The Seat of Wisdom [WWC]

As his students shuffled out of the classroom at the end of the day, Tom slumped into his desk and took a moment to breathe before the halls began to resonate with the infernal clack of the woman’s heels. The busy bustling and excited young voices died down, and the first sharp stiletto rapped its way through the school’s front door. Tom heard the steps fade as the woman turned down the other corridor to collect the boy from the gym, and remembered that he had not completed an evaluation for the previous week’s one-on-one session with Mike. Tom counted off ninety seconds, one-hundred and eighty heel-strikes, as the woman personally dragged the boy to his classroom. When he finished counting, the woman was so close that Tom could hear Mike’s sordid shuffle in her tumultuous wake. He yanked a manila folder out of the clutter on his desk with his left hand as he scratched the final words of his evaluation onto the page: …hot-tempered and uncooperative.

Beyond remediation.

The woman huffed into the room as Tom stuffed the paper into the folder and slammed it back onto his desk. He stood up straight as she entered, alone at first. Her hands were lost in the enormous white bag that clung to her arm, and the boy was, for the moment, tapping his fingernails on the metal frame of the billboard outside the classroom. The woman paused, dropped her purse onto an empty desk, turned to the door, and snapped her fingers.

“Michael, stop that. Get in here.”

The boy had barely crossed the threshold before she clawed at the sleeve of his t-shirt and steered him into the desk where she had dropped her bag. She began to paw through the purse again as Michael thumped his pristine sneakers on the floor. Tom took a deep breath and stepped out from behind his chair.

“Nice to see you again,” Tom said. He tried to stare into the woman’s sunglasses, but he couldn’t tell whether she was looking at him or still focused on the contents of her bag. After a second, her mouth smiled and she strolled towards Tom with a bangled arm outstretched. He took her hand and pressed it, and she did the same, digging five shades of pink fingernail dangerously close to the veins in Tom’s wrist. He grimaced, but kept his eyes fixated on the woman’s polished black lenses as he retracted his hand. Then, she took off her glasses.

The woman’s powder-blue eyes were softer than her fingernails, but Tom still shuddered as she tucked her sunglasses into the deep trough of her neckline.

He recoiled as she shuffled the tan leather jacket off of her back and hung it on a chair.

He barely held in a shriek as she sat down and swung to face him.

“I hope you don’t mind if I stick around and observe you for the day,” she said as she brushed out the ruffles in her loose, cerulean blouse. Then, she gestured toward the back of the boy’s bobbing red head. “We want to make sure his special needs are being met in your classroom.”

“No.” Tom choked the word out and unbuttoned his collar. The woman glowered at him, and he faltered. He shivered and dropped his eyes to the desk, where he had laid out the pile of worksheets Michael was supposed to complete during the session. Suddenly, he straightened his back and shoved the papers out of sight. “I mean, no… we’ll be working outside today! So there will be plenty of breathing room and—and fresh air.”

“Exciting,” the woman said. With her gaze still trained on Tom, she rested her cheek on her fist and began tapping her temple with her finger. “So, what will we be—Michael, settle down!”

At the mention of leaving the classroom, the boy had leapt from his seat, and was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. He sat down as the woman pulled at the hem of his t-shirt, but the twinkle didn’t fade from his eye. The boy hadn’t settled—he had retracted like a spring, every muscle tensed and ready to launch out of the room. The boy’s red hair smoldered on his head like a powder keg ready to explode.

“I promised him he’d get to learn about Pokémon soon,” Tom said, standing to his feet once again.

The boy burst from his chair, his eyes and his head on fire, and knocked the woman’s purse off of the desk. As it clattered on the floor, the woman slammed her palm on her desk and sprung up, too.

“Michael, if you don’t stop that, you won’t be meeting any Pokémon for a long time.” She fumed, and stretched out a hand to grab him. The boy danced out of her reach and Tom intervened.

“Ma’am,” he said, extending his palm, “while we’re in my class, maybe it would be best if you let me handle discipline.” Tom braced himself for a violent backlash, but the woman merely scoffed and turned her attention to a game on her phone. Tom sighed in relief as he felt a tug on his sleeve.

