Mastery Year 3: Part 8: Post 6: The End of the Beginning or the Beginning of the End

Well, as promised, the schedule for the graduating candidates for the next few days has been released. They gave it to Raven G., and she gave it to the rest of us and explained what's going on. It's not the first information we got on the subject, either. We'd all heard--from Raven--back around Yule to be back on campus the week before Brigid. We also got our fingers measured for our rings then. Charlie was right: mind games are for novices.

The five of us who hope to receive our rings, Ebony, Veery, Raven G., Eddie, and I, have to each interview for jobs as masters. Passing the interview is a necessary step--the necessary step--to earning a ring, and it means we're qualified for a permanent position here, should one open up. It means we're masters. We knew all that before, of course. What we learned this week was that the interviews would be today and tomorrow. Usually the decision is made in the interview, by the interviewing committee, although they say they reserve the right to delay making a decision--they'll let us know, at the latest, tomorrow night.

Raven even had some advice for us--to come to the interview ready to make the case for our being hired, with any necessary documentation in hand, since we'd be expected to begin with a presentation, not simply given given questions to answer. There would be no black-out bags, no surprises, and no tricks. But, as Charlie warned me at Samhain, the interviews would be quite real. None of us had ever heard of anyone making it to the interview but not getting a ring, but Raven had been told to tell us that it Could happen.

My interview was this morning, one of the first two on the schedule.

Since I had to go over to Chapel Hall right after breakfast, I got all my things together before going downstairs for the day. June was sitting in bed, still in her pajamas, as I put on my uniform with exaggerated care. I wanted everything to be perfect, as though a crooked cowl or an improperly tied belt might be enough to make me bomb the interview and waste everything I'd done.

I took a long, ragged breath.

"Daniel?" June asked.

"I don't know that I want to do this," I told her. "I'm not sure I believe that I can or that I should. I don't feel like a master."

"You'll have to make up your mind," June told me.

"Yes," I said, but I didn't want to move. The truth is I didn't want to leave. I felt like I was dressing for my own funeral.

"Daniel, do you ever feel like shit?" my wife asked me. I turned to look at her, surprised and a little confused.

"Yes, I guess so."

"Are you ever actually shit? As in feces?"

"No."

"Well, then, seems to me your feelings have nothing to do with it. Not feeling like a master has nothing to do with your being one. Now, do you want that ring or not?"

I thought about it. I wanted to be sure.

"Yes."

"Then go."

So I went.

I left my room with the nerved-up confidence of a Man on a Mission, but I still had breakfast to get through, which took forever, especially as I arrived a little early for it. The Great Hall is unadorned, now, the austere lack-of-decoration that is the "look" of Brigid around here. The room was clean and very bright, with sun reflecting off the new snow outside and shining in at the windows, and with people starting to come back from the winter break, the place was crowded and noisy. I had nothing to say to anyone, though I made eye contact with Veery, who would interview at the same time as I but with a different committee. She wasn't talking, either, but she looked more cheerful than I felt.

Finally, the Time Arrived. I hefted my bag of documentation and headed over to Chapel Hall. The interview was in one of the offices on the ground floor there--the Chapel itself is on the second floor. I found my committee waiting for me: Charlie, Allen, Sharon, and Karen. They saw me poke my head in and beckoned me and greeted me warmly.

"I guess that's one question I forgot to ask," I said, taking my seat.

"Oh?" said Sharon.

"For my project getting to know the school. How do you decide who's on these committees?"

"I was wondering if you'd ask," said Allen, merrily.

"Don't worry; we won't dock you for the oversight," said Charlie.

"We're those who know you best and those who know you least," explained Sharon.

"That last would be me," put in Karen. It's true I've hardly had a a conversation with her the whole time I've been here.

"Hi, Karen," I said, a little embarrassed, and she waved her fingers at me in a girlish way.

Sharon cleared her throat.

"OK, I've got everything all prepared and planned out," I said, "except the beginning. How do I start?"

