School life, as a rule, is fairly routine. You get up, go to school Monday through Friday, then come home to rest up and grade work, before doing all again on Monday. Of course, there’s the half-term, end of term, and summer holidays to break things up, but beyond that, life as a teacher is quite routine.
Of course, there are always exceptions. Important events are dotted through the school calendar. There’s parents evening, exams, the school play, snow days, all sorts really. The most important for me, as a teacher, is the annual meeting of the board of governors. With the sole exception of a school inspection, it is possibly one of the most stressing times in the year. After all, it’s then that the budget is decided, the curriculum is revised, registers get updated, and all the important issues are voted on. Add to that that Ponyville is a small town, and thus enjoys the political climate of a small town, and you have a barrel of laughs.
I’d never actually attended a governors meeting. Back on Earth, I never rose to be a department head, and thus my opinion and the fact that I actually was the one who had to deal with the bloody kids at the end of the day, didn’t count for much. But as I was one of only two teachers, and I suppose technically also the de-facto deputy head, I would now be allowed to sit in on meetings and have a vote. Cheerilee was more than grateful to have someone in her corner who could back up her own views if needed. And I too was rather looking forward to having a bit more influence on how these children were educated.
I wasn’t too sure what to expect though. Like I said, I’d never sat in on a board of governors meeting before. But I assumed it would be somewhat like a local council meeting. It wasn’t as if the governors were much of an issue anyway. Cheerilee said that, most of the time, they were more of a rubber stamp parliament than anything else. But there were times that she had faced resistance, particularly from the PTA representatives. Still, it wasn’t as if I’d be sitting on one of those Trojan Horse schools now would it?
After lessons came to an end that Thursday, Cheerilee gave me a brief rundown on the various members of the board.
“Right,” she began. “Well, to start with, there’s you and me, representing ourselves as teachers, with me as your union rep. Then there’s Sharp Pencil from Canterlot, who represents the Ministry of Education and the inspectors. Most of the other ponies I think you already know. Golden Harvest is the treasurer, Lyra’s the secretary and takes the minutes.” She continued to rattle off the names of familiar ponies, the last but one being very familiar.
“Diamond Tiara is the students representative, as class president.” I shook my head in bewilderment.
“How in the name of Celestia herself is that little filly still class president?!” I exclaimed in consternation. Cheerilee shrugged her shoulders.
“I can’t do too much about it if nopony else runs against her,” she replied. “Besides, she doesn’t exactly contribute much, unless it involves something to do with her personally.” Cheerilee then moved onto the last person on the board.
“And finally, there’s Spoiled Rich, Diamond’s mother.” That piqued my interest.
I’ve met Diamond’s father Filthy Rich plenty of times, more than enough times if I’m honest. It always puzzled me how a filly so rotten could come from such a stallion. Okay, he was a rich, smug bastard, and a bit of a windbag, but underneath, he seemed to be a good stallion. And while he did dote on his little filly, it didn’t really explain her behaviour. He spoiled her sure and ignored her bad behaviour, but I couldn’t see anything that would have started her on such a course.
Oddly enough though, I’d never met Diamond’s mother. I knew of her. Like Filthy, she came from a wealthy family. Her parents had made the fortune and she merely inherited it. At least Filthy had earned his money, just like his father and grandfather. I’d never once seen her at the school; not one single function. She hadn’t come to parent’s evening, she never picked Diamond up from school, she didn’t even come to the Hearth’s Warming play we’d put on. It seemed that while Filthy doted on his daughter, his mother took a somewhat more distanced approach.
“And what does she do then?” I asked Cheerilee.
“She’s the head of the board of governors, though goodness knows why. I’ve never seen a mare despise foals so much. But she always runs for the office and, just like her daughter, nopony runs against her. You should watch out for her though. She can be pretty mean. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was from Canterlot.”
“Oh,” I replied, smiling. “She sounds like the life of the party.” Cheerilee and I laughed.