“What kind of Pokémon do I get?” the boy chirped.

“Well, I’ll be letting you play with one of mine for the day—“

“I want a Dragonite!”

“I’m afraid I don’t have a Dragonite.” The boy slumped for a moment, then began bouncing again, shaking Tom’s arm violently in the process.

“I want a—“

“Hold on until we get out to the soccer field, okay? Can you be patient until then?” Tom asked. Mike nodded—or rather, allowed his head to bob up and down with the rest of his body. He slid his hand into Tom’s and squeezed.

“Can we go now?” he asked, pulling Tom toward the door. Tom stood firm, but smiled.

“If your—” The woman had picked up her phone with one hand and was holding it a few inches from her face while she played with the other. Tom waved a hand in her direction. “Mrs. Benson, are you ready?”

She poked the phone with her finger, then looked around the room, half-startled. Then she replied, “Oh, yes,” and began to gather her purse from the floor.

The woman finished picking up her things and stood up from the desk. Tom smiled at the boy and gestured toward the door, and Mike tried to rush from the room. In his excitement, he knocked into the corner of Tom’s desk. The impact caused a lamp to shift and shook a few papers onto the floor. Tom held in a sigh, but the woman let out an exasperated groan.

“Why are you so hyper, Michael? Why can’t you pay attention to where you’re going?”

The woman turned back to her phone and preceded Tom and the boy out of the room, nearly tripping over the tread in the doorway. Meanwhile, Tom bent over to pick up his papers as the boy looked on with his eyes wide, finally standing still. Mike stuttered an apology, and Tom stood up to pat him on the head with a smile. Then he picked up the manila folder that held his previous week’s evaluation and led the boy out of his room.

“We’ll have to make a quick pit stop,” Tom said, holding up the folder.

He led the group down the hallway and paused as he passed the principal’s office. The secretary was typing at her desk, but as Tom entered, she looked up and smiled. Tom handed her the folder and she peeked around his back to see the woman standing there silently while Mike watched Tom’s every move. She grimaced, then mouthed good luck and returned to her work. Tom left the office and the boy once again grabbed his hand and moved toward the door. Tom struggled to keep up as the woman straggled behind, her heels tapping listlessly on the fading tiles.

The field behind the school was unoccupied, to Tom’s relief. Tom was tempted to take off his shoes and walk barefoot through the soft, freshly-cut grass. He didn’t, but he passed the suggestion on to the woman, whose heels dug up half an inch of soil with every step. She didn’t acknowledge the advice, and continued to prod her phone with her painted nails as she minced across the field. When the group reached the painted lines that demarcated the Pokémon battlefield, Mike finally stopped pulling at Tom’s arm and looked expectantly at the Pokéballs on his belt.

Tom grinned at the boy, who was beaming patiently without saying a word. He unclipped a Pokéball from his belt, and handed it to Mike.

“Would you like to do the honors?” he said. The boy’s face smile burned even brighter.

“Pokémon, go!” he yelled, hurling the Pokéball as far as he could throw it. The capsule landed in the center of the battlefield and erupted in a blaze of light. An orange lizard materialized on the field, then trotted back toward the group.

“No way! A Charmander!” Mike cried as he rushed toward the Pokémon. The boy stumbled and fell into the lizard, and both boy and Pokémon howled in laughter as they rolled on the ground. Finally, the Charmander managed to separate itself from the boy, and Mike stood up to brush himself off.

“I think it’s a good fit,” Tom observed. “He’s energetic, just like you.”

“You can say that again,” the woman muttered from the sidelines. Then she looked up from her phone for the first time since they had left the building.

“You’re letting him play with a fire Pokémon?” she shrieked and began to wobble through the grass toward the boy. Mike had been petting the Charmander’s back as its tail wagged nonchalantly past his hand, but when the woman cried out, his eyes grew wide and he drew back from the Pokémon.

Tom knelt down next to him and stretched his hand out toward the glowing flame. The boy gasped as Tom passed his fingers through the fire and they came out unscathed on the other side. Tom smiled and said, “You see, it’s perfectly safe.”

