//------------------------------// // Grades Matter // Story: The Lies We Tell to Children // by GaPJaxie //------------------------------// Princess Celestia had a particular weakness for fall weather. Summer was her favorite season, but fall had a wistful sort of charm to it. It had a sweet sort of melancholy that the Princess of the Sun found difficult to describe—an ending that was sad, yet still welcome. Though she rarely expressed this view, the servants of the castle quickly deduced it from her tendency to sit in the castle garden when the fall came, tending to her duties among the swirling dead leaves. Normally, the Princess’s duties were dry matters of state, which she bore patiently. But on that particular fall day, she was seeing to a more welcome task. It was the second fall since Twilight Sparkle had become her student, marking her sixteenth month of tutelage, and Princess Celestia could not have been more pleased with her progress so far. She was brilliant, ravenously curious, hard working, and perhaps most important of all, virtuous to her very center. Princess Celestia was certain that, one day, she would make a worthy bearer of the Element of Magic. But for the moment, she was only a foal, and with that came the practical concerns of raising and educating a young pony. Thus it was that Princess Celestia picked up her marking pen. Holding the essay flat so it wouldn't rustle in the breeze, she lifted the pen to the paper’s corner, and there inscribed a red “B.” After a moment, she circled it. “Oh,” Twilight said several hours later, when the marked up paper was levitated into her grasp. She unrolled the scroll the rest of the way, taking in the detailed correction marks that filled the margins. After a moment, she looked back up at Princess Celestia. “But I did okay, right?” “A ‘B’ isn’t the worst grade in the world,” Princess Celestia answered gently. “But I think you could have done better if you’d applied yourself just a little more.” “Yeah...” Twilight said, looking back down at the scroll. She bit her lip. “But I did okay, right?” As Twilight repeated her question, so Celestia repeated her answer, though with a slightly firmer tone. “It’s not the worst grade, Twilight,” she said, “but you could have done better.” “I know,” Twilight said, her eyes going back to the scroll even though she wasn’t reading. A momentary silence overcame Princess Celestia’s study as Twilight’s ears folded back. “But...” she said, with a tightness in her throat. “Shining Armor came by last week, and-and it was our first chance to some time together for awhile. And he’s my BBBFF. And-and you said we could! You did!” Twilight’s voice picked up rapidly: volume, pitch, and tempo all rising together. “And I thought I wouldn’t have enough time to work on it but you said it was okay—” “Twilight,” Princess Celestia spoke. “—and I’m sorry, I tried to do as good a job as I could.” Twilight sniffled loudly. “I did it the way the book did it which I thought was okay and I didn’t mean to mess it up—” “Twilight,” Princess Celestia spoke again, raising her voice slightly, to no more effect than the first time. “And.” Twilight forced herself on as her voice started to crack. “And I know the graphs on page two were out of place, but they’re right! I was just low on paper and it was so late and I didn’t want to rewrite the whole thing from scratch and—” “Twilight!” Princess Celestia said for the third time, reaching out to touch Twilight’s shoulder with a hoof. “It’s okay. You—” “I’m sorry Princess I’ll do better I promise please don’t stop teaching me!” Twilight cried out, staring up at Celestia. Her expression was absolutely wretched, mouth drawn down, face tight, eyes wide and filled with tears. She actually shook slightly, hanging on the Princess’s every motion and drawing up against her hoof. After a moment of consideration, Princess Celestia sighed, and drew Twilight into a hug. “Of course I’m not going to stop teaching you,” she said, soothingly. The hug was warm but brief, and when it was over, Princess Celestia pulled back and smiled at Twilight. Her hoof shifted from Twilight’s shoulder to under her chin, and with a gentle pressure, she nudged Twilight’s head upwards. She lowered her head at the same moment, so the two were eye to eye, and face to face. “You’re my student, remember?” she asked, her voice gentle and warm. “But I messed up!” Twilight squeaked, trying to force the tears away and succeeding only in driving them down her face. “You took all the time just to teach me and I was lazy and dumb and didn’t do a good job and—” “Twilight Sparkle!” Princess Celestia said sharply, and Twilight instantly fell silent. “You are not lazy, and you are not a bad student. You are my faithful student,” she emphasized the words by gently laying a hoof across