#salary expectations (next to nothing because it’s an apprenticeship)

[fingertipsmp3]

Just had the weirdest job interview in my life and now I’m eating a big cookie. How is everyone

[workofthediesel]

Something with marcia + sarah being friends/Literally Just Nice To Each Other For Once (or smth angsty w marcia,, maybe both) combined

fic requests are open! send me an ask!

Sarah sat in her sitting room, her hands clenched awkwardly in her lap. She was used to having people over for tea—back when the kids were still kids, Sally Mullin would be over once a week for a cup and some gossip, and even now they kept up the tradition, moving from her cluttered room in the Ramblings to her equally cluttered sitting room in the Palace. But it wasn;t the familiar and friendly Sally sat across from Sarah now; it was none other than Madam Marcia Overstrand.

Marcia was perched on the edge of the sofa, looking every bit as uncomfortable as Sarah was. She was holding one of Sarah’s old mugs in her hands--like everything in the sitting room, the mug was something the Heaps had brought with them from their old life in the Ramblings. It was old and chipped, but Sarah was too sentimental to let it go.

Silence was thick between them, neither one of them knowing what to say. They were only here on Septimus’s request. After he’d heard about the disaster that had led to Sarah getting trapped in the Palace in the middle of the Darke Domaine, he had insisted they learn how to at least be civil to each other. He didn’t want his own family--and here he’d hurriedly added “and Marcia,” almost as if he was correcting himself--constantly at odds with each other.

Sarah had been indignant at first. The argument had had nothing to do with her. It was all Macia’s fault for barging in and barking orders without explaining anything. But Septimus quickly shot her down, telling her that Marcia had been trying to explain, and that while Marcia may have to learn how to talk to people better, Sarah had to learn how to listen. Sarah didn’t have a come back for that and she shut her mouth, listening in stunned silence as Septimus told her that Marcia would be over for tea the next afternoon and he expected them to both at least try to get along.

So here they were now, crammed into Sarah’s tiny sitting room, waiting until Marcia finished her tea so she could leave. They’d tell Septimus that the afternoon was a success and then they’d never have to do it again.

A loud quack from behind the couch shattered the silence in the room. Ethel waddled out from where she’d been napping and made a beeline for Sarah’s feet. Without a moment’s hesitation, Sarah scooped her up and pulled her into her lap, wrapping her arms around her.

“I see that duck is still as enamored with you as ever,” Marcia said. They were the first words either of them had spoken since she’d arrived.

“Her name is Ethel,” Sarah told her snappily.

“Right, Ethel. Of course,” Marcia said. “I remember that now.” The silence resumed for a few moments, and Sarah hoped that that meant it would be the end of the conversation, but Marcia continued, “Did you make that coat for her yourself?”

“Of course I did!” Sarah said, arranging Ethel to be more comfortable in her lap. “The poor dear doesn’t have any feathers, how else is she supposed to keep warm?”

Marcia nodded, taking another moment to choose her words. “It’s very… dedicated of you to take such good care of her.”

“Hmph. Well, someone has to do it. She can’t just be left to fend for herself.”

“Of course not,” Marcia agreed. Sarah suspected that she was thinking that it might have been better off for everyone if Ethel had been left to fend for herself in the Darke Domaine, but she at least had the sense not to mention it. Instead, she changed the subject. “Where’s Silas?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sarah said. “Out somewhere looking for those silly game pieces of his.”

“Ah, yes,” Marcia said knowingly. “The Counters.”

“That game has completely taken over his life--and mine, too,” Sarah complained. “It’s all he ever talks about anymore.”

“It’s a rather childish game,” Marcia said. “Fitting, I suppose, that he likes it so much, but I can’t imagine there’s that much to talk about.”

Sarah shook her head. “You’d be wrong about that. Every conversation with him now turns into how he’s wondering where all those pieces slipped off to, how they’re doing, if they’ve gone completely feral or if he might be able to get them back. On top of that, he has all these big plans for creating a Castle Counter-Feet League and hosting all these competitions at the Palace. He’s even been writing books about the wretched thing.”

“Books?” Marcia echoed, sounding shocked.

“Well, pamphlets, I suppose. All about strategies and tips for training and how to build your set. He spends all his spare time working on them. I think he hopes to get them properly published. Even I don’t know how many he’s written.”

There were a few seconds when Marcia didn’t know how to respond. Eventually she settled on, “Well, at least he’s passionate about something.”

“Yes,” Sarah agreed reluctantly, “I suppose it’s better than him sitting around like a lump on a log, but couldn’t he have gotten passionate about something useful? If he’d had this much dedication to his studies years ago, he would have been the ExtraOrdinary Wizard.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Sarah bit her tongue. For a second she had forgotten who she was talking to. She was sure Marcia was about to blow up on her, and Septimus would be so disappointed in her for failing him on his plan. She was wondering if she should apologize just to smooth things over--and if that would even work--but Marcia was already talking.

“He didn’t give up his Apprenticeship because he didn’t care about it,” she said. “He gave it up for you. You and the boys.”

“I know he felt bad about spending so much time at work,” Sarah said, “but if he put his mind to it like he does to this game, he could have--”

“No,” Marcia cut her off, shaking her head. “It wasn’t about the time he spent away from home. At least, not entirely. Alther told me that he backed out of his Apprenticeship because he was starting his Darke Week?”

“Darke Week?”

“It’s something unique to ExtraOrdinary Apprenticeships. The ExtraOrdinary Wizard needs to have a much better knowledge of the Darke than Ordinary Wizards do, so during their Apprenticeships, they spend quite a bit of time studying the Darke. It all adds up to a big project with the Apprentice undertaking some Darke task to prove they can responsibly and safely incorporate some of the Darke into their studies. It’s a very big deal in ExtraOrdinary Apprenticeships. Anyway, Alther told me that Silas gave up his Apprenticeship when they got to the lessons about the Darke. At first I thought it was because he was too afraid of the Darke to continue, but Alther told me it was because of you and the boys at home.”

“Me?” Sarah echoed.

Marcia nodded. “He was so worried that something Darke might follow him home, and he didn’t want to risk putting you and the boys in danger.”

“Oh,” Sarah said after a few moments. She didn’t know how else to respond. She’d never held Silas giving up his ExtraOrdinary Apprenticeship against him, but she did privately think that if he had just put in a little more effort, they could have been a lot better off than they were. Not that she was ever unhappy with him in the Ramblings, but life there wasn’t exactly easy with seven kids and just one salary. But knowing that him stepping down from his Apprenticeship wasn’t him being lazy but was a move to keep his family safe…

Marcia was watching her quietly. “Did he really never tell you?”

Sarah shook her head.

“Well, I suppose that makes sense. The Darke Week isn’t really something ExtraOrdinary Apprentices are supposed to talk about.”

“Will Septimus have to do this Darke Week?” Sarah asked nervously.

“He’s already done it. And passed with flying colors, I should add. Not that I ever expected anything different.”

Sarah nodded in agreement. Septimus truly had skill like no other when it came to his Magyk.

They slipped back into silence for a minute before Marcia set her mug down on the table and stood up. “I should be going now,” she said briskly. “Thank you for the tea, Sarah, it was lovely.”

“Of course.” Sarah stood as well to show Marcia to the door. “Thank you for coming, I had a wonderful time as well.” The words were routinely polite, but Sarah was surprised to find that they weren’t entirely untrue.

Marcia carefully picked her way across the sitting room to the door Sarah was holding open for her, watching the floor to make sure she didn’t accidentally step in any of the piles of duck poo that were laying about. When she made it to the safety of the hallway she picked up her usual speed, her cloak billowing out behind her as she made her way down the hall.

