Summertime On My Mind (Devon)

[Astley Pyatt]

Astley was jittery. Her drawing hand was rearing to go, but she felt silly sketching alone in her room. The art club hadn't met in about forever, and she wasn't even sure if their new advisor even realized the club existed at this point, but she was eager to get a club meeting together (from behind the scenes of course, the thought of actually running a meeting still made her nervous).

She knocked on the art studio door, gently, unsure what hours the new teacher kept during the summer, one hand nervously twisting itself in the side ties of her long gathered vest. She still didn't like approaching people alone. It helped that he was a teacher, so she knew he wouldn't be rude or mean or anything, and that he was an art teacher beyond that, so they had something in common, but the first-meet jitters still came.

As she knocked, the two halves of her mind bickered. The reason we haven't met is because people are busy doing summer things, and visiting their families and- -You want to have a social life. Stop messing this up for yourself.- But what if no one even wants to come to the meeting? What if they say they do, but don't show up? -No risk, no reward. And it's not even that high of a risk, get over yourself and just do it.- What if I have to go tell everyone? -You won't. There's a mailing list.- (And on it went, as she waited by the door.)

[Devon Wentsworth]

The summer holidays were nearing their end, which meant Devon was spending increasingly more time in the classroom. He'd been in and out quite a lot over the break, getting the room up to his standards and making sure everything was set ready for the new academic year. It would be his first proper term semester teaching at Hammel and he was filled with both excitement and dread. It would be a teaching environment unlike anything he'd ever handled before and the thought of the challenges to come thrilled him, but his first introductions to the school had gone anything but swimmingly and there was still, tucked in the back of his mind, doubts about whether he had the skills to handle it yet.

A knock on the art room door woke him, dark eyes slowly blinking open before he yawned and stretched out his long body in the hammock he'd installed not long after his arrival. He hadn't planned to nap at the school today but a combination of too much TV the night before and a large lunch had forced it upon him. Sliding out of the hammock, the large polecat stretched again and scratched an itch behind its ear before padding out from under the desk and changing back into its normal form.

Once more resembling an art teacher, Devon took off his paint-smudged shirt and turned it the right way around before putting it back on again. He'd still not quite gotten the hang of seamlessly shifting his clothes with him. “Come in, it's open.” Devon hadn't been expecting anyone, but the Brit still offered the young girl a bright smile when she appeared around the door. “Good afternoon. Is there something I can help you with?”

[Astley Pyatt]

As she opened the door, a little more cautiously than was entirely necessary, she shot the teacher a nervous smile. "Hi, I'm Astley-" she hesitated, not used to meeting teachers outside of class, and finally offered a hand, a little awkwardly. God - she was always awkward, wasn't she? She didn't think she'd ever made a single strong impression on someone when she first met them, she was always the awkward one with the meek introduction.

"I'm a member of the art club, and, well, we haven't had a meeting in a while, so I thought maybe you could, you know, since you're the adviser and all-" People were always telling her to take a deep breath when she got nervous. She should do that. So she halted her verbal rampage and took a deep breath, the previous words still hanging like a cloud of smoke over a train wreck.

Trying again, she fixed her words. "I was hoping you might set up a meeting of the art club." Finally satisfied with her statement, she managed a crooked smile, embarrassed but feeling a little tug of pride. She'd managed to pull the foot out of her mouth. Congrats, Astley, you fixed a bad introduction!

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon was very quick to spot the nervy entry and the shake in the girl's voice. Though he instantly softened his shoulders and tried to relax the usual buzzy air that he carried, he didn't lower his guard completely. The Brit was a quick learner and in his short time at Hammel had had already experienced enough to realise that dropping your shield was an invitation to be burned. Quite possibly literally. As such he took on a relaxed, open air but he was carefully watching out for any signs that this girl was trying to play him.

Taking the proffered hand, Devon gave it a gentle and friendly shake. “Hello Astley, I'm Devon. It's a pleasure to meet you.” Devon knew he should probably introduce himself by his proper title, but he never expected any of his students to use it in the classroom so what was the point? If he actually had any power or authority of any sort then maybe, but a lanky British art teacher that was most often covered in paint was hardly commanding of a 'Mister Wentsworth'. It was barely commanding of a 'Devon'.