Twilight’s chest. “Do you understand how important that is?” “I’m your fai...” Twilight started to repeat the words, but then quickly fell silent. She sat up straighter, trying to wipe the tears away with the back of a leg. “I mean, yes. I know how important that is. Of course I know.” She swallowed, trying to force her voice back to normal. “That’s right,” Princess Celestia said, moderating her tone from a sharp to merely firm. “And I know the faithful student of the Princess of the Sun would never be lazy or stupid. It’s important that you spend time with your family, including your brother. I’m not angry.” “But...” Twilight sniffled, though this time she tried to hide it. “If you know I didn’t mess up, why did you give me a bad grade?” “Because grades are very important, Twilight,” Princess Celestia said, moderating her tone still further to a soothing calm. “I know that you’re smart and hard working, but grades are how you prove it. I can’t just give you an ‘A’ every time because I like you.” She smiled gently. “You wouldn’t want to get a score you didn’t earn, would you?” “No!” Twilight blurted out at once, the force of her outburst freezing the smile on Celestia’s face. “I mean, no. Of course not. I can... I can prove that I’m a good student.” Again, she reached up to her face, wiping the last of her tears away. Though her voice still gently wavered, it was with a calmer tone that she added: “I’m sorry for crying.” “You don’t have to be sorry, Twilight,” Princess Celestia said. “Little fillies are allowed to cry and get hugs from their elders.” “I’m not a little filly,” Twilight said. But she took another hug anyway. “—equal to the sum of the square of the two remaining sides,” Twilight spoke with confidence, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration. When a response was not immediately forthcoming however, that confidence wavered, and she dared to gradually peek open an eye. “Correct,” rumbled the pipes around her, in a low drone. “Oh, good,” Twilight said, sagging with relief. It was only then that it occurred to her to look around, and to ask a question that was, perhaps, slightly more important than her geometry problems. “Uh... Actually, where am I?” “You are in the dream realm,” hissed the pipes around her, in a voice made of escaping steam and gurgling fluid. “Oh,” said Twilight. It was an odd answer, but perhaps odder still was that she felt wholly comfortable with it. There was a familiarity about this place, and a sense of safety. “Have I been here before?” “You come here every night,” the pipes said. The sound they made was strangely beautiful, though Twilight could not quite say how. Each individual sound was rough and industrial: steam hissing, fluid bubbling, gears grinding. Yet somehow, all together, they made clear patterns, or even words. Like a pipe organ made of industrial equipment. “I am your teacher.” “That’s... right,” Twilight said slowly. “You’re... you teach me magic. You’re... Llll. Starts with L. Lllll...” “Princess Luna,” the pipes said. “Luna!” Twilight exclaimed. “That’s right. Princess Luna. Now I remember you. Sorry, it’s really fuzzy...” Twilight rose to her hooves, looking around the room again. “Where are you, though? I remember...” Twilight realized she didn’t actually remember a thing, but still, Luna’s absence felt wrong. “Aren’t you usually around?” “Go to the window,” said the pipes. Obediently, Twilight moved across the metal flooring, climbing up the outwardly curved walls and up to the little window. Sticking her head outside, she found herself looking out at a slowly moving landscape far below. She was high above it all, inside the barrel of a great clockwork creature that lumbered across the landscape—a mechanical pony the size of a town, with legs of steel and wings of silver and a gut filled with boilers and cogs. Slowly, its head turned, revealing eyes made from observatory telescopes and a horn hewn out of a massive redwood. And Luna looked back at Twilight. “Oh, wow!” Twilight exclaimed. “You’re huge! How does that work?” “We are in a dream,” Luna said. “It works however I say it works. And tonight it amused me for it to work this way.” Slowly, she turned her head forward to watch where she was going. She hardly needed to look at Twilight to speak to her, after all; the rumblings of steam in her barrel carried her voice clearly. “Would you like to experience it for yourself? It would be a wonderfully enjoyable lesson on basic mechanical principles.” “Yeah, I...” Twilight paused, lowered herself from the window, and looked back into the pipe room. Though the room had been empty a moment ago, now it contained a table, and several geometry textbooks. “I mean, no. I need to study. Thanks though.” “I do not believe additional study on this topic is necessary,” Luna replied, her words