Sarah stood watching her from the doorway. Before Marcia could turn the corner and disappear completely, Sarah called out to her on impulse. “Marcia?”

Marcia stopped, turning back to Sarah. The impatient expression Sarah would have expected to see on her face was nowhere to be found.

Sarah felt a little unsure about was she was about to say, but she said it anyway. “Simon’s wedding is coming up. I’m sure you already knew that because Septimus will need the day off to attend, but… It would mean a lot to us if you came as well.”

The shock that initially crossed Marcia’s features was, perhaps, deserved. She and the Heaps had never quite seen eye-to-eye, and it wasn’t a secret that any event of theirs she attended was because of how important she was to Septimus. But the wedding was Simon’s special day, and no one had discussed whether or not to invite Marcia. But Sarah knew that inviting Marcia was the right thing to do. Septimus would want her there, Simon would want her there, and surprisingly, Sarah found out that she wanted her there.

In just a second, Marcia schooled her features back into an impassive mask. “It would be my pleasure,” she said evenly, but Sarah could hear the notes of genuine happiness that were trying to sneak through into her voice.

With that, Marcia turned on her heel and strode off down the hall, fighting to keep a smile at bay. Behind her, in the sitting room, Sarah was doing the same.

[stephfento]

( MARGOT ROBBIE, SHE/HER, FEMALE ⟩ we’ve been keeping an eye out for TWENTY SEVEN YEAR OLD STEPHANIE FENTON lately. they have been living in WICKERY FALLS for about SEVEN YEARS but something sparked my interest more. as it turns out - the FENTON family have indeed tried their best to tuck away STEPHANIE’S IMPATIENT tendencies, but it only seems to bring out HER PROVOCATIVENESS more. according to an anonymous source, SHE can be HUMOROUS. she is a pretty cool SCHOOL NURSE most shocking of all, it seems that STEPHANIE has been keeping a secret: one that could destroy HER life, but the thing is nothing stays secret for long, especially in WICKERY FALLS.

hello hello hello ! my name is jamie i am twenty one and im from the gmt timezone !! im super excited to get stuck into this roleplay and really get to know all of you and your muses ! my alltime fave is emma roberts and a good runner up is austin butler x enough about me tho ! let me introduce you to my QUEEN stephanie.

B A C K S T O R Y

Childhood

Stephanie was born to two loving parents just outside of San Diego, California. Her mother was named Helen, who was a midwife in their local hospital, and her father, David, was a banker, which often resulted in him working long hours, he worked in the city - so by the time he got home, he didn’t really have the energy to bond with his family. Stephanie had an older sister, by three years, named Charlotte and later in her life was blessed with a little brother, with two years between them, named Alex. As they grew into young children, a bond grew between Stephanie’s older and younger sibling. While Stephanie would see the way that Charlotte and Alex would play, she would spend more time with her mother, the two of them felt as if they only really had each other in the house, and over time they formed an inseparable bond - much to the disdain of Stephanie’s siblings.

As the years went by, and Stephanie started school, the rift in their family only seemed to grow. Her parents would argue more, and her siblings would purposely stop involving Stephanie in any plans. The Fentons still portrayed the perfect suburban family image to their mutual friends, to an outsider they seemed like they had everything together, but inside their façade was an ever-growing animosity towards each other. As Stephanie settled into the first couple of years of school she started to make friends, but her mother often found ways to get between her friendships, almost a level of jealousy that anyone would take away her relationship with her daughter. Unfortunately for Stephanie, as a young child she was blinded by the trust she had for her mother. Her mother always seemed to have a good reason for Stephanie to not visit friends, or have friends over, whilst her older sister seemed to have the freedom to see whoever she wanted - but even as Stephanie saw this, she felt it best to not question her mother. Instead, she would comfort her after arguments with her father, or help her with chores around the house, just to alleviate some of the stress.

Teenage Years

As Stephanie got older, and hit her teenage years, she barely spoke with her siblings, and shared a mutual dislike of her father with her mother, as she had only heard the negative stories from her mother - Stephanie’s mother made sure that the only opinion Stephanie could form of her father was the image that her mother wanted. Stephanie found that many of her friends stopped inviting her to birthday parties etc, as she was never allowed to attend anyway. Stephanie would complain about this to her mother and receive responses such as ‘Well are they really your friends then?” or ‘If they won’t invite you places, lets have our own day out.’ Stephanie would agree to these plans without any hesitation, she felt that her mother had no reason to lie to her, and really began to believe the lies that she was being spoon-fed. Stephanie knew to not even try and get a boyfriend, knowing it would be futile, especially with her strict parents, so any attention she received from boys she ignored, even as she got to the age of wanting to experience new things, she knew it just wouldn’t be worth the hassle trying to convince her mother to let her out. Stephanie finally started to realise that she had been trapped by her mother her entire life. She tried to talk to her sister about this but her sister had no empathy towards her, and just replied coldly “At least you finally can have a life.” Stephanie knew her sister was right, but it hurt her. She had no real friends at school, no siblings to share her issues with, and no boys to keep her entertained as a teenager. Through it all, however, Stephanie still managed to finish high-school with incredible grades, which promised her a bright future. Having an empty social calendar helped her to study at home and really achieve great results at the age of seventeen.

One evening, Stephanie was talking to her mother regarding her future career plans. She felt like she wanted to either go into studying Law or Business, and started to look into these fields at colleges around the country. Stephanie’s mother didn’t seem too interested as they spoke about these areas, and seemed to tense up at the mention of Stephanie moving across the country to study. Although Stephanie knew it would upset her mother, she also knew what she wanted to do in life, and how much she wanted to achieve, so for the first time in her life, it felt like she was finally choosing her own path. She applied to colleges throughout the country, knowing that at least one or two would accept her to be able to pursue a great life for herself.

Stephanie’s freedom didn’t last long. A couple of months passed after her conversation with her mother, and nothing more had been mentioned regarding her studies. Stephanie was sat at her desk in her room, when her mother came in, a smile on her face and a letter addressed to Stephanie in her hands. She took the letter from her mother, confused, and opened it. Inside was an acceptance letter to the nursing apprenticeship scheme that had recently opened at the hospital in which Stephanie’s mother worked. Stephanie stared at the letter for a few minutes, as she tried to process the information in front of her. Her mother had done the unthinkable, and chosen Stephanie’s life path for her. Behind her back, her mother had thrown away acceptance letters and written to colleges to withdraw applications that Stephanie had spent a lot of time and effort to perfect, and applied in her name to a nursing apprenticeship. Stephanie dropped her letter and left the house, her mother calling her back, but to no avail. She soon realised she had nowhere to go. Her sister had moved out, but never answered any of Stephanie’s calls. Stephanie tried to contact colleges to allow her another chance, but nothing worked. She was too late. Her fate had been sealed by her mother. She was forced to go into nursing, to work alongside her mother in the same building. But things would never been the same between them again.

Young Adult

Stephanie forced herself through her nursing apprenticeship - not because she wanted to, but because she felt as if she had no choice. Her entire childhood, the best years of her life, had been robbed by her mother. After the college incident between the two of them, things were never the same. Her mother and father finally split up, her mother receiving a big enough payout to allow her to survive on her own salary, in a smaller house, however. Stephanie’s brother, Alex, stayed with their father, and naturally Stephanie begrudgingly ended up with her mother. For a few months, her mother tried to fix things, but nothing would ever allow Stephanie to forgive the betrayal from her mother. Eventually, her mother gave up. They avoided eachother around the house, and even more so in the hospital where they both worked. Stephanie finally knew what it was like to be free. She started to make new friends, she was going out with her colleagues and forming lasting relationships with them, and finally had her first boyfriend, a student doctor by the name of Will. Their fling ended after a few months, but Stephanie finally had her taste - and she liked it.

