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| Needing to Drop the Symbols | |
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| Topic Started: May 25 2008, 12:40 AM (247 Views) | |
| Jubilee | May 25 2008, 12:40 AM Post #1 |
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Time of day: Morning Place in the time-line6 days after Jubilee met Nox at the coffee shop and 7 hours before Jubilee, Synch and Kim are at the movies (April 2nd) Her relationship with math was over and it wasn't coming back. This love story was something to be desired. The numbers bounced an ran around the page. Looking at the math book was like looking at Pollack painting and being a normal person on the street. It had no meaning to her and she would be placed on the stool with a dunce camp if she was born earlier. Letting out a sigh she gave one knock on the door not giving a damn if Jean was inside and they were swinging from the lights naked. "Scott," she called out in firm voice knowing well enough it was going to take hell and hand basket to get him to give in. Jubilee's eyes were narrowed as she waited for the man to appear with her math crap in her hands. This was unreal she was actually quitting at something but she simply couldn't do it. Letting out sigh of frustration she glanced around the room for the so called drop slips and of course he doesn't leave them out where someone could grab them. Oh, no... Scott didn't believe in quitting and she knew that but she didn't give a damn. He could teach that too his kid but you can't teach a person that has jut given up on math and was failing it beyond all belief. |
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| Cyclops | May 25 2008, 01:27 AM Post #2 |
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Punches from the Punch Dimension
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There was so much to be done, to secure the school, to move to the next steps, and take mutant kind to a new stage of existence, a place of safety, a place of peace. Scott Grey-Summers, as he worked alone in his office, kept up a running dialog with his wife up in her art class, through the rapport that was no longer a slender strand of telepath linkage, but a constantly flowing river of emotion, thought, and word. It no longer seemed awkward or strained. It seemed like everything that he had been before had been so incredibly... alone. ::You have a guest:: whispered his wife, seconds before the knock came on his door, of course, the gifted telepath knew what was happening at all times, particularly around her husband. Jean had become as concerned for his well being as he was for hers. It was not paranoia. It was simply that they could not tolerate being separated for long periods of time, so when they were apart, they did what they could to know what was around their opposite number, so that they could be sure that they were... safe. Who knew what they were up against in this new and strange world they had found themselves thrown into. "Scott," came the voice directly after the knock. He recognized it, of course, he knew all of the students here at the school, old and new. "Come in, Miss Lee," he said, putting his computer on standby. He had been working on a list of important human officials for a purpose only he and Jean knew about. His screen saver snapped on, airplanes flying through various landscapes. The computer was of course color manipulated so that his red hued vision was compensated for. To anyone else it would look strange, but Scott allowed no one near his computer ever. |
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| Jubilee | May 25 2008, 03:06 AM Post #3 |
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For Jubilee this was going to be blunt and quick. It needed to be done with, killing this class might save what was left of her GPA. “Don’t call me, Miss Lee,” She snapped at him for the millionth time over the name. Deep hues looked a him and sat down on the chair without him offering it to her. She knew the drill already and she wasn’t in the mood to play with pleasantries. “I’m dropping math. I can’t do it and there is no way anyone will get me to do it.” Ok, that was really what she wanted to say. “Where’s my drop slip so I can get it signed by Logan or whoever need to get it signed by. Numbers needed to float out of her head other float in odd formats. She didn’t want to deal with the hours of trying and she did fail his last ten tests. Simply she just wanted out and she didn’t care if anyone was going to be upset that she quite. The learning disability was too much for her and she needed to just deal the fact that she couldn’t learn it and so did Scott. At that point in time she decided that she wasn’t leaving till she got the drop slip. There wasn’t force big enough to keep her in class and surely it wasn’t Scott Summers that would be that force. |
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| Cyclops | May 25 2008, 03:56 AM Post #4 |
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Punches from the Punch Dimension