Devon remained patiently quiet while Astley fought to form her words, a soft smile on his lips and his fingers laced on the desk. He fought back a yawn, still in the process of waking up from his snooze, and he smiled and nodded once she had managed to find her words and ask her question. “Of course! I've not been here long and I've still been getting settled and sorting things out, but I fully intend to get the club running again soon.” He gestured towards one of the stools, inviting her to sit should she so wish. “Did you have any ideas for it you'd like to run by me?”

[Astley Pyatt]

Astley followed Devon's gesture, glancing to the stool, unsure if he was offering or ordering. Better safe than sorry, she supposed, sitting on the stool politely. Still, she perched without commitment, not having much to say on the matter.

"Um... Well I'm not really a leader or anything," funny, the witty side of her pointed out wryly, that seemed like an obvious statement. Clarifying, she continued. "I've never spoken on behalf of the club. Or even the members. (Including myself)," she added in a mutter, "I just want to get the club together, hang out while the weather is nice, and do some drawing, maybe share some work."

As she often did, Astley followed her good idea with a complete revocation, "Not that those are requirements - I'm not saying I know anything better than you in terms of meetings, you're the adviser so you probably know best."

[Devon Wentsworth]

In the three years he'd been teaching in the normal high school back home he had of course come to see many students who were scared or flighty, but this was the first seemingly-genuine nervy student Devon had come across at Hammel. Most of the students he'd run into were either over-confident, bubbly and outgoing or just generally arseholes. He idly wondered what, if anything, could have led to this quiet shyness.

Devon smiled gently as Astley spoke, nodding in agreement and fishing a pen out of the pot on the desk to make a note on a scrap of paper. “That all sounds very do-able. Please, never feel afraid to voice your thoughts or ideas to me; I promise I try to be one of the good guys as much as I can.” Devon made a quick note on the paper scrap – Art club meeting ASAP.

The art teacher ruffled a hand over his dark hair, rolling his eyes at himself when he realised it was a fluffy mess. No doubt an after-effect of when he'd been fidgeting around on the mini pet hammock trying to get comfortable. “What type of art work is your favourite to do – drawing, painting... sculpture, maybe?”

[Astley Pyatt]

Devon's reassurances helped a bit as Astley chided herself (as usual) for putting her foot in her mouth. She often wondered if one day her foot would be gone because she'd accidentally bitten it off while it was in there. Her smile was tentative, but at the change of subject she noticeably relaxed.

Aha! Art! Something she actually knew about, opposed to leadership. "Drawing, I think, but I've worked in a lot of mediums. I took lessons from really young - my mom is an art dealer and works at a gallery, so I've been around art basically my whole life." It was a relief to be speaking coherently, and her posture reflected that as she loosened her stiff back and glanced around the studio, wondering if anything new had come in since she'd been here last.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon noticed the girl's relaxation at the subject change and he began to slip into the decision that perhaps she was being genuine with her nerves and unease at talking to him. It wasn't something the art teacher was particularly used to; far more often in his life he was used to people utterly failing to take him seriously on anything. Granted that was usually far more warranted an opinion, but still.

Listening intently as the girl spoke, Devon grew slowly more impressed and it showed easily in his expression. He laughed softly. “Wow, there's probably a few things you could teach me about fine art then.” He caught her looking around and idly wondered if she'd spotted the large painted owl totem figure proudly displayed on top of one of the cabinets. The paint job was hardly a masterpiece (that's what happened when you painted with a toddler), but Devon loved it none the less. “Yes, I promise there will be an art club meeting once the new ter- semester is underway. I'll be sending a note out with dates and times as soon as I have got things arranged for it.”

[Astley Pyatt]

Astley was flattered by his compliment, but (because that's the way she thought) assumed he was just being nice. He was a teacher. Teachers always knew more than students. She busied herself looking around from item to item, checking out the work on display. She hesitated at the owl totem, thinking the quality was a little out of place, and wondered if it was a middle school class or maybe an outreach program. As she thought that, she felt immediately guilty, worried it might actually be by one of her peers and she was just being judgmental.