Stephanie completed her nursing apprenticeship with flying colours, ready to experience her new found love for life, she hunted for jobs around the country, and found a school nurse vacancy in a town a couple of states over in Colorado. She applied - and the next thing she knew she was moving to Wickery Falls. Stephanie packed all of her belongings into a couple of bags, whilst her mother was out at work, and left their house, and her sheltered life in the past, where she felt it belonged.

Stephanie has spent the past seven years in Wickery Falls, with no contact with anyone from her past life. She finally could do the things she wanted to do, when she wanted, and managed to find a love for her job, although it was never what she really wanted, she made it work. 

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Impatient

Stephanie had lost her entire childhood and now feels like she has to make back all her lost time, so she does NOT have the patience to be waiting around - especially for people. If she feels like she is wasting her time by socialising or being anywhere near people she will happily drop them. If she gives you a time, she would expect you to be five minutes early. 

Provocativeness

Stephanie’s wasted youth had her yearning after one thing that she knew she had missed out on... and that was the touch of other human beings. If she could find herself in a situation where all eyes would be on her, she would take it. The shortest dresses, the brightest lipstick, and the designer outfits. Anything to make people swoon at her feet, just so she could have her fun. The thought of being tied down to one person just doesn’t appeal - they’d have to really knock her socks off.

Humorous

Through it all though, Stephanie still knew how to have a laugh, she took pride in knowing that she could make people happy. She spent her whole life trying to make her mother happy so that was all she knew... making people happy, through her sense of humour. Even if she has to knock herself to get a laugh, the joy she receives from a smile outweighs all her emotions.

Wanted Connections !!

Ex-Love Fling

male or Female muses to have had a fling with stephanie over the past 7 years, could have ended badly, a one time thing, im up for any of the dramaaaa x

Current Love Fling

as above, but still going on ! could be fwb, an affair ( ! ) or someone trying to finally crack through stephanie’s hard shell against relationships and be the one x

Ex-Student

someone that went to almeda high school where Stephanie is a nurse, did stephanie help with an issue, did your muse hate miss fenton? is your muse a parent that may have needed to talk to stephanie in the past?

Friends

best friends since they met? on and off friends? friends to eachothers face but secretly hate eachother? stephanie is still learning what real friends are and your muse could be one of hers !

Enemies

ex-friends? did stephanie have an affair with your muses love interest? did stephanie do something wrong? did your muse do something even worse?

Plus Many More

those are just a few ideas! i love to plot and brainstorm and figure out the best options so dont think this is a list of the only things i want! if you had any ideas throw them my way id love to chat to you all x

[apprenticebard]

How can I make more money like you?

An important question!!

So to start with, I am not a person who has Figured Things Out. I got lucky last year - my friend recommended me for a job in a very high-wage area (specifically, San Francisco’s tech industry) that I happened to be a really good fit for, and that happened to be willing to hire people on a trial basis if they were promising, even if they didn’t have college degrees (’cause I still don’t have one). And that was really good for a while, until some stuff happened and I kinda got eaten. Now I’m unemployed and looking for another job; I think I’ll find something comparatively good again, but I dunno how long it’ll be, and right now I’m looking at both moderately high-paying content-writing jobs and jobs that pay around minimum wage (which is a lot here; nothing pays less than $15 because the bay is lowkey insane), in case getting another really good job takes longer than I’d like it to.

But anyway! Obviously there isn’t a super easy way to make lots of money that’s going to apply to every anon who could possibly have shown up in my inbox, but here are some general pointers:

1) Even if things are going really well for you, you’re gonna tend to make less than most people while you’re early in your career. This is difficult but how it is. It doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong, and you might be on track for a great career in a few more years, once you gain more experience. If this is where you’re at, I think the best way to make more money is to work on leveling up at your current job, or looking for a different job of the same kind that either pays better now or will probably allow you to level up faster. It’s good to take on extra responsibilities when you have the time and energy to do so, especially if they use a lot of skills you do have, but also a few skills that you’ll need to figure out as you go along. 

Note that I do think that this advice is less actionable outside of the bay (which is full of startups that are growing rapidly and trying new things). I do think there’s still something to it. If you gain skills and responsibilities as well as you can, I think that even if your current job doesn’t recognize that and reward it, you’ll be building up skills that’ll make you more desirable the next time you change jobs.

2) Say you think you’re in a really good industry, and you know that other people in your industry make decent money, but for some reason, you’re not. Or, alternatively, say that you have a lot of skills and some work experience in a decent industry, but you can’t get anyone to call you back, and you’re beginning to wonder if maybe you’re secretly terrible and have zero Good Employee Qualities.

Getting a new job is hard, and leaving an old job is scary. I know; I just left my old job, and I spend lots of time being scared that nobody’s gonna hire me and I’m gonna have to go back to working at Kroger again, where I only made it through cashiering shifts by imagining that my characters were being tortured and that I could only save them by making it to the end of the next hour. 

But it really does pay to look at what else is out there. You can get some ideas by very casually looking at job sites like Glassdoor or Indeed; there might be nothing, or a bunch of job postings that you don’t understand, but I’ve found that it’s often good to get the lay of the land and figure out what recruiters are looking for in your industry. If you want better odds, and you have some successful friends, it can pay to ask them whether their companies are hiring for a position you can fill, and whether any of them might like to recommend you for it.

If you don’t have an easy way to get your foot in the door, you’re gonna be filling out a lot of applications. This sucks, but it doesn’t mean that you suck. If you really feel like you’re qualified for the sort of job you want, get someone to help you put together a good resume that shows off your skills, put together a portfolio or similar if you’re in the relevant industries, and resign yourself to applying to dozens or maybe hundreds of things. Recruiters are super arbitrary and will totally disqualify you based on things that have nothing to do with your ability to do the job. (This isn’t even because they’re bad people, it’s because they have a stack of resumes on their desk and have only the faintest idea how to tell which of the associated candidates are gonna be good at things.) It’s a numbers game. If you’re not doing something really ridiculous, like applying to every job with a resume that only lists completely unrelated kinds of work experience, then someone’ll probably talk to you eventually. It’ll just probably take way more applications than you’d think.

(Oh, also, all of the requirements in job postings tend to be pretty silly; as long as you think you’re genuinely capable of doing the work, I think you should apply to jobs where you meet maybe 75% of the stated requirements if the job sounds OK, and maybe 50% if it’s something you’d be really excited to get to do.)

3) If you’re not in a career sort of job at all - if you’re stuck behind the counter at Wendy’s right now, in which case my heart goes out to you, anon friend - or you’ve found yourself in a career that pays very badly or makes you unhappy, and you don’t think your skills will translate to anything you like doing, then you might want to look at changing careers entirely. Most people will tell you to go to college, if you haven’t already. I’m gonna tell you that college is a great thing for lots of people, but not always a good idea financially, and not always the best way forward, especially if you’re not very academically inclined. 

Think about what you’re good at, and think about what your dealbreakers are. You’re approaching this from thinking about money, not about passion, but you still don’t want to end up in a job that you’re a terrible fit for; you’ll get fired or be miserable all the time, and that’s no good for anyone. 