“The one thing you do have to watch, is her and her daughter working together. If Diamond suggests something, her mother tends to back her, and that tends to convince the other ponies on the board to back her too.”
I shook my head in disbelief. My son used to say that politics was made up of two words; poli, the Greek word for many, and tics, which are blood sucking insects. I think he’s right. Hell, from what Cheerilee had said about Spoiled Rich’s little voting bloc, I almost would prefer a crazy bunch of Islamists trying to get me to ban Christmas.
Still, I did see an interesting possibility. If I could get Diamond Tiara booted from being class president this year and get somepony else in there, it might make things a little bit easier for all concerned. And if and when Spoiled Rich and I crossed paths, she would find I had just a strong a will as she did. At the end of the day, there was no way I was going to let some uptight, foal hating, Canterlot noble wannabe tell me how I should teach these kids.
In a free country, there must always be some form of opposition to the government, to ensure oversight and fairness, and prevent an abuse of power. Even at the highest levels of the Equestrian government; the princesses, each balances the authority of the other. It seemed to me that that was what our little school needed. While it is true that schools are not democracies; they’re dictatorships insofar as teachers are concerned, it seemed a bit pointless having a class president when they did not represent said class.
So, with that in mind, I began to cultivate La Resistance.
The first question was who to gently nudge in the direction of office. Dinky would be my first choice. Heck, that little filly, given five minutes alone with the school’s budget report could probably save us a few thousand bits. On the other hand, I’m not sure how some ponies might react to having a filly far smarter than themselves on the panel.
The Crusaders were definitely out, unless I wanted a three pony version of the House of Commons during Prime Minister’s Questions. Plus, it would hardly be fair to pick one of them over the other two.
Snips or Snails? No, Equestria doesn’t need its own version of the Liberal Democrats. Who to pick? Who would make an ideal candidate and also have a chance against Diamond Tiara?
I was still pondering this question when recess rolled around. I looked out at the foals playing in groups, trying to see if anypony looked up to the job. They needed to be mature, a good speaker, well liked, and with a particular edge of their own.
My eyes came to rest on little Pipsqueak, or Pip as I call him in a nod to Dickens. The young colt was a transplant from Trottingham; Equestria’s caricature of England. He’d settled in very quickly according to Cheerilee and made friends among his classmates. I watched him as he, Rumble and Featherweight played with the battered tetherball.
That reminds me; I need to recommend that we set some money aside to repair all the play equipment. The stupid Tirek somehow managed to damage them during his fight with Twilight before being sent back to the black hole he crawled out of. Oddly enough, just as I was thinking of it, I heard Pipsqueak make a similar comment to his friends.
Every good politician, and every successful one has a big campaign pledge. Repairing all that kit could be something the foals could rally around. The fact that he seemed to be the leader of his little band didn’t hurt at all either. Plus, his status as something of an outsider, being from Trottingham rather than Ponyville, might be good as well.
Yes, now that I thought about it, Pipsqueak did seem like a good choice. The question now was, was he himself actually interested? I called him over.
“Pipsqueak?” I called out. All three colts checked themselves and did their best to appear innocent. Evidently they thought I’d spotted them doing something naughty.
“Could I talk with you for a minute?”
With some reluctance, Pipsqueak broke away from his friends, and with a slightly hesitant air, trotted over to me.
“Er, yes, Mrs. Owen?” he asked, sounding a little unsure.
“Relax, lad; you’re not in trouble,” I assured him. “I just wanted to ask you a question, that’s all.” At this his demeanour changed and he appeared far more at ease that before.
“Yes, Mrs. Owen?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. I kneeled down to be a little closer to his eye level.
“Pipsqueak,” I asked. “How would you like to try running for class president?” The colt seemed surprised.
“Er, me?” he said curiously.
“Yes, you,” I replied, smiling. “I couldn’t help but overhear what you were saying to Rumble and Featherweight. It is high time we fixed up all this equipment. And if you became class president, you could vote on it at the board of governors meeting.”