That made them laugh.

"Begin anywhere," Charlie said, "and proceed. Where you start is where the beginning is."

"Why are you here?" Allen offered as a hint.

"Well," I started, "I'm here because I want to earn my ring and I am, as far as I can tell, ready. And I'm here because I arrived ten years ago. I arrived because I wanted to learn to engage more deeply and more meaningfully with life, because I wanted community, and because I wanted wonder. And I got those things. Now, I'm in a position to help other people get those things. So, um, I'm here."

It was an awkward version of the speech I'd thought up earlier. It made the others smile a little. They've all been here, done this. I took a deep breath and I continued.

I explained the general course of my studies, starting with my novitiate--speaking mostly to Karen, who might genuinely not know my history--including how and why I'd chosen Charlie, how I've changed over the course of my studies, what I did during my Absence, what assignments Charlie has given me since I've been back, and what classes and workshops I've taught, noting those I've developed myself or with Rick.

I handed out copies of the syllabi and course plans for my various workshops and classes and the proposal I'd submitted to start offering tutoring in writing and in algebra and statistics. I also handed out copies of reviews I've gotten from students for the work, and records of how many students had signed up to work with me. I handed over copies of the testimonial I'd thought to have Steve write about my work with him, together with a report I'd written up about his progress when I turned his education back over to Charlie. I verbally summarized what I saw as my potential strengths as a master and what areas of school function I might be able to take on, if called to do so. I said I thought I might be able to take on landscaping, though I acknowledged Raven or Rick would be a better choice.

"I could be a good craft-master," I said, "but my craft would primarily be writing."

And I handed over a copy of my book of poems, a copy of the literary journal I'd co-edited in grad school, and testimonials from students I had tutored. I also handed over a copy my report on how the school runs, explained that project, and made a few comments on what I'd learned from it and how I thought the school might possibly be improved--and changes I thought we should be on the look-out to avoid.

"Not that none of you know this stuff," I acknowledged. "The point is I noticed."

I talked on in a semi-organized and well-documented way in my properly-straightened and correctly-belted uniform for about twenty minutes, and then I kind of sputtered to a halt.

"I guess the only other thing I didn't plan out was the ending," I said. "Everything I've thought of sounds cheese, vote Daniel TODAY kind of thing." I blushed. They all laughed.

Then they asked me a few questions. Karen asked the most. Unlike the interview at the end of my novitiate--which was partially a pretext for my ritual kidnapping--they didn't have me tell them things they obviously already knew. The point was not to tell them what I had done and learned but why what I had done and learned qualified me to teach. They had asked for documentation not in order to make me prove myself, but simply because even Charlie and Allen had forgotten or not known relevant parts of my history and wanted to be able to look things up easily. My bringing my records were a courtesy to them, a way of making it easier for them to help me.

I think we were there about another twenty minutes, asking and answering and clarifying, passing papers and books back and forth, before Charlie looked up over his reading glasses and said "well? Do we need to discuss this privately?"

"I don't," replied Allen. "I've wanted him on board for years, now. What do you think, Karen? Are we being biased?"

"Not as far as I can tell," she said. "Neither of you are the type. And I've never heard anything negative about him."

"It might help to consider," ventured Sharon, "what else we would want to see from him? If he's not ready yet, what could he do to get ready?"

I held my breath.

"You always say that," grumbled Charlie.

"Always when it seems helpful," acknowledged Sharon.

"Well, I can't think of anything," said Allen. "He's done everything, or close, anyway."

"If we don't give it to him now," said Charlie, "he's just going to keep doing more of what he's been doing. My thinking is he should be a master while he's doing it."

My heart leaped a little, and Charlie glanced at me and smiled a little, as if he knew. Maybe he did.

"Karen?" asked Sharon.

"I'm good," she said.

"Well, then," said Sharon, who seemed to be in charge, "I believe we are in agreement. And the committee of the whole left us no concerns, so we are empowered in his case...."