As a first line, if you feel that you’re reasonably flexible and talented, here are some very different jobs that make good money; you might want to consider whether you’re a good fit for any of these, and do more research as appropriate. (This is largely an exercise to get you thinking, not to say that these specific jobs are the ones you should definitely be looking at.)- Nursing. There’s a perpetual shortage of nurses, they have to exist everywhere in the country, and they make at least decent pay no matter where they live. For an RN, you’re looking at an average of about $55k per year in the cheapest states, and about $90k per year in the most expensive ones (although remember that this isn’t what you’ll make at the beginning of your career). I don’t recommend it if you really dislike people, long hours, college classes, heavy lifting, or bodily fluids, but I do think it’s a career that a lot more people should be willing to consider. If you think you can hack the education part, but not so much the heavy lifting, the bodily fluids, or the being around people who might be dying, dental hygienists make about the same amount, and their patients hardly ever need to be carried anywhere while possibly dying. I think.

- Software engineering. The pay rate here is kind of insane; if you have the interest and aptitude, then doing a coding bootcamp and getting a programming job in either NYC or San Francisco is a relatively attainable way of making a genuinely six-figure salary within a few years of starting, even if you don’t have a college degree. It’s not for everyone - I’ve tried to learn, a little, but I’ve bounced off pretty hard so far - but it’s a great opportunity for people who can hack it, so to speak. Like nursing, there’s a shortage here, mostly because software is a rapidly expanding industry that has only existed for, like, forty years tops.

- The skilled trades. We’re talking about electricians, mechanics, plumbers, carpenters, and other people in this space. It’s hard in different ways than an office job, but there are a lot of people who these are a good fit for. While they’re not as highly paid as nurses or engineers, people in the skilled trades do OK; reaching $50k per year is totally feasible, and people who are both skilled and lucky can break $80k. These jobs tend to go by apprenticeship systems, so if you don’t have a family member or friend to vouch for you, it’s a good idea to look at trade schools in your area to get you started, and then expect to spend several years in a junior position until you know what’s what.

- Flight Attendants. Not all flight attendants are particularly well-paid, but many are, and things like waitressing can be counted as relevant experience. The first flight attendant job I found on Indeed just now is $18 an hour and doesn’t require any experience or a degree, though the requirements do have a lot to say about your appearance, height (gotta be able to get luggage out of the overhead compartments, after all), and willingness to work really weird hours. The BLS reports that the median flight attendant ultimately makes about $56k per year. 

- Police officers. Obviously there are a ton of very legit reasons not to want to be a police officer, but I am of the opinion that someone’s gotta do it, and it’s better if the people involved wanna do it right, right? (I guess I don’t know if you want to do it right. Please don’t become a police officer purely for the money and then shoot someone, anon.) The median police officer makes about $60k, and it doesn’t require a college education, which is honestly a pretty good deal even if you’re not as passionate as Judy Hopps. I don’t recommend it as a job unless you’re not scared of people, even the creepy ones, ‘cause scared people make mistakes, and when police officers make mistakes, sometimes people end up dead.

If you read that list and were like, “Bard, there’s a reason I’m at Wendy’s, can you lower your expectations here a little,” you might want to look into stuff like warehousing, groundskeeping, janitorial work, sales, garbage collection, or construction work. Job sites are your friends; it’s useful to browse them and see what sorts of jobs pay the kinds of salaries you’re looking for. I also think you might be well-served by considering whether you can move in with friends or family in a part of the country where wages are higher. The big cost of living difference in other places is rent, so if you have a housing situation figured out or can split that cost with a friend, you can make a lot more money just by doing the same thing somewhere else. For example, before I got super lucky and became a Real Content Writer, my plan was to hang out on my friend’s couch for six months rent-free, work at some supermarket in SF, and then take my wages back home to Indiana to pay for the rest of my degree. And honestly, if I hadn’t fallen in love with this ridiculous place and hadn’t immediately gotten a much better job, I think it very well might have worked.

There’s a lot more that I could say here, but this is already pretty long. The main things are to think about where you’re headed, to look around at all of the different possible lucrative directions to head in if you don’t like where you are, and to figure out what steps you’d have to take to get there. You’re welcome to come to my inbox with more questions about this - my last job was all about helping people find jobs themselves, so I guess I should know something about it by now - but you might need to be a little more specific if I didn’t hit on the thing you’re stuck on in this post.

[thefreckledone]

fluff friday (saturday) “stardust/enemies” {falling star} [gaasaku]

“Next!”

Sakura steps forward, taking her bundle of waivers and nondisclosures with her. She glances down at the seated attendant, nervously pressing the papers into his hands. He begins to flip through them and Sakura glances around, filled with nervous energy.

This is the first time she has been to Suna since becoming a ninja. She remembers, vaguely, that she came here with her parents on a business trip when she was quite young, maybe four or five. The memories are hazy, but the way the sun beats down upon her is as familiar as it is abrasive.

“Everything seems to be in order here,” the chunin says, stamping the packet. “Take this pass; it’ll be keyed to your chakra. You’ll be staying in the Konohagakure suite. The exams begin in three days’ time.”

“Thank you,” Sakura says, taking the card from him.

He eyes her before smirking. “You might want to purchase a cloak of some sort. You’re bound to be sunburned like this.”

Sakura flushes but nods in thanks before stepping away. She weaves her way through the crush of people, taking her time to examine the tough materials used to build the buildings around her. Most are made in curving angles, smoothed by the harsh weather. It is alien to her, the unforgiving sunlight, the earthy buildings, and the stinging sand, but it is not necessarily unwelcomed.

In some ways, it feels like a cleaning, a scourging of her soul.

(Secretly, Sakura is glad of it.)

“Sakura!” Ino exclaims, running over to her, short hair now hanging past her shoulders and framing her collarbones in an attractive manner. She, unlike Sakura, has chosen to grow it out once more. “Did you manage to turn it all in without trouble?”

“Of course!” Sakura says. “Tsunade-shishou has me do paperwork sometimes. This is nothing compared to that.”

Ino rolls her eyes but links arms with her regardless. “Chōji is already at the vendors as expected. I doubt he’ll come up for air for a few hours.”

Sakura nods. “That’s fine. We did come early for a reason. Let’s go put everything in the room and then we can go purchase some necessities. Shishou hasn’t taught me how to heal sunburn yet.”

“Sure you couldn’t figure it out?” Ino ribs lightly, smile tempering the jab. They are tentatively rebuilding their friendship after…well, Team Seven. Ino catches the way Sakura’s eyes fall and tugs her closer. “Hey, let’s enjoy our time here. We’re in a new country, how cool is that?”

Sakura smiles, nudging Ino in the side. They head toward the embassy, arm in arm.

Hours later, donned in their new cloaks, Sakura and Ino sit with Chōji at a rather fancy restaurant that Sakura really doesn’t think she can afford on her genin/apprenticeship salary. Chōji, however, doesn’t seem to find it concerning.

“It��s fine, Sakura,” Ino says, shaking her head. “Chōji has connections that come of being Akimichi. There’s a code among chefs.”

Chōji nods, distracted as he is by the menu. “Everyone in the restaurant world plays a game of barter and trade. We’ll receive a heavy discount in return for an honest critique from me about the food as well as some tips.” He shrugs. “It’s just the way this works.”

“Really?” Sakura asks. “I had no idea that the Akimichi name carried across nation borders.”

Chōji smiles, satisfied. “We run a bit differently than the other clans, not so big into prestige, but I can honestly say that we have connections in every nation.”

Sakura grins. “It’s kind of similar to my family,” she explains. “We have merchanting ties in each nation. I’ve actually been here before, a long time ago.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Ino demands through a veneer of hurt.

“There isn’t much to tell,” Sakura replies. “We were here for a few days. I played at the park while my parents were in meetings. I left with a pretty severe sunburn.”

Ino nods, appeased. “So how do we go about this Chōji?”

Chōji folds the menu and looks to the staff. “We’ll have one of everything on the menu,” he tells the waiter. After he leaves, he says to his companions, “A part of the deal is that I try a bit of everything. You can try what you like and then order a full meal from there.”