making the room gently shake around Twilight. “Your understanding of the basic principles of geometry is very strong.” “No it isn’t,” Twilight said. “I still haven’t finished memorizing the essential properties of the twelve geometric shapes most often used for spell targeting.” “And what matter is that?” Luna asked, a jet of steam ruffling the papers on the table. Twilight gradually became aware of the room’s gradual swaying with Luna’s steps, and reached out to hold her books down before they slid away. “You understand the applications of pi, and radians as a unit. You can apply the pi and pi over two rules. You know how to use sine, cosine, and tangent tables. You could calculate the essential properties of any geometric shape, given time.” “But I don’t know them off the top of my head,” Twilight insisted. “Knowing them by rote is only useful if you are applying a spell in combat, or in another situation where time is of the essence,” Luna replied. “At this early stage of your education, memorizing tables of facts is likely to do more harm than good. You must focus on the underlying principles. There will be time to hone your technique later.” “But working them out takes time.” The room leveled out as Luna moved into the swing of her next step, and Twilight opened her books once they were stable. Her eyes went to the page, though she found it hard to focus on the words. “What if I’m taking a test?” “Then work out as many as you can,” Luna said. “No! That’s not good enough!” Twilight said, letting out a growl of frustration. “What if I can’t work out enough in time? What if I fail?” “I highly doubt you will fail one of my exams,” Luna replied. Outside, her hoof crashed through an old growth forest, a distant snapping audible to Twilight as it crushed trees and animals alike with its passage. “But if you do, I will simply take it as an indication that we need to go back and review the material.” “Yeah, but what about Princess Celestia’s exams?” Twilight pointed out. Again, she tried to focus on the page, and again she failed. “Will Celestia not review the material with you?” Luna asked. “Of course she will!” Twilight snapped, slamming the book shut. The outburst caught her off guard as much as it did Luna, and for a time, the only sound in the little room was the deep thud of hooves and the snapping of distant trees. “But I’ll still have a bad grade,” Twilight said. “And grades are important.” Luna gave no answer to Twilight at first, but gradually, the snapping sound below her stopped. Then, the deep thud of her hooves fell silent. As the great mechanical pony came to a standstill, Twilight could hear the steam pressure escaping from her joints. Luna gradually came to rest in the standing positions, her knees and elbows locked. She was still as a statue, only the quiet gurgling in the pipes marking any animation left in the great pony. In the quiet, Twilight tucked her tail up around herself, and felt very alone. “Luna?” she asked quietly. “Do you know what important means, Twilight?” whispered the pipes, the lack of steam pressure greatly reducing their volume. “It means... uh,” Twilight frowned. “A big deal?” “A task is important,” Luna answered, “if something very bad will happen if that task is not handled properly. Eating is important because if you do not, you will starve. Sleeping is important, because if you do not, you will be tired and sick. Good grades are important, because without them...” Luna trailed off, and the room again sunk into silence. “Without them, what?” Twilight asked. “I was hoping you could tell me,” Luna answered. “Well, because...” Twilight struggled for words. “Grades help you get into good schools!” The words game suddenly, with a new surge of energy. “My good grades got me into my entrance exam.” “That is a reason grades were useful to you before. I asked why they are useful to you now. Are you not already in the most prestigious school in the entire world?” Luna said. “Are you not already Celestia’s student?” “I’m her faithful student,” Twilight growled defensively. “Then, finish the sentence,” Luna commanded. “Good grades are important, because without them...” “Without them, I won’t be able to show how much I know,” Twilight answered. “What if I want to...” She didn’t actually know how grades were related to jobs, but she vaguely recalled her parents telling her to study hard or she’d end up a janitor. “What if I”—she made a vague gesture “—want to be a wizard and I need to prove I’m any good?” “You’ve met wizards before,” Luna replied. “How did they prove they were ‘any good?’” “They... cast spells,” Twilight answered, but her voice fell in anticipation of the reply she knew was coming. “Really? You didn’t need to ask about their foalhood geometry exams?” Luna’s voice never shifted, never changed, never