ArchivedLogs:Life Skills

Life Skills
Dramatis Personae Shane, Micah, Jackson	12 December 2013 Why Shane was in the lake... (Set after pick-up from school.)
Location <NYC> 303 {Lighthaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
This apartment is cheerful, in its way -- bright and airy, its floor plan open and a plethora of windows providing it with an abundance of light. The tiny entrance hall opens into a living room, small, though its sparse furniture and lack of clutter give it a more open feel. The decor is subdued and minimalist; black and white is the dominant theme, with occasional splashes of deep crimson to offset the monochrome, though of late myriad bright-coloured dragonflies swarm across the living room wall. The couch and armchair are upholstered in black corduroy, the low wide coffee table central is black wood and glass-topped, and a few large pillowy beanbags provide additional seating by the large windows that dominate the back wall. The living room and kitchen both hold a rather inordinate number of lamps in addition to the ceiling lights; standing lamps, small lamps on each counter, large sunlights in the corner. More often than not, they're largely all turned on, too. Towards the back, a couple of doors lead off into bedrooms and bathroom, and to the right, the kitchen's tile is separated from the living room's dark hardwood floors by black countertops. Above the bedroom to one side, there is higher space; a ladder climbs up to a lofted area looking down on the living room. Standing in front of the partition between living and cooking area is a large fish tank: one lone Betta, blood-red, swims regally among several species of black and silver fish. A hallway beyond the kitchen leads further into the apartment. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom, the door usually kept shut to hold in the acrid fumes of turpentine and paints from within. /Sebastian's/ reason for returning city-wards on a Thursday night was a deadline down at Stark; with his brother off being productive, Shane has been taking a post-dinner NAP. It's shortly after Spencer is put to bed that he gets back up, to take himself a rather long shower and eventually return to the living room clad in soft black pajama pants that are a fair bit too long for him and no shirt. He squints against the room's many lights as he shuffles towards the kitchen, setting a kettle on the stove to heat and then staring at the tea options. Micah is camped out in the living room, sprawled across a beanbag with an e-reader tucked in one hand. It has reached Pajama O'clock, apparently, and he is dressed in a long-sleeved charcoal grey T-shirt over pajama pants dotted with tiny TARDISes tumbling through space. His auburn hair is mussed to the point of looking like he might have already gone to bed and just awakened once more. An earthenware mug, its glaze done in gradient from rich emerald green to seafoam at its brim, is positioned on a nearby table to be within reach. The remnants of cocoa within have long since gone cold. Hazel eyes lift from their e-book to watch Shane pass with obvious concern in them. Jackson is also tucked out here, following the pajamas trend in black terrycloth pants and his rainbow hoodie over a grey Xavier's tee. He's got his laptop and drawing tablet, working on a Jack-and-Sally Nightmare Before Christmas tattoo design. /His/ mug of cocoa, sitting on the table as well, is long since gone /empty/. He glances up, too, when Shane walks by, twirling his stylus rapidly between his fingers. "Y'have a good nap, pup?" Shane prepares a mug for chamomile tea, crossing back to slouch in the doorway between living room and kitchen. He shrugs a shoulder uncomfortably, gills briefly fluttering as he shakes his head. "Never sleep quite as good alone. Either of you want tea?" He gestures back over his shoulder towards the kettle on the stove. "Was that or a blunt and it's /too/ goddamn cold for smoking outside. Unless," he gives such /hopeful/ eyes to Jax, "you want to come outside and be my /space/ heater." "I've already got some--" Micah interrupts himself with a 'hm', hefting his mug and noting the scanty contents. He downs the last swig, cold though it may be. "Actually, tea sounds wonderful. Y'makin' somethin' decaf? Startin' t'get a little late for anythin' else." Shane's recitation of things that he needs to calm himself to sleep twitches