Pipsqueak noticeably swelled with pride at my unexpected praise, and I could tell that the idea would appeal to him.
“Do you think I could?” he asked, excitedly.
“Of course I do,” I replied. “If you can get a good campaign going against Diamond Tiara, I’d say your chances are very good.” However, the moment I mentioned the filly’s name, his face fell.
“I’d have to run against Diamond Tiara?” he asked, his voice now unsure. I did my best to encourage him.
“You would,” I replied. “But to my mind, you seem like a far better choice. All you have to do is show the other students that. And I’m sure you could find some ponies to help you.”
At this, I turned to look over at the Cutie Mark Crusaders. I’m fairly certain they haven’t tried for a campaign managing cutie mark yet, and the chance to knock Diamond Tiara off her pedestal would only encourage them more. Well, that and a desire to effect political change…probably. Mostly the first two reasons.
In any case, Pip seemed to take my meaning and, with a smile trotted off toward the sandbox, which stood at the centre of the playground. And there, in his adorable voice, he raised his proverbial standard, throwing his hat into the ring, and announcing his candidacy. Foals quickly gathered around him in excitement and began to chatter amongst themselves. With any luck this would be like the Tories against Labour in the eighties; a landslide.
However, a few moments later, Diamond Tiara, along with Silver Spoon stormed over.
“Seriously?” she exclaimed in disbelief. “You idiots are going to follow this silly little blank flank?!”
The crowd promptly shrank back. This was the big problem; Diamond could intimidate her way to victory. I began to have my own second thoughts about Pip’s chances of success. Sure he was the underdog, and the plucky Brit. But the plucky Brit did have an unfortunate habit of coming in second.
And so the campaigning began. As I thought they might, with little prompting, the Crusaders backed Pipsqueak up. To my surprise though, he actually seemed to be doing pretty well on his own. For such a young colt, he certainly seemed to have the right ideas. He promised to fix up the playground amongst about half a dozen other promises, all in favour of the students, and teachers if I’m honest. I tell you, if Equestria has organised labour, that lad could grow up to be the pony version of Scargill.
Within minutes he had the entire school population eating out of his hooves and cheering him on. However, Diamond then made her own countermove.
Pipsqueak might be a good liberal politician someday, but Diamond? That filly was ruthless enough to run under a US Republican ticket. Hell, that girl might even stand a chance at out-intimidating old Maggie Thatcher. While Pip promised actual policies, Diamond went down the route of carrots and sticks. She made damn near impossible promises to ponies in an effort to win votes. And when that didn’t work, she stooped to threats and blackmail. The two foals were like opposite sides of the same coin.
The election campaign wasn’t exactly a long one. As a rule, foals had a day to campaign and then a vote at afternoon break. To be honest, it might be better if other campaigns were so short; it would force politicians to stop slinging mud and make them concisely state their position, their policies, and their reaction to their opponent.
We did have one debate, with a similar tactics being deployed by both sides. Anypony with their head screwed on would vote for Pip. But it also seemed that if you wanted to keep things quiet, you wouldn’t rock the boat too much and vote for Diamond.
Her own campaign, from what I saw, wasn’t exactly well-planned either. Cheerilee had told me that she only used the position, symbolic as it was, for personal gain. It seemed that there was nopony that she wouldn’t step on or throw under the bus in order to win. To my surprise, she even got snappy and angry with Silver Spoon.
Ah, yes, Silver Spoon. To my knowledge, the grey and silver filly is Diamond Tiara’s only friend. Like her, she comes from a wealthier family, Canterlot ex-pats or so I understand. The two are united in their hatred of the Cutie Mark Crusaders and foals without a cutie mark in general. That and they both seem to enjoy looking down their snouts at us mere commoners.
