Slowly, I got up from my desk, leaving my slate on my desk, and made my way up to the front. Some of the kids giggled. I picked up a piece of chalk from the chalk-well, and started to write on the board. Mr Adelson walked back to my seat and sat down. I stopped and looked over my shoulder, and he gave me a little scooting gesture that meant go on. I did, and by the end of the hour, I found that I was enjoying myself. I stopped frequently for questions, and erased the board over and over again, filling it with steady columns of numbers and equations. I stopped noticing Mr Adelson in my seat, and when he stood and thanked me and told us we could eat our lunches, it seemed like no time at all had passed. Mr Adelson looked up from my essay. "James, I'd like to have a chat with you. Stay behind, please." "Sit," he said, offering me the chair at his desk. He sat on one of the front-row desks, and stared at me for a long moment. "What was that mess this morning all about, James?" he asked. "Oly and I had an argument," I said, sullenly. "I could see that. What was it about, if you don't mind my asking?" "He said something about my Mama," I said. "I see," he said. "Well, having met your mother, I feel confident in saying that she's more than capable of defending herself. Am I right?" "Yes, sir," I said. "Then we won't see a repeat?" "No, sir," I said. I didn't plan on talking to Oly ever again. "Then we'll say no more about it. Now, about this morning's lesson: you did very well." "It was a dirty trick," I said. He grinned like a pirate. "I suppose it was. I wouldn't have played it on you if I didn't have every confidence in your abilities, though." He leaned across and picked up my essay from his desk. "It was this that convinced me, really. This is as good as anything I've seen in scholarly journals. I've half a mind to send it to the _Idler_." "I'm just a kid!" "You're an extraordinary boy. I'm tempted to let you teach all the classes, and take up whittling." He said it so deadpan, I couldn't tell if he was kidding me. "Oh, you can't do that! I'm not nearly ready to take over." He laughed. "You're readier than you think, but I expect the town council would stop my salary unless I did _some_ of the work around here. Still, I think that's the most active I've seen you since you came to my class, and I'm running out of ideas to keep you busy. Maybe I'll keep you teaching maths. I'll give you my lesson plan to take home before school's out." "Yes, sir." # Mr Adelson gave me a stack of papers tied up with twine after he dismissed the class for the day. I went home and did my chores, then unwrapped the parcel in the parlour. The lesson plans were there, laid out, day by day, and in the centre of them was a smaller parcel, wrapped in coloured paper. "Merry Christmas," was written across it, in his hand.