“Even young Pokémon are incredibly powerful creatures, but the very first thing they learn from their parents is how to control their power,” he continued. “That way, they won’t hurt the people they love. When you have your own Pokémon, it will be your job to teach them how to use their energy.”

Mike stared incredulously as Tom continued to cup the Charmander’s tail with his hand. Then, the boy stood up and pointed at the Pokémon. He scrunched his face into the most serious glare he could muster, and cried, “Charmander, I choose you! Let’s battle!”

The lizard looked over its shoulder, confused, and Tom laughed. The boy held his stare as long as he could, then faltered and said, “I mean, would that be okay?”

The Charmander looked back and Tom, who nodded his approval. The Pokémon waddled over to the boy and Tom stood up.

“That was very leaderly,” he chuckled, unclipping another Pokémon from his belt. He pressed the button on the capsule, and a Wartortle plopped down onto the grass by his feet.

“Sure, we can battle if you want. But first, what do you know about Charmander?” Tom asked.

“It’s a fire-type!” Mike said, still mesmerized by the lizard’s swinging tail.

“Okay. So what kinds of attacks does he know?”

“Fire Blast!”

“Well, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Tom responded, grimacing. “Remember, this guy’s pretty young still. What kinds of attacks do young fire-type Pokémon know?”

As Mike thought for a moment, his face scrunched up again and his hair flared up to let off steam as the gears turned in his head. Finally, his eyes lit up and he answered, “Flamethrower!”

“Good idea,” Tom said, “but that’s still a little advanced for my Charmander.” The Pokémon pouted playfully.

“Right now, his main fire attack is called ‘Ember.’ Want to see it in action?”

“Yeah!”

“Why don’t you do the honors?”

The boy thrust his fist in the air and yelled, “Charmander, use Ember!”

The Pokémon opened its mouth wide and bellowed. A ball of flame burst into the air and careened into Tom’s Wartortle. The aquatic Pokemon protected itself with a spurt of water, but still recoiled from the ardent blaze.

“Very good,” Tom said, nodding.

“Whoa, that was so cool!” Mike whooped as he hopped up and down.

“You see?” Tom continued. “You have to set your expectations at the right level. If you had tried to get Charmander to use Fire Blast, he wouldn’t have been able to do anything. He’d be frozen, knowing he can’t do what you ask, but afraid to let you down.”

The woman had returned to the sidelines after watching Tom demonstrate the safety of his Charmander’s firepower. When the Pokémon attacked, she became interested once again. Tom and Wartortle stood calmly on one side of the field, while Mike stood on the other side with his jaw set. His arms were relaxed, but his eyes were focused. The woman cried, “Come on, Mike! You’d better destroy him!”

Tom was mortified, but he didn’t confront the woman. Instead, he turned back to the boy, and said, “Alright, I think it’s time to have a real battle. Remember, we’re just having fun today.” Mike had lost some of the luster in his eyes, but his chest was still puffed up and Charmander was poised on the balls of his feet.

“Go easy on him,” Tom whispered to Wartortle as it trotted toward its opponent. The turtle lowered its head and hunched over with one fist resting lightly on the grass. Charmander mimicked his opponent’s stance. Mike followed the Pokémon’s movements with his eyes and nearly did the same, without thinking.

“Wartortle, Tackle him!” Tom yelled. Wartortle pushed off of the ground and lunged across the field with one arm outstretched.

Mike reacted immediately and yelled, “Charmander, use Ember!”

Charmander opened its mouth, but Wartortle drew its body up from the ground and the puff of flame whiffed off of the turtle’s hard stomach plate. Wartortle grabbed the lizard around his midriff and wrestled him to the ground as Charmander sent more fireballs soaring into its impenetrable shell. Mike deflated as his Pokémon was totally subdued.

“Okay, Wartortle, that’s enough,” Tom said. The two Pokémon picked themselves up off of the ground, and the turtle brushed off its knees.

“Remember, Charmander can do more than use Ember,” Tom said. “Sometimes the best thing to do is dodge an attack.”

“Okay.”