the corner of his lips slightly, managing not to make it quite all the way to a frown. "Honey, d'you wanna talk about anythin', maybe?" "S'pretty bitter out there, think I'll pass." Jackson's stylus continues its rapid twirling. "Wouldn't say no t'some tea though, whatever we got with lavender in?" He watches Shane settle in the doorway with a small frown. "You doin' alright, sweetie, sounded like you had kinda a rough day." Shane's gills flutter once more, this time continuing to open and shut rapidly. He slips out into the living room, scooping up both his fathers' empty mugs to take them back and wash them while the water boils. "Chamomile's what I'm having. You want that or the --" He turns his head to squint towards the cabinet. "-- Lavender rooibos?" He sets the mugs now clean (if still wet) down on the counter, getting out another pair of tea balls though for the moment he only fills Jax's. "Today wasn't so bad, I mostly kind of slept through it. /Uh/, though, if Aloke pesters you about me again I apologize." "Oh, the rooibos, if y'don't mind, hon. I'm not so edgy as I need t'put up with chamomile just yet." Micah's nose crinkles slightly, thinking on the kind of /grassy/ taste he reserves primarily for medicinal purposes. He props himself up a bit further onto his elbows to facilitate actual conversation. "Ghost told us a little of what happened there when we were wonderin' why you were still down the lake. Felt like there was more to it than that, though?" "He ain't said nothin' yet." Jackson tucks a leg up beneath himself, leaning now against an arm of the couch so that he can angle towards the kitchen to watch Shane. "You feel like talkin' 'bout what happened?" For a time it might seems like Shane does not, in fact, feel like this. He doesn't /say/ anything, just shrugs and watches the tea kettle, filling the three mugs once it is boiling. He brings Jax's and Micah's to the living room to set them on the table, tea still steeping in them, and then returns to the kitchen for his own mug with small saucer, and a bottle of agave that he sets down next to Jax's tea. His gills flutter faster as he looks between the two men, fidgeting uncertainly but eventually electing to settle down on the couch beside Jax. "He's annoying as fuck," is the answer he finally gives. "I wasn't really in the mood to deal with his bullshit." "Ain't been much chance t'say nothin' yet, admittedly," Micah adds with a shrug. "Thanks, sugar." He offers Shane a little smile as he places the mugs of tea on the table. He turns off the e-reader, placing it aside and eventually standing and relocating himself to the couch with the others. "That feels a little bit like a deflection, hon. Not wantin' t'talk about it's a valid answer, though I'd prefer if y'did, all the same." He lifts a hand to scruff it over Shane's spiky-haired head. "Yeah, if this happened after class --" Jackson shrugs a shoulder, his teeth scraping against his lower lip. "Though, y'know, even if he was -- in the wrong, y'still gotta deal with your teachers -- an' everyone, really, with a little more respect, pup. Y'can talk to people about how they're treatin' you /without/ stoopin' down to cursin' at 'em." He shifts his leg back down to the floor when Shane sits. "-- Did somethin' happen to spoil your mood before that?" Shane frowns, fidgeting uncomfortably. He rests his hands on his knees, squeezing down slowly. "Yes." His gills flutter again, quickly, his words hitching. "I mean, I was already in a bad mood so I was a dick to him. And I know I shouldn't have been. He's -- started glowing, did you notice that? Anyway I guess it started a couple days ago and he says it's permanent but /how the fuck/ would anyone know that's permanent? /Nobody/ knows that sort of shit when mutations develop weird-ass new shit. Like. That's just. Not even possible, Jesus Christ, they're still trying to work out whether /Daiki/'ll be able to shut his power off and that's been /years/ not goddamn overnight. Uh. I was pretty snarky at him over it. Anyway -- um, that wasn't what --" His nose crinkles, head dipping. "That was kind of tangential but. It's just. Probably why he was already mad at me, because I was a dick." He shrugs, claws pressing down against his knees. "But he asked if I knew where my clothes were and I said sometimes people steal them. And even when I found them tonight they were /way/ the hell