ArchivedLogs:Learning and Stuff

Learning and Stuff
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Shelby	2013-04-23 '
Location <XS> Art Room - FL2
Smells of paints and chalks and turpentine mingle freely in this room, well-used, well-stocked. Natural light flows in, plentiful through the large windows. The long counter-like tables are speckled with spots of color, and half finished projects often stand on easels or propped in corners. The many cupboards lining the walls are crammed full of art supplies. The bell for lunch rang about fifteen minutes ago, leaving corridors and classrooms deserted as both students and staff ventured off for sustenance or just a break from the relentless pace of learning/teaching. Shelby might love her food but she's also in the art zone and that means she's crept back here to pick up where she'd left off this morning. Her bag and board are tucked beneath her easel, her feet are hooked around the rungs of the tall stool she's perched on and her hands are...well, they're moving over the surface of the canvas but they're not holding a brush, pen, pencil, stick of chalk or anything else resembling art supplies. She could be fingerpainting but there's no color on her skin, and her fingertips aren't actually /touching/ the surface of the piece she's working on. In short, she is cheating with her powarz. But the picture itself is coming along well. Done in watercolor style, with vivid shades of teal, aqua, gold and grey, Shelby's captured a stylized cityscape of looming skyscrapers. The walls and spires are all clear glass, trapped swirling waters inside and holding a multitude of tiny people who have been decorated with flowing goldfish fins. Lunch is usually the time by which Jackson deserts the school to go back city-wards. Usually. The art room should be a quiet enough haunt but today he is /interrupting/. Quietly interrupting, though, slipping in and pushing the door not-quite-shut behind himself. He's more unobtrusive than usual, dark jeans (with faint silvery pinstripes), a deep red short-sleeved button down. Thick black cuffs at his wrists, just a faint hint of shimmery makeup. He is admittedly not interrupting /much/; at first he just stands by the door and watches. Normally Shelby would notice the instant there's a disturbance at the door--disturbance being relative--but she's far enough into the zone that she overlooks Jax's appearance. Her nose is about two inches from the canvas as she works on some of the tinier details, instructing the colors where to go with her finger-stylus. After a few minutes, determining it's Good Enough, she settles back and sighs, reaching for the back of her neck to rub it--and then freezing as her eyes cut to the side. Oops. There's no hiding her surprise, or the brief scowl that is more an expression of uncertainty, but she's quick to slap something casual on in place of both of these. "Hey...been there long?" "A while, yeah." Jackson only moves from his place at the door when Shelby addresses him, setting down his messenger bag and moving closer to her painting. "I really love the shading in the water there. Can you /mix/ colours or do you gotta start with the colours you want?" He's studying the picture more than her, right now, tipping up onto the toes of his sneakers as he examines more closely. Truly Jax is wise. With the focus on the painting, Shelby relaxes and even manages a faint half-grin. "I used to be shitty at water 'til your class," she shares. "S'easier when you figure out it's just light'n'shading. Blending's still tricky, I gotta concentrate and it gives me a headache, I do too much of it. Easier to just glob everything on there I'm gonna need and take from it." Her hand goes out in demonstration, a section of gold separating from highlights on the glass and curling off into the white-streaked sky. "That's all any colour is, really," Jackson says with a small twitch of smile, watching the gold shift and move up to the sky. "Took me years just to figure out how to get my nailpolish lookin' right, you know? So many little quirks of shadows that you don't notice till they ain't there." He rests his palms against a stool beside her, not sitting on it. Just leaning down onto his forearms, the paintbrushes and charcoal pencils wormed through his skin shifting and flexing as his muscles do. "Glad it's helping, though. Think it's my favourite class to teach, though, if I'm being honest," he says, a touch sheepishly, "I get kinda fretty about how good I'm doing. Pretty new to this whole teaching thing, y'know? Most of the teachers here got /degrees/ in this kinda thing." The demonstration finished, Shelby hides that wayward strand of color by simply folding a cloud over it--like layers in real life!