… a little over the students’ heads, from what I hear.”
“No,” Joel said. “He’s a great teacher. He explains things and doesn’t treat the students like fools, like Howards or Silversmith do.”
Exton chuckled. “I’ve been letting you have too much time off, haven’t I? Do you want me to get into trouble with the Rithmatists again?”
Joel didn’t respond. The other Rithmatic professors had made it clear that they didn’t want him disrupting their lectures. Without Fitch and his lax attitude, Joel would not be sneaking into any more lectures anytime soon. He felt a twist inside of him.
There might still be a chance. If Fitch was going to teach a few students, why couldn’t one be Joel?
“Joel, dear,” Florence said, halfway through her sandwich, “I spoke with your mother this morning. She wanted me to see if I could give you a nudge on your summer elective paperwork.”
Joel grimaced. There were advantages to living on the campus as the son of academy employees. His free tuition was the biggest of those perks, though he’d only been given that because of his father’s death.
There were also disadvantages. Many of the other staff members—like Exton and Florence—earned room and board as part of their employment contract. Joel had grown up with them and saw them every day—and that meant that they were good friends with his mother as well.
“I’m working on it,” he said, thinking of his letter to Fitch.
“The last day of the term is coming, dear,” Florence said. “You need to get into an elective. You finally get to pick one of your own, rather than sitting in a remedial tutelage. Isn’t that exciting?”
“Sure.”
Most students went home during the summer. The ones who did not leave only had to attend for half days, and could choose a single elective. Unless they did poorly during the year and needed a remedial tutelage as their elective. Rithmatists were lucky—they had to stay in school all year, but at least their summer elective was a Rithmatics elective.
“Have you given it any thought?” Florence asked.
“Some.”
“They’re filling up fast, dear,” she said. “There are still a few slots left in physical merit class. You want in?”
Three months of standing on a field while everyone ran around him kicking balls at each other, playing a game that they all tried to pretend was half as interesting as Rithmatic duels? “No thanks.”
“What, then?”
Math might be fun. Literature wouldn’t be too painful. But none would be as interesting as studying with Fitch.
“I’ll have one picked by tonight,” he promised, eyeing the clock. Time to get to his next class. He picked up his books from the corner—placing Fitch’s two books on top—and left the building before Florence could push him further.
CHAPTER
History class passed quickly that day; they were reviewing for the next day’s final exam. Once it was over, Joel went to math, his last period. This semester focused on geometry.
Joel had mixed feelings about math class. Geometry was the foundation for Rithmatics, so that was interesting. The history of geometry had always fascinated him—from Euclid and the ancient Greeks all the way forward to Monarch Gregory and the discovery of Rithmatics.
There was just so much busywork. Endless problems that held no interest for him.
“Today, we’re going to review formulas for figuring area,” said Professor Layton from the front of the class.
Formulas for figuring area. Joel had memorized those practically before he could walk. He closed his eyes, groaning. How many times would they have to go over the same things?
Professor Layton, however, didn’t let his students lounge about, even though most of their coursework—including the final exam—was already done. He insisted on spending the last week of class covering an exhaustive review of everything they’d learned.
Honestly. Who reviewed after the final exam?
“We get to start today with conic sections!” Layton said. He was a large-framed man, a tad overweight. Joel always thought Layton should have been a coach, not a professor of mathematics. He certainly had the motivational speaking part down.
“Remember the great thing about cones?” Layton asked, gesturing at a cone he’d drawn on the board. “You can make so many things just slicing a cone at given points. Look! Slice it in the middle, and you have a circle. Cut it at an angle, and you’ve got an ellipse. Isn’t that incredible!”
The students regarded him blankly.
“I said, isn’t that incredible?”
He got some halfhearted responses of “Yes, Professor Layton.” The thing was, Professor Layton thought that every aspect of mathematics was “incredible.” He had boundless enthusiasm.