away from where I'd left them and had mud on them besides so /someone/ touched them. But /he/ got this super condescending tone like I was /lying/ about people stealing them just because Jesus, sure, I /love/ being out in the /freezing-goddamn-cold/ without clothes on. And he can go fuck himself with a /rusty fucking bonesaw/ if he wants to treat me like a liar. Especially over something that as a teacher he should goddamn /do/ something about -- except no, it's just /me/ saying it so fuck that /I'm/ a liar and the /pretty/ kids can do whatever they damn well /please/." His gills are fluttering much faster by the end of this, and he leans forward to remove all three tea ball from the mugs, setting them down on the saucer so it won't drip on the table. He doesn't drink his, though. He turns to lie down on the couch, draping himself across the other two with his head in Jax's lap and his legs draped over Micah's. "... ngh. Respect. I failed again but -- wait am I still supposed to be polite about him /here/ with you because he's an /asshole/." Micah sits and listens quietly to most of Shane's story without interruption, though his fingers tighten around the fabric over his knee a few times. "So y'all were a little contentious over somethin' unrelated. 'Cause one or both of you were in a bad mood. Which disposed 'im poorly t'hearin' the problem y'were havin' an' lead 'im t'blame y'for it instead. Not an okay option for him, I'll acknowledge. He's the adult an' you're the child, so it's his job t'keep a cool head durin' interactions, regardless of what /you're/ sayin'. An', yes, people stealin' yours and 'Bastian's clothes is somethin' that needs t'be addressed. B said he knows who's doin' it but wouldn't tell us." His lips press thin at that. "I would still like t'see somethin' done, however. Yes, y'should've been more respectful t'Mr. Suresh. Y'honestly owe 'im an apology for the way y'talk to 'im. An' that's somethin' y'should work t'correct goin' forward. But if he was accusin' you of lyin' baselessly? He owes /you/ one, as well. If he doesn't request t'speak with us, we'll ask the meetin' of 'im instead." There is a hint of a smile at Shane's question of being polite even at home. "It's best practice t'speak respectfully of folks in general, an' your teachers in particular, Shane. But with /me/...I just ask that you're honest. So y'can say what you're thinkin' when we're talkin' in privacy, okay?" The hand on Shane's head moves to scritch gently. Jackson also listens quietly. He adds a healthy dose of agave to his tea, putting the tea ball back in to use it to stir and then setting it back on the saucer. He picks up the mug, holding it at rest on the arm of the couch. His other hand shifts, fingers running slow and firm down Shane's side, smoothing the gills back closed. "You can always speak free with us on how y'feel, pup. Though if you get in the /habit/ of talkin' disrespectful of people in private you're like to find it that much harder to be civil in public. And you do need to be civil in public. Ain't cuz'a he's older than you or -- it's just cuz it's better for everyone if y'/always/ treat folks with respect. I know some times that's harder'n others." He can't help the frown that follows, though. "S'it just the clothes, I mean -- do people bother you otherwise?" His lips press a little bit thinner before he follows this up with: "... what got you in a bad mood to start?" The quivering of Shane's gills begins to quiet, eyes slipping closed and some of his tension easing with the petting and head-scritches. "Man, people have given /me/ shit since /forever/, guys." He says this with a crooked grin. "But -- I give everyone /else/ so much shit I couldn't /blame/ them. People were awkward around B when we /started/ school and then he was fine for a while but since --" The grin fades. This time it's all of him and not just his gills that shiver. "... since Fight Club it's been kind of. Crappy. I mean we /are/ sort of monsters." Shane draws in a deeper breath once his gills press flat. "OK. I'll apologize to him. -- can it be Monday? 