“Hey!” the woman interjected from the sidelines. “Why did you give Michael the weak Pokémon?” She marched toward the boy with as much grace as she could muster.

“You’re not going to win with this!” she snarled, jabbing her finger at the Charmander. Then she turned to Tom. “Switch with him so he actually has a chance!”

“Well, the battle wasn’t really about winning,” Tom muttered so low that the woman could barely hear his response.

“But Charmander is my Pokémon!” Mike protested.

“Switch!” she shrieked.

“Okay, okay!” Tom responded. “Wartortle, Charmander, let’s switch sides for a little while.” Mike’s face fell as the two Pokémon rotated on the field. Instead of retreating to the sidelines again, the woman stood behind the boy with her arms crossed.

“Now you have the advantage,” she said, beginning to tutor the boy. “You should be able to use his strong water attacks to finish the battle pretty quickly.”

“Okay, Mike! We talked about Charmander’s attacks earlier!” Tom said from across the battlefield. “Can you name some attacks that Wartortle might be able to use?”

The woman nodded. “Say Hydro Pump.”

“Hydro Pump?” Mike suggested.

“That’s a little advanced, again,” Tom replied. “Can you think of others?”

“Surf,” the woman interjected, and began counting off on her fingers. The boy looked straight forward and pursed his lips.

“Waterfall,” she continued. Tom rolled his eyes, exasperated. He looked up at the sky as his throat tightened. Meanwhile, the boy closed his eyes and began mouthing the names of different attacks as he thought. The woman opened her mouth to list another move, but the boy interrupted.

“Water Gun!”

“Good!” Tom exclaimed, snapping his attention back to the field. The muscles in the boy’s face loosened up again into a proud smile.

“But that’s so weak!” the woman cried.

“Let’s let Mike be the judge of that,” Tom said, rolling his eyes again. Then he grinned at the boy. “Wanna try it out?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay, go ahead.”

“Wartortle, use Water Gun!” The turtle inhaled deeply, then released a gentle stream of frothy water at the Charmander. It lowered its head to brace against the deluge. When the attack was finished, Charmander shook its body violently to get the water off. Then it turned to Tom to wait for instructions.

“Charmander, fire back with Ember!” he said. Charmander raised its eyebrows, and Tom continued, “Don’t worry, just do your best. I bet you can really singe that Wartortle’s shell!”

The Pokémon grinned, turned to face its opponent, and drew in a deep breath. The lizard’s tail flared up fiercely as it prepared to give the attack its best effort.

“Wartortle, counter with Hydro Pump!” the woman cried. Wartortle turned and shook its head, then returned its focus to its opponent.

“Don’t you dare look away from me!” the woman cried. She stomped toward the Pokémon, tearing up the grass as she walked. When she reached the Wartortle, the woman grabbed it by the collar of its carapace and shook it with both hands.

“Ma’am, stop that!” Tom yelled from across the field. Mike lunged at the woman, yanking one of her hands from the Wartortle’s back. She ripped her arm away from him, but kept the other firmly planted on the Wartortle’s collar. The woman contorted her body to look at the child, and glared at him.

“Michael, sit down!” she screeched. “I’m not going to let you lose a battle just because your Pokémon won’t listen.”

Tom ran toward the combatants as fast as he could. He stood behind his Charmander and hollered, “Mrs. Benson, get off the field!” He put the entire force of his deep voice into the command, but every other muscle in his body felt useless. Tom couldn’t tear her away from the Pokémon as the boy had.

Mike leapt up from the ground, clenched his fists, and bull-rushed the woman again. As his impassioned body collided with the woman, she tripped and dragged the Wartortle down to the ground as she fell gracelessly. As the woman bellowed in rage, the Charmander released an enormous fireball. Tom watched in horror as the flames grazed the top of the boy’s head, igniting his fiery hair.

The boy’s shriek pierced the air, but failed to register in the woman’s ears. As Tom leapt toward the boy, the Wartortle gained the upper hand in its wrestling match against the woman and noticed the blaze atop the boy’s head. Its eyes widened and it prepared another jet of water. During that moment, the woman shoved the turtle away, diverting the attack. She jumped to her feet, fixed the sunglasses that were askew on her face, and rushed toward the boy. The woman reached Mike before Tom did, and tackled the boy to the ground to roll his burning hair in the dirt. The blaze subsided, leaving the boy howling, with tears streaming down his mud-stained face.