showed the slightest trace of sarcasm or doubt. Twilight flinched anyway. “Grades are how I let my parents know I’m working hard,” Twilight whispered, looking at her hooves. “Celestia doesn’t tell them as much?” Luna asked, still without ever shifting from her flat intonations. “Fine!” Twilight shouted, sharply lifting her head. “Fine, I get it, okay!? La-dee-da, fine! Grades aren’t important. You win. Just leave me alone!” “I do not want to ‘win,’” Luna answered. “I merely want you to think. If you really believe that grades matter, I will not stand in the way of that. You can decide for yourself.” “Fine, I will!” Twilight yelled at the pipes, angrily flicking her tail. “Very well,” Luna said. And then the pipes were silent. “Yeah!” Twilight shouted. “I will decide for myself, and uh...” Twilight stammered for words, but as she did, she became aware of another sound in the little room. There was another pony, sniffing loudly, and when Twilight turned, she saw her. It was a little purple unicorn filly, with a star on her flank. Twilight felt she knew this foal. The little filly was familiar somehow, and yet, when Twilight tried to identify her, her head went fuzzy. “Here you go,” the little foal whispered, using her nose to nudge something Twilight’s way. It was a little rough bound stack of papers, the title Introduction to Magic Book Reports carefully written at the top in blocky letters. “Did I do okay?” Twilight levitated the report off the table, and carefully read through it. It was a good book report, but the little foal had made a few mistakes. They were nothing severe, just some common misunderstandings, but they changed a few of the key lessons of the book. “Well,” Twilight said, “you got it mostly right. Here, let me show you want you did wrong.” She turned to the table, and suddenly found a red pen in easy reach, levitating it up with her magic. “Don’t worry,” Twilight told the little foal. “I can tell you’re good at this. You just need a little bit of help.” Had Twilight been in the waking world, she would have been struck by the absurdity of this turn of events. But in the dream world, it wasn’t absurd at all, for dreams worked the way Princess Luna wished them to work. And on that night, it amused her for them to work that way. The next morning, Twilight awoke with no recollection of her dreams. She hardly had time to waste dreaming anyway, for a busy day was ahead of her. First, she had a morning review with Professor Chalk Pants, then spellcasting practice in the mid-morning, then a test with Professor Weed Out, and then Princess Celestia was going to take her back to her family for the weekend. That meant that her test was at noon instead of at the end of the day, giving her only half the time to complete her final day-of test review studying checklist. She’d planned to spend breakfast reviewing, but as she climbed out of bed and checked the color-coded schedule on the wall, something struck her. Precisely what, she couldn't say, but when she reached up to the shelf for a book, she hesitated. Gradually, the glow of her magic faded from around the geometry textbook without it having moved an inch. Twilight started at the book for some time, lost in a daze. She wasn’t sure why she was hesitating to take it. She wasn’t sure why taking it had seemed so vitally important last night. Seconds seemed to stretch on forever as she weighed the decision. Finally, her horn came alight, and her copy of Daring Do and the Sorcerer’s Saddle flew down beside her. Regardless of her confusion, it wouldn't do to spend all of breakfast doing something as trivial as eating, and she was eager to see how the book ended. It was that afternoon that Twilight rushed out onto the castle grounds, her little saddlebags stuffed with all the books she couldn't bear to be parted from until Monday. Princess Celestia was already waiting there, along with her chariot. “Hello, Princess Celestia!” Twilight called, quickly pulling herself up onto the chariot. “I’m sorry I’m late. Professor Weed Out’s assistant lost the test and we were late getting started.” “Yes, he let me know,” Princess Celestia said warmly, scooting aside to make room for Twilight on the chariot. “So how did the exam go?” Twilight froze to the spot. “It went fine,” she finally said, her voice rigid. “I got all the questions right, but didn’t finish the last one.” She swallowed. “So I got a B.” She forced herself to breathe, though her barrel felt tight as a vice. “And Professor Weed Out gave me some practice problems.” “Weed Out is a tough teacher,” Celestia said, “But he’s very eager to see you learn. Do you feel ready to start spell practice next week?” After a long moment, Twilight answered, “Yeah.” After a moment she added, “Yeah, I feel good about it.” And for the rest of the ride home, she did.