'cuz I really don't want to -- go back tomorrow, I don't --" His head shakes. "... if I tell you something can you both not. Um. OK I guess neither of you really spent a lot of time /lecturing/ us but I've kind of earned a lot of 'I told you so' that I don't. Want to hear just tonight." Micah's arm eventually drops to circle Shane's shoulders, fingers stroking down at the gills on the opposite side of his neck. "Does get hard t'find the line between people standin' away 'cause they were goin' to or doin' it 'cause y'pushed 'em there, after awhile," he comments softly, arm giving Shane's shoulders a squeeze. "You are /not/ monsters. Y'don't use that word for yourselves. No one else gets to, either. If the other kids are sayin' that...we need t'know. 'Cause somethin' clearly needs t'be done." His eyes search Shane's face intently at his sudden hedging on the topic of what had happened, that it was something that came with warnings, levels of concern clearly rising. "Honey, no. Y'say what y'gotta say an'... Clearly people've already 'told you' on this subject so that can surely wait. Please just...what happened?" "You are not monsters," Jackson says almost in time with Micah, his hand pressing flat to Shane's side. "The position y'all was /forced/ into there, y'can't judge from that, what they done to you was --" He shakes his head, his hand moving again, slow against Shane's gills. "You can tell us what you need to tell us, pup. Hugs'll come first, yeah?" "Forced into -- how can /you/ say that, Pa? Isn't that what you're always telling us? That -- no matter what shit the world keeps slinging at us what we do with ourselves is always our choice? Because -- Because you've /been/ there. And /you/ didn't start killing and eating people no matter what fucking hell they --" Shane lifts his hand, his fingers touching lightly to the eyepatch Jackson wears. "How can you make /excuses/ for us?" Even with the petting, his gills quiver restlessly. It takes a quiet moment, Shane's eyes scrunching shut tight, before his breathing regulates again. "I didn't get in any more trouble or anything," he assures them first. "I just -- I broke up with Eric yesterday. Or -- fuck it, I don't even think we were properly /dating/ before I -- but it /feels/ like breaking up and I." His teeth grit, brow rumpling. "... just feels a lot shittier than I was expecting and I've been in a. Bad mood." "Honey, there's always a /choice/, but sometimes the other options are so /bad/ it ain't a choice at all. What were you t'do, let 'em kill you? /Not/ be there t'help Peter through it? Yes, eatin' people when you was /starved/ was basic, animal /survival/. It's that mode that kicks in for /any/ person when they're fightin' for their lives. It ain't like the choice was between killin' folks an' a stern scoldin'. Or eatin' people an' bein' mildly uncomfortable. It was that or /death/." Micah hugs Shane harder, hand insistently petting the gills down where they flare. His lips compress again at the revelation about Eric. "Oh, honey, I'm so--that's...hard. He didn't...do anythin' t'you? Nothin' untoward? Either t'cause the break-up or because of it?" "Y'always got a choice," Jackson agrees softly. He reaches up, his fingers curling around Shane's where they touch the eyepatch. "Y'just don't always got any good ones." He quiets at the next information. Around the room there's a brief ripple of light, and he leans down to kiss Shane's forehead lightly. "He didn't hurt you or nothin' did he?" His hand returns to running down Shane's gills. "It's just hard to blame the other kids. /I'd/ be scared of me, maybe. When they roomed me with Taylor last term people kept acting like I was going to eat him. I think it bothered him more than me, the calamari jokes really weren't --" Shane exhales sharply. His head shakes in quick denial. "No. No, nothing like that. He just -- wasn't very --" He frowns. "... I don't think he cared about me all that much." "Bein' scared at first, when they don't know you, is one thing. Makin' rude comments, playin' mean pranks, callin' names, an' bullyin' is somethin' else entirely. " Micah squeezes Shane tighter once more. "I'm sor--" He frowns, circling a fist over his heart with a slightly frustrated expression instead. "It was your decision to call it off?" "Could bring this all up when we -- we're plannin' to have a little sit-down with the administration. Talk about the unevenness of treatment 'tween the kids whose mutations express themselves in physical traits an' the ones that don't." Jackson exhales heavily, still rubbing gently at Shane's gills. "That's rough, sweetie. Break-ups ain't never easy to go through." "Oh, god, just don't -- nngh. I don't want this to