Tom hadn’t brought a first-aid kit to the field, so he tore through the woman’s voluptuous purse in search of her telephone. To his surprise, she didn’t protest. She was gazing into the boy’s ragged face, cradling his head in her hands. As Tom called emergency services, and then the principal, the woman cooed at the boy, kissing his singed forehead. Each time, the boy cried out, and the woman redoubled her efforts to console him. Tom trembled to see such an outpouring of love from woman to child. As she held him in her arms, swaddled in her billowing blouse, Tom sighed. Like any good mother, the woman would always be there to forgive the boy when she made a mistake.

Tom roiled in disgust, and was relieved to see his boss lumbering across the grass with a scowl on his face. The principal huffed and wheezed when he reached Tom, but managed to squeeze out the words, “Mother of God, what have you done?” Tom closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m taking you off of this assignment,” the principal continued once he had caught a second wind. Tom released the air from his lungs and laughed.

“This isn’t funny, Tom,” the principal said, squaring his jaw. “I have to do everything I can to keep her from suing the school again. There will be an official investigation, of course.”

“Of course.” Tom sighed.

“But that’s not why I’m removing the boy from your care.” Tom raised his eyebrows.

“Frankly, I’ve had enough of this,” the principal said. As he paused to pant once again, the blare of an ambulance erupted in the streets and harmonized with the cries of the injured child. It was then that Tom noticed the folder in his boss’s hand. The principal held it up and smacked it. “I’ve had enough of your reports, Tom. You were supposed to evaluate the child, not his mother!”

Spoiler

Pokemon: Charmander
Minimum Character Requirement: 20k
Story Length: Twenty-freakin'-k
Read on DeviantArt

 

This appears to have been missed, so I'll get it!

 

@Elrond 2.0;

Wisdom has a seat grade. With permission to be nitpicky if I want!

Intro

I spent a lot of time debating this section. The first time I read it, I immediately knew what the twist was going to be, within the first few paragraphs.

At first, I thought this was just because I write and read a fair bit and probably unconsciously look for those little tricks and hints that authors are wont to include. It's a habit to try and predict what's going to happen, and I'm fairly successful at it. However, that wasn't good enough, so I went back and really tried to hone in what made me guess the twist, and it was this line, in the first paragraph:

I think these few words gave your twist away, because as soon as the mother and Mike come onto the scene, we immediately know that it's not the boy Tom is talking about. I think if you had just put in the “beyond remediation,” it would've preserved who the report was really about and made the ending come with a bigger pow.

I mean, some people are not going to notice this, and you probably did surprise a bunch of people, but I feel that as a reader, people who do read even a casual amount will probably pick up on this giveaway. And that's too bad because it's a good twist and I really love it otherwise. I think I just wanted to be more surprised at the end. Why read/watch/etc something if you know how it's going to turn out? A lot of people turn away from that, especially if they don't get a pleasure from just doing the activity, like reading. Some people want those enlightened/delightful moments.

Otherwise I think the intro was pretty solid. You really hammered in that sense of dread Tom has for the mother being there, which set the tone for the entire story and really clued readers in to who the story was actually going to be about. Right from the get-go she is the source of conflict.

There could've also been a few more physical details I suppose. You described the actions very well, and eventually we got to some other details such as the sunglasses and the color of the woman's eyes, but it was slightly hard to imagine up until that point. Tom had been in the scene for a while before the other two came into the picture. The characters in my movie mind were blurred and shadowy since I was missing some aesthetic things like posture, form, age, thinness, hair, etc. right away. I didn't have too many solid adjectives to attach to characters and label them in my head.

Plot

I definitely like the plot you set up, though. You did great with the interactions between Tom and Mike—that older person departs knowledge to the young thing that corresponds to the title. I think those were pretty believable and fit the role of teacher/student. It was also a nice contrast for the boy and his mother, since she clearly isn't doing a great job at teaching, so Tom's comment about the parental teachings was pretty great.

