Chapter 893 - Worse than Beasts

Yuan Ziguang knew the recent propaganda theme was connected to Operation Engine. The Literature and Propaganda Department was preparing public opinion. His gaze fell on the posters and slogans newly pasted on the classroom walls—all recently replaced. Both posters and slogans were printed using woodblock. The theme was the "Refugee Illustration" series: Natural and Man-made Disasters, Displaced and Destitute, Selling Children, and Starved Corpses on the Road. The figures' expressions and movements were rich and varied—though merely monochrome line drawings, they were extraordinarily vivid. He didn't know which art-student Elder had created them, though more likely they had been adapted from some comic book in the Grand Library.

Finally, a slogan: "Do not forget the millions of suffering people of the Great Ming!"

Yuan Ziguang felt Ding Ding would definitely approve of this layout. He coughed once and began his lecture methodically.

Before D-Day, Yuan Ziguang had been a genuine junior high math teacher, graduated from a regular normal university. Both parents alive. Family well-off: father an Air Force pilot, mother a primary school teacher. Except for temporarily lacking a sister or girlfriend, he didn't look like someone who would make up his mind to transmigrate.

Yet Yuan Ziguang had a reason he absolutely had to leave: he had pushed down one of his own students. A forced push. Though the matter hadn't been exposed, Yuan Ziguang knew what awaited him if it ever was. Thus he had resolutely chosen to abandon the old world and start over in a new one.

He never revealed this past to the "Organization," of course. He was well aware that although half the Elders claimed to be lolicons, if this sort of thing became known, he would be thoroughly despised. He would have a handle on him, and could forget about ever being "put in an important position."

Because he possessed a teacher's certificate, Yuan Ziguang had received special attention from Hu Qingbai, head of the education department. Many wanted to be teachers, especially Elders wanting to teach in the simple normal classes, but most lacked proper teaching backgrounds, let alone actual experience. Having a few certified teachers was rare, so as soon as Yuan Ziguang arrived at Fangcaodi, he was appointed Head of the National School Math Teaching Group. Because the school was still in its founding stage, teachers weren't clearly divided into junior primary, senior primary, and middle school sections. Scheduling ran across the entire system by subject. A math teacher might teach multiplication tables to junior primary students in the first two periods, then explain plane geometry to senior primary students in the third and fourth. There were no middle school students yet.

Beyond teaching, Yuan Ziguang personally participated in compiling various textbooks. Since he was an Elder teacher, he was also responsible for the daily education of Elder children.

Compared to Chinese students in the twenty-first century, Fangcaodi students had it considerably harder. They not only handled general tasks like cleaning, cooking, and washing within the school according to the Education People's Committee's principles of "Self-governance," "Self-support," and "Self-study," but also devoted spare time to working in the school's vegetable garden, breeding farm, and planting sheds. The curriculum ran at a merciless intensity of eight periods daily. School rules, regulations, and even etiquette were strictly standardized. Though the National School essentially promoted universal education among naturalized citizens, in operation it possessed the character of an elite institution—demanding precision in every word and deed.

"The knowledge and thoughts they learn destine them to become elites of future society. We don't need to be secretive about this. We want students to develop a sense of superiority; only then can we create a trend where the public clamors for entry into new-style schools." So Hu Qingbai had answered in a teaching affairs meeting when certain Elder teachers questioned the excessive etiquette requirements.

"Students, please turn your textbooks to page eighty..." Yuan Ziguang looked at his class and spoke unhurriedly.

For Fangcaodi students, math was perhaps the most tedious course: no experiments, no extracurricular practice, no entertaining teaching aids—except for learning to read clocks and identify coins during the first semester. Fortunately, the teacher's instructional quality was high, and students could follow along. Inevitably, some drifted off, but Yuan Ziguang's chalk-throwing technique, superior to his colleagues', would promptly jolt distracted students back to attention.

The forty-minute class ended quickly. Yuan Ziguang assigned homework and review points. There was another applied mathematics class that afternoon focusing on practical arithmetic: simple geometry for surveying fields and canal dimensions, commercial calculations for conducting business, abacus work. This course emphasized practicality and was somewhat more engaging than the purely theoretical morning session.

The loud strains of "Athletes' March" began playing through the loudspeakers outside—the signal for break-time calisthenics. Like soldiers responding to a bugle, all students immediately rose. The class monitor stepped out, trotted to the podium, faced everyone, and shouted: "First Group, fall out!"

