Spock looked around the large room, very different from the room he'd shared with a human classmate for the last two years. His things had been brought up, in two grey containers that he'd insisted on packing himself, with the exception of the brief moment Captain Pike had come to his room to chat and had insisted on helping Spock pack his clothing. He was grateful that Christopher had come to understand him over the past two years. Most humans had no respect for Vulcan's culture and their need for privacy, and that it is disrespectful to touch certain things, such as his lyre. His room mate that had been assigned to him, did not have such respect, and had ruined his original within the first week.

'Well, I only touched it.' As if that meant he'd done any less damage. Humans did not understand that leaving a fingerprint on such a personal item would leave a mark even by a simple touch, and Spock could do nothing but dwell on the tiny spot on the instrument, even after it had been washed away, until he had disposed of it entirely. He remembered a similar situation that had happened when he was just a child, and he'd touched his father's. His father hadn't spoken to him for nearly a week after disposing of the instrument, and now Spock understood why a tiny spot was such a big deal. Especially since it could so easily be cleaned off. It was a tiny mark, but a tiny mark of disrespect. One that could not be repaired or washed away.

Spock was grateful for his promotion in that respect. He had this suite to himself. There was no fear of human interference, and could now control the temperature of his own room. His previous roommate had always preferred the room cool, as he'd come from up north and was accustomed to colder temperatures. But Spock was from a desert planet and was accustomed to much hotter climates.

He went around the room, quietly unpacking his things, which hadn't taken him long. He wasn't one for frivolous items, and liked to keep his rooms plain, which had been a constant complaint from his room mate, who preferred to keep his clothing on the floor, posters on the walls, and his desk and shelves cluttered with action figures and toys of all sorts. Both men could not have been more opposites than they had been.

Once he was finished, he picked up his PADD to see if he'd received any messages from Captain Pike, but before he could get to it, there was a chime from the suites main computer.

'Incoming video transmission from Vulcan. Amanda Grayson.' The computer said mechanically. Spock stood up from his bed and went over to the computer.

"Answer audio and visual transmission." Spock said in response as he sat down and the computer turned on to an image of Spock's mother. "Good morning, Mother." He said, despite the darkness outside, he knew it was early morning in Shi'Kahr.

"And to you, son," she said, smiling slightly. "How are you settling in? Are you glad to finally have your own space?" She had heard plenty of his frustration about the lack of privacy with his old roommate.

"The room is satisfactory." He said. "A little bigger than what I would consider necessary for one person, but I have no complaints." He could see his father in the background, moving into the hall towards their bedroom. It didn't surprise him that he did not stop to speak. "How have your classes been?"

"They're going wonderfully this year," she said, clearly pleased. "The children's reading levels have been progressing more quickly than usual. I have several who are advanced already, and a few of the parents have been more willing to work with me, given the positive results." Though of course, the other early childhood teachers chalked it up to her being randomly assigned naturally gifted students. They would never acknowledge that the human could be as competent an educator as they were. "When do you start in your new position?" she asked. Sometimes, it took a little more questioning to find out how her son was really doing.

"My first class starts tomorrow. I've completed my syllabus for this year, and have already done my lesson plans for the next month." He said confidently. "I have some maintenance tests to run on the Kobayashi Maru tomorrow morning, and then classes start directly after. I believe it will be a rather successful year."

"I'm sure it will be," Amanda said, a hint of pride in her tone. "It sounds as if you are very prepared." She wouldn't have expected anything less from her son. He had always worked twice as hard as the other Vulcan children to prove himself, and he had conducted himself no differently at Starfleet. "Just remember to remain adaptable as well." She was certain that Spock would eventually work out his own balance between planning and flexibility, as every teacher had to. For Spock, rigor wouldn't be the problem. There were some things, though, that teaching theory couldn't cover, and only experience in the classroom could impart. She believed that this would be an excellent experience for Spock.

"If I may ask mother, can you clarify your statement?" He asked, confused by what she meant by remaining adaptable.

"Of course," Amanda said, long since accustomed to her son's seriousness. "Planning is naturally an important part of teaching."

Back on Earth, she had learned the same adage that many teachers in training heard: 'Failure to plan is planning to fail.' It had always proven true.

"That part will not be a problem for you. I'm sure your lesson plans are as detailed and as rigorous as any supervisor could wish. But people have many different ways of learning, and it's not always efficient. Different situations may arise in the classroom depending on your students. For example, a particularly advanced student may raise a pertinent question, which could lead to discussing the subject matter more in-depth than you had planned, if the class is ready for it. Or, as a less desirable example, you may look over the assignments you have collected and determine that a point you thought you'd made clear still hasn't been mastered by the majority of students, who perhaps failed to seek further guidance, since they thought they understood. In that case, you may have to assign further reading or practice on a topic that you had thought could be covered quickly. In either case, the approach you had planned would have to adapt to meet the needs of your students."

"With respect, Mother. I am not teaching children. I am teaching an advanced linguistics class. I'm sure the students will do exemplary." Spock said, as if he were absolutely certain.

"Perhaps you are right," Amanda said, though there was a mild hint of amusement in her eyes. There were some things that a new teacher could only learn from the classroom, despite the best of advice. "And I'm sure you will hold them to the highest standards."

"Of course." He said, as if she expected anything less. "I will, as always, do my best."

"I have absolute faith in that," Amanda said honestly. "I've always been proud of your dedication to everything you decide to do."

"Thank you, Mother." He said lifting his hand in the traditional Vulcan salute. "Dif tor heh smusma*." He said quietly, knowing their com was running out of time.

Amanda mirrored the gesture, looking back at her son. "Sochya eh dif**," she responded, wishing her son all the best in those few words.

* Live long and prosper

** Peace and long life