England, 1930
It was the last week of the long vacation. The headmaster of Sherborne was waiting in the great hall, somewhat edgily, for the arrival of a new member of the faculty – someone he had not hired himself. Two days previously a member of the school's Board of Trustees had informed him that it was imperative that a place be found at the school for a new mathematics professor.
"He needs to recuperate in a quiet environment, Mr. Williamson," the trustee had said vaguely. "Just to get him accustomed to social surroundings again. He'll benefit from the routine. And he's very good at maths."
"This is unheard of. You expect me to hire him without an interview, you can't give me any information about this man? What is his background? Can he even teach?" Williamson had protested. Before he could say anything further the trustee had sighed, pulled out a card of some sort and he'd found himself helplessly agreeing to the new hire. There had always been something strange about this trustee, the headmaster thought vaguely, but the intimidating appearance of the two men escorting the new teacher dissuaded him from any thoughts he'd had of further arguing the issue.
At least he looked the part, Williamson realized. Tall, thin, dressed in a gray suit that did not fit particularly well, yet with a somewhat intimidating air about him – that would come in useful for controlling the pupils. The new professor now stood in the entry hall, luggage at his side, eyeing his surroundings with disfavor. He did not appear to be any happier with his situation than the headmaster was.
"Welcome to Sherborne, sir. I have assigned you to Lyon House. Let me show you to your living quarters." The four men set off, Williamson pointing out the main layout of the school as they went; once in the professor's set of rooms the silent escorts deposited the luggage. The headmaster found himself standing in awkward silence as TEAPOT, later to be known as Angleton, glanced around his new living quarters. (He had been assigned an alias while at the school, but for our purposes we will continue to refer to him as Angleton.)
At length, completely ignoring Williamson's presence, he gave a brief nod to the senior of the two agents. "Very well. This will do."
"I'm glad to hear it, Mr. Angleton. I'm sure you need time to rest and unpack. I should like to see you in my study in one hour." The new professor gave a curt nod as answer. Trying to hold on to a shred of dignity, the headmaster left and headed to nearby Abbey House. At a door labeled Thomas Poole, House Master he stopped and knocked.
"Enter," called a pleasant voice. "Ah, Headmaster. Has our new recruit arrived yet?"
"Yes. He appears to be a somewhat strange character."
"Stranger than average, you mean." Poole smiled.
Williamson found himself chuckling as Poole gestured him to a chair. "Well, perhaps. I haven't had much of a chance to speak with him yet. I'm meeting with him in one hour. I came here to ask, as a favour, if you would sit next to him at dinner. You seem to get on so well with the difficult ones."
"I'm not sure whether it's a curse or a gift," Poole answered ruefully. "Does he strike you as an interesting character?"
"Very much so."
"Well then, I'll see what I can do."
Meanwhile the new arrival was slumped in a chair in his quarters, glaring at the agent unpacking his luggage.
"Unbearable," muttered TEAPOT.
"You have no choice," the agent replied shortly. "You know what Fuller said."
"Of course I do." Why he thought I would enjoy teaching mathematics to a flock of damned immature vertebrates is beyond me.
"Your task is to become familiar with how we English think and act. For all intents and purposes, you are now human and you must act like one."
"I've been here before, you know. This is not my first time in a corporeal existence."
"But this is not Russia, we aren't in the middle of a revolution, and we do things differently. This isn't going to be a demanding job. You have your lesson plans?"
TEAPOT indicated the briefcase lying on the table. He had been coached thoroughly before coming to the school and now understood how to draw up lesson plans, roughly what level of mathematics would be required for each class level, and other details of his new profession. Whether he could control a classroom full of pupils or relate to his fellow teachers no one really knew.
"All right, then. We'll come to pick you up at the end of the term. Remember, F doesn't want to hear any complaints."
"From the school, or from me?"
"Either one," the agent retorted, and left.
TEAPOT remained seated in thought for a few minutes; finally he sighed, shook his head, and reported to the headmaster's study.
"Mr. Williamson. I am here, as you requested."
The headmaster gave a chilly nod. "Ah yes, Mr. Angleton. Settling in well, are you?"
"Yes." A sharp pain in his leg prodded him to add "Thank you." Damned geas.
'Your certification, please?"
Q division had provided TEAPOT with paperwork and an appropriate cover story. While not explicitly stating that he had seen government service during the war, this was heavily implied and his (false) recommendations were stellar.
"I see you did some doctorate work? I suppose the war cut that short." The headmaster was impressed despite himself. "Should you ever wish to complete your degree, let me know. We've had professors do part-time doctorate work in the past."