There were a couple things that made me lift an eyebrow too. The first was the mother's involvement with these sessions. From her initial dialogue of asking Tom if he minded she sit in and then his follow-up about letting him handle discipline implies that the mother had not actually been there that often—which conflicts directly with the ending/report subplot entirely. If she had not been there that much, how did he compile a report for her that the principal ultimately removes his counseling for? This was backed up with lines such as:

So was that the first time she was there? Or had she been there the previous week and more? If the latter, I feel the dialogue and narrative could've been modded slightly with some key words that would imply other times, such as sitting in again or a comment saying that he had to remind her about who handed out discipline just like the last time, etc.

Because the story was really about the mother, even though it was in Tom's point of view and the scene focused around the boy's appointment. Sometimes, when the narrative ignored her, it was sort of weird, like the story had forgotten her when she was so central to it. Even from the beginning I felt it was about her, since she was the catalyst for the mood, and later we interpret, the boy being at the appointments at all.

Those couple places were sort of necessary, because stuff was happening with the boy's interactions, but I think maybe the narrative could've noted what she was doing before totally abandoning her. This hits me strongest in her flipping back and forth between being absorbed in her phone or not. There are some details that hint she's on it, like falling behind when they're going outside, but sometimes, she just suddenly pops out of nowhere with a comment, such as when she gets involved in the battle. And I feel that because of Tom's initial awareness/dread with her, he's not just gonna forget about her so easily.

Another thing I was not totally clear on was Tom's assignment/job as far as evaluating Mike went. At first, I wasn't clear if he was supposed to be a teacher or a counselor. The opening lines imply teacher, but the assignment itself implies counselor, and I wasn't sure how much these two things intersected.

This was puzzling at the end because the principal takes Tom off the assignment, as if he was a caseworker scripted to the boy. But isn't Mike in Tom's class? Does removing the assignment mean that Mike has to switch classes? How is he removed, exactly? Tom's role was a little muddy.

The only other plot thing has to do with the mother's character, which I feel deserves its own section.

Character

This was an interesting piece. I liked the idea that the story was really about the mother even though it seemed the other characters were the most important. But everything in the story is moved either directly or indirectly by this woman's actions, so she has to be the focal point. I liked that. The story was set up to support it. I think it showed a very real problem and one side of how it is dealt with.

However, I also think that some things with this woman conflicted. Primarily that I think you were trying to merge two types of characters together, and that made some of her moments a little awkward and out of place.

The first is the no-nonsense person who wants to be in control. She strides in, snaps her fingers, and starts bossing Mike around. The other is the one self-absorbed in her phone and mostly ignoring things and zoning out. There is a tiny bit of crossover, like how she searchers in her bag in the beginning, but I feel that there's not really enough support for having both traits—they are in essence sort of contrasting personalities anyway.

This came up in a lot of my creative writing workshops, about actually having two characters in one body. Here, I think it would've worked a little better and came across stronger if you would've picked one type. They kinda both hit common stereotypes of unfavorable parents, and of course people could theoretically be both, but I think that it was a little much to dive into in a story of this size. And although it is a true thing, it is also a stereotype, and I think more time just focusing on one of them would've maybe taken away that stereotype's power. We could've maybe had some inkling into why her personality is that way instead.

It isn't a super big deal, but it did make me wonder what her real character was like. Since so many traits conflicted, like ignoring vs being controlling or being slightly abusive by jerking him around vs suddenly seeming to care for him, I couldn't really define her. And sometimes that isn't bad and that's the point of the story, but I don't think that's what you were going for here.

Some of her actions were awkward because of this, like her reaction to the Charmander. She's totally disinterested in what's going on as they trek the field, but then her reaction to Charmander being a Fire-type seems way to hyped and over the top to fit with her seemingly-uncaring nature just seconds before.

