Lilah yawned. One of the younger girls in her class giggled. “<!— student name —>, would you care to tell us why the Oregon Country was founded.”
The girl stood and tucked her hands behind her back as she recited. “The Oregon Country was created by Opal Webb. She was a savant. She was scared that the world was growing,” she paused, ordering the sounds in her head, “pernissious—”
“Pernicious,” Lilah corrected her.
“Pernicious influences of the people around her. She wanted to make a safe place for her family to grow up so she sealed us up. What does 'pernicious' mean, Miss Harper?”
“Who would like to tell the class?” Her vocabulary enthusiasts raised their hands. Instead, she called on Stuart, who was staring out the window. He was due to graduate in a month. He'd recently been deemed old enough to participate in tithing.
“It means harmful,” the boy said. Lilah waited for him to go into more detail. He ordinarily spoke at length about word meanings, delving into etymology or delivering a quick pun. After long seconds of silence, she asked Jo, who expounded on his answer.
“Thank you, Jo. Now who knows how we were sealed from the outside world?”
This time, there were a jumble of raised hands. Everyone was fascinated by the pylons and some were saying the name without being called. She quieted the children with a wave her hands and motioned to <!— person, description, etc —>
“A series of pylons were placed around the perimeter of the Oregon Country, not included those parts blocked by ocean, river, or mountain. With the strength of her magic, she powered them, sacrificing herself in the process. Since then we've been keeping them powered with our tithes.”
“An excellent answer, thank you. How long ago did Savant Webb live, Connor?”
Connor was the youngest child in her class. His R's and S's were still babyish and he struggled to sit still. “A long long long long time ago,” he exclaimed.
“How long is a long long long long time? You read about this last week,” Lilah asked. Sometimes it took time for the ones that little to order their thoughts.
“Years and years.” A stern look from Lilah. His face screwed up in concentration. “150 years ago.” He smiled broadly this time. “My great-great-great gramma <!— timeline —> was one of Savant Webb's babies,” he declared.
Lilah chose not to correct the repetition as it was technically correct. “Good work stopping to think before answering. When you don't talk right away you're more likely to produce the right answer.”
The classroom port signaled that it was ready with the day's lunch of hard bread, clammy cheese, and a sort of flavorless vegetable. After getting the children settled with their meal, Lilah could only poke at her own. She supposed that Edmund was ruining her appetite for the bland, but nutritious fare the ports provided on their own. A bite of the vegetables had left her nauseated, so she pushed the plate away with her meal only nibbled at.