"That does sound interesting, I'll consider it." TEAPOT had to admit that the prospect of doing something beyond basic mathematics was appealing. From there the conversation moved to an overview of the school schedule, grading papers and what Angleton's responsibilities would be as a housemaster in training. "Professor McKinnon will be retiring at the end of this year. He has been Master of Lyon House for many years and you will be working with him. By the end of term I expect you will be able to take over full duty as Housemaster."
Ugh. Not only must I teach them, I have to live with them? TEAPOT opened his mouth to protest, but another sharp stab of pain forced him to change what he was going to say to "Very well. Does Professor McKinnon teach math?" he added hopefully.
"No, history. He is an avid chess player – do you play?"
"As a matter of fact I do."
"Excellent. He should be returning tomorrow. For tonight I have assigned Dr. Thomas Poole to sit with you at dinner. He's been with us for many years. Housemaster at Abbey House, his subject is English Literature. A very likeable chap."
About two-thirds of the teaching staff were in residence. TEAPOT braced himself for a never-ending round of introductions and what he thought of as "useless conversation." However, he was relieved to note that two or three of the other teachers were nearly as antisocial as he was. Poole was more conversant but also had a gift for comfortable silence. The headmaster made a few announcements after dinner and then Poole suggested a stroll around the school grounds. He was able to direct the new professor to the classroom where he would be teaching, showed him the cricket field (of no interest to TEAPOT whatsoever) and then the two men returned to Poole's study.
Poole made tea while wondering what on earth they would find to talk about. His first thought, to discuss their respective subjects, bore unexpected fruit. "I understand from Headmaster Williamson that your subject is mathematics, in fact that it has more or less been your life's work."
"Mathematics is life," TEAPOT said sharply. "It gives everything meaning."
"Splendid! That's exactly how I feel about English literature. It isn't just about reading a book. You can learn so much of human nature from the classics; that's what I tell my students. If you want to know what motivates people, why they behave the way they do…"
Hmmm. This could be useful. "Well, perhaps… is there a work you would recommend?"
"I'll give you a copy of my personal favorite. Paradise Lost. You haven't read it before?"
"No, it hasn't come my way."
"Epic poem by John Milton, in the Judeo-Christian tradition, about the creation of the universe and the fall of man." Poole handed TEAPOT a thick volume bound in leather. "Twelve books in all. Try to go through one book a week, let me know what you think."
After returning to his room TEAPOT opened the book and began to review it. Reading the preface to the first section he at first thought, superstitious nonsense! Then he came across a sentence which intrigued him.
…for that Angels were long before this visible Creation, was the opinion of many ancient Fathers.
Well. For "angels" read "ancient gods," I suppose. What comes next? Then he came to the description of Satan: Hurled…With hideous ruin and combustion down To bottomless perdition, there to dwell In Adamantine Chains…
It was a little too close for comfort, and TEAPOT closed the book abruptly. But later that evening he found himself restarting Book One, interested to see how the character of Satan dealt with his situation. It would be magnificent to lead an army of lesser angels, he thought. Pity there are none to be had at Sherborne.
Over the next few weeks he read on, intrigued. Satan's dangerous journey from perdition to earth impressed him; he began to regard the character as a hero. Secretly he adopted the phrase "Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven" as his personal motto. In his discussions with Poole he passionately defended Satan's motivation and actions. "Keep reading" was all Thomas said, with a twinkle in his eye.
"You don't disagree?"
"Whether I disagree or not is not the point, old chap. That's the thing about great literature. It evokes all sorts of responses. Yours is no less valid than anyone else's. It may not be what Milton meant, but you have explained yourself so clearly that I know you're paying attention to the text and analyzing it. That's how you learn. And your opinion may change as you progress."
It was the first time anyone had listened seriously to what TEAPOT had to say. His interactions with the leaders of Project TEAPOT were limited to orders, rather than discussions. It was a new experience to talk to someone who paid attention and respected his opinions.
"Thank you, Thomas. I'm starting to see why your pupils enjoy working with you so much." TEAPOT had never paid anyone a compliment before, nor had he used Poole's first name. He was rewarded with a warm smile.
"And I thank you, James. This is why I enjoy teaching. It's so much more than just feeding information into students. I like to see how people respond. And, I find, you get better results that way."
TEAPOT looked at him suspiciously, but Poole had picked up an essay and was frowning at it critically. If he did glance up to look for a reaction to his comment, it was not until the other teacher was reaching for his briefcase.
"I think I shall review my lesson plans for tomorrow, Thomas. You never know, I might be able to improve on them. I'll see you at lunch tomorrow, then."