“I’m so glad you’re our meal ticket,” Ino says, pumping an arm in victory. “Shikamaru is going to be so jealous that he missed out.”

“That could also be because he wants to meet that girl from Suna again,” Chōji says, amused. “What was her name again? Starts with a ‘t’ right?”

“Temari,” Sakura says, suddenly subdued. Neither of her friends notice thankfully. She clenches her hands, remembering the exam where everything, everyone, went wrong. The Suna siblings were a part of that…under orders from the man they thought was their father. He was dead, wasn’t he? They were still trying to determine who would take on the mantle of Kazekage as the council held everything together.

Sakura frowns.

In Suna at least, the Kage title goes to a direct family member.

Who would take it?

Sakura shivers, disliking the idea that any of the three would become Kazekage. They were still so young and…Sakura closes her eyes against the memories.

Well, she has her own biases.

Maybe they would be good to Suna.

Sakura blinks out of her reverie as a parade of waiters bring out plate after plate of delicacies. The one placed in front of her releases a tantalizing aroma that sets Sakura’s mouth to watering.

She glances at Chōji who smiles back at her. “Go for it,” he says benevolently, already starting in on what appears to be a rich stew.

During their voyage here, food had tasted of sand and grit; an unfortunate side effect of traversing the desert. And so they delve into what feels like the first meal they’ve had in weeks. It is strange fare, all spices and heat, as if reflective of its environment.

However, Sakura finds that she likes it, these flavors packed into such small morsels. It may burn, but somehow she finds the pain pleasurable.

“What is this?” Sakura asks, biting into a piece of meat and nearly groaning at its buttery texture.

“You sure you want to know?” Chōji asks, amused. Sakura swallows the bite and nods. “Duck tongue.”

Ino chokes on her own food, trying to keep from laughing at Sakura’s pale expression. She fails miserably.

Sakura stares down at the seemingly innocuous dish with a thoughtful frown. Then, with a sigh, she picks up another piece.

Sakura sits upon the domed roof of their building, listening to the nightlife of Suna. It is in many ways different. Konoha is lively during the day. Suna, well, Suna comes alive at night.

She supposes it makes sense as the temperature drops to a chilliness that she unaccustomed to. She wraps her arms around her legs, pulling them up under the cloak. The dull roar of city life bustles along beneath her, lights twinkling from strings hanging from building to building. This place is so different than Konoha, but it is not a bad thing.

In fact, as the breeze caresses her chapped cheeks, Sakura finds that she quite likes this. It is an adventure, one that is secret and held only by her. Chakra flares behind her in greeting.

Perhaps not.

Sakura turns, expecting Chōji or Ino.

What she finds instead is Gaara.

Sakura leaps to her feet, immediately taking a defensive position as her heart hammers away in her ears. How could she be so stupid? She let her guard down and now-

Visions, visceral as the day they happened, hit her. Standing before a demon, kunai unwieldy in hand. A clawed hand incasing her. The grit of sand rubbing against her sensitive skin, abrading her. Squeezing. Squeezing. Squeezing.

“What is it?” she asks, voice cracking.

He just watches her with those distant sea foam eyes, made prominent by the kohl lining. Finally, he raises his hands and Sakura flinches, expecting them to contort in one of his techniques. Well two can play at that game. Her hands are flickering with green light when Gaara holds open palms toward her in the universal sign of peace.

Sakura drops her hands but holds her stance, wary.

“I didn’t expect anyone to be awake,” Gaara says, voice quiet and rough.

“Just not used to it out here,” Sakura says. “It sounds different.”

He nods. “That’s how it was in Konoha for me.”

They fall into an awkward silence and Sakura wonders why he just won’t leave. When it becomes apparent that he is there to stay for whatever reason, Sakura sighs. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I don’t,” is his terse response.

“Oh,” Sakura says and, before she can stop herself, she adds, “Really?” He looks at her, eyes narrowed. “It’s just…well, I’m training to be a medic and that just seems impossible. Do you really go without sleep completely?”

He shrugs, though Sakura sees his stance relaxing. “Yes,” he says. “I can…meditate. Sometimes. Shukaku keeps me from doing so, otherwise.”

Sakura keeps herself from reacting to this enlightening information. Jinchuuriki. It explains some things. She swallows against her fears, against the bedtime stories she’s heard about the evils of jinchuuriki and just looks at him.

He seems tired and…lost in some way. Naruto saw the value in his life, even after nearly being killed. Now, a year later, maybe she can try to give a little.

For Naruto’s sake.

“That must be exhausting,” Sakura says, taking a breath and a bit of a leap as she resettles herself into her seat.

She still faces him, is still ready for anything he may throw at her. Thus, Sakura can see the way his eyes go wide at her display of trust. When he actually takes a seat next to her, not all that close, Sakura nearly flinches in surprise.

“It is,” he says, blunt and straight to the point.

They sit in silence, uncomfortable and on edge until Sakura finally says, “How are you?”

“How…am I?” he repeats, confused.

“It’s been a year since we last…met,” she says, trying to be tactful about their fights. “What have you been doing since then? I’ve started training to be a medic.”

“I have been building bonds with my siblings,” he says, brows furrowed. “Naruto said that I should.”

“Naruto did?” Sakura asks, unable to help a smile even as her heart aches. It’s been six months since he left and it still hurts. “That’s great! How is it going?”

Gaara shrugs, but Sakura could swear that there is the slightest of smiles curling his lips. “It is…strange, but it’s good.”

Sakura glances at him and smiles. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

The light and heat streaming in through the small window wakes Sakura. She sits up in her bed, rumpled. A glance around the room tells her that Ino and Chōji have already left, probably to explore. Sakura rubs at her eyes, tired.

She sits up in bed and begins to get ready, pondering her activities for the day. She’s a bit surprised that she’s still whole and in one piece after her close encounter with Gaara, but he didn’t seem intent upon harming her. Thank goodness for that. She pulls on the cloak and steps outside, meandering along the dusty streets.

Tsunade-shishou told her about the veritable array of medicinal plants here in Suna, more even than Konoha. They keep them in greenhouses, to protect against the arid weather.

Sakura knows the basic layout of Suna from the maps that Tsunade-shishou had her memorize so she passes the Kage Tower easily and comes upon the glass buildings that house the plants.

Sakura chooses one of the many at random and presses the embassy key against the door, grinning as it clicks open. She steps into the muggy room, staring in wonder at the incredible colors all around her. She moves to explore a feathery blue plant, mindful of the fact that more of these are used to make poison than to make antidotes.

“Who are you?”

Sakura jumps back, meeting the gaze of the oldest person she has ever seen. The diminutive woman glares up at her, power crackling in her stance. “I’m Haruno Sakura,” Sakura replies, wondering how much trouble she is in.

“Konoha, huh?” the woman asks, eyeing her shrewdly. “I’m Chiyo.”

“Chiyo the Poison Mistress?” Sakura asks before she can stop herself.

Thankfully, the older woman just cackles. “I suppose you’ve been training with the Slug Princess to know that nickname. It’s been decades since I’ve heard that one. Did she send you here to steal my secrets?”

“N-no, not at all,” Sakura stammers. “I was just wanting to explore. I’m being taught about medicinal plants right now and—”

“It’s fine, girlie,” Chiyo says, smirking up at her. “You’re free to roam. Be careful, nothing’s labeled.” Her smirk widens. “It’s part of the fun. I look to seeing what you manage to come up with a few years down the line.”

Sakura watches as Chiyo leaves before turning to her surroundings. She smiles, eyes alight.

It’s time to play.