"Congratulations," said Charlie and shook my hand.

I felt like whooping for joy, but instead I said nothing at all. I felt completely muddled up. We all stood up, and Sharon reminded me of the time to meet for the pre-commencement ceremony. I'm at liberty until then, apparently. I felt hollow and full at once.

I left, but the others didn't follow me. I don't know why. Maybe I'll ask? Asking why seems to be something I do, now.

Out in the hallway, I met Kit, who had been on Veery's committee, which had apparently finished up a little before mine. She looked like she had been waiting for me.

"Well?" she asked.

I stammered, vaguely.

"I know," she said. "When I passed mine I felt like weeping."

Mastery Year 3: Part 8: Post 5: Success

I did it! I did it! I did it!

I snuck up on Charlie! He'd asked me to, of course, but I did it for real. I surprised him.

I had discovered that though he is very aware of everything around him, he tends not to look behind him much--if he sees a place and notices it's unoccupied, then passes it, he doesn't check behind him visually to see if it has become occupied in the last ten seconds. He does listen, though, and keep track of animal behavior and so forth. The question was how to take advantage of that?

I've been watching him, and in addition to noticing where he puts his attention, I've also learned his habits. He doesn't have many--he makes a point of not falling into unthinking ruts, not going on autopilot when he can help it. But he does have a few, patterns of behavior that are fairly consistent because they make sense. And this winter, he'd developed a new one. His laptop died and he hasn't replaced it yet, so he's been going to the computer lab for an hour or two a day. And because he's trying to avoid students (all the masters do at this time of year), he does it when we we're all eating dinner, since then we're pretty reliably all clustered in the Great Hall and the adjacent Bird Room and Great Hall Kitchen. He walks up to the front door in the office, usually from the direction of the greenhouse, and goes into the office and from there into the computer lab without entering the Great Hall. And he does it around 5:30, sometimes a little earlier. It's almost dark when he comes, probably because he wants to be hard to see. Of course he does not use a flashlight.

Yesterday, I waited for him.

I took advantage of the darkness, standing almost behind one of the columns of the porch off the office. I could see him because he was moving, but I did not move, so he didn't see me.

When he turned to come up the steps, the column was momentarily between us, so I silently shifted my position so that when he passed me I'd be behind the column. Once he passed, I silently shifted back, putting myself in full view, illuminated by light shining through the windows in the office door--if only he'd looked behind him. He didn't.

"Hello, Charlie," I said, as he opened the office door.

He actually visibly startled.

"Daniel. You got me," he acknowledged, and then went inside without turning around.

In the morning, as I went out for my walk, he caught up with me.

"I suppose I ought to try to sneak up on you, now," he said. "Just to see if you can keep me from doing it."

The original assignment was not only to sneak up on him, but also to make myself un-sneak-up-able by him.

"I'm not convinced you haven't tried," I answered. It's true he hasn't successfully snuck up on me since he gave me the assignment. I can't prove that he was trying--I never spotted him literally tip-toeing along behind me, but of course that's not his method--but that doesn't mean he wasn't. Anyway, my suggestion made him laugh. "I'm sure you can," I added. "I'm not better than you are. But I think you'd find me harder to sneak up on than I used to be. I know where you aren't."

"Good enough for me," he said. "Remember to be aware of other people, too."

And he bid me good morning and left. I suppose he's busy starting to prepare for graduation, now. They'll start interviewing graduating novices in a few days--and whatever happens with graduating candidates will start happening t me.

Mastery Year 3: Part 8: Post 4: Progress

So, yes, I'm still stalking Charlie.

I've engaged a few spies, people who don't normally talk to Charlie at all, and so are unlikely to arouse his attention by acting oddly around him. I've also asked Rick to come visit for a few days a few times this winter and collect information for me. And I've been keeping my own eyes peeled.