The flip-flopping was a little jarring at these points in the story. The blend of both personality types just didn't quite get there for the speed of it. Either being controlling all the time and leaving the phone out of it, or being totally on the phone from the beginning, such as walking in the door with it in hand, and then just freaking out at the very end, might've worked better here. Alternatively, you could've extended the story a bit too to make sure both temperaments are supported fully as well, if that's really what you wanted to show. As a reader, I just think I wanted you to dwell on one more instead of both at the same time.

That being said, I was sort of disappointed that she had zero redeeming qualities at all. Even when she started cooing over the kid's burned hair, it didn't strike a chord in me at all. That was probably because there was no build up to it or no real hints that she cared—especially since she initially didn't hear him howl/notice when he got hurt to begin with and had been engrossed in her phone or bossing him around for other parts.

Some lines seemed to beg for more detail/observation by Tom in regards to her character, espcially since he was really filing the report on her anyway, so had to have been paying attention. Like this part:

Here I really wanted some sort of insight I think. It was an ironic on her part since her conflict with her son also hinges on communication and not listening. It also slightly hints that maybe she cares a little bit, but there's not a lot of evidence to back that up. It gets muddled in the other details, so it comes across as more just her nagging again.

However, the only line I really felt was out of place was this one:

Except she wasn't. There is not really anything in the text that backs this up or provides a reason for why Tom thinks this. This is the only caring action that she showed in the entire story. I did want to see more delving into her character, of course, so there could have been reasons for her behavior and proof of her actually being caring, but that didn't really come across here.

Overall, I like what you tried to do with her. I think it just would've been a little clearer focusing more on one aspect of it for a story so short. That would've eliminated the flip-flops (or the other way, extending it and explaining more about them) and allowed you some room to explore why she behaves the way she does.

Detail/Description

Other than the intro where I noted that the details about the people came a little late, things here were mostly sufficient. It helped that you had a modern day school setting so the readers are able to envision what things look like pretty easily. Good for when the environment is not as important as the interactions. Like I said before, a few more physical details to go along with the actions and temperament distinctions could've been nice too.

I was also curious about age of the characters. I didn't necessarily want it stated outright, but I think I wanted some measure to compare Tom and the mother a little. Was she older but a younger person knew better? Were they the same age? Was he older and therefore more experienced?

I think that could've also played into the title a little bit, about what qualifies someone for having the seat of wisdom.

Grammar/Mechanics

Nothing super noteworthy here. Sometimes your word choice was a little strange, such as in this line:

The trembled in particular is weird, sine that usually has a connotation of fear, especially with no modifiers/explanation further. It conflicts with the “roiled in disgust” reaction in the next paragraph about the same event. Just creates a little bit of a mixed feeling and wondering what you meant the readers to feel there.

There were only a couple places like this, but just be careful. Not all synonyms work in place of some words because of that connotation. And maybe you did want mixed reactions there, but in that case, I wanted a little more support as to why/Tom's observations.

Length

It clocked in around 20,163, which is at the low end within Hard rank range. Not that MCR is super important. You could've maybe made it a little longer, like I mentioned before elaborating on perhaps why the mother was the way she was. Also for some of those puzzling lines, a little more explanation could've been good. But that's not increasing the length by a dramatic amount.

Reality/Miscellaneous

Just a few little things I didn't put in the plot:

How small is the school if Tom could hear the woman right away? Especially if students were still in the process of leaving/it probably wasn't completely dead so soon after school? Since there are some staff still around and if the mother got her son from the gym, that implies other kids are likely still there too. One hundred and eighty heel strikes is also a lot of distance to hear from that far away, especially if she had to make a few turns.

Also, did her phone not have a lock on it? With that swiping pattern or number code or whatever people have on them these days? It was sort of odd that Tom was able to just pick it up and access it.

Result

Spoiler

It was still a good story, even if the mother bits are sort of conflicting. I don't think many of our readers would notice it, especially if they don't read that often. Still pretty solid. It was unfortunate about the end twist, at least for me, being able to see it coming, but I did enjoy the slight humor at the end following some of the more dramatic things in the story itself. It was a pretty easy decision regardless.

Charmander: Captured

Please feel free to contact me if something I said didn't make sense or you want me to elaborate further!