turn into, like, a /Thing/." Shane shivers, eyes still squeezed tight shut. "I mean with the asshole kids. It probably /should/ be a Thing with the asshole /teachers/." Eventually he wriggles himself upright again, feet sliding back to the floor, and leans in to grab his tea. He tucks his legs beneath him, now, settling back with his head against Micah's shoulder. "Yeah, my decision. Probably should have come a while ago I just." He scowls at his chamomile. "We're not tryin' t'make trouble for y'all...it's just that this kinda behaviour shouldn't be tolerated from the kids, neither. They gotta learn where the lines are on their behaviour some time, too. In addition to the fact that y'all shouldn't be forced to go through it." Micah chews at his lip pensively for a few beats. "Do y'all have an anti-bullyin' program at school? Peer mediation or peer mentorship or any of those kindsa things? Seems like it'd be a good step between doin' nothin' an' feelin' like you're overreactin' bringin' administration an' parents an' all in on it." With Shane's head on his shoulder, he returns to providing head rubs. "I'm sor--sad that y'had t'go through it at all, but glad that y'recognised when y'weren't bein' treated right an' did somethin' about it." "Yeah, there's mediation," Jackson affirms, "kinda requires someone to bring the problem to them first, though." He picks up his tea, sipping at it slowly. "You think Taylor an' some'a the others'd mind if I talked t'them about all this? Be good to have s'many perspectives as we can for bringin' it up with the Professor. The stuff with the other teachers, 'least. But the things with the other kids, that shouldn't slide neither." His fingers drum restlessly against his mug. "They'd talk to you. /You're/ cool. For a teacher," Shane says with a sharp thin slice of a grin. "... you guys make it easy, you know. Sometimes with other people I feel like I get stuck in this really shitty -- loop. Where they're stupid and dickbags and /I'm/ stupid and a dickbag at them and then we just kind of circle like that forever. You guys are --" He grimaces, and takes a gulp of tea. "Really easy to respect. I know /I/ don't make it easy." "What would y'think of addressin' the issues you're havin' with other kids usin' a peer mediator 'stead of adults, then, Shane? You or B or both could bring it up. Start with somethin' simple an' concrete…like the clothes issue. Make it into a conversation 'stead of lookin' like you're tryin' t'start trouble for anybody. Sometimes it can help just t'get folks talkin' at the same table." Micah nods to Jax about bringing the teacher issue up with the administration. "We should definitely have a chat on the teacher issue. Shouldn't nobody /on staff/ be nothin' less than welcomin' an' helpful for the students. Maybe Shane's right an' the folks as aren't doin' that just aren't aware what they're doin'. So they need t'be informed at least. Start a dialogue there." A little snort ends in a chuckle at Shane's description of his cycles of interaction with many people. "Y'know, it's best t'default t'treatin' people respectful? Even if they're jerks t'start. Sometimes /you/ bein' calm an' polite's enough t'make people realise when /they're/ bein' jerks. An' they'll even /sometimes/ be better about it in response." He darts a fond little peck-kiss to Shane's temple. "Meantime, I'll just take that as a compliment." Jackson exhales a quick huff of laughter, his cheeks colouring faintly. "Micah's right, pup, s'best just to treat folks respectfully nohow. Even if they are jerks it won't get you trapped in that loop. An' if they /aren't/ jerks it won't give them no incentive to get huffy with you either. -- An' Aloke," he adds wryly, "ain't an asshole at all, he's a sweet man who you could stand t'give a chance to. He's tryin' with you, Shane, he really is. An' you /don't/ always make it easy. But under all that /prickle/ you wear you're a really good kid. /You/ don't give yourself enough of a chance t'let people /see/ that/." Shane scowls at the idea of peer mediators, gills fluttering quickly. "B should do it, not me. I mean, /last/ year before all the -- eating people he was class president. He's way easier to get along with. I'd just yell at people and fuck it up." He huffs out a quick breath, too, though his sounds more irritated than amused. "Sometimes I try. I just -- shit. I don't even /know/ when