local high school. Kyle accepts - but he's uneasy about the job, even though he's also excited about it at the same time.



A message from Charles that - in so many very polite Charles Xavier like words - said "Kyle come see me when you have time." put the fear into him. He wasn't being kicked out, the professor didn't kick people out, but...

but this was home and what if the professor was telling him to shape up and get over himself or move to, was there even a West Coast Annex anymore, Kyle wondered. He hadn't bothered to look - hadn't wanted to look. But - but what if the 'see me' was "fix your shit, use an image inducer, get a job, or go to New Jersey and mooch off your dad"

So he put on a nice shirt. Button down, even, not just a polo. And khakis. He stared at the two pairs of shoes in his closet and debated over and over - put on the sneakers, took them off, put them back on. Was it denying his mutant status to cover up his feet? Did it show he was willing to go get a job to not get kicked out? Was it over-compensating for the fact that he had three days of full beard and couldn't find his razor and so had just trimmed it?

If he'd had a tie he could get on himself without having to find one of his more fashion-enabled clawless friends to tie it, he'd have done that too.

Kyle knocked on the door to the Professor's office carefully - and then shuffled his bare feet. He'd left the shoes - come down on the side of "This is who I am and I don't want to hide it here." and the rest he'd deal with.

Charles looked up at the sound of the knock, smiling. He was only expecting one person to knock on his door, after all. "Come in, Kyle," he called, and as the door opened he gestured at the chair before him. "Take a seat." The tea was already set out and waiting for them to drink it.

There was tea, which on one hand never boded anything because the Professor always had tea, and on the other it was, from the smell, the fruit-and-flower stuff Kyle could actually drink and actually tasted good, without dumping fourteen teaspoons of sugar and two whole lemons in it. That much sugar made him feel sick anyway.

He sat down, and failed to not fidget a little, flicking the claw on his thumb under the opposite hand's pointer finger claw and trying not to feel like a fifteen year old called down to the principle for hitting someone with a chair.

If Charles noticed Kyle's nervousness (which he did), he didn't say anything. Years of dealing with adults and students alike had taught him that calling someone on their nerves would likely just make the situation worse. "To start, I was wondering if you were still interested in teaching." Start with the easy stuff.

Kyle's fingers went still, one nail digging under the other and he only broke his shocked stillness when it began to hurt. "That was totally not the question I was expecting, wow." He shook himself. "I don't know how to answer that. Interested, yeah, I mean... " His hands moved upwards, and then back down to his lap, in an aborted gesture of confusion and frustration. "But there's what, how many kids who I taught and they died and now I gotta look at their faces again. I can't do that again, have a classroom of ten kids, and another ten on skype and know nineteen of them died."

Charles nodded, sipping his tea for a moment. "That's understandable." It was still hard for him sometimes as well. To see old students become young, young students become old...it was a lot to handle. "I was thinking of something a little more condensed for you, however. We have a couple of students who are at this time incapable of the control necessary to attend Bayville. I was wondering if you would be interested in tutoring them."

His first instinct was to say no. New kids - it could've been any of the brand new kids who just came in. Amara. Illyana. Rahne. She'd be the hardest - tiny, wolfy and sweet and shy and the name and little else from the woman who had taught him how to hunt.

But he could see how a tiny classroom setup would work. He could picture lesson plans and who to ask to assist for math and science, and how to accommodate a student whose power brought interruptions of the canine kind. A flexible schedule, breaks for physical activity, an informal classroom so the poor kid could take as many meal breaks as she needed.

And if it was Illyana - back to basics, let her set her own pace. Don't demand she make long-term plans, so she couldn't self-sabotage. Self-guided learning, and sneak the schooling requirements in where he could. Maybe classes in the kitchens, the handful of times Kyle had spotted the odd and reclusive girl, she smelled like she was hiding snacks under her jacket.

Amara - Amara wouldn't need an academic catchup. The trick would be to get her ready for the chaos and noise of an American high school. Let her run loose on the internet, get all the shocks out at once. Fire proof desks. See how far ahead - or behind - she was. Drop a box of pop literature on her and catch her up on culture.

So Kyle's headshake turned into a thoughtful nod, and he leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Okay, if I say yes, and - okay, I'll be real here, I'm pretty close to saying yes, the goal's to get them ready for Baywhatever, right? How're we gonna explain transcripts? We're not a school anymore, are we?"

"The goal is to make sure they stay caught up on their education until they're ready to go to the public school, yes," Charles said with a nod. "While you're teaching them, they'll be working on powers control. As for transcripts, while we're no longer equipped to teach full classes the way we used to be, we're still qualified as an education center. It'll be a bit like home-schooling."

"Without the weirdo religious stuff or like, screeching about how the chicken pox vaccine turns everyone into mutants." Kyle said, with a snort. "Man, I -got- the chicken pox when I was nine. It sucked, and hey, then fourteen happened and I gained fifty two pounds of hair." He sat back in the chair, and picked up the tea mug and looked into the water. The blooming flower tea thing was definitely not a metaphor for mutation, nope. Kyle had never made hot water delicious. "I can .. " He huffed. "I can give it a shot. I.. if this is, like, too much and I'm screwing it up, I want some kind of back up plan because I am not gonna leave a bunch of kids hanging - or even one kid, whatever - if I'm all... " he shrugged. "You know, playing video games in my pajamas with Dori because I can't get over myself."

"That can be arranged as well," Charles said calmly, taking a sip of his tea before speaking again. "However, I think it would be good for you to give this a fair shot. Something to do with your time other than play video games in your pajamas with Dori." The words were dry but rather pointed.

"In my defense, Splatoon is really really fun and my pj pants are super comfy." It was not any kind of defense, and Kyle shook his head, caught between a self-effacing grin and a serious expression. "I get you though, being productive's gonna do me better than wallowing."

"I'm sure Splatoon is a lot of fun." Charles took another sip of tea. "But yes, I believe having some direction in your life and doing something productive would help you."

"Wow I wasted a whole lotta energy on freaking out and thinking you were gonna kick me out and send me to like, go do construction with my dad." Kyle said, sheepishly, and then drank tea, because it was that or make eye contact and eye contact felt really really awkward.

Charles gave the young man a small smile. "You're welcome to stay here no matter how many days you spend in pajamas playing video games, Kyle. That just may not be the healthiest thing for you."

Kyle huffed a little, and then nodded. "Pretty sure you're right but fourteen year old me is protesting the lesson plans that twenty-something me is writing right now in my head." He tapped his claws against the mug of tea. "Which is, you know, a solid yes, and I'll get some lesson plans to you probably before the end of the week?"

"Well fourteen-year-old you would probably also be playing Dance Dance Revolution," Charles said dryly, sipping his own tea. "That sounds good. I look forward to seeing them."