Yuan Ziguang tucked his lecture notes under his arm and walked out of the classroom. The entire teaching building now echoed with rising and falling shouts of "Group X, fall out!" Some classes were already queuing in the corridor, marking time in place. Yuan Ziguang knew that once "Athletes' March" finished its second loop and switched to "Fubo Army March," classes would file out of the building and gather on the playground in pre-arranged order.

Yuan Ziguang walked back to his office at a brisk pace. The Fangcaodi National School office was housed in a Baroque-style three-story building overlooking the entire playground. Red exposed-brick walls rose from high stone foundations; triangular roofs were covered with flat tiles. A light rain a few days earlier had washed the tiles clean, and they now glistened under the sun. At the building's center stood a clock tower—originally intended to hold a large clock, one of many promised by Doctor Zhong. The current status remained "under R&D." In its place hung an iron bell salvaged from some ruined temple site. At Fangcaodi, teachers and students worked and rested by the striking of this bell.

The naturalized teachers' offices on the first and second floors were bustling. In the large open-plan office occupying nearly the entire floor, neat rows of desks were arranged like a classroom, complete with podium and blackboard at one end. To compensate for naturalized teachers' knowledge gaps, Hu Qingbai had set aside one day each week for Elders to lecture to the teaching staff in "in-service training." The space also served for staff meetings.

These so-called naturalized teachers were mostly female graduates of the first Simple Normal Class, having completed their training only months earlier. Most were girls aged fifteen or sixteen, with a few eighteen or nineteen. The Senate maintained deep distrust of traditional "scholars," so very few child scholars (Tongsheng) or cultivated talents (Xiucai) among the naturalized citizens had entered the education system.

Some had received a bit of traditional education before and knew some characters. Most had been completely illiterate. After roughly a year and a half of targeted intensive training, they now handled most first-grade Junior Primary courses at Fangcaodi. They also taught literacy in the night schools.

Young naturalized teachers were gathering and chatting; some drank water, others browsed Lingao Times or Gewu Pictorial—a lithographic monthly focusing on popular science, recently published by the Literature and Propaganda Department.

For naturalized teachers bearing heavy teaching loads while continuing their own advanced studies, break-time exercise was one of the rare leisure moments in their day.

Seeing the Elder Teaching Group Head pass by, the young women fell silent one by one, their eyes following Yuan Ziguang. From their gazes flowed worship, admiration, envy, fear, reserve... various emotions projected onto him simultaneously. He felt smug but couldn't help his face heating slightly.

These teachers had been his students not long ago. Legally speaking, they remained slaves of the Senate; every Elder enjoyed absolute power over them. Though Yuan Ziguang had come to this world because of an "inappropriate push-down," since arriving in the new time-space and possessing ample resources and power to do whatever he pleased, he had consistently proven himself "worse than beasts"—for no matter how ardent the girls' gazes, no matter how worshipful, this collection of rough-skinned, dark-complexioned, flat-chested and flat-bottomed young women simply couldn't arouse much interest in him.

He climbed to the third floor—the Elders' office. At this hour, the floor was usually empty. There weren't many full-time Elder teachers at the National School, and part-timers generally came only when they had classes.

Because most Elder teachers were part-time, they didn't have individual offices at Fangcaodi, only a large open-plan space. North and south sides featured rows of glass windows providing ample natural light. Standing at the south windows offered a commanding view of the main playground below.

At the best viewing position, three Elders stood leaning against the window, gazing out. Behind them stood several figures who appeared to be female secretaries.

Though Elders dressed almost identically, Yuan Ziguang immediately recognized from their backs and heights that one was Hu Qingbai, and another was Wu De, who rarely visited Fangcaodi. As President of the Planning Commission, Wu De spent most of his time consumed by paperwork and meetings; even his "field work" seldom brought him to the education system—the Executive Committee member who visited most frequently was Xiao Zishan. The third wore a Fubo Army uniform; Yuan Ziguang didn't recognize him.

He walked forward a few steps intending to greet them, but Hu Qingbai signaled him to remain silent. The three were watching the playground below with rapt attention.

The playground facilities were crude, but the dimensions had been built to old time-space standards, providing vast space. Before the building stood a flag terrace with a ten-meter-high wooden flagpole towering above.

When "Athletes' March" transitioned to "Fubo Army March," students marching in double columns appeared from every teaching building entrance. Each class formed one column, like long dragons rolling toward the center of the playground.