Yo! Hikou no Kokoro back. Sixth chapter.
Special thanks to Super Serious Gal 3, ArisuKuroUsagi and .books for subscribing, and LordOfTheOverworld-LupitisCole and guest somewhereinthebluesky for reviewing! You are why I keep writing and posting.
Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers: Hetalia. It rightfully belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz. I merely own the AU plot and setting. Additionally, I'm not an expert on teaching and blindness. Information comes from observations and speculations. Please do not reference.
Enjoy!
Nihilism
"What we see depends mainly on what we look for."
―John Lubbock
After the single band rehearsal had finished, Arthur slinked towards the art room, knowing that Francis would be in his classroom if he couldn't join the rest of the fine arts students in the band room. But when he pushed open the door, a dark, empty classroom greeted him. The tables were cleaned, and papers and supplies were put away crudely in their respective places. The two computers on the side seemed to be off. Even Francis' things were gone. Francis must have left the school earlier, maybe ten minutes ago so Arthur wouldn't have seen him go out. Arthur stepped in and turned on the lights. He saw a stack of papers beside Francis' computer.
Although nobody would know he entered, Arthur slunk into Francis' seat and shook the mouse. The computer flashed on. Francis must have forgotten to turn it off. For a split second, Arthur was glad that he had come in, as a computer left on would drain the electricity.
Quickly, Arthur closed out iTunes and Google searches of the Sistine Chapel. Then the window for the grade book showed up. He blinked. Francis must have been really forgetful; he knew he shouldn't leave the grade book up in case a sly student would come in and meddle with it. But Arthur reluctantly let it slide; it wasn't like there would be any grades in there anyway.
But there was. The first half of the students had gotten A's while the last half didn't. Francis must have been grading something. Figuring Francis wasn't going to look at the grade book anytime soon, he closed the program and turned off the computer. He looked at the papers on the side. The first page was a sketch of the façade of a building.
Arthur groaned and slammed his forehead on the keyboard. This was the little "practice" rough sketches Francis got the students to draw. Arthur had told Francis that he was going to look at them later to grade and critique. But no, apparently Francis didn't listen. What made him think that he could grade pencilled drawings?
Nevertheless, Arthur decided to look through the notes and grades. He didn't want to use Francis' computer, which had all the software to aid him, like screen radar, so he moved to his own computer that shared the gradebook with Francis' computer. Sighing, he took the first one off the pile, and opened the grades for that student. The sketch got an A, just like everybody else who was already graded. Underneath the grade was a critique, which would probably be printed out later to be given to the student.
"It's absolutely stunning," the critique said. "I can see that you've worked hard on this sketch. However, you seemed to have pressed too hard at certain sections, and the lines become dark. That makes erasing harder when you wish to change the sketch, and when you trace over it for the final copy. Additionally, darker lines smudge more and get on your hands. Remember, this is a gesture sketch, not the final copy. When you make a sketch, you're not intending the final to be exactly like the rough. So draw a bit lighter, and don't worry too much if the fine details aren't pretty. Nevertheless, you've drawn with exquisite detail. You have a wonderful eye, and great potential. I can't wait to see when your skills are refined more. The sketch is beautiful, and you've earned the A."
The attention to concreted and tangible suggestions almost shocked Arthur. How did Francis manage to "see" where the student needed work? Quickly, he put away the sketch, and looked at the other critiques. It was then that he realised the critiques were all along the same line. Of course, they were in different wordings, but their messages were all similar, although some of them didn't mention "pressing too hard" if the sketches' lines were light. Then Arthur looked through the graded papers. They seemed a tad darker in colour than the ones that weren't graded, as if the pages had brushed against tables and other papers, smudging the dark lines.
Arthur sighed, shaking his head. Francis was too much of a stubborn fool. It seemed like Francis' main focus was about how the students treated the concept of "sketch," rather than details and techniques and perspectives, and if the lines were too hard (Francis must have been able to feel the powdery smoothness of the paper where the pencil dug too hard) he would tell the student to draw lighter.
With a flick of a few fingers, he deleted all the grades, and reviewed the sketches for himself, talking not about line darkness, but perspective and proportions. After all, Arthur had worked as an art teacher long enough to know the basics that Art I would need; he trusted himself to know what was aesthetically pleasing and what wasn't. He could do everything by himself.
There was no need to rely on somebody else.