 

@WinterVines

Wow! Thanks for this grade. I'm glad I got your perspective on the mother, because it tells me that I really wasn't clear enough with her character. After reading your perspective, I can definitely understand how she comes off as having two separate personalities (the controlling mother and the uninterested mother). I thought those two sides of her personality would fit together a little better, but I can see I didn't unify them well. One aspect of her personality that I definitely didn't emphasize enough is that she is supposed to exhibit many of the flaws that she attributes to her son. For example, at one point she tells Mike to watch where he's going, then trips in the doorway because she's focused on her phone. I think I may have ruined this a little bit by making the twist too obvious at the beginning, but the point of the story is that it becomes clear that Mike has no "special needs," as she put it--he has an excitable nature because he's just a kid. His mother is just projecting her own flaws onto him.

The other thing that I think got lost is Tom's sense of irony, especially at the very end. "The Seat of Wisdom" is a tongue-in-cheek title for the mother, not Tom. In real life, it's used to refer to St. Mary, tehologically considered the most important role model for all mothers. Mrs. Benson, on the other hand, is a terrible example. In fact, Tom just thinks of her as "the woman" until his bitterly sarcastic analysis of her reaction to the accident. That's where these two lines come from:

The "outpouring of love" refers to the dramatic way Mrs. Benson responds to the accident to her son. Instead of letting the water Pokemon douse the flames immediately, she takes control and puts them out in what must be the most miserable way possible, shoving Mike's head into the dirt. Then, instead of seeking a first aid kit or calling for help, she forces him down onto her lap and starts kissing his now-injured forehead, causing him further pain. After re-reading this passage again, I can tell I definitely didn't exaggerate her actions enough. She's supposed to be about as comforting as a poofy armchair made of porcupines.

I think "shuddered" may have been the better word here, but the point is that Tom doesn't see a mother comforting her child. She definitely doesn't have a caring personality, which is why there's no prior evidence to back up that claim. She has a dramatic personality. She was supposed to exhibit some of the same "motherly" traits as, say, Lucille Bluth in Arrested Development. Mrs. Bluth's particular brand of "caring" turned her youngest son Buster into a frail, utterly dependent manchild.

Sure, the big "twist" at the end was important, but this was supposed to be the real punchline. I don't think I set it up well enough. The operative word there is the "she" at the end. The point is that Mrs. Benson made the mistake here, by creating the situation that led to her son taking a fireball to the face. It's supposed to drive home even further the fact that she doesn't take any responsibility for any of the bad things that happen to Mike or for any personal flaws he may someday develop by following her example. She's "forgiving" him for a mistake that she herself made.

Anyway, that's what I was trying to do with my characters. If you have any more feedback on how I could have done so more clearly, I would love to talk more!

 

@Elrond 2.0

I think maybe it was partially an issue of speeding the end up too much then? I think that your real intent with the mother's bad comforting could've been slightly more observed by Tom--I rather liked that porcupine metaphor, so maybe something like that. It just sort of seemed skimmed and because it went so quick, didn't seem as important as the rest of it.

If that line was the emotional/plot hinge you wanted, I think more time should've been spent on it. Slow things down, like you did with Tom's dread in the beginning, having three separate paragraphs that were shorter which betrayed what he was worried about. You could've made use of a similar technique here perhaps.

And the forgiving part could maybe have been further shown by having dialogue from the mother. Like instead of just writing that she cooed, she could be saying something about how it's okay or even chastising him in that falsely-sweet manner like "see now why you should've listened to me? poor baby..." sort of thing.

Shuddered I think would've given me more of that disgust connotation, agreed.

And I really like the idea of contrasting the faults in her with what she accuses her son of having. I'll admit, the tripping thing didn't really register. That might've been too fast also; if there had been more of a reaction by her, maybe it would've been more noticeable?

I think to drive home the special needs part, it probably should've appeared more toward the end as well, perhaps in Tom's observations. Because it was only really mentioned near the beginning, I sort of put it out of my mind because so much else was going on in the middle and end of the story. I mean it's something readers come to the conclusion about anyway. But if it was important for your characters to acknowledge that fact too, it could've been brought up gain perhaps.