So you could see why it came as such a shock to me that she would turn on her best friend like that. Silver Spoon has always been nice to her. And if I’m honest, she was never quite as vocal or as mean to other ponies. She was usually just with Diamond, following her around and backing her up. If I’m honest, the way Diamond treated her, I was surprised that they were still friends at all, never mind best friends.
As the school day came to an end, the task of counting the votes began. We weren’t exactly running a by-election; in total, the entire electorate was no more than twenty foals; us teachers didn’t have the franchise. The two sides had been locked in a pretty fierce struggle, with one side promising reform, and the other threatening a backlash. I was actually unsure who it was who would win.
As it turned out though, I didn’t give my young charges enough credit.
Both Cheerilee and I double counted the votes, to be sure of a correct count. The two of us sat together in the empty classroom, with the excited foals watching from the window outside. I counted first, and then passed the ballots on to Cheerilee.
“Let’s see then,” I said as I opened up the ballot box, formerly sealed with impenetrable gaffer tape. “Okay, first vote is for Pipsqueak.”
“Well, there’s a good start,” Cheerilee said brightly. “At this point even I’m backing that little colt.” We both chuckled to ourselves.
To my surprise, that first vote very much set the tone. Vote after vote was drawn from the box and unfolded, and each one bore the name of the supposed underdog. His rating went from ten percent, to twenty five, to a win of over fifty, to seventy five. I hadn’t seen a single vote for the incumbent class president yet.
“Pipsqueak again!” I declared, pulling another piece of paper out. “I’m glad that he’s finally knocked Diamond down a peg or two, but how big is this landslide of his?”
“It is amazing,” Cheerilee agreed, turning to look at the chalkboard. She’d tallied up the results. So far there were twenty votes for Pip, and none for Diamond. “You don’t think the Cutie Mark Crusaders are trying for an election fraud cutie mark do you?”
I shook my head, although that would be rather enterprising of them. And if they were this good, they might even earn their mark.
“No, I don’t think there’s anything fishy going on. All of these votes are in different hoofwriting. Diamond does quite simply have a full blown rebellion on her hooves. It’ll certainly be interesting to see how she takes it all.”
The two of us shared a long, worried glance. We both knew exactly how she’d take it; not well, not well at all. She would no doubt cry foul herself, and probably try and drag her father into this. Finally, I came to the last vote in the box.
“Alright, last one.” I unfolded the paper. “Diamond Tiara.” Cheerilee shook her head.
“Well, I suppose there was bound to be one pony to vote for her; herself!” That made me think though.
“Hang on a minute,” I said, glancing over to the two piles of paper and the tally marks on the chalkboard. “If Diamond only has one vote, then that means that not even Silver Spoon voted for her.” Cheerilee shrugged her shoulders.
“Can you blame her?” she asked. “Diamond’s walked all over her and treated her like dirt since they’ve been friends. Hay, I’m not really sure I’d even say they were friends. Silver Spoon may have liked Diamond, but I’m not so sure that the feeling was mutual. She’s put up with it all long enough, maybe, like the rest of the class, she’s had enough.
“True,” I agreed. “Very true indeed.” I sat down the now empty ballot box.
“Well, I’m happy with the count. Twenty three for Pipsqueak and one for Diamond Tiara. It’s pretty clear who’s won and who’s lost.”
“Yep, I’m with you there,” I replied, nodding my head. “You want to go tell them all they’ve got a new class president, and I’ll get ready for the looming electoral crisis.” Cheerilee laughed light heartedly at that and trotted out to announce the news.
With Cheerilee gone, I took a moment to relax and settled down to mark some of the homework I’d received from last week. Election or not, the usual routines of school life go on. Of course, from the classroom, I could see out into the playground and watch the political drama unfold.
I heard Cheerilee announce the winner, and young Pip was lifted off his hooves and carried around by his cheering friends. Diamond meanwhile was left alone and sullen. She quickly challenged Silver Spoon about her own vote. To my surprise, the little grey filly completely turned on her friend, calling her out on her own behaviour.