"Certainly, James."
TEAPOT had gotten off to a rocky start when it came to teaching the pupils. To him it had appeared to be a simple matter of presenting information to the students; it had not occurred to him that many of them might have difficulty understanding the subject. He had found their questions exasperating and they, in turn, were too intimidated to ask for help. As a result, the classes as a whole had scored badly on his first set of tests and this had resulted in TEAPOT having to explain himself to the headmaster. It was not a memory he cared to dwell on, as it was far too humiliating for him to admit he had done a poor job.
There was one exception. One of the younger students had scored very highly on this first test. Named Duncan Wyatt, he had a natural aptitude for mathematics; this was the one bright spot TEAPOT had to work with. The boy came from a middle-class background and was attending the school on a scholarship. This meant nothing to TEAPOT, who was uninterested in English class differences, but soon enough he realized that the boy was unhappy.
"I just don't know what to make of him," muttered Williamson. Poole had reported to the headmaster's study for their weekly meeting. "He seems almost inhuman. I had a feeling he wasn't going to be a success."
The English lecturer gave Williamson a quizzical look. "May I ask then, sir, why you hired him?"
"This is in strict confidence, Dr. Poole, but I really wasn't given a choice. I am sorry, but I cannot explain further than that."
Poole mastered his curiosity and thought for a moment. "I believe the situation is not as bad as you perceive it to be, Headmaster. Mr. Angleton has the potential to be a true asset to Sherborne, in my opinion. It's true he requires some polish but time, with a little assistance from me and Professor McKinnon, should take care of that."
"Do you really think so? Why?"
"Instinct, Headmaster. It's worked for me before. Give the man a chance. And as for being inhuman, I have faith that everyone has a human side to them. Something tells me he hasn't had much in the way of social contact. Sherborne has nothing but social contact. This is just the place for him."
Meanwhile TEAPOT was not only revising his lesson plans but, remembering Poole's advice, trying to find a better way of communicating with the students. Mathematics has beauty, logic, precision… he thought. There must be a way I can get them to see this. Or, at least, to make them see how useful it is. A cheer from the cricket field attracted his attention; he remembered hearing the boys discuss the merits of various professional cricketers. Hmm. Sporting statistics, perhaps.
The following morning he spoke with each class, explaining that the first test would not count in their final grade and establishing regular times for meeting with students who had questions. "My goal is not merely for you to listen. I want you to understand. Mathematics is not only about numbers, it is about logic. Ideally, once you learn how to solve the problems I set you, you can extend that knowledge to all manner of problems. My door is open; if you need help, ask. I assure you that I am here to help."
That week three students presented with questions during study hours. The following week the number grew to seven. TEAPOT realized with some surprise that he was starting to feel a genuine sense of accomplishment in his job. More and more he felt satisfaction when a student began to understand the principles behind algebra or geometry.
Wyatt seemed to turn up for every study hour, which posed a difficulty for TEAPOT as he quickly realized he could not show favoritism toward the boy; it was the others who needed help. Left to his own devices Wyatt would have answered nearly every question posed in class. During one of their weekly chess games TEAPOT discussed this issue with McKinnon, who promptly invited him to observe his history classes. Not only did the new professor find this helpful, he began to realize how much of Earth's history he did not know. In his spare time he began to read more and more, everything from The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire to the works of P.G. Wodehouse.
Over the next several months TEAPOT found himself settling into the school routine, if not comfortably then at least acceptably. Though not sociable by any stretch of the imagination, he did come to find academic chat over tea rather enjoyable. TEAPOT had quickly realized that the beverage was as important in England as it had been in Russia, and tea made life at Sherborne feel familiar to him somehow.
At the end of term TEAPOT found himself strangely reluctant to leave the school. Thanking McKinnon, the headmaster and Poole for their help he headed down the drive escorted by the same two agents. The three men gazed after him, Poole with a look of concern in his eyes.
"I still don't know what to make of him," Williamson commented.
"He has made progress over the year, you must admit." McKinnon shrugged. "And he can keep the boys in line. Damned good chess player, best I've ever seen…"
"But will that make him a good head of house?" Williamson worried.
"Who are those men, Headmaster?" Poole asked abruptly.
"I was afraid to ask, Dr. Poole. They brought him here at the start of term and that's really all I know."
"One might speculate about who our mysterious math teacher really is, eh?" McKinnon chuckled.
"I know one thing. He's not a happy man. Or a free one," Poole added. "I'll be sure to keep an eye on him next term, Headmaster."