“Yes, I promise there will be an art club meeting once the new ter- semester is underway. I'll be sending a note out with dates and times as soon as I have got things arranged for it.”

Looking back to Devon with a smile, she felt immensely relieved. "Well... I guess my work here is done." She stood, but hesitated, glancing at the totem and then at her hands. "Um... sorry for being a spaz," she apologized, sheepishly. "I don't - meeting people isn't my forte." Trying to get off the subject of herself, but not ready to leave yet (she'd missed the art studio, it was a comforting place), she paused, then nodded toward the totem. "Is that a class project? We didn't do anything like it when I was in class."

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon was indeed mainly being nice, but there was an edge of truth to it too. No one knew all there was to know about everything, and his own knowledge and experience leaned more towards surrealism, fantasy and street art than it did towards the fine and classical arts. Of course he knew enough to be able to teach well at high school level, but he did not doubt for a second that there were arts dealers, auctioneers and professors whose knowledge would easily run circles around his.

The art teacher sat quietly as she looked around the room, noting her quiet curiosity and already trying to work out how to perhaps encourage this frightened young woman to be able to come out of her shell a little more. Devon bit back his urge to berate her word choice, not wanting to put her off now she was showing some sign of being able to speak a little easier, and instead he smiled softly. “That's okay, Astley. A lot of people struggle with introductions, I know I did when I first started in my high school. It will get easier, with time.”

Giving a soft laugh as the girl indicated towards the totem, Devon nodded. “Sort of. Next semester there will be a topic on sculptural symbolism, and totem's will be a part of it. That's mainly for inspiration, but the class will get a chance to work on their own totem piece.” By way of explanation, Devon added “My friend's son helped me paint that, he's only two.”

[Astley Pyatt]

“That's okay, Astley. A lot of people struggle with introductions, I know I did when I first started in my high school. It will get easier, with time.”

Astley's lips quirked in a small wry smile. "Yeah, except I've been here two years." Her face held an incredulous but amused look, aware that she used to be a lot more outgoing, though she was now relaxing bit by bit in her former haven. She'd spent a lot of time in the art room her first year at Hammel. For the first half of her second year, as well, but this was the first time visiting it outside of art club meetings, the most recent of which had been months ago. She pulled herself from her reverie to hear him answer her question.

“Sort of. Next semester there will be a topic on sculptural symbolism, and totem's will be a part of it. That's mainly for inspiration, but the class will get a chance to work on their own totem piece. My friend's son helped me paint that, he's only two.”

That explanation made Astley smile. She didn't used to be very comfortable around kids, but when she'd drawn into herself, she found them a little more appealing. Some of them, anyway. As long as they weren't crying. But, then again, nobody liked a crying baby.

The totem made her happy for some reason. Well, this room made her happy. She hesitated as the thought came to her, and bit her lip, not sure whether or not she should ask. She would probably be busy this year, anyway, what with training her number one focus in order to pass grad requirements, and applying for schools (she still didn't know if she'd need to stay at Hammel for training once she was in college, or if she could go elsewhere), and art club. Who was she kidding with art club, that wasn't something that would make her busy, she was fooling herself about that one. Still, she couldn't tell if it was a good idea or not. But she liked Devon. And she missed art. "Do you... do you need a teaching assistant or anything?" She offered, hopefully.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon was mostly unphased by her admission of how long she'd been here and he gave a genial shrug of his shoulders. “Some people take longer than others. You've only been in here talking to me for a few minutes and you're already improving.” Whilst Devon had complete sympathy for those who struggled with social interaction he did admittedly find it difficult to understand. Although his first introductions at Kocher had been difficult, he had been born with the gift of being able to blab on and on to anyone about anything, sometimes whether they wanted him to or not. He'd learned the very hard way how to control his wayward voice-box in certain situations, but social anxieties had never been part of his conscience and that made it a little tough for him to place himself in Astley's shoes.