With little recourse, Diamond fell back on her usual habits, and with a scream, shout and stomp, she stormed out of the playground as the bell rang to signal the end of the day.
I wasn’t surprised at her reaction. If I’m honest I expected something like it. It’s not like the filly was ever known to be gracious in defeat.
I shook my head. It still puzzled me how she’d ended up such a vile creature. As I’ve said before, her father, whatever his other faults might be, was nothing like her. In fact, for the most part, he could be quite the gentlecolt when the occasion called for it.
About twenty minutes later, I was done with what little work I had to do. It was the weekend at last, and I had two whole days to relax before I had to deal with Diamond Tiara again. I’d promised Cheerilee that I’d lock up, so she had already gone back home.
Of course, the both of us would be coming back later this afternoon for the governors meeting, but at least we had a chance to relax before then. Personally, I planned to head into town to stop by the market, and possibly go to that nice bistro restaurant Twilight and Rarity had recommended.
Turning the key in the lock behind me, I left the schoolhouse behind and headed back along the familiar road into town. As I came toward one of the main squares, I came across an unusual bunch of ponies.
There seemed to be some sort of society event on, and I picked out a couple Canterlot nobles in attendance, including Fancy Pants and Fleur de Lis. I don’t move in those circles myself, and I wasn’t too bothered about what they were up to and I was about to move past them, when something caught my eye.
I picked out a spot of pink among the crowd; it was Diamond Tiara. She was standing opposite a mare I didn’t recognise. Like her, she had a pinkish coat, although her features were quite worn with age. While I know I’m no spring chicken myself, I would even go as far to say that she was quite an ugly mare, despite the makeup that tried to hide it all. The two seemed to be having something of an argument. As I drew closer, I picked out words, and then sentences.
“What?! You mean I hefted all those party supplies to celebrate nothing?!” the mare exclaimed angrily. Diamond cowered.
“Sorry, mother,” she replied. Ah, this was the infamous Spoiled Rich. I couldn’t say I was surprised.
“It's bad enough you lost to that transplant from Trottingham, but imagine if you'd lost to one of those blank flanks!” she went on in a disgusted tone. “As a Rich pony, you must always think of your social standing."
Off to the side, I saw Fancy Pants turn and scowl with some disgust at the mare berating her own foal. I was pretty mad too to tell the truth. Who the hell talks to their own child like that? For goodness sake, it’s one little class presidency, it’s hardly going to follow her through life! Still, it certainly explained much. Here it seemed was the root of Diamond’s troubles and the source of her dislike for the Crusaders.
After some further berating, Diamond left, her mother’s gaze following her. I’ve met disinterested mothers, I’ve met incompetent mothers, and I’ve met mothers who really make a good argument for forced sterilisation. But I’ve never, in my whole life, met a mother who seems to regard her daughter so coldly, and treats her so cruelly as that.
As Spoiled too departed for the schoolhouse and governors meeting, she barged her way past me.
“Out of my way, you hairless ape!” she snapped viciously. I was so stunned by her behaviour that I didn’t respond. I was only brought to my senses by a voice behind.
“There goes a perfect demon.” said a noble sounding voice. Turning around, I found myself face to face with Fancy Pants.
“I’ve never seen somepony embody all the worst qualities of the nobility in all my days,” he remarked, shaking his head. “And what’s more, she isn’t even from a noble line; what Trotsky called the petty bourgeoisie if I remember rightly.” He looked to me, evidently expecting a response.
“Oh, er, yes. She does seem to be rather lacking in social graces, doesn’t she,” I replied. I’d never met Fancy Pants before and found myself a little off balance for it. With his mustache and Trottingham accent, he reminded me of an old British Army officer from the days of Victoria.
“It’s such a shame she drags her filly down with her though.” At thought stuck me at that moment.