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Scott looked at the girl, his eyes hidden as always behind his red lenses. Her disrespect and lax attitude had always annoyed him, which he was not so clueless as to know that was exactly why she did it. She was one of the few students who called him by his first name, after all, most of the others referring to him as Mr. Grey-Summers, or simply Summers. Once in a while, he was called Professor, which he immediately corrected. There was only one Professor, only Xavier. "Dropping math, well, I am not entirely certain that's possible, and why Logan would have to sign a drop sheet, is beyond me since he is a teacher here only by the loosest definition of the term." Scott said, his voice not at all concerned. "Logistics aside, you realize that though we are a private school and therefore subject to a certain flexibility with our curriculum, there is a certain minimum requirement as judged by the state of New York in order for us to meet in order for you to graduate." He steepled his hands beneath his chin, and leaned back in his chair, beneath his desk his long legs stretched out to relieve the pain in his damaged knee. Because he was not a man who flaunted his physicality much, it was occasionally forgotten that he was a young man in his prime, and the injury that that had caused him to need a cane for the past so many months was a difficult one for him to have patience with. "Let me ask you a few questions, Miss... Jubilation, and, bear with me please." Scott said, "This is not in anyway meant to denigrate you or insinuate that you are at all stupid or lazy, which I know can be a first response to poor scholastic performance. Answer me as truthfully as you can, and we'll go from there. How are you at telling time? Do you tend to run late to class? What about managing your money? Can you accurately calculate change due? How much to tip? That sort of thing. What about an instrument? Do you play piano or read music? It sounds random, but please, remember that I am genuinely interested in helping you with this. It's possible there's something we can do to make things less difficult." He turned to his file cabinet, and pulled out a folder with her name on it, bringing out some samples of her homework assignments, "I expect you might have a learning disorder known as Dyscalculia. There are signs that you have a weakness in visual processing. To be successful in mathematics, one needs to be able to visualize numbers and mathematics situations. Students with dyscalculia have a very difficult time visualizing numbers and often mentally mix up the numbers, resulting in what appear to be 'stupid mistakes'. Another problem is with sequencing. Students who have difficulty sequencing or organizing detailed information often have difficulty remembering specific facts and formulas for completing their mathematical calculations. You see, here and here, you have attempted to do the problems backwards, reversing the formulas. There is a test that I'd like you to complete, for me, a simple 5 problem worksheet. It's going to test your ability to categorize and visualize. The scoring is not based on your completing the task successfully, but on completing it with a specific failure rate. If you're determined to have dyscalculia, I'll be more than prepared to excuse you from the course and submit your results to the school board as having a learning disorder." He knew the girl didn't like him, though he was not certain why, guessing it was merely another example of his personality clashing with hers, and perhaps he had been hard as of late, in his obsession to make this school safe, but somehow a left-behind student whose year in a coma after had required him to take special education courses to relearn much of what the brain damage had knocked out of his fractured skull, had become a school teacher, and part of being safe, part of being a functioning member of society, part of surviving meant proper education. He was as solid a believer in that as he was in any ideals of power based training. |
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| Jubilee | May 28 2008, 12:52 AM Post #5 |
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Unregistered
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Jubilee watched Scott carefully, as teacher he knew what was best for her and as field leader he know what was best for her but a father figure they didn’t have chance. Jubilee looked at him like she staring at a brother in hopes of finding out information. “Dude, Aunt Hope is a million miles away! She can’t just sign. Here I have no guardian of the sorts… just you, Logan, and Jean.” Looking own she missed the professor as her eyes noticed a picture of him on the wall. She called Scott a guardian telling him in mixed why the sort of true feelings she held for the man. She cared when he got hurt and if he ever needed her to be she would play nurse. How many classes did he have with her past four years? Asking if she constantly late for class was dumb question and gave him quirked bow. Unless Husk was with her, yeah she as late. “Umm… Scott, Are you too bus teaching when I walk in late? Maybe you need you visor checked. Tips? I give them two dollars every time. Anything more confuses me. I pay with big bills. I never pay with change unless Paige is there to help me.” She gave him quick shrug, “I also use a card. Instrument?” She looked at him with confusion. “I never touched any instrument.” She answered as she looked at man. It was set question and she had her ways around her disability but homework and tests forget it. He wanted to help her and that meant one thing, he was still in class. Not wanting to be she wondered if he had any idea actually how hard this was for her. Looking at the paper she raised a brow at him, “You grade my papers all the time can’t you tell there is something wrong?” She looked over the paper as and read the numbers wrong and started to mix them up and as filled them out. Handing him the paper she sat back and waited him to figure out what went wrong. |
