#which starts with Fidds pointing out he started grad school at the same age Ford started undergrad

[fiddleturnips]

Backupsmore University

Okay, so. The following is not very well written and has been heavily edited in my actual draft - the chapter it was in has been broken up and spread between like three different chapters. However, I realized that the context for Why Fiddleford Is Like That is sort of important for my other snippets to make sense.

Content warning for depression, but this section does not contain graphic detail. Further content warning for the American Public School System in the Nineteen-Seventies. (Specifically: the school system's relative inability to absorb non-average children.)

"Ah. Right." Stanford sat back down. The broken mug scraped across the tiles and clattered as Fiddleford swept. "Well, we were in high school. It was close to graduation. We'd been fighting anyway. Big time for me, because it was around the Science Fair-"

"Scholarship season."

"Yes."

"Your family weren't that well off, am I rembering right? I seem to recall you were seeking a full ride and couldn't get it."

"I was going to go to Westmore. If I could afford it, I would have anyway. But Backupsmore was a lot more manageable."

Fiddleford laughed. "Ain't that the truth."

"Wait, you were full ride. And you were, what, seventeen Freshman year? What were you doing there?"

"They weren't that strict on school transcripts," Fiddleford said. "A lot more welcoming of science and engineering portfolios. And I needed full ride, I wasn't getting a dime after a bug came by and wiped out my school stock."

"Your… your what?"

"Oh, you wouldn't have this sort of thing. Some of us livestock breeders, when a kid's young, we'll start to set some animals aside for them. You invest in a couple of pigs, add to the herd when you can, teach the kid to care for 'em, and when it comes time for high school graduation you can get a sturdy few grand even if it's just a small herd, then if you invest it right and keep an eye on the price of pork, you can pay a kid through college with a bit to spare. Only mine all got sick and died out."

"That is fascinating and tragic. You never talked about this."

"Yeah, I never talked to the Yankee kids about the fact that I was going to a bum school because my papa couldn't afford a better one because my pigs died and I didn't have school transcripts 'cause I didn't go to school. How do you think that woulda gone over?"

Stanford did know about Fiddleford's school history. At this moment, he was significantly exaggerating. He had gone to school, and he had excelled at school - for about two thirds as long as any other kid, if you combined all of the months.

Pines and McGucket were close college friends, in a lot of the same classes and clubs, spending study hours together in the tucked-away rooms that let them get as loud and melodramatic as they wanted. At first, Fiddleford had joked that he'd done a lot of special programs for county fairs as a kid. Then, he'd joked that nobody taught him per se as he'd just up and swallowed a library one summer and they all figured that was probably that. Then he'd joked that he was a dropout, and when pressed on that he'd grudgingly admit that no, he was homeschooled.

Then eventually the two boys got close enough and he got tipsy enough for it all to come out. The whole story was that the older he got, the more he skipped grades and got shifted to advanced classes and eventually got stuck in the school's Special Education department because as it was they had no idea what the hell else to do with him, the more he'd get bored and start stealing books from older kids and building things out of school supplies and on one memorable occasion stuck a fork in the electrical outlet - he'd been found with third-degree burns on his hand and a paper beside him calculating the exact voltage available from the wall outlet in comparison to the shock a human being could survive - anyway, the more all of that happened, the earlier in the year his Ma and Pa would have the hard conversation that the trouble he could cause at home was nothing like the trouble he was already causing in the classroom.

By high school, his Ma had sat him down and said: Look. You need an education. Every single word of what they teach you in those there classrooms matters, even the stuff you think is dumb and silly. So you're gonna stay home this year, we're getting permission to let you do experiments in the local tech college's labs for Chemistry and such and the rest you're figuring out on your own. And at the end of the year, you are submitting reports about what you learned to every single teacher in the school, and we'll see if they find fault in your methods.

She'd meant for him to get through Freshman core curriculum. He'd gotten through that most of the electives. The next year, he did the rest of the core curriculum and they rented out some textbooks from the local tech college, plus a special weekly tutoring session with the Language Arts teacher because his critical thinking was a bit underdeveloped and another with the AP Maths guy to whip his self-correction into shape. The year after that, they had a sit-down with a representative of the County and a recruitment man from a university and the principal of the high school he'd dropped out of. He couldn't legally leave the public system until he was at the legal age, but they all agreed that he was doing just fine on his own until then.

He wasn't seventeen when he enrolled at Backupsmore. He was sixteen. And he'd already tested out of Freshman and Sophmore classes, and the only other one there who'd done that was Stanford. The two were friends because up to that point, neither one had ever had a peer.

Stanford Pines was a by-the-book scientist. He'd completed every year of school the way it was intended, on time, and with very high marks. He'd also completed science fair projects and extracurriculars. Once he reached university, he kept a full schedule, his days planned to the minute, with an exercise routine and designated journaling time. His accelerated schooling happened because he did things to the letter, bull-rushed through the political game, took every advantage he could get, and was so damn good at his job that nobody could find a reason to keep him from going at it.

Fiddleford McGucket was a free thinking engineer. He couldn't keep his head on straight enough to follow orders, but he was "such a delight to have in class" and "unfailingly diligent with his homework" and "not afraid to do the hard, boring work that needs doing for a project's success," so he kept getting special treatment anyway.

For Stanford Pines, his combined arrogance with his peers, aggressively growth-minded attitude, relentless self-paced work schedule, and unfailing results put him through twelve doctorates and a self-guided grant program.

For Fiddleford McGucket, the combined inexperience working with others, habit of taking on all the work that was available to him so he could prove he was worthwhile, commitment to doing everything perfectly right the first time no matter how loaded his schedule was, and desperate, desperate need to fit in for once left him plastered to the floor of a bathroom stall trying not to cry out loud while he psyched himself up to get back to the lab every spring and autumn night for a year.

Pines and McGucket had both set astronomical standards for themselves that no normal human could possibly hope to achieve. Difference was, Doctor Stanford Pines had somehow done it.