“Well, perhaps there are ways to prevent that.” I suggested, an idea already forming in my head. Offering the usual pleasantries to the noblepony before I left, I made my way back to the school to prepare for the meeting, my earlier plans on hold.
The meeting went as you might expect; it was more like a rubber stamp than anything else along with backing for Spoiled’s own agenda, and her constant berating of everypony else quickly became tiresome. The newly minted class president tried to make good on his campaign promises of repairing the school equipment, but that too was quickly shot down, despite my own efforts. Apparently, we didn’t have enough in the budget. Maybe if we weren’t blowing money on the same bloody cutie mark lessons every other day, we might have. But Spoiled insisted on them being a constant feature of the curriculum.
So, things did not go particularly well. Poor Pip, in an adorable attempt to keep his word, raided his piggy bank for pocket change.
Stepping out into the sunlight again, my temper badly frayed, we all came across an unusual sight. There was both Diamond Tiara and the Cutie Mark Crusaders. The latter seemed to be trying, believe it or not, to help the former, offering their friendship. Diamond seemed to be torn whether to accept or reject them. I was at the back of the column and couldn’t see too much, when Spoiled waded in again.
“Diamond Tiara! I just happened to be here for the school board meeting, and this is what I see when we adjourn? My daughter associating with confused, insignificant lowlifes? Socializing with their kind is not how you move up in Equestria! Come, Diamond Tiara!” The mare haughtily turned away, expecting her daughter to follow. It was then though, that something amazing happened.
Diamond said no. The mare wheeled around angrily and, to my amazement and pleasure, the once evil little filly called her mother out, in front of everypony, on all the horrible things she did, and that she had taught her to do. She even defended the Crusaders against her mother’s insults. And best of all, after brow beating the evil bitch, she got her to deliver a note to Filthy, which convinced him to put up the money to repair the play equipment. It has to be, without a shadow of a doubt, the single most epic thing that had ever happened on the grounds of this little school.
Well, for about a minute it was.
The Crusaders had fallen into discussion after their sudden forming of friendship with Diamond. Cheerilee and I were still trying to process that; it wasn’t so much like watching the Berlin Wall come down, but more akin to watching Kim Jong-Un skip across the DMZ with a basket of flowers and hug it out with South Koreans across the way.
Anyway, it was at that moment the Crusaders came to their own realisation. They had something of a knack for helping other ponies find and understand their own cutie marks. They’d done just as much with Diamond and, if I remember, with Troubleshoes.
Then it happened.
All three of them were caught up in some strange magic and when they emerged, to everypony’s amazement and joy, they had their cutie marks! Each was a shield, with three stripes of purple, pink and red, along with a particular mark for each, an apple for Apple Bloom, a musical note for Sweetie Belle, and a lightning bolt for Scootaloo.
The three fillies cheered and jumped for joy; their long quest finally at an end.
With half the town to hand, word spread quickly and brought Applejack, Big Mac, Granny Smith, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash running. All of them were so proud of their respective charges. And I’ll admit, even I found a few tears in my eyes. Pinkie Pie promptly arranged the biggest Cuteciniera party in Ponyville’s history for the three triumphant fillies.
As we all arrived there in one big procession, I saw Bones waiting for us all. He was trying, and failing, to mask the happy tears on his own face and pulled his hat down a little. Apple Bloom quickly spotted him and cantered out to him at the top of her speed.
In another little show of that paternal leaning which he seems to have for the filly, Bones, with a laugh that was half a cry, lifted her off her hooves with his magic and flew her around in the air, before setting her back on her hooves again and hugging her as hard as he could.
“Ah’m so proud of ya, AB!” he exclaimed. “Ah’m just sorry we all weren’t there to see it happen.” He gestured to her sister, older brother and grandmother. “Congratulations to y’all in any case.”
With that, we all headed into Sugarcube Corner and I think, had a Cuteciniera that pushed even Pinkie Pie to her limits.
Oh, and while Diamond was there, Spoiled Rich was conspicuous by her absence.