--and then settles back on the stool again. She cuts a look towards him, grin shading into more of a crooked smile. "You do good, I guess. I mean...not like I know a lot of teachers but compared to the others..." Which...may not be a resounding vote of confidence, given the careless and distasteful nature of her shrug. If the other teachers are plain shit, it is not a high bar to pass? "Fancy piece of paper means fuck all if you're an idiot," she adds, poking the tip of her tongue into the corner of her lips and studying the canvas anew. "Be teachin' more next year. If y'want to get more in depth with the painting. You got a good eye for colour, works great with what you do." With a flick of fingers towards her shifting canvas. Jackson's grin curls a little wider as Shelby's skews a little crookeder. "So I ain't /as/ crappy as, uh, /real/ crappy," he says, lightly amused, "s'good to know. Like I'm winning the teacher Special Olympics." He doesn't sound offended by this. Just entertained. It's less amused when he continues, "Kinda heard 'bout what happened in the DR. Don't exactly sound like I got a real high standard to beat on the teacher-scale in your estimation right about now." "Sure, I'd like that if they haven't kicked me out by then." Shelby says this as casually as one would comment on the weather--it is not something she would be surprised by. And there it is! The thing that may lead to that very event! She slides him a quick, wary look but then turns to pretend-busy herself with lifting the canvas to carry it back to the works in progress racks. "I know I maybe shouldn't have called her a bitch," she allows as she slides the picture onto its rack then pushes said rack back against the wall. "But dude, she was totally /asking/ for it." "Probably shouldn't have," Jackson agrees wryly. "But she shouldn't've put you in that situation, neither. The response to cheating on homework ain't getting /shot/ at." There might be an edge of frustration in Jackson's tone, but he takes a deep breath and when he speaks again it's calm. "Someone tries to pull a stunt in the Danger Room like that with you again, you got my permission to tell them you don't gotta and they can take it up with me." His smile twitches, slightly. "To tell them /politely/." "Yeah, like I'm ever gonna be allowed in there again once everyone else hears about it," Shelby says sourly. But it is all for show. She doesn't actually /look/ that upset. Just sour for the sake of sour? And perhaps slightly caught of guard, to judge by the flicker-quick glance that goes winging Jacksonwards again. With nothing left to occupy her hands with, she shoves them in the rear pockets of her jeans and just...stands there. A touch awkwardly. "So...I'm not in more trouble?" Jackson tilts his head slightly to one side. "-- I'd take you in there," he says, after a pause. "No gunshots. It can do a lot more'n scary. Tropical islands. Narnia. Whatever. But you don't /gotta/ go into it if you don't want to." His brows crease, slightly. "In trouble? For that scenario?" The list of possible destinations earns another shrug. Shelby explains, "I'm not really like the kids who kick ass in there. I don't need make believe shit to get better at what I do." She tugs one hand free to wave around at the art room--could this be her Danger Room? "And yeah. In trouble. I can't turn around here without fucking things up," she goes on, watching Jackson closely. "Every time I freak out, everyone gets pissed off." "I think freaking out at getting shot at is pretty normal, actually. You're in high school, Shelby, not boot camp. We ain't here to make you --" Jax shakes his head. "You know, your training's on me, as your advisor, and there's a /reason/ I ain't never took you there before." He straightens, hands dropping away from the stool though now he rests one foot against its rung instead. "I mean, you're right. It ain't necessary for what you do. And the scenario you was put through weren't just unnecessary, it was /wrong/. I'm sorry that you got forced into that. The /cheating/, you was in trouble for. What happened in the Danger Room weren't /your/ fault." Shelby's brow rumples. She is either confused or ranging towards upset--and when she gives a soft snort a moment later, it becomes clear it's the latter. Now that she's been given /permission/ to be upset. "Then this fucking school needs to get its act together," she huffs, "'cause that's about /all/ you hear about, coming out've there. Guns and swords and killing shit or beating it up. It's bullshit. I can't even fucking figure out /algebra/ yet. You gonna talk to her about shooting me with a water gun too? Or locking me in a room while she took off for awhile?" "Yes," Jackson says simply, "I am." He rocks forward, weight pressing against his sneaker. The stool scrapes back against the floor. "My DR sessions ain't quite like that. Not always. Not for you all." He shrugs a shoulder, glancing once more at Shelby's painting. His lips compress. "And that won't happen no more for you. Algebra /should/ be the worst you gotta wrangle, here. You focus on that." His lips twitch, slightly. "-- and on doing the work for yourself." If Jax meant to strike curiosity in her heart, he's succeeded! Though...Shelby is reluctant to show it, having already stated her opinions. She folds her arms, flicks