This time Sakura isn’t nearly as alarmed when Gaara lands on the roof, though she is a little surprised that he has chosen to visit her again. She glances up from her clippings that she is in the process of potting and grooming, gives him a brief smile, and returns to her plants.

It may be foolish, but Sakura just can’t find it in herself to be afraid of him.

She listens to the soft thump as he takes a seat near her, close enough this time that she can feel his heat.

“What are you doing?” he asks, head cocked to the side.

“Chiyo-sama let me gather clippings from a few of the plants,” Sakura says. “None of the lethal ones, obviously but a few strains of succulents that we don’t get in Konoha.” She glances up, fixating on his face when she sees his curiosity. “Want to help?”

Gaara blinks and Sakura is almost positive that it is his way of showing surprise. “How?”

“Hold this pot,” Sakura says, pressing the terracotta into his hands. She can feel him flinch as their hands touch but he grips the pot firmly, looking down at it with a look of determination. “So the potting soil for each of these is different based on the type of plant it is. This is Phalaenopsis aphrodite,” Sakura says as she settles the white budded succulent into the pot. “It’s an orchid but it is also a succulent. It needs a richer soil; it’s used to humid climates.”

“It grows here naturally?” Gaara asks, looking down at it in awe.

“No, not naturally,” Sakura replies. “The desert is usually too harsh for these plants. These are grown in the greenhouses that Chiyo-sama keeps. Have you ever visited?”

“A few times when I was young,” Gaara says, eyes darkened with memories. “I wasn’t there for the plants.”

Something about his body language tells her that these are ugly memories. Memories similar to her own from childhood. Did he have an Ino? Sakura presses her hand to his, squeezing.

She blinks as the sand from his gourd, which has been set aside and forgotten up to this point, hisses to life, encircling her wrist. The sand scrapes against her skin, warningly. Sakura looks up into Gaara’s eyes, keeping her expression carefully neutral.

“Gaara, am I hurting you?” Sakura asks. He slowly shakes his head. “I grabbed your hand because I wanted to comfort you. It’s something that friends do. If I am making you uncomfortable I can let go. Do you want me to let go?”

Gaara shakes his head and the sand around her wrist tightens for a moment before releasing entirely. “I’m sorry,” he says, guilt writ across his face.

“It’s fine,” Sakura says with an easy acceptance. “Not nearly as scary as the last time your sand came out to play.” Gaara watches her, wary. Sakura cannot help but begin to laugh at the look on his face. She hears his sand stir as his nervousness spikes. “It’s-it’s fine,” she says between giggles. “Truly it is. It’s just—you look so anxious!”

Gaara’s lips quirk up at the edges. “Are we really?”

“Really what?” Sakura asks, releasing his hand.

“Really friends?” he asks. “Like you said, earlier.”

“I’d like to be,” she says.

Her heart nearly melts as his face splits into a genuine smile. She feels her pulse pick up and wonders at it. Is she scared? Is it the food she ate earlier?

“I’d really like that,” he replies softly.

Sakura sticks her hand out to him. “I’m Haruno Sakura, it’s wonderful to meet you.”

“Sabaku no Gaara,” he says, taking her hand firmly, heedless of the fact that it is covered in dirt. They jump at the jolt they feel. “Nice to meet you.”

[ixvyupdates]

3 Things You Should Know About Career and Technical Education

For decades now, the education community has stated that the majority of students who drop out of high school do so not because high school is too hard, but because they are too bored by the content or don’t see the relevance of what they are learning.

Even those who do graduate from high school by taking a common curriculum are left to wonder what the world holds for them. With college costs rising, many of these students and their families are questioning the value of a four-year college degree, concerned over the crushing cost of student loans compared to the career paths available to them post-graduation.

Often lost in these discussions is the discussion of career and technical education (CTE). For some, career and technical education still suffers a stigma, a belief that CTE is a world of the auto shop classes of the 1950s or a program designed to hold those students who struggle too greatly in a traditional academic schedule.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

In the past year, policymakers in Washington, D.C., have sought to re-embrace the CTE path, seeing the incredible impact career and technical education can have in meeting the nation’s employment needs of the future.

Community colleges are seeing CTE—and not early college—as their path toward growth and continued success. And learners are seeing CTE as one of the few opportunities to study their interests and passions in a high school environment.

Earlier this month, The Manufacturing Institute released Attracting the Next Generation of Students: The Role of Career and Technical Education. This exciting new report highlights many truths behind the rebirth of CTE and the motivations of the students who are quietly driving it. These are facts that we can and should learn from.

Fact One: CTE teachers believe industry-recognized credentials are valuable to students beginning their careers, with 65 percent saying industry certificates are among the most valuable education credentials after graduating high school.

Lesson Learned: As educators, we should be doing more to communicate the value proposition of career and technical education to today’s students and their families. The credentials are important. Equally important are the jobs, job security and strong salaries that can come to those holding the industry certificates. Our emphasis should be on the credential as a mile marker on the career path, not as the final destination.

Fact Two: Despite the value of the credential, more than a third of CTE students (35 percent) enrolled in CTE courses say they have no contact with future employers, with only 12 percent experiencing site visits, 13 percent having pathway-related after-school jobs and 20 percent having pathway-related summer jobs.

Lesson Learned: Part of a CTE education should be a “clinical experience,” where students are participating in and learning from the very careers they seek to achieve. We expect teachers to work with experienced educators in clinical experiences, seeing how they can apply what they learn as a student in their classrooms as teachers.

We should be looking for the same with our CTE students, where they learn from knowledgeable individuals in the field about the job and the future. This isn’t just apprenticeships or internships. This is understanding the career and technical paths available today and tomorrow.

Fact Three: According to the study, nearly 2 in 3 students (63 percent) enrolled in CTE courses see their own interests and experiences as a major influence in their career pathways. Their parents are the second-largest influence.

Lesson Learned: We need to do more to encourage students to pursue their individual interests and passions, while making opportunities available that align with student perceptions of their futures. This requires greater understanding of how today’s high school students are thinking about their futures, pressing beyond the traditional “I plan to go to college” responses to better understand how they relate to STEM, 21st-century skills, CTE and other such pursuits that are provided to them in high school.

Most students today understand that the goals of their parents—to graduate high school, go to college, and get a job (any job)—are not their goals.

Today’s learners want to be engaged and inspired. They want to transform their personal interests into their professional opportunities. And they don’t want to be limited by the jobs, the industries or the courses of previous generations.

The Manufacturing Institute’s study provides some foundational learning on how CTE fits into that thinking. We, as a community, must now commit to building on those lessons to provide meaningful CTE learning experiences, relationships and job opportunities to all who seek it.

Photo by ILO in Asia and the Pacific, CC-licensed.

3 Things You Should Know About Career and Technical Education syndicated from https://sapsnkraguide.wordpress.com

[the-redmane-family]

The Deaths of Emelye Nesterova, Part 2

[ Part 2/3 of Emelye Darkmar’s “introductory” story! Enjoy!

Link to Part 1: http://the-redmane-family.tumblr.com/post/172997503680/the-deaths-of-emelye-nesterova-part-1 ]

“He was my brother.”

The words left her mouth with a stark simplicity, confessed in such a way as to rob the statement of any possible emotion it might have conveyed. No anger, no disgust; an unabashed revelation concerning the nature of her relationship with the one she claimed such disdain for.

Silence followed from the other party, and for a brief moment, Emelye forgot that the dark bishop was even still present. She had already begun to slip into a recollection of days long past, but the memories came in a practiced slideshow. She was a soldier, and she was Forsaken. This would not be a cathartic experience for her as it might be for some, she had decided; she would simply do her duty. She would recount the killing of her brother here in this decaying church, on display for the man who now sat on the other side of the partition and for all of the unseen ghosts that still lingered in this sorrowful place. For like them, her brother was just a memory, resurrected only for such recollections as these to be killed once more and sent off again into the mind’s deepest vaults, trapped in limbo until the next time he was called upon to die.