I've -- like I'll do things or say things that nobody /here/ would give a fuck about except suddenly everyone's freaking the hell out because I said the wrong word or didn't /smile/ the right way or didn't wear the right thing and then they get annoyed at me and then I get annoyed the hell /back/ because I wasn't even /trying/ to be a dick but apparently I fucked up again. It's like the sex thing except with every damn thing I do, you know? B's better at this. It's harder to be polite if you don't even know what's /rude/." "Mr. Suresh /is/ tryin' with you, Shane. He came t'talk t'us last time y'all had an issue not t'/complain/ about you, but because he was concerned for you. Y'could stand t'give 'im a little leeway 'fore y'write 'im off completely," Micah agrees with Jax, his tone remaining soft and conversational. "I know it's hard t'follow all the conventions on account of y'don't /know/ 'em. But y'sure know some, Shane. S'how you're figurin' out someone's bein' a jerk t'you, after all. Y'know generally that it ain't okay t'be yellin' at or cursin' at authority figures, that y'should go t'scheduled meetin's an' classes, that y'should show up t'things on time an' do assigned work. Just 'cause y'don't know /all/ the social niceties don't mean y'gotta abandon the idea of politeness altogether. This is why I was thinkin' life skills an' social skills classes would be good at the school. But it /was/ a concern when y'said y'felt it'd be singlin' y'all out an' make things worse with the other kids. I dunno. Can we institute a formal lecture in /manners/ for everyone? Wouldn't /hurt/ nobody t'have a reminder." He laughs again at this, half joking, then suddenly hides his face in his palm. "Ohgosh, I think I just reinvented cotillion classes…Jax, I'm totin' the South along with me, help!" Fully giggling by now, he curls /his/ forehead into /Shane's/ shoulder. "Shane, some things you can figure out well enough." Jax tips his head in a nod of agreement with Micah. "Ain't nobody expectin' you to get it all right all the time, but you can try, too. Some social rules is obvious enough -- how well d'you like it if folks're throwin' around implications that you're dumb or lyin' if they don't happen to agree with you?" He brushes his hand down along Shane's gills again, when they flutter. "Some of the time it /is/ more arbitrary. Like with how much bein' dressed is an appropriate amount of bein' dressed. That kinda thing you just gotta look to other cues to figure on, like what everyone else around you seems comfortable with. An' you /do/ gotta try, honey-honey. Even past makin' other folks uncomfortable, /you/ could get in trouble for some'a it." He devolves into a fit of laughter, too, though, at Micah's last. "-- Oh. Oh gosh. Hey, I'll teach everyone ballroom, sure. I totally went to Cotillion even bein' schooled up here. My folks insisted I have /some/ manners. Had a charming young lady as my date an' everything -- sometimes my folks still ask me if I'm gonna take her out again." "He's just --" Shane scowls, but it's hard for him to retain under the petting. "Such a /teacher/. Like with all the condescending that comes with that. And I /really fucking hate/ people who come up and /act/ like we're friends before we've /become/ friends." He blinks at the sudden giggling, reaching up to curl fingers slowly through Micah's hair, a little bemused. "-- Are /you/ going to teach an etiquette class, Ba? What'a a cotillion? Is that some South thing?" "Have y'tried talkin' to Mr. Suresh about things he says or does that make you uncomfortable? Like as not he just doesn't know. Askin' somebody not t'do somethin's a whole lotta a better idea'n just bein' a jerk at 'em, hon." Micah is still laughing on and off through the Cotillion talk, particularly when Jax mentions his parents' opinions on his date. "It's…kinda like classes on bein' fancy for adolescents that all ends in a big, formal ballroom dance thing. S'a lingerin' vestige of when marriageable youngsters would be presented t'society as such, really. But they teach…fancy table manners an' ways t'talk polite an' how t'ask a young lady t'dance with you an' /how/ t'dance if she says yes an' all that. Teaches Polite Society, in short. 