As Astley seemed to smile and settle down more Devon relaxed himself and smiled back, though he did have to muffle a yawn behind his hand. He wasn't bored or distracted at all, he just took longer to actually wake up after a doze in his non-human form, and he apologised quickly and explained it with the half-truth that he hadn't slept particularly well the previous night.

The girl's question took Devon a little by surprise, and he hesitated a moment with his answer. “Umm, I don't need a teaching assistant as such. The classes are quite small and when they are on you would most likely be busy in your own classes.” His left elbow rested on the desk, hand idly fidgeting with the small black stud in his earlobe. “If you're interested though, I'd be quite happy if you were willing to come in for an hour or so a week to help with inventory taking and sorting the store room and stuff? I know it's not the same, but I'd appreciate the help and it'd look good on your resume.”

[Astley Pyatt]

“Some people take longer than others. You've only been in here talking to me for a few minutes and you're already improving.”

She nodded - he made a good point. She was getting better and better about adjusting, though here the surroundings helped. In a classroom she was far more painfully shy, but art was a uniting factor between her old self and the self she was at Hammel. It helped keep her firmly grounded in a conversation, instead of getting too much into her own head.

She noticed his yawn, and was about to excuse herself, thinking maybe she was boring him, or keeping him from a nap, but he began to answer her query.

“Umm, I don't need a teaching assistant as such. The classes are quite small and when they are on you would most likely be busy in your own classes."

Oh... well...

"If you're interested though, I'd be quite happy if you were willing to come in for an hour or so a week to help with inventory taking and sorting the store room and stuff? I know it's not the same, but I'd appreciate the help and it'd look good on your resume.”

Astley's eyes, that had cast down at the opening of his answer, immediately brightened. That would be perfect! It may not help her meet other art students, as she'd initially hoped, but it would be nice to feel useful, especially in a place she felt so comfortable. And who knows, maybe she'd run into some other students - it would be a lot easier to strike up a conversation if it was about art, that was for sure. "I'd love to!" Her voice was bright and enthusiastic, and free of any of the anxiety she'd had before. As she realized that, she scrunched her nose up, still smiling, finding it hard to be embarrassed when she was so happy. But she was a little apologetic. "I'm sorry if I'm keeping you from anything, you seem tired." She added, voice less excited, but still far more chipper than she'd been a moment ago.

[Devon Wentsworth]

The main reason Devon had decided to go into teaching was because he wanted to be able to give something back. He had been sort of lost in high school, clearly smart but unfocussed and not having a single clue what he wanted to do with his life. He paid attention as and when it suited him, and when asked what career he wanted would usually respond with something along the lines of bed tester or beer taster. Had it not been for his art teacher reining him in and turning all his outgoing boisterousness into creative energy, he could very well have gotten lost in the cracks of the system like so many others did.

Art had been his focus, his way out of obscurity and into productivity, and if he had the chance to inspire that in someone else then he damn well would. Being a teacher was about more than just teaching classes and marking assignments after all. It was about getting youngsters ready for what was out There. And often art students needed that help and guidance more than most if they wanted to do something greater than drawing caricatures in the park for $5 a pop.

The young girl's brightening at his suggestion brought a broad smile to Devon's lips and he nodded as she spoke. “That's settled, then. Welcome to the team.” He laughed softly, making a quick note on the scrap of paper. “I normally do it on Thursday after classes. Does that work okay for you?” If not then it could very easily be arranged for another day. He gave a vague wave of his hand at her apology. “It's fine, really. I'm just in need of coffee, which I shall go and get now. Thank you for coming in, Astley. I'll be sure to let you know as soon as I've sorted things out for the art club.”

[Astley Pyatt]

Astley nodded at his suggested schedule, knowing that would be easy to fit in. She jotted down her email address, in case he had any particular things he thought of later to let her know (anything she should bring, days he wouldn't need her, or anything else). "It was really nice to meet you ...Devon." It still felt weird calling a teacher by his first name, but she supposed she'd get used to it. "Let me know when you want me to come in, and if you need any help with art club stuff." She handed over the email address, and they made their goodbyes before she exited the studio.


((complete?))