a look down at the stool. Her lips purse. "You gonna get her fired?" She's just /asking/, okay? Honest. And then she's shifting uncomfortably as the subject comes full circle back around to cheating. "I wasn't doing it on purpose. I mean...Ivan was..." Enh. She shrugs again and gives her head a toss. "What happens if I do flunk out?" Jackson exhales, heavily; with the upwards twist of his lips it might be a laugh but his face kind of screws up uncomfortably as he shakes his head. "Fired? Mmm. No more'n anyone's gonna get /you/ kicked out for cheating." His nose wrinkles. "Or for flunking. Which, by the way, ain't gonna happen. I mean, there's things that'll get you kicked out of here, sure. But they're things like, you know, attacking other students. /Deliberately/ flunking out -- like if you stopped showin' up for classes just cuz you didn't feel like it or whatever. But so long as you want to be here -- I mean, if you flunk, you'll have to repeat some classes. This school's -- weird. Kinda both more and less strict than most. Dealing with a lot of kids with superpowers means we kinda have to teach /even more/ responsibility than most high schools. But dealing with a lot of kids with superpowers means we also kinda have to be more flexible, too." "It /could/ happen," Shelby says, perhaps because she just can't resist arguing. But she's relaxing again, slowly and surely. Enough so that she's able to cross the floor to take up her perch on the stool, studying Jax all the while. She hooks her feet back around the legs and slumps forward, spineless. "I dunno. I mean...everyone kept saying how good school is for me and I gotta say," she says slowly and with apparent thought, "it hasn't done a whole lot for me. Just...learning and stuff. The only thing I'm good at is your class. I don't think I've passed anything else yet and it's all /beginner/ shit." Jackson sinks his teeth down against his lip. There's a long moment where he's quiet, studying Shelby's painting, apparently, a lot more than Shelby. "Y'know, it can be hard to see slow changes while you're standing right in the middle'a them. But from the time I met you back in winter till now --" He shrugs a shoulder, gaze slowly slipping away from art to artist. "It's done a lot for you. S'more than just about academics, though those are good too. But it's kinda also about learning to be a part of the world. Not just --" His fingers lift, scuffing through his hair. "A lot of people end up here who've spent more time fighting the world than living in it. There's a balance that I guess we're trying to help people work towards. Though, honestly, I think your friends here do as much to help that as the teachers do. More, prob'ly." "I guess. They're pretty cool." Just that, for all of his reassurances. One can only assume she is referring to these friends Jax is speaking of. Shelby looks down and plucks at some frayed fuzz surrounding a hole in her jeans. She /continues/ to look down as she asks, "You heard anything from Shane or B lately?" A string pops free and she switches to winding it around her finger. "They still out there?" Jackson's eye still focuses on the painting. His expression doesn't change. The painting does, though; a pair of the small goldfish-people tint themselves bluer. A little more streamlined. Flowing goldfish fins narrowing to pointed shark ones. They dart ahead, eating one of the goldfish-people, but then the motion ceases and the painting abruptly returns to the way Shelby /really/ painted it. "Oh, they're still out there, m'sure." His tone is light. His foot thumps heavily against the floor as it drops from the rung of the stool. "C'mon. You eaten lunch yet?" It being something of a delicate subject between them, Shelby does not push beyond this. She might glance off to the side to observe those changes but only for half a second. Then she slips from the stool to gather up her things. "Nah, wanted to get that done first. You gotta when it's in your head, y'know?" Business as usual then? Aye aye, all casual and full speed ahead, towards the door. "Man, yeah, don't I know. Ryan an' I kinda got a trade-off. Remind each other to /eat/ when we're in the zone so we don't get lost for days an' starve." Jackson's smile is quick and bright. He scoops up his messenger bag, switching off the lights as he follows Shelby out. "Man, I am /so/ done with starving. The only this place has got going for it is the /food/," Shelby insists, now that she has been reminded of her appetite. She gets her bag slung up onto her shoulders then drops the board to the ground--clack CLACK!--before hopping on to coast down the hallway...though she does wait at the elevator for Jax. Because...manners? Maybe? It hasn't all been a pointless exercise, as he had pointed out! "I actually just took the teaching job so I could keep having Ms. Chavan's cooking," Jackson informs Shelby cheerfully. "Living without it made life a lot less delicious." He closes the art room door behind them, hurrying onwards towards the elevator. And Food.