Page 41 of Whoops-A-Mate From Outer Space
“I considered teaching,” Eashai said. “However, after appearing for several guest lectures, I decided it was not the right path.”
“It’s not for everyone,” I agreed. “I love it, but I’ll admit it is challenging. For me, even worse than the admin side are the students who feel obligated to be there.”
“Is school not mandatory for your children?”
I laughed. “School is mandatory through what we call high school. Beyond that, however, it is their choice… usually.”
“Explain.”
“I teach at a university, which is where education becomes much more specialized. Even in high school, it’s general knowledge: basic math, history, easy sciences, languages, things like that. Colleges—and universities—are where they go to learn about the things that will be specific to their jobs.”
“Ah, yes, I remember now. We were given basic information about your education system, though it varied enough by country that it was merely a cursory explanation. So, all students go to university?”
I shook my head. “There are trade schools and apprenticeships for some jobs, careers where hands-on practical learning is a better approach than the heavy knowledge base of college. And some choose not to pursue education beyond high school at all. Some in our society look down on them, but some jobs have to be done that don’t require advanced degrees.”
“So, then, how are some students obligated to learn from you?”
“Family pressure, usually. Some humans get prideful about their work. Family members have done the same job through many generations, and they expect their children to follow in their path. But they forget their children are not them, and have their own dreams and goals. Just because a family has haddoctors for five generations doesn’t mean the kid in front of me wants to be a doctor. They might want to be an accountant or a welder… or a scuba instructor. But they’re afraid of going against the family’s demands. So they sit in my class, miserable, and only put in as much effort as it takes to not get in trouble.”
“That does not sound pleasant.”
I shook my head. “It isn’t, for anybody. They hate it. I can tell they hate it, and that makes it harder for me to do my job. And often it ends up being for nothing. Some rebel and tell their families they’re doing what they want instead. Others subconsciously self-sabotage. Of course, some’ll excel and be brilliant in their careers, but I always wonder how happy they really are.”
“That is a shame.”
“I agree,” I stated, then. “If you don’t mind changing the subject, I noticed we keep passing trees with fruit.”
“Ah, the gapcha. Would you like to try one?”
“They’re edible, not ornamental?”
“Yes, and I am rather partial to them.” He paused as we approached another fruiting tree, reached up, and picked two of the fruits. He then handed one to me.
“You can just take them?”
He cocked his head to one side. “Of course. The fruits here are for anybody.”
“Nobody comes to pick them all just to sell them?”
“There are permits for those who wish to pick and sell. They are normally granted to youth as a way to encourage community.Elderly and those with demanding jobs will usually have a few people they rely on to pick for them at a reasonable price.”
“So people can just take as many as they like?”
He bit into the fruit and nodded. A moment later he continued. “Yes. There is plenty for everybody, and many families have favorite serving and preservation recipes.”
“What happens if they’re not all picked before they’re overripe?”
“If the fruit is getting too ripe, then city crews will harvest and the crop will be sent for processing.”
“Is all food like this?”
He laughed. “No. Popular fruit trees from each season were selected for public planting. If you look, you will see several varieties, each in a different stage of its cycle. In this manner, there is always something available for anyone who wishes. Other food is managed by farms and sent to stores, much like on Earth.”
“I think I get it,” I replied. I looked at the dark purple fruit in my hand. “What did you call this again?”
“These are gapcha, the trees bear the fruit in winter.”
“This is winter?”