“And you loved him.” The priest’s voice held to its inviting quality, beckoning Emelye down a broken path into the detritus of the past.

“Yes, I did. How could I not?” Emelye spoke with the same straightforwardness, but her voice was beginning to find its confidence as she retraced a well-trodden path in her mind. “I cared for him since he was a child. He was my little brother and he hardly knew our father, so growing up for him… all he had was me, our brother, and our mother. It wasn’t easy. We never had much. Stratholme was a big city, and it was easy to be forgotten on the lower rungs of the social ladder.”

“You sacrificed much on his behalf.” It was more a statement than a question, the priest’s tone ruminative, as if he were peering into her mind’s eye and making some observation of his own.

“I did what I had to. I helped my mother with her work so that she could rest when she needed to, but there weren’t many moments when we weren’t trading off like that. She would return home, tend to Kegan and Morgan, and I’d go back to sweeping the shop floors, washing the laundry, mending the thatching on rooftops, learning whatever skills I could to work for whomever I could.” Emelye paused, and then shrugged almost instinctively. “And then I’d go home after a full day’s worth of work and she’d go off to do her work. It was our life. We were poor.”

“And your father. Where was he?”

“He died.” The same detached hollowness. There was an emptiness to the words which befitted the darkened chapel, the chapel that had once played host to a multitude of people, a myriad of comings and goings full of life and laughter and love brought in the hearts of people whose religion availed them nothing when the chill of death came knocking at their doors.

“Tell me of him.”

“He fought against the Horde when they attacked Lordaeron. I was barely a teenager then. Kegan was… seven or eight. I still remember father leaving that day for the front. Morgan was trying to be strong, to prove that he was a man, but Kegan just clung to me, frightened as if he knew it would be the last time he saw his father. I’ll never forget the way father put his hand on Kegan’s shoulder, looked deep into his youngest son’s eyes, and said, ‘My son, someday you’ll have to decide between what’s right, and what’s easy. On that day, I want you to remember me. Be strong and when that day comes, you’ll know what to do.’

“He kissed the top of Kegan’s head and gave me a look that I often found myself thinking about late at night, sometimes, when I couldn’t sleep. I’d sit up in bed and watch my brothers and I would think of the look that father gave me. The look that said he was proud of me. I knew then that I couldn’t give up, or let him down. I knew then that he expected the same sense of duty from me that he’d modeled all my life. The same soldier’s discipline.”

The deep voice of the priest sounded again as Emelye finished speaking. “A discipline that your brother lacked. Too callow, too foolish to restrain himself.”

Emelye paused, thinking. “I remember when Kegan first became apprentice to the local apothecary. He was the same age I’d been when father died. He came home one day with his face blackened by what looked like soot and smoke, clothes stained and ruined, his hair a bloody mess…” She reached up absent-mindedly to touch her own hair, pushing some of the darkly-dyed strands up over her left ear. Now, she thought with a certain detached bitterness, her own hair wasn’t much of an improvement over her brother’s that day.

“There’d been some kind of an explosion, a mishap he’d caused by mixing chemicals he shouldn’t have. He had been warned of the dangers but he did it anyway. It was stupid of him, but that was my brother—his curiosity never relented, even in the face of danger. Before I even knew what had happened, I rushed over to him and grabbed him and said, ‘Little brother… what have you done?’ He gave me the most uncertain look… and then he just smiled. Told me that he knew what he wanted to become. And that was it. He went back to that apothecary every day and he learned. There were a few more explosions, but he learned all the same. I won’t ever forget that day, though. Just like I won’t ever forget the way father looked at me before he left.”

A light ‘hmph’ came from the other side of the confessional. Whether it was given in sympathy or contempt was difficult to say. “Your brother was a failure. Be that as it may, not all of Michael Nesterov’s children were failures.”

Emelye pursed her lips, the faintest hint of decay upon them. “No. All I’d wanted since the day he left was a chance to live up to his memory. To show him that I could be the kind of daughter he saw when he looked at me for the last time. So when I was old enough, I joined the military.” She paused. “Not quite old enough. But the major who recruited me wasn’t checking papers. It was peacetime—how could they have known what would happen in just a few years?” She smiled darkly, bitterly. “It was the quickest way to make the money that my mother needed for her medicine and, I thought, the best way to honor my father.”

“An estimable deed. Far greater men and women have wasted themselves on far more ignoble pursuits. What of your mother, then?”

“She deserved better,” the reply came immediately. “Left on her own to care for three children who were barely old enough to realize all that she gave for us. Only I was old enough to work, and I—I hardly understood what it meant for her to go back to the shops every day. Of course I understood the work, the fatigue, the long hours... but to persist even after the crown abandoned her? No money came to fill the void of my father’s absence—no pension, no compensation, nothing.” Though such words would ordinarily have been delivered with passion, they came instead from the armor-clad ranger with an undeniably hollow apathy.

“All that she gave for you,” the bishop repeated, his tone musing, ostensibly prodding for further elaboration.

Emelye replied with a nod again, followed by a moment of silence. “The work took its toll. Eventually, she became too sick, too worn down by life to bear the burden she had for years. Her last few years were spent mostly bedridden while Kegan brought in a meager salary from his apprenticeship. The money I made in my own service to the crown was generous by comparison, but…” She shook her head. “It wasn’t enough in the end. Death comes for us all.” The words did not echo in the wooden room, instead piercing the invisible haze of moisture in the air with a dull veracity that somehow seemed less impactful than it should have.

“Death comes for us all.” The dark man repeated her words again gravely, reverently in the gloom of the chapel’s confessional. “But it is not always the end. And so it was not the end for you, or for your brother.”

“No. It was not.”

“Tell me, how did you find the experience?”

Emelye paused. “The experience of dying?”

“Yes, Darkmar. Tell me of your death. Spare no detail, for there can be no appreciation of the unlife afforded to you if you do not regularly reflect on the vessel that brought you hence. The feeble, flesh-cursed thing that has only been made pure in the light of the Dark Lady’s gift.” The priest spoke with the same conviction that he often displayed when pontificating on matters of death, the body, and the soul, for such was his belief: free undeath was not a curse, but a gift reserved for a fortunate few.

“Military leave,” Emelye offered once more in practiced recitation. It was not practiced in the sense that she had spoken these exact words many times before, however, but rather that she had learned not to question an order given. For though the dark priest who occupied the space in the confessional’s twin booth held no direct rank over her, she knew better than to rebuff his request. For everything there is a time and a place, and that time and place was not here, not now. She was here because he’d asked her, because something about her demeanor had given him pause. Relinquishing herself to the Shadow’s guidance, she continued. “The ordeal took several days. I was home, back in Stratholme to visit Kegan and Morgan. It’d been nearly five years to the date since mother’s passing. We visited the shop on Bast Lane… the small loft where we’d grown up, night after night huddled together beneath blankets to keep warm.

“A grain shipment had been delivered from the west, an unmarked caravan. All shipments from Andorhal were ordered stopped and destroyed… but the Cult of the Damned found ways around our precautions. They circumnavigated roadblocks, going ‘round for miles to avoid patrols, turning up at city gates right on schedule with mislabeled crates. Cinderhome. I think that’s the name of the granary these boxes came bearing. It didn’t matter, though. Cinderhome, Andorhal… soon enough, all grain shipments arriving in the Eastweald were contaminated.” She paused, and then gave a detached gesture resembling a shrug. “So, we ate of the plagued grain.”

