AN: Happy new years!
Rory had been going to class for nearly a month now. At first it had felt a little weird being back in a classroom in the role of a learner, not a guest or a reporter, which she'd also done a couple of times in recent years. But now being involved or doing her weekly homework, which she always completed meticulously, it was slowly growing on her. She had worried that most of the learners would be much younger than her, but thankfully the age wasn't an issue - Rory being quite the average age in comparison to the others. Naturally some of the participants were straight from undergrad, some, however, were even in their 40-s and 50-s, who already worked as teachers, doing bits of their training since the requirements for working at the high school level had changed since they got their original qualifications. Still, having joined just a single course that began at the second half of the second semester meant that most of the other participants knew each other to some extent. This meant that Rory felt a little bit of an outsider, and the way she considered each time what she wore, how much she stood out in class and what she said, made her seem a little timid. That wasn't much like the former Rory who had excelled in most of her undergrad glasses, except maybe Game Theory, being outspoken, opinionated and always two steps ahead of the game. Here she actually felt a little behind, even when it just came to the professional terminology, keeping a special corner of her notebook for terms to look up later. The class that day had discussed the influence of cultural differences on the education methods used by teachers, and after a group work in groups of three with two very self-important and talkative 20-somethings taking the lead, she'd barely gotten a word in and had focused on her notes instead.
As the class ended, she gathered up her tablet and the printout articles that had been their homework. She was just about to shove her notes into her leather satchel as well, when the lecturer, a dark-haired, petite and confident woman, approached her.
"You must be new to this?" she inquired. Her name was Lisa Mori, and from what Rory had googled about her, the reporter in her still active, she was really only a couple of years older than her, yet had already gotten her tenureship.
"I am, I got accepted for the programme starting in the fall, but I thought it might be a good idea not to waste time and get a head start," Rory explained.
"Right. Sorry, what's your name again?" Lisa asked.
"Lorelai Huntzberger, I go by Rory," she replied.
"I see," she said. "Do you mind showing me your notes?" Lisa asked curiously.
"Sure," Rory replied a little hesitantly, handing over her notebook.
Lisa skimmed through the four pages of notes, which was more than they really were supposed to write.
"You've been quiet in class," she stated her observation.
"I guess, I am still adjusting to being back in this student role," Rory said apologetically.
"The notes are good, you really should share your thoughts more. The others would have plenty to learn from this," she said, handing the notes back to her, adding, "the difference with studying to become a teacher from just any graduate programme is that the learning is not just one way, from teacher to student, but also from other learners to each-other. You all have your different backgrounds and different degrees, life experience… This is what creates new synergies, fresh ideas. Try not to worry that the others have been at it longer or have actual working experience of this."
"I'll try," she replied.
"Do you mind reminding me what your background was? I was in the admissions committee but I don't recall a Lorelai Huntzberger," she inquired, slightly confusedly.
"Oh, that's because I've changed my name since then, it used to be Lorelai Gilmore. And I have an undergraduate degree from Yale and I've worked as a reporter, writer. Mostly freelance," Rory explained.
"Oh, that's right, now I remember," Lisa recalled. "I actually got a few ideas when reading your application, but I wasn't really expecting you before the programme began," she said.
"Really?" Rory asked surprisedly.
"In regards to your background - I think it would make an interesting project for you as a thesis to look into the ways journalistic content could be used in the classroom. But I realize this is very early for you to think about that, but you can keep it in mind. The topic is not going anywhere and I think your background would provide an interesting angle," she explained.
"That does sound interesting. I'll be sure to consider it," Rory commented. The connections between her former education and the present were an interesting prospect, one of which she hadn't really considered. She'd always pictured English teachers to mainly focus on the classics, the grammar and writing of standardized formats, but in connection to journalism, especially the modern kind, made her feel excited. Once again she felt the drive to work towards something, she just hoped she would not lose the momentum she was feeling, like had happened with her book. Rory still felt a little guilty for dropping that idea. She'd grown to think that perhaps it had been just a reflection tool for her to process and move forward, something that gave her a focus when she had needed one.
Logan arrived at Eleven Madison Park a few minutes later than he had hoped. He was meeting his father on his request, expecting to discuss business. Mitchum had been trying to withdraw from the company, having handed the CEO position to Bobby, but he still liked to be kept up to speed, not really knowing how to exist without the constant thought process in the back of his mind.
"I'm sorry, I'm late," Logan apologized as the head waiter showed him to his father's table, seeing also his sister sitting at the table, whom she hadn't really been expecting.
"Oh, that's alright," Mitchum replied.
"Hi," Honor said, hugging him.
"So, how is everyone?" Logan asked, waving towards the waiter wanting to order his lunch quickly, having just glanced at the menu briefly.
"Oh, we're fine, just making plans for the summer holidays. We should talk, if we want to coordinate our schedules," Honor suggested hoping to spend some time with his brother and Rory over the holidays.
"I'll talk it over with Rory," Logan replied. "Oh, and I meant to invite you guys to our housewarming party on the 21st. I know it's kind of short notice, we've been a little preoccupied with the move," he said apologetically.
"We'll be there. Kids or no kids?" Honor asked, wondering whether she should bring the kids along.
"Up to you," Logan added smilingly. It wasn't like this was going to be one of their lavish, whisky-infused, parties.
"I'll need to check my plans for that weekend, but I'll let you know," Mitchum replied.
"So, what did you want to talk to us about, dad?" Logan asked after the waiter had been over an taken their orders.
"I did want to talk to you guys. I realize you are not little children anymore but still I understand if this news might affect you in some ways," Mitchum began. "I'm divorcing your mother," he stated.
Logan and Honor exchanged questioning glances, not really knowing how to respond. Mitchum was approaching 70, Shira being some years younger - it was not exactly common for people their age to still consider divorce as such. Both Logan and Honor knew their relationship had been bumpy, mostly resulting in one of them turning a blind eye on one thing and the other just tuning out whatever annoyed him. Logan also considered, whether reminding his father of a certain former relationship, might have triggered this.
"I just had enough," he explained briefly, not really elaborating. He didn't really need a society wife anymore when he was no longer running the company. He was no longer required to entertain or attend events if he didn't want to and surely at his age, and with his name, he could do whatever he damn well pleased. What had been the last drop though, was the evening they'd left Odette's house after Logan had admitted to the pretence. After listening to Shira bicker and huff about what was and wasn't suitable for the Huntzberger name, he'd just outright told her he was embarrassed of her behavior. While she had slammed the bedroom door to his face for that, he hadn't waited a single second more, and served her the divorce papers when he'd returned two days later. He'd done the noble thing, dismissing the original prenup and was planning on leaving her a significant amount of money to continue her lifestyle until the end of her days and the London house, but still, not losing anything significant to him.
"I'm not really sure what we should say to that," Logan hesitated, taking a sip of wine the waiter had brought to the table.
"Well obviously she's hurt by my decision, but frankly I myself feel a little relieved," he noted with a half-smile.