What information am I trying to collect? I want to know how he moves through campus, what his habits are, where he goes and what he does. I want to know where the holes in his attention are--he has to have some, and hopefully one of them is big enough for me.

I'm doing all this more or less at his instigation, just in case you forgot or skipped that post. He wants me to sneak up on him. It's a very challenging assignment. In fact, I worry that he's on alert because he knows I'm running out of time in which to do it. I should have made a half-assed attempt a month or so ago to throw him off his guard--though maybe he would have figured that out, too. Maybe all I can do is what I'm doing, slowly and cautiously collecting information.

I've had my information-gathering network in place for weeks, now. Slowness is critical, because if I try to collect information too efficiently--if I or my spies spend too much time watching him--he'll notice and start watching me even more carefully. Passivity is critical, too, for if I attempt to deceive him or manipulate him in any way, he'll notice. Students trying to pull one over on their masters make fools of themselves when they forget their masters ARE masters, as in excellent at what they do. I am not forgetting it.

Which is not to say that I'm automatically going to succeed. I could very well fail. I just won't make an ass of myself while I'm at it.

But I do think I've had a breakthrough.

The key to invisibility, I've learned, is to put yourself in a place the other person doesn't look. And that's going to be difficult because Charlie looks everywhere--but he only looks once. Charlie doesn't turn around and look behind him very often, probably because he doesn't want yearlings to realize he's as aware of everything as he is. That way, he can startle people by knowing things he wasn't apparently paying attention to. And he doesn't need to turn an look because most of what's behind him used to be in front of him he saw it when it was, and he has excellent hearing and a clear awareness of birds and squirrels and whatever else that react to what's behind him. But the fact of the matter is if he passes a place and sees I'm not in it, he doesn't turn around to check that I'm still not in it. He thinks he already knows.

Now I just need to figure out how to put myself in a place he's already checked.

Mastery Year 3: Part 8: Post 3: Poetry and Prose

I'm back on campus now. June and I spent Christmas and New Years at her parents', then she went back to work and I spent a few days with my parents--and so did she, simply commuting to work from my parents' house, rather than from campus. We just got back to school this afternoon.

We're doing an odd thing, June and I, over the next few weeks; we're going apartment-hunting.

For all that I've been working for the past three years to become a master, there's no reason to believe there's going to be an opening. It's not that none of the Six are likely to retire--for one thing, Greg is semi-retired already, and while I think he may choose to stay on until he dies, he also could choose to retire wholly at any time--or a medical problem could force the issue. The non-teaching masters also come and go somewhat faster, or the Master's Group could decide to expand. But I am not qualified to replace Greg, there is no obvious place for me among the non-teaching masters, and no reason to expand the group. Realistically, I'd only get hired if Charlie retired, and that he will, quite obviously, never do. In any case, I'm sure Rick or Raven would be a better match for the role than I am. So I'm going to remain an ally--in more standard terms, an adjunct--for the time being. And allies don't get on-campus housing.

So, we're looking for something affordable within biking distance from campus, probably a mother-in-law apartment off the back of somebody's house. We're thinking about renter's insurance and transportation, furnished vs. unfurnished, accessibility to shopping. Shopping? I haven't bought a load of groceries for three years. All of it seems so banal, so mundane. So normal. It's bizarrely disappointing, but I suppose it has to be done.

And we're all going through it--Eddie, Raven, Ebony, Veery, and I, putting together the circumstances of our lives out in the real world. It's melancholy. I think all of us have thrown around the idea of all getting a house together, but it doesn't seem quite right somehow and we're not taking the idea seriously. There's no avoiding what comes next in this strange trip of ours--leaving, and, in a way, leaving for good.

But at the moment, there are no such errands to run, no practical steps on the hunting of houses to take. And I have no classes to take or to teach, no votes to secure, no madcap challenges from Charlie to tackle (except that one, and it is well in hand and needs no action today). There is nothing to do.

And so I sit at the table by the window in the Great Hall all alone, watching the sun turn the snowy world golden.