Outside, in the dark of midnight, an inhuman cry sounded in the blackness, carried on the wind that gusted through the frost-gripped vale. Several seconds later it sounded once more, repeating a third time an interval higher before falling silent. Both parties sat in momentary muteness, caught in a reflective pause.

The armor-clad ranger continued. “At first, we didn’t realize we’d been infected. Then the drowsiness came. The fever. You could see it in the eyes of everyone who walked the streets of that ill-fated city a full day before the prince’s arrival. Sick. Something wasn’t right. We knew it… and—the nightmares...” Emelye said grimly, pausing as if uncertain of how to even articulate the darkest horrors that had haunted her final night of earthly rest. “I don’t know. Why do things happen as they do in dreams?” The uncertainty was almost out of place coming from the woman, disquieting in the questions it left unanswered.

The man’s voice sounded in reassurance. “None can say. But it is a matter best left for the past to ponder. Dreams evaporate with the dawn. Only the works of our hands remain.”

The ranger looked down at her gloved digits, spreading the fingers evenly as if to remind herself that her brain still possessed enough willpower to command such an action. She still didn’t know how all of this was possible, this undeath, and even after so many years she still didn’t want to. All she knew was that the Shadow gave her strength, and that these hands still had work left to do.

“When the prince arrived, he brought fire. Fire and the sword. There were no calls to evacuate, no horns sounded, no warning. An army marched through the streets, dragged shopkeepers out onto the cobblestones, and gutted them. The town crier was beheaded. All up and down Bast Lane, bodies lay in the streets as blood pooled and rats scattered. The heat of the prince’s torches as he burned the city to the ground sent up billows of acrid smoke that we nearly choked on… would have choked on, if not for Arnaud Crowley, the apothecary my brother was apprentice to. He had an old cellar that ran beneath his shop, out to the city’s sewers and into the main aqueduct that fed water to the city from the Thondroril.

“We spent the better part of that day in that tunnel out of Stratholme. Morgan… was not with us. He’d returned home to grab everything he had left of father and mother. Keepsakes, family heirlooms and the lot. Always the sentimental kind. When the prince’s men came around the bend and turned down Amundsen, we could wait no longer. So we ducked into Arnaud’s cellar, and we ran.”

The wind gusted against the cracked, dust-caked window panes in the chapel hall beyond the far door, as if some monstrous, immaterial beast now sought to be let in like an unwelcome guest summoned forth by memories of a dark time in the land’s history.

“Crowley didn’t make it, either. The old man had already inhaled too much smoke during our flight, and at that point, all of our fevers were spiking. He collapsed in the tunnel, and we left him there. It’s not as if Kegan and I made it much further.” The ghost a smile began to tug upward at the corners of Emelye’s mouth. “And that’s when I saw it.”

“Saw what?” The priest’s query was characteristically snappish, but his eagerness was all too often mistaken for impatience by those who had not learned the subtleties of his manner.

“The towering blaze behind us. The sky was choked with black wreaths of smoke as we wound our way into the foothills, barely strong enough to stand. The last thing I remember… is collapsing.” Her eyes narrowed as the ghostly smile upon her face lingered. “In a clearing. A perfect vantage point to survey the destruction. From that far away, you could almost see… movement in the flames.”

The dark bishop remained silent as Emelye continued her recollection. Now, her glowing yellow eyes were alight with the memory of the flames, and of what she saw in them. She spoke as if hypnotized, staring at the floor, staring through the floor, into a window on the past.

“Movement, yes. My brother was delirious with fever, so we lay in each other’s arms, my vision turning black as I held him and told him not to be afraid. I told him not to be afraid as I watched the ghastly, misshapen horrors clash with what must have been the prince’s men. I saw a towering beast, impossibly large, cleaving through men with monstrous claws, a winged hellspawn… and the townsfolk. Throwing themselves onto the soldiers’ waiting swords, tearing men to pieces with their bare hands. I knew then in that moment that the army of the dead was upon us, truly upon us, and it had no end. The very earth must have cried out at the damnable weight of them. The rest…” she shook her head slowly, gradually waking from the trance.

“The rest is silence.”

[ixvyupdates]

3 Things You Should Know About Career and Technical Education

For decades now, the education community has stated that the majority of students who drop out of high school do so not because high school is too hard, but because they are too bored by the content or don’t see the relevance of what they are learning.

Even those who do graduate from high school by taking a common curriculum are left to wonder what the world holds for them. With college costs rising, many of these students and their families are questioning the value of a four-year college degree, concerned over the crushing cost of student loans compared to the career paths available to them post-graduation.

Often lost in these discussions is the discussion of career and technical education (CTE). For some, career and technical education still suffers a stigma, a belief that CTE is a world of the auto shop classes of the 1950s or a program designed to hold those students who struggle too greatly in a traditional academic schedule.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

In the past year, policymakers in Washington, D.C., have sought to re-embrace the CTE path, seeing the incredible impact career and technical education can have in meeting the nation’s employment needs of the future.

Community colleges are seeing CTE—and not early college—as their path toward growth and continued success. And learners are seeing CTE as one of the few opportunities to study their interests and passions in a high school environment.

Earlier this month, The Manufacturing Institute released Attracting the Next Generation of Students: The Role of Career and Technical Education. This exciting new report highlights many truths behind the rebirth of CTE and the motivations of the students who are quietly driving it. These are facts that we can and should learn from.

Fact One: CTE teachers believe industry-recognized credentials are valuable to students beginning their careers, with 65 percent saying industry certificates are among the most valuable education credentials after graduating high school.

Lesson Learned: As educators, we should be doing more to communicate the value proposition of career and technical education today’s students and their families. The credentials are important. Equally important are the jobs, job security and strong salaries that can come to those holding the industry certificates. Our emphasis should be on the credential as a mile marker on the career path, not as the final destination.

Fact Two: Despite the value of the credential, more than a third of CTE students (35 percent) enrolled in CTE courses say they have no contact with future employers, with only 12 percent experiencing site visits, 13 percent having pathway-related after-school jobs and 20 percent having pathway-related summer jobs.

Lesson Learned: Part of a CTE education should be a “clinical experience,” where students are participating in and learning from the very careers they seek to achieve. We expect teachers to work with experienced educators in clinical experiences, seeing how they can apply what they learn as a student in their classrooms as teachers.

We should be looking for the same with our CTE students, where they learn from knowledgeable individuals in the field about the job and the future. This isn’t just apprenticeships or internships. This is understanding the career and technical paths available today and tomorrow.

Fact Three: According to the study, nearly 2 in 3 students (63 percent) enrolled in CTE courses see their own interests and experiences as a major influence in their career pathways. Their parents are the second-largest influence.

Lesson Learned: We need to do more to encourage students to pursue their individual interests and passions, while making opportunities available that align with student perceptions of their futures. This requires greater understanding of how today’s high school students are thinking about their futures, pressing beyond the traditional “I plan to go to college” responses to better understand how they relate to STEM, 21st-century skills, CTE and other such pursuits that are provided to them in high school.

Most students today understand that the goals of their parents—to graduate high school, go to college, and get a job (any job)—are not their goals.

Today’s learners want to be engaged and inspired. They want to transform their personal interests into their professional opportunities. And they don’t want to be limited by the jobs, the industries or the courses of previous generations.

The Manufacturing Institute’s study provides some foundational learning on how CTE fits into that thinking. We, as a community, must now commit to building on those lessons to provide meaningful CTE learning experiences, relationships and job opportunities to all who seek it.

Photo by ILO in Asia and the Pacific, CC-licensed.

3 Things You Should Know About Career and Technical Education syndicated from https://sapsnkraguide.wordpress.com