'Cause otherwise, how're people t'know all these silly rules that everybody expects 'em t'know? Ain't /especially/ Southern 'ceptin' that they still hold these things down South sometimes an' not so much elsewhere." The giggling stops when Shane asks if /he'll/ be teaching. "Oh…ohgosh, I'm not a teacher or nothin', Shane. I can only imagine how /that/ would look, anyhow. Bring in the non-genetically-enhanced person t'teach y'all how t'behave. It just seems so," he adopts an affected snooty accent, "'Yes, ruffian mutant children. Allow me to enlighten your savage ways so that Society may tolerate your unclean presence.'" His nose scrunches up and his tongue sticks out from one side of his mouth in disgust. "Just awful from an image perspective, y'know?" "Goodness, honey, you tryin' to kill Micah or something, where he'd find the /time/ for another job I sure don't know. Though to be fair, you /are/ kinda a ruffian." Jackson stifles his laughter, rubbing a hand against Shane's spiky hair. "Still have a couple up North but s'mostly just for really, uh. Fancy folk. He shakes his head, taking another sip of tea. "The sad part is what age is considered marryin' age. -- Hmm. I wonder who /would/ be good for teachin' etiquette. Someone who /ain't/ gonna behave like y'all are savages -- though," he says with a small giggle, "actin' like the kids you're teachin' is savages in need of tamin' is /pretty much/ also a staple of cotillion classes." Shane wrinkles up his nose, /huffing/ again in annoyance. "No, I haven't -- ngh. He's just so -- /ngh/. OK. Right. Talking to him. But only if he apologizes to me, /too/." His shoulders tense up faintly, and he gulps down his entire mug of tea in a few long swallows, downing it like it is medicine. He lies back down once he's set his mug aside, this time resting his head on Micah's lap and draping his legs across Jax's. "... the rules /are/ silly," he grumps. "Nobody /here/ gets so fussed about my clothes. Things catch on my skin I mean I /like/ to look good but it's never /comfortable/." He looks up at Micah, studying the older man's face thoughtfully. "We do have human teachers. A /few/ of them. Even a student here or there. But -- okay. Maybe not etiquette class. You could teach how to make cyborgs! It's not like /either/ of you /ever/ sleep anyway. -- Also, Pa, I dont' think that's a /cotillion/ thing. Half of every teacher I've ever /had/ acts like kids are wild animals to be domesticated." "Y'know, this whole thing might be a better way of approachin' it? I just...kinda know more about special instruction, so that's the way I came at it. But it makes more sense from just a /practical skills/ direction here." Micah sits up a little straighter, rolling on a fuller idea now. "Instead of /callin'/ 'em Life Skills an' Social Skills classes...could have Etiquette an' Home Economics, really. Etiquette can cover social issues...just branch it out, start more basic, include cultural sensitivity an' how t'avoid accident'ly harassin' folks an' such. Home ec. could cover all that basic stuff y'usually pick up just growin' up 'round a household. How t'mend a hole in your shirt an' hem pants an' put together a basic meal an' act like y'know a washin' machine from a hole in the ground an' personal finance an' basic home maintenance an' all that. Wouldn't hurt t'add a Professional Issues kinda class...writin' résumés an' goin' on job interviews an' basic workplace conduct. Might could be you've got teachers already who'd be good at those things...somethin' y'could just ask for volunteers on if it's somethin' that gets t'goin' forward." Micah pets at Shane's hair when the boy lays his head in his lap. "Oh, Shane, it ain't that I don't want to, or even the time thing. It's mostly... Well, that I'm not a teacher an' comin' in /just/ for that... I know y'got non-geneticaly-enhanced teachers already. It's that specific idea." He nods at the complaint that the rules are silly and that they don't seem to follow all of them at home. "An' some folks is just less caught up on followin' Society'n others are. Jax'n I are kinda...relaxed far as that's concerned, y'could say. /Most/ folks is more relaxed at home than they are out in public, too." "Sometimes the rules are silly," Jackson agrees freely. "Goodness knows we break enough of 'em in this house. Basically hardly nothin' 'bout /our/ relationship is all that socially /acceptable/. But the thing is that you kinda gotta at least know what the rules /are/ 'fore you decide which ones do an' don't work for you. So that you /don't/ have people gettin' upset at you when you don't even understand why. An' so you don't go 'round makin' folks uncomfortable when you're just tryin' to do your own thing. Learnin' what society /expects/ of you at least prepares y'better to make your /own/ decisions 'bout what to do with yourself." He wrinkles up his nose deeply. "... an' oh /gosh/, sweetie, that is a /terrible/ approach to teachin', you got my full permission to tell me /right/ off if y'ever see me treatin' any'a y'all like that, 'kay? 