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| Cyclops | May 28 2008, 06:27 AM Post #6 |
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Punches from the Punch Dimension
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"Seeing sloppy work and seeing a disability are two entirely different things, Miss Lee." Scott said, simply, as he graded the test, "And, just because you have math issues doesn't mean you have Dyscalculia. That's why I am giving you this test. Up until this point, I assumed you were simply uninterested or perhaps just lazy." He looked up at her and said, "Dyscalculia has a specific way of manifesting, a specific pattern of problems. Your test results show you have about a 95% likelihood of having the disorder, so I am going to assume it's pretty safe to say." He leaned back in his seat and toyed with one of the model airplanes on his desk for a moment, and though his face was turned towards her, it was clear he was not looking at her. "Jubilation," he said, his voice quiet, but not soft, Scott was so rarely soft with anyone but his wife and his daughter, "I know that you and I don't see eye to lens as it were. You see me as most of the students do... most of the staff for that matter. I'm stodgey, boring, far too in love with rules and regulations, and maybe I don't connect well with other people. That doesn't mean I don't care, and it doesn't mean that I am entirely inflexible." He set the model down and there was a subtle shift in his posture that suggested he had focused on her again, "You know about how I was orphaned, and spent a year in a coma." It was common knowledge around the school, though Scott was not entirely certain how. "There's a method of measuring the severity of a comatose patient, called the Glasgow Coma Scale. A conscious and un-injured person scores a fifteen whereas a person near death scores a three. I scored a five. I had no motor response, no reaction to pain stimuli, no reflexive moment, light response, brain wave activity was limited. No one expected me to come out of the coma, and if I did, they expected me to be severely brain damaged." He tapped his hand on the side of his head, "When Alex and I hit the ground, my skull impacted with the ground, and my brain swelled, causing serious damage to key portions of my Parietal and Occipital lobes. When I woke up, I wasn't able to tell my left from my right. I couldn't name objects that were held up for me or read words that were written on notecards. I was unable to focus my eye sight on minute details. These things got better over time, but it was a slow process. I was in sixth grade when my parents died, but a year later, I was testing back in third grade level and I was not happy about it. The harder I tried, the farther behind I seemed to fall and I gave up. By the time the Professor took me in three years later, I was barely up to where I had been before. I was fifteen and just about to start Jr High School level courses." Scott's hand moved to the edge of his glasses, and his long fingers, nails as immaculately groomed as if he had had a manicure, though it was simply who he was, "The Professor gave me more than these glasses though, and he taught me more than just how to lead team or rebuild an airplane. He taught me how to accommodate for my disability, new ways of seeing, coping. I am not highly organized because I'm fussy. It's because I needed some semblance of control, some way to remember where things were, how things worked, which things were mine sometimes. Once we figured out how my brain perceived now, once I re-understood the relationships between letters or numbers, once we figured what I needed to learn and what I needed to re-learn, then, I quickly caught up and excelled in my classes, developing an affinity for math because it is so predictable. Four plus four will always total eight. Once you understand the patterns-- I'm not a prodigy, and I'm not a genius. I can tell my left from my right now, but I still line up my shoes in order because it's a coping method. You're a bright young woman, and there is nothing I've done that you can't do where scholastics are concerned. It's just a matter of find out how your brain works, and adapting to it. We are mutants, Miss Lee. Evolving is what we do the best." He turned to his computer and opened up her personal file, "I can't dismiss you entirely from math, because well, frankly, Math is a key skill for you to learn. However, I think we can switch the focus of your courses, for the moment, to more tangible real-world skill sets. Balancing a check book, or paying one's own bills for example. We'll work with you with the punctuality issues, and I would recommend you think about taking a music course. Music is very mathematical if it is broken down to its base, and perhaps that might be easier for you to relate to. I think I can dismiss you from algebra for now, however, until you are ready to move forward. Is that acceptable to you?" |
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2:26 PM Jul 11