'Cuz the reason we teach only got to do with what /knowledge/ we got that y'all ain't learned yet, ain't nothin' to do with any of us bein' /better/'n any of you." "We have a lot of those skills kind of -- in separate classes, I mean there's cooking class and sewing class and shop classes and Pa's sex class talks a lot about -- consent and respect and -- but nothing -- that covers /all/ of that at once." Shane frowns uncertainly. "I don't know," he muses thoughtfully, "which of our teachers are just good at /life/. Life seems like it's a hard-ass thing to be good at." "Exac'ly that. Rules are there an' /sure/ y'can break a lot of 'em, but it's best t'know what the rules /are/. 'Cause people are gonna assume y'know. An' if y'don't follow 'em, they're gonna assume it's on purpose. That's where y'get into trouble when you're just makin' honest mistakes, really." Micah pauses, finally reaching for his mug of tea to drink from it now that it is no longer boiling-hot. "An' it's good y'got all those classes for folks as wanna study things /in depth/. But y'gotta know a little about a lot just t'get along." A little chuckle answers the question of teachers being good at /life/. "Ain't so much a good at life issue as it is a good at bein' domestic issue. Or good at social things. Or good at business things. S'all /aspects/ of bein' successful at life, though, s'true." He takes another sip from the mug. "An' yeah, if you're feelin' that your teachers are comin' at y'from a condescendin' place most of the time...that could be a concern, too. S'it possible they're less doin' that an' more wantin' t'help but not knowin' the right way t'go about it?" "I don't know if I know /anyone/ all that great at life." Jax laughs, finishing off his tea as well. "S'kinda a whole boatload of things need learnin' an' most folks are still learnin' /some/ of them. Liiike I'd prob'ly have forgotten to pay /every/ month of bills the whole first year we lived here if B hadn't reminded me. ... uh. Now I at least remember on my own about once every /three/ months." He scruffs his fingers through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck afterwards. "I -- m'not good at /any/ of those things." Shane's frown returns. "I don't actually know what I'm good at," he admits. "Nothing really useful for life." He shrugs, nuzzling sleepily down against Micah's lap. "I don't think they're being condescending to /me/ in particular. I just thought being condescending to younger people was pretty much a standard adult thing. Though I guess -- nobody around /here/ really is." His gills briefly flutter, his eyes slipping back closed. "... so how does everyone manage if nobody's great at all this?" "Y'muddle through. Ask for help where y'can. Learn from your mistakes an' move on." Micah arches an eyebrow at Jax, leaning in to bonk his head on the other man's shoulder. "Seriously, though, d'you want me t'take over the paperwork an' bill-payin' kindsa things? 'Cause I'm actually fairly good at the organisational stuff. Hardest part of bills is just havin' the money t'pay 'em with. Can even automate a fair amount of the process." He sits back up, a little frown forming at Shane's claim to not being good at anything. "You're good at a lotta things, hon, y'just don't /think/ about 'em, prob'ly. Like, you're a /crazy/-natural with languages. You'd be an awesome translator, just knowin' as many as y'do already." Jackson rubs at Micah's neck, now, with the headbonk. "... Yes. I just, uh, forget. All the things. I mean okay /sometimes/ we're /also/ sorta broke but other times I just, um." His nose crinkles up, cheeks flushing sheepishly. "You surround yourself," he says, patting lightly at Shane's side, "with really awesome family an' friends an' 'tween the lot of everyone you get by." Shane smiles at this. Just smiles, curling his hand around Micah's knee